After finishing his Alchemy Class, Jack walked out with a quiet, glowing satisfaction warming his chest. The memory of his very first potion, the Minor Healing Tonic still danced in his mind.
Its soft pink glow, the delicate swirl of mana, the earthy aroma of crushed herbs...
Shhhhp… drip… fsssss…
He could almost still hear the gentle fizz of the mixture stabilizing.
It wasn't perfect. But it was his. A creation shaped by his own hands and will.
A spark had ignited inside him his first true step into the boundless world of alchemy.
His stomach growled, snapping him back to the present.
Grrrrgle!
Smiling to himself, Jack made his way to the academy cafeteria, weaving through bustling students and fluttering enchanted message birds.
He loaded his tray with roasted meat glazed in golden herb-butter, warm bread rolls that steamed when torn, a handful of vibrant fruits, and a steaming cup of herbal tea, its scent soothing and minty.
He ate quickly, each bite satisfying the ache of effort spent in class. Energy returned to his limbs, his focus sharpening.
No time to waste.
He stood and headed straight for his next destination, the Blacksmith Department.
As he strode through the stone-tiled corridors, the air gradually shifted. The warm scent of food faded, replaced by the dense musk of metal, sweat, and fire.
Soon, he arrived at Room A.
The heavy wooden door stood ajar, groaning softly on its hinges.
Creeeak…
A wave of heat rolled out from within.
CLANG! CLANG!…
Fwoooosh!
Inside, the rhythmic ringing of hammers and the low hum of mana-powered furnaces filled the air. Blue and orange sparks danced like fireflies in the dim light, illuminating the enchanted forges that lined the chamber like silent beasts breathing heat and life.
Jack stepped in, the warmth welcoming, the noise oddly comforting.
This was a different kind of magic: raw, grounded, real.
He moved to his usual spot. The metallic workstation greeted him with familiar imperfections: faint scorch marks on the stone slab, a thin film of soot clinging to the floor, tiny silver shavings glinting from yesterday's forged dagger.
He brushed his hand across the anvil, feeling the cold bite of steel against his skin.
Thump.
He sat down.
A new class. A new challenge.
But the fire in his chest burned steady.
Today, he would shape metal with the same hands that crafted life-saving potions.
And he was ready.
Around him, the classroom buzzed with life.
The rhythmic clang of hammers echoed in the background, blending with the hum of enchanted vents that kept the forge heat bearable. Sparks flickered in the distance like tiny stars being born.
Groups of students huddled around their stations, their voices a mix of excitement and nervous energy.
"I heard we're learning to infuse mana into blades today," one boy whispered, eyes wide. "Real mana infusion! Imagine forging a dagger that hums with your own energy."
"No way," a girl shot back. "It's too early for that. Professor Borin barely let us heat metal last time. Probably just basic enchantments."
Another leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "What if he's teaching us about elemental cores?"
"Yeah right," someone snorted nearby. "We're lucky if we don't set our aprons on fire today."
Laughter broke out across the room, lightening the thick anticipation hanging in the air.
Jack listened quietly, absorbing it all. Whispers of magical weapon crafting, rumors of elemental daggers, hints of arcane metalwork.it stirred something inside him.
Excitement.
Ambition.
The desire to create something that lasts.
He glanced toward the front of the room, where the empty desk of Professor Borin sat like a throne before the forge-lined hall.
Whatever comes today… I'm ready, Jack thought, fingers twitching slightly with anticipation.
Just a few minutes later, a low, rhythmic thud... thud... thud echoed through the hallway.each step like the beat of a war drum growing closer.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
The classroom was still. Conversations halted mid-sentence. Eyes turned toward the doorway.
Then, like a walking mountain of iron and fire, Professor Borin Stonebeard strode into the room.
His heavy boots struck the stone floor with bone-shaking force, sending subtle vibrations through the metal workstations. Resting across his broad shoulder was his signature weapon, a massive crimson war hammer glowing with inner heat, veins of molten energy pulsing across its head like living lava.
His thick, braided beard swayed with every purposeful step, and his emerald eyes sharp and piercing scanned the room with the precision of a master craftsman.
Silence fell like a dropped hammer.
"Good afternoon, Professor!" the class greeted in unison, voices loud but tinged with reverence.
THUD.
He set his hammer down beside his forge with a single motion. The ground trembled slightly from the impact, and sparks from nearby forges flickered in response.
