I held in my hand, the picture of perfection. The greatest ingot that I had ever created. Before this I had made hundreds, maybe even thousands of different things made of steel.
But now, as I hold this, I cannot help but be mystified by the properties that it held. Even if I could not understand it completely I still knew that this was undoubtedly a step above anything that I could make.
I would have called it a masterpiece but some prideful part of me was saying that I could reach greater heights. That this was just a stepping stone to the true revelation of my skills.
And I could not agree any more. Even now, staring at what I wanted to call perfection, I knew I could do better.
The heat of the forge beat on me, but even then I could feel my spirit flowing through me as I brought the ingot over to the flames.
I disregarded my own safety and held it with my own hands uncovered. It melted, it turned bright orange.
The color signifies the temperature, the perfect tine to take it out. Yet even then I did not. I could not as even though I did not feel the heat that did not mean that I did not take damage.
And even then it was only to a certain degree that I was immune. Right now my hand was charred, burned. Enough that even the nerve endings had given up.
But I endured the pain, the heat, the flames, everything was secondary to my objective. So even as I ripped the ingot onto the anvil I still ignored the pain that pound against me as my hand healed from the effects of the room.
Yet despite the pain I could not hide the grin that split my face in two. As I grabbed the hammer with my still injured hand.
"Hm" I hummed noticing the lack of burns. The skin coating it was fresh as a baby's. It was as if it had healed in the small time that I had let it be exposed to the air.
I looked upon the endless white, only broken by the small shed of tools and bed that I had.
'Thank you' I did not know if it was the patron that had helped me so… or if it was the very room. However I was thankful either way.
My gaze moved back to the anvil, where the metal had been placed. My hand was once again coated with mana. Yet I knew I could do more as a voice echoed through my head.
It told of wonders, it made me remember.
I let go of my breath and once again looked down. The mana within me was raging like the ocean. It wanted to be let free.
Who was I to deny it such an opportunity.
Lines gathered all around my body. Though not in the normal places. They were scattered for a moment before they gathered into one place.
Every circuit placing their energy upon the hand holding the hammer.
My vision switched as I started to hammer down the metal. It was folded, over and over again.
Each crease increasing its durability and imbuing it with the primal force that was my mana. I had no vision. No idea of what I was going to make.
But then it hit me, a revelation if you would. I wanted to make the greatest sword.
Somehow, between all the fights, all the battles to the death, the comrades that I had lost. I had become utilitarian. I thought in how to survive, or if not I thought of not the future but of the present.
However my sword, the one I was forging this moment would not be one stuck in the present always reacting as I did.
I would make it a sword of the future. One that would nurture and grow. Yes… I would do just that.
The mana around me flared. It had found its purpose and so had I. The monotone blue changed into a brilliant green. A future promised by me to this sword.
With renewed vigor I hammered with this mana. It filled not only my strength but it filled the metal. Every swing of the hammer infusing with it that much more mana.
Again and again I folded it, the very essence of the metal growing with the mana.
Moments later, or was it hours even days. I did not know as I could not tell the time as I was right now.
But at this very moment I knew what to do, the final forging had begun. The shape was taking form. A katana. I had not intended for that but I knew that this was the ideal form.
Precise hits came from the sky as I made the final touch, the edge was made and sharpened nearby via a whetstone.
It was almost done. There were just a couple more things to make. The hilt and sheath.
For the hilt I just used some of the animal skin that I had to make something rudimentary but for the sheath I made of metal.
It was something I had not done before but I knew I could do it. I just needed to try. Besides…
I looked down to the pile of metal next to me.
'I had plenty of tries.'
…
I laid down on my bed, exhaustion hitting me like a hammer as I finally relaxed. Next to me was the katana that I had made.
Promised Future. The very concept had infused into it and although I knew that it was not strong, I also knew that it was just the beginning. It was a promise to both it and myself. That I would create, I would forge, and I would never lose my path.
[Promised Future]
[A rank 2 sword made by the amateur smith Mihr. Although it is rough and made from inexperience the beauty and power of the sword matches those smiths that had practiced for years.]
[Mihr Masamune]
Vitality: 1.6
Strength: 1.8
Dexterity: 2.2
Mana: 4.3
[Skills]
[Memoria(rank 1) (12.73%) Allows the user to remember] [Swordsmanship rank 1 (1.46%)]
[Mana Manipulation (rank 1 10.81%)] [Fire Resistance rank 1 (21.82%)]
[current pts:850]