Chapter 640 - 539: The Short Spike is Complete, a Backup Weapon

Chapter 640: Chapter 539: The Short Spike is Complete, a Backup Weapon

Meanwhile, Roland had stepped into the core of the Anvil and Sparks workshop.

A scorching gust of air, mingled with the scents of metal and charcoal, rushed to greet him. Rhythmic, heavy hammering echoed throughout the spacious stone chamber.

A massive furnace belched forth a searing, orange-red glow, casting flickering shadows across the room and filling it with sweltering heat.

Next to the massive anvil at the center stood the workshop’s owner.

Old Copper Hammer.

He stood with his hands planted firmly on his hips.

The Dwarf Artisan’s white beard was streaked with gray, and the gnarled muscles on his bare torso resembled old tree roots. His face was a mask of undisguised excitement and admiration.

"It’s done, kid!"

Old Copper Hammer’s voice was as loud as a booming bell, easily drowning out the roar of the furnace and bellows.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Reforging the base with ’Shadow Iron,’ mixing in ’Star Meteorite Sand’ to adjust its Magic Power conductivity... the structure was completely reorganized during the re-melting!"

"But the most crucial part was those last few ’Energy Absorption’ and ’Toughening’ Runes. The timing, the depth, the rhythm of the Energy infusion... Absolutely flawless!"

He circled Roland, who was carefully wiping the Short Spike in his hands with a soft cloth. The Dwarf’s eyes, sharpened from years of staring into the forge fires, were wide with disbelief.

"Hey, kid! Just which secluded old master taught you these forging and Enchantment skills?"

The Dwarf Blacksmith grew more excited as he spoke, slapping his solid chest with a hand as large as a cattail fan.

"Kid! Take my advice and stop all this reckless adventuring! Stay here in my workshop! I’ll give you half-use of my best Enchantment Furnace, and you can use any materials from my stock! We’ll split the profits fifty-fifty!"

"With your skills, it wouldn’t take more than a few years for ’Anvil and Sparks’ to become the top Magic Weapon workshop in Gray Rock City... No, in all of the Northern Lands! We’d be famous!"

Roland just smiled faintly and shook his head, not responding to the offer. He gripped the clean Short Spike and gave his wrist a slight flick.

Several near-silent streaks of dark light flashed through the air.

The body of the Short Spike had a strangely dark, matte finish, as if it were absorbing the surrounding light. Only at certain angles could a faint, deep purple glimmer be seen flowing within.

When Roland infused it with his Power, the blade emitted a low, steady hum, and the deep purple luster momentarily grew clearer.

The blade was exceptionally sturdy, showing no sign of bending in his grasp.

Roland could clearly sense that at his current normal Power level, this Short Spike—which he had personally designed and had led the key steps in reforging and enchanting—could withstand about seventy percent of his explosive Power without a scratch.

This already surpassed the quality of most standard-issue Magic Weapons on the market.

More importantly, when he channeled a wisp of his own Spiritual Energy and tentatively infused it into the Short Spike, the blade seemed to awaken from a deep slumber.

The deep purple light glowed steadily and evenly. The miniature Rune Array, intricately carved inside to match his Spiritual Energy circuits, lit up like a starry river in the dead of night. Its resonance with his Spiritual Energy was exceptionally clear and smooth.

The loss of Spiritual Energy during conduction through the weapon was significantly reduced. Furthermore, the Spiritual Energy edge condensed and extended by the weapon was noticeably sharper and more piercing.

It was a far cry from Bright Moon, which was so attuned to his will that it could bear the full brunt of his Power and Traits without any hindrance.

But as a backup weapon, it was already perfect.

"As for the payment, Holland will settle it with you later," Roland said to Old Copper Hammer, who was still chattering away, trying to poach him.

With a flip of his wrist, he slid the Short Spike securely into a special leather sheath on his waist, one lined with light-absorbing soft velvet.

The matte black color and the faint purple glimmer vanished, and the weapon returned to its inconspicuous appearance.

"Who cares about that bit of pay!"

Old Copper Hammer scratched his messy hair and beard in frustration, but his eyes remained glued to the sheath on Roland’s waist, as if he could see the treasure within through the leather.