"Good Afternoon, brats," he said gruffly, voice gravelly like crushed stone and dark ale. A rare smirk tugged at his lips. "Yesterday, you learned to forge a dagger with no handle, no edge enchantment. Just steel. Just fire. Just your two bare hands."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle like hot iron cooling in water.
"But today," he said, his boots clicking sharply as he paced before them, "we step beyond the mundane. Today, you'll craft your first real weapon."
He turned sharply.
From his leather apron, he drew a dagger pale blue and shimmering with mist. A subtle hiss of frost escaped as it hit the air, and a faint crackle of ice pulsed down the blade.
Gasps rippled through the classroom.
"The Frostfang Dagger," Borin announced, lifting it for all to see. "Lightweight. Precise. Laced with frost enchantment and forged from mana-reactive steel. Its hilt? Carved wolf bone wrapped in enchanted hide. Elegant. Deadly. A blacksmith's first brush with elemental forging."
The blade seemed to hum, resonating with a soft chime as cold mist curled around it like dancing spirits.
Jack's heart thundered in his chest.
An enchanted weapon… forged by his own hands?
His fingers clenched instinctively, itching to begin. His eyes locked on the dagger, drinking in every detail. This is it, he thought. This is where the real journey begins.
Professor Borin turned back to the class and slapped the chalkboard with his gloved palm, the sound sharp as a hammer strike.
With thick strokes, he etched five glowing runes across the board each one pulsing with faint magical resonance.
FIVE KEY STEPS TO CRAFTING YOUR FIRST ENCHANTED WEAPON:
1. Understanding Your Materials (Know your steel. Know your enchantment core. Know the spirit you call upon.)
2. Heating and Forging (Timing. Temperature. Technique. The metal remembers every mistake.)
3. Quenching and Tempering (The flame gives strength, but the water gives purpose.)
4. Assembly and Enchantment (Hilt and blade become one. Magic is woven, not forced.)
5. Finishing and Testing (A weapon unfinished is a weapon unworthy.)
The runes glowed faintly, resonating with the nearby forges.
Professor Borin's voice dropped low, almost like a chant. "Forge not just with your hands... but with your will. Shape it. Pour your intent into every strike. Make the steel remember your name."
Jack swallowed, the heat from the nearby forge warming his skin. The scent of oil, metal, and magic filled his lungs. The thrill of creation, raw, dangerous, beautiful coursed through him like wildfire.
Today, he wouldn't just be a student.
Today, he would forge something real.
-------
Jack sat up straight, eyes sharp, heart thrumming in anticipation.
This was no ordinary lesson.
This was the beginning of true craftsmanship.
Step 1: Understanding Your Materials
Professor Borin strode to the front table, where a velvet-covered tray displayed several rare components, each one arranged with reverent precision. The glow from nearby forges shimmered across their surfaces, casting ethereal reflections.
He extended his hand and picked up the first item.
"Veiled Frost Fragments." A soft crackling sound filled the air as he held up two shimmering blue chunks of ore, frost curling off them like they were still breathing the chill of their origin.
"Mined from the glacial caves of Northern Khindor cold enough to freeze your eyebrows off. These babies are infused with natural elemental ice. Hard as steel, colder than a vengeful spirit."
Hiss... crackle…
Mist coiled around his gloves, and students learned as a shiver raced through the room.
Jack could feel the mana from his seat calm, but biting. Like silent snowfall hiding a deadly edge.
Borin set them down with a soft clink, then reached for a small, pulsing crystal. It glowed with a soft inner blue light, almost like a heartbeat.
"Next, the Dire Wolf Core."
Thump. Thump.
The core pulsed in rhythm with the ambient mana, and a low hum filled the room as its energy brushed against their senses.
"Harvested from a Dire Wolf no ordinary mutt, mind ye. These creatures channel frost directly through their bones. This core will stabilize the enchantment during forging. Without it?" He gave a dry chuckle. "Your blade's more likely to explode in yer face than hold a spell."
The room tensed.
Even Jack gulped, but a quiet grin played at the corners of his mouth. This was dangerous. This was real alchemy meeting real steel.
Then came the final item.
"Three Wolf Fangs," Borin continued, holding them up one by one. They gleamed with a natural sheen, sharp as razors and etched faintly with runic veins.
"These ain't just for decoration. Wolf fangs are perfect mana conductors naturally aligned to frost. We