Chapter 125 - 43: [Crawling Mechanical Undead]

Chapter 125: Chapter 43: [Crawling Mechanical Undead]

The sun shone obliquely on a small town in the Empire, casting slanted shadows on the pitched wooden and thatched roofs.

Steeply pitched roofs were a common architectural feature of residential homes in the Ederic Empire. Located in the northern part of the continent, the Ederic Empire experienced massive amounts of snowfall every winter, leading to heavy snow accumulation. The towering, steeply pitched roofs allowed the snow to slide off immediately after falling, preventing the weight of the accumulated snow from crushing the houses.

Amidst these pitched roofs stood the towering silhouette of the Caster’s Hall. Thick, hexagonal chimneys made of white stone bricks thrust straight up from the sloped roofs of the hall, resembling the hilts of swords plunged into the earth.

In the plaza in front of the Caster’s Hall, the CLINK CLANG of forging gradually ceased following the loud shouts of the hall’s Priests. The spectators whispered to one another in excitement and anticipation, discussing the performances of the contestants in today’s forging competition.

Priests clad in red robes adorned with hammer and anvil insignias wove between the contestants’ anvils. Under the nervous and expectant gazes of the competitors, the Priests whispered to each other, evaluating and discussing the merits and flaws of each forged piece. They inspected the grain of the steel and the metal surfaces for any cracks, held the weapons to feel their balance, and gently rubbed the edges with their fingers to gauge their sharpness.

After a moment, the Priests finally reached a consensus. Out of more than thirty pieces, they selected the ten best weapons and arranged them on a long table in front of the Holy Hall, stepping aside to make way for a burly Imperial Officer nearby.

The Imperial Officer took off his cavalry coat, revealing a physique of solid muscle. He casually tossed the coat to a sergeant beside him and nodded.

Ten wooden boards of equal thickness were carried onto the high platform in front of the Holy Hall and placed on racks made of stacked bricks.

Accompanied by ten consecutive THWACK sounds, the Imperial Officer executed a series of rapid slashes, cleanly and efficiently testing the ten weapons on the wooden boards.

One blade shattered under the forceful strike, sending fragments flying. Three other blades developed cracks.

"Carl, Bob, Selia, Xilins. I regret to inform you that you four are out," the Priest announced as he tallied up the broken and cracked blades.

Amidst a CLATTER CLANK, the sergeants brought up ten thin iron plates and placed them separately across the bricks.

CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG... Amidst a dense barrage of metal colliding, the burly Imperial Officer picked up the remaining six sharp blades one by one and fiercely smashed them against the thin iron plates!

Mixed in with a series of CLANG CLANG sounds of metal clashing was a soft SHING.

CRACK. The thin iron plate, cleaved cleanly in two, slid off the brick rack and fell to the ground with a double CLANG CLATTER.

The audience gasped in amazement. The burly Imperial Officer held the blade that had sliced open the iron plate high in the air; the surface of the edge gleamed with chaotic, faint blue patterns.

"Demon Tempering is a complex and difficult-to-master technique." A Priest took the blade from the Imperial Officer and admired it in his hand. "Through the calcination of high-temperature magical flames and the repeated striking of the hammer, a small amount of magical essence penetrates the metal and is cast together with it.

"Demon Tempering Weapons forged in this way can inflict weak magical damage on a target, sufficient to cleave through ordinary metal armor and shields. The magic patterns on the blade can last for several years, gradually fading as they wear down and dull from hacking. However, based on the appearance and the magic patterns of this Demon Tempering Weapon forged by Albert, the Demon Tempering effect is integrated quite well. It should last for at least a dozen years.

"Today’s Steel Fire Champion is..." The Priest paused. "...it seems there is no longer any dispute.

"Benjamin Albert!"

Amidst the cheers of the crowd, the magnificent Demon Quenching Short Sword with its chaotic blue patterns was raised high by the Priest.

A Blacksmith in his thirties threw his arms up in victory. Amidst the roaring cheers of the audience, he ascended the steps in front of the Holy Hall, climbing up to the high platform step by step.

The sergeants and Priests gave slight nods on either side of the stairs. Showing their respect for an outstanding Caster, they cleared a path for him toward the main doors of the Holy Hall.

A Steel Fire Priest and the Imperial Officer stood on the high platform before the doors. They reached out to welcome him, pulling him up onto the top step and taking turns giving him a wide embrace.

The iron-bound mahogany doors of the Holy Hall boomed open. Ten red-robed Priests stood on either side of the main hall, attending the ever-burning Holy Fire. A Red Robe Casting Monk, holding a soft red cloth cushion with both hands, slowly stepped forward, presenting an iron ring resting on the cushion to the champion, Albert.

The iron ring was not inlaid with luxurious and useless things like Gemstones; instead, it held something far more precious. It was a small piece of gleaming crimson blood-steel, forged into a diamond shape resembling a gem. It symbolized recognition from the Master of the Imperial, as well as the absolute rule of a unified church and state.

The Red Robe Casting Monk respectfully offered the iron ring. Albert reached out and slowly slipped the ring onto his finger.

"You can choose to join the Imperial Foundry to gain more opportunities and knowledge," the burly Imperial Officer said, smiling with his hands behind his back. "Or, you can continue to be a small-town Blacksmith. You have one month to make a choice. We won’t rush you, but we won’t wait long either."

"Consider it carefully, Albert, my child." An aged Old Bishop reached out and gently rested his hand on the champion’s head, blessing him. "But for now, come and take your prize money."

A sergeant brought up a heavy, large leather money bag. Branded in Gold on the bag was the royal crest of the Sword Crown and Iron Crown.

"Twenty thousand Ederic Gold Coins for our Steel Fire Champion!" the Imperial Officer shouted. Laughing heartily, he hauled the heavy money bag up and shoved it into Albert’s hands.