"I want to be your partner! Ah, forget it, forget it... You talented young people are all wild-hearted. I doubt this little workshop of mine could ever hold you..."

He sighed, but then his eyes widened again as he gave a gruff reminder.

"Remember! Next time you get your hands on some rare materials, or if you have a particularly tricky Enchantment job, you have to come to me at ’Anvil and Sparks’ first! We can be flexible on the price!"

Roland gave a slight nod, said no more, and turned to leave the bustling, scorching-hot sanctuary of forging.

After meeting up with Holland and Ellis in the front yard, Holland immediately clamored to see the newly forged "Octopus Needle."

Roland casually tossed the Short Spike, still in its inconspicuous leather sheath, over to him.

Holland caught it and eagerly drew the weapon.

He then flicked the blade with his finger. It didn’t produce a crisp, metallic ringing, but a deep, rich hum that had a strange resonance.

"Tsk, nice!"

Holland’s eyes lit up as his thick fingers carefully caressed the cold surface of the blade.

"This color, this feel... Rudolph, how is it you seem to know a bit of everything, and you’re pretty damn good at it all?"

He handed the Short Spike back to Roland, his tone filled with half-joking amazement.

Although Ellis didn’t speak, their gaze also lingered on the Short Spike. Their gray-blue eyes held a scrutinizing look, clearly analyzing its materials and potential Enchantment effects.

The three of them left the Anvil and Sparks workshop, talking and laughing as they headed toward the Silver Star Potion Shop where they were temporarily staying.

The noisy afternoon clamor of Gray Rock City enveloped them once more.

But as they were passing through a relatively quiet alley piled high with discarded building materials on both sides, something unexpected happened.

From around the corner at the alley’s entrance ahead, a few short, angry shouts and the clang of metal suddenly rang out, followed by a pained grunt.

Immediately after, three burly figures in mismatched Leather Armor stumbled back around the corner. One of them was already bleeding from his arm, his face a mixture of shock and anger.

They seemed to have been forcefully driven back.

"Kid! You’re asking to die!"

The leader, Scarface, steadied himself and let out a savage roar. He drew the heavy chopper from his waist and, along with his two companions wielding a Hand Axe and an Iron Hook, charged fiercely back around the corner.

However, their assault didn’t last long.

A golden figure, swift as lightning, flashed out from behind the corner. His movements were fluid and precise, with no wasted motion.

The ordinary-looking Longsword in his hand traced a simple yet powerful arc. It wasn’t a head-on clash; instead, he skillfully slid it along the side of the chopper, scraping and redirecting it.

Scarface felt a force that wasn’t overwhelming but was incredibly tricky and clever. His chopper was involuntarily deflected, almost causing him to stumble.

Seizing the momentary imbalance, the golden figure’s Sword Momentum abruptly accelerated and changed direction along the guided path. As if propelled by the borrowed force, he slashed viciously at another enemy attacking with a Hand Axe.

CLANG!

Metal on metal! The enemy with the Hand Axe hastily blocked, but the "flowing" force contained in the sword strike numbed his wrist, nearly making him drop his weapon. He stumbled back several steps.

The golden figure didn’t pause. With an agile turn, he dodged the Iron Hook coming from the side and his Longsword drew another arc.

This time it was an upward flick, precisely striking the weak joint of the Iron Hook. At the same time, he tilted his body slightly, skillfully deflecting the forward momentum of the last enemy.

In a flash, the three seemingly ferocious attackers had been repelled, deflected, or thrown off-balance by the lone swordsman. Their assault had completely crumbled, their formation was in disarray, and their faces were filled with shock and frustration.

The golden figure stood with his sword ready, panting slightly. His bright golden hair was a bit messy from the movement, and his azure eyes remained fixed on his opponents, his vigilance unwavering. His sword hand, however, was steady and strong.

Roland stood a short distance away, having taken in the brief but brilliant exchange. A clear look of admiration flashed in his eyes.

He then clapped his hands lightly. The crisp sound was especially clear in the brief silence.

"You’ve got a good grasp of Flowing Slash, Allen."

Roland spoke, his voice steady but carrying a hint of barely perceptible pride.

"Your timing and choice of angles have improved since last time."