In West Proluo, over several miles of military camps lay sparsely as the large army had already been deployed, leaving the place looking rather empty.
However, near the mountain forest's red rocks, the fires of the forge still burned fiercely.
A white-bearded, burly old man, bare to the waist, swung his hammer, pounding on a broad-bladed greatsword.
Each time the hammer struck, a thunderous roar ensued, shaking the ground and buildings wildly.
The glowing-red greatsword was nearly complete.
"Mr. Jones, there's trouble, General Brown has led troops into the city. I'm afraid there's going to be serious trouble..."
A young man in military uniform hurried over, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"..."
The old man acted as if he hadn't heard a thing.
Continuing at his own pace, he hammered the blade; it seemed as if, in his eyes, nothing existed except the weapon he was forging.
