The manufacturing process, which started near sunset the day before, was still ongoing when the bright young man showed himself again. Michelangelo hadn't sat down even once during this time; even though Alyon offered this a few times, he had shooed him away asking not to distract him.
"The boy turned out to be ambitious. Well, this was to be expected from someone with his past!"
Even though Alyon was rebuffed, he didn't get offended; on the contrary, his sympathy towards Master Leonardo's apprentice was increasing. Anyway, after receiving the power of God Kızagan, his attitudes were rapidly progressing towards the positive; his aura was bright, his face was smiling.
"For two days, you've grinned more than you haven't smiled in the last five years. If I had known, I would have torn off your arm and gouged out your eye earlier. Or are you this cheerful because you took these misshapen ones under your patronage?"
Even if the Blood God knew the truth of the matter, she couldn't help but tease her friend due to her nature; besides, they were here until Michelangelo's work was done, how else would the time pass?
"Haven't I struggled with enough sorrow? I always lived with the fear of being more inadequate than the person whose legacy I took, up until yesterday I convinced myself of this too, but when some things went missing from my body, I understood better that there is no other me.
After the God of War Kızagan, who awakened one of the seeds he planted in the hearts of orc warriors, chose me as his shadow on earth, there is no need for me to make comparisons with anyone. My next level is a god, and if it's not me, no one can reach there!"
The target moving further away had been good for Alyon; the power limit he chose for himself was now divine, but he seemed to have forgotten the nickname of the person right next to him.
"How comfortably you speak like that next to me, who is blessed by the God Bürküt. Don't worry at all, I will have reached that rank before it's left to you, you meathead orc sergeant!"
Nafız was going to drive herself crazy trying to anger her friend, but a bright light coming from the manufacturing ongoing a few steps away caused her to pause her words. The wait was ending; Alyon's new left arm was ready.
"If my own limbs are my apprentice works, this arm must be my journeyman work."
As Michelangelo walked towards Alyon, a metallic arm was floating in the air on his right side. The sun rays couldn't stay on it for even a second, reflecting towards the direction they first saw. It was so bright that it wasn't quite possible to look at it without squinting your eyes.
"From now on, you will be known to the seven realms as Bright Alyon!"
"Don't be jealous, don't be jealous!"
"What am I going to be jealous of, boy? The peasant got a prosthetic arm and shoved it in everyone's eyes!"
Even the presence of the metallic arm coming after the long wait couldn't prevent their bickering, but Michelangelo had already moved to Alyon's left side along with the scalpel and needles appearing in his hands.
"A somewhat bloody and very painful process awaits you. I will hurt you to connect the mechanical arm and the part remaining from your arm together!"
Michelangelo was very clear; he was telling what awaited him right to his face. Alyon smiled in response to these words; it was impossible for such things to scare him. However, it was obvious they made him cry out in pain; the Orc Chief roared at the top of his lungs, and seeing this, the mutant warriors were running back and forth, not knowing what to do.
"As if he wasn't enough on his own, we got these freaks of nature on our hands too; when the control over them lifted, they turned into stupid children."
Even though Alyon surrendered himself to Michelangelo's hands very valiantly, he couldn't stop shouting for even a moment. It was obvious he didn't suffer this much pain when his arm was cut off, when he lost his eye.
"You have to endure this because I am messing with your nerves. Unfortunately, I cannot numb your body; the slightest mistake can turn the whole process into garbage!"
Michelangelo was working on one hand, and saying things Alyon wouldn't want to hear on the other. When the Orc Chief heard these words on top of all that pain, he fixed his bloodshot eyes on him, but the young man hadn't finished yet.
"You are lucky that you only have to endure for one arm and there is someone doing this job for you!"
The orc warrior receiving the message gritted his teeth; even though he couldn't control the two large tusks protruding from his mouth, he understood what Michelangelo meant. The young man wasn't talking empty words or trying to sell something he hadn't experienced himself; if he wanted to get stronger, he had to walk this path of fire.
"Very little left, endure a little more, do not pass out!"
He was giving suggestions when Alyon reached his limits; during the two hours, he had brought him back from the brink of passing out more than once.
"There, it's done!"
After making one last move, Michelangelo, throwing himself backward, fell on his back and stayed there. His two black arms were spread to the sides, the sun was hitting his sweaty face. Whether from the pain given by the last move or the end of the process resembling a short trip to hell is unknown, Alyon next to him released his Lineage Power accompanied by a roar blowing the dust off the ruined battlefield.
The mutant orcs fell to their knees where they were; some of the birds flocking over the dead to eat carrion took flight, some shared the same fate as those whose flesh they had just been pecking at. Nafız contented herself with observing her friend's situation; his new limb, which was exactly the same dimensions as his right arm, shining on his green skin was a sight worth seeing.
"Get well soon, big guy! How do you feel?"
When his furious demeanor subsided, Nafız approached her friend and found him testing his new arm. He was opening and closing both hands at the same time, raising and lowering his arms, and checking his joints. Nafız joined him too; she fixed her eyes like a wolf waiting for its prey to come out of the hole it entered so as not to miss the slightest detail.
"Perfect, perfect in one word! I can't feel any difference!"
Alyon's satisfaction reflected on his face; the left arm Michelangelo produced for him was doing justice to the words Journeyman Work. He couldn't see any problem, but an objection was going to come to his words; Michelangelo, speaking without getting up from where he lay, declared there was more to it than meets the eye.
"I manufactured that arm using the parts of a weapon called Ember Blaze, there is no way it is the same as the other. Because you haven't witnessed the destruction the special weapon created, it's impossible for you to understand what I say, you need to see it with your own eyes!"
Michelangelo took out a black mechanical vehicle from his interspatial void, and before anyone could understand what it was, metallic spheres shot out from the vehicle whose roof opened. When they landed on the Mercenary carcasses whose equipment had been taken and left to rot, the spheres detonated, and ember fires wrapped in white smoke began to fall to the ground.
"Come on, what kind of a thing is this?"
Alyon was terrified in the face of the attack melting the soil it fell on, bodies, shattered armors, broken weapons and continuing its journey.
"Can it corrode Elemental Energy like this too?"
Upon what she saw, Nafız asked the important question that came to her mind; the young man's answer didn't go beyond nodding his head. Even the weapons with superior firepower that were his master's new invention couldn't hold on against it; the Ember Blaze belonged to another class.
"When I was disassembling it, I saw the materials used weren't things you could find just anywhere. Not just the mechanical parts, but the ember pieces creating the destruction were materials that could only be found in one place on the World of the Six Civilizations."
"On the mountain skirts on the side of the Holy Fire Cult!"
Nafız gave the answer immediately; she had roamed the Hell Realm, where she stayed for five years, inch by inch.
"Correct answer, and because of this I am somewhat relieved. As long as the Orc Empire supports the power in the region, the Empire of Machines cannot supply more ammunition from there, but our main subject is not this. Chief Alyon, why don't you throw a solid punch with your new arm too?"
Even though Alyon couldn't figure out the hidden meaning of the offer, he felt something; he looked around, searched for a target to strike but couldn't see anything other than the wide flatland.
"Hey, big boy. Smack one on this!"