The young blacksmith was drenched in sweat, every muscle in his body straining as he worked the bellows with everything he had. It was obvious he'd already reached his limit. Even so, the Blackflame Ice Flower Sword blank only glowed a deep, searing red. It refused to melt any further, as though the material itself had decided that this was as far as it was willing to go.
The old blacksmith was practically fuming. "Come on, you useless brat! Put your back into it! Are you trying to kill me with frustration?"
No one had expected the blade blank to be this stubborn. They'd finally seen a glimmer of hope when Marcus's catalysts had started affecting the weapon, only to find themselves stuck again at the most critical moment. After five days of effort, with a Divine Artifact hanging in the balance, how could anyone not be anxious? Marcus was getting anxious too.
"Old man, how much Strength do you need? I've got 1,000. Would that be enough?"
