Creation System: Reborn As A Fantasy Worldsmith



After 10 minutes or so, the cavequake ended, allowing Lyrian to finally rest after dodging nonstop and exerting his body to its limit. He fell flat on his back, panting from exhaustion.

[Stamina: 0/64]

'Im done...' He thought to himself, not able to move his body even an inch. Just as the rooftop of the cave he was staring at began to become blurry, signs that he was about to black out, a random face suddenly appeared in his vision.

"Oi brat, don't fall asleep."

It was enough to shock him fully awake, "What the hell!?" He quietly exclaimed, seeing a dwarf's face staring at him.

Bracing himself, he stood back up to his feet, his stamina having regenerated a little bit by then, "You're... the blacksmith." He managed to say, looking at the 4-foot dwarf in front of him.

The dwarf gazed back at him with squinted eyes, looking to make eye contact, "You... have some potential." A slight grin suddenly formed on his face.

This was the last thing Lyrian saw before falling flat on his back once again, this time fully falling unconscious.

Seeing this, the dwarf began walking back inside calmly, "Rocky!" He shouted.

Suddenly, a giant Diamond Lizard jumped from the roof and landed next to Lyrian, causing a loud impact.

"Pick him up and put him inside on my bed."

On hearing this, the lizard stuck its tongue out and grabbed Lyrian before putting him inside his mouth.

***

As Lyrian slowly stirred from his slumber, the first thing that caught his attention was the resounding clank of metal striking metal. It echoed through the small, dimly lit space, making him wonder where he was and what was happening.

Above him, a rough-hewn roof of interwoven logs and stone kept the outside world at bay, casting a warm, amber glow upon the interior whenever the flames from the nearby forge leaped and danced.

As he mustered the strength to sit up, Lyrian took in his surroundings. The hut's walls were constructed from sturdy stone and timber.

His eyes were drawn to the source of the clamor—the dwarf at the forge. Sweat glistened on the dwarf's furrowed brow as he rhythmically swung the heavy hammer, shaping the molten metal resting on the anvil. The glow of the forge illuminated the dwarf's weathered hands, attesting to a life of dedication to the ancient craft of blacksmithing.

The heat from the forge washed over Lyrian in waves, searing yet strangely comforting, as the flames flickered and cast dancing shadows on the hut's walls. The scent of burning coal mingled with the earthy aroma of wood.

Noticing Lyrian sitting up, the dwarf paused his craft, dipping the blade he was working on into a thin barrel of cool water, "You finally awake?" He said.I think you should take a look at ραΠdαsnovel.cοm

Lyrian paused, making sense of the situation before replying, "M-my swor--" Before he could even get out a few words, he was abruptly cut off.

"Yea, I've begun the process already. I saw you had some obsidian shards and I'm going to use those." The dwarf swiftly replied.

That was the next thing Lyrian was going to say, but now he was relieved that the blacksmith didn't just use any old obsidian or metal.

"How long is it going to take?" Lyrian asked, getting up from the bed.

"2 days." The dwarf replied nonchalantly.

Hearing this, Lyrian was slightly shocked, "2 entire days!? Can't you do it any faster? My friends have already waited over three days for my sword."

"By all means, I can remake your shabby sword in five minutes if need be, but I'm doing you a favor here, so don't think you can make the commands." The dwarf spoke sternly.

Lyrian didn't speak on hearing this, as the dwarf continued, "I wouldn't make any old kid a sword, especially not with my expertise. You're lucky I chose to do yours. When making any object, I don't just half-ass it. It's not like I'm taking my sweet old time with your sword, but, any weapon or armor created by me is at the very least of my tier." The dwarf said, taking the sword out of the water before sticking it back into the forge with a pair of tongs.

Lyrian paused for a moment, "I see... then, thank you for doing me this favor. If I may, what made you choose me? I owe you one." He said, genuinely grateful.

"Hell yeah, you do, brat. My celebrated name, Brokkr, will forever be etched into this blade of yours. If it's used badly, you will disgrace that name. But, that's why I chose you. You have some will in you, and those with will are strong. I have faith that you won't disgrace my name."

'So... a respected blacksmith's weapon holds a lot of risks as well, as their name could be tainted in a bad light if a fool was to use it. Then, he really is doing me a large favor.' Lyrian thought to himself.

ραndαsnοvεl.cοm "Unfortunately..." Brokkr continued, "There is still a chance for you to destroy this sword, especially at your level of strength." He said, beginning to hit the sword again with the hammer.

"Yes, my strength right now is limited, but my goal in joining Anaviotis is to increase it." Lyrian followed up.

"If that's the case, then take this opportunity that you have to learn how one performs the art of smithing. Learning to smith will help you in all areas of life, including battle." Brokkr said as Lyrian went up to the anvil.

Brokkr began to explain how one smith's, uses patience and the ability to be precise and powerful at the perfect time. Surprisingly, Lyrain was taken aback in awe by this.

"When creating something, anything, a smith must always have a free heart, a calm heart. Then, and only then, can he control his creation and mold it to his will." Brokkr said, as colorful magic exuded from his presence and entered his sword.

Lyrain was sucked into this art, as he saw it as a way to not only become a better fighter but also realized that this firsthand knowledge could potentially even help him create better creatures and spells!

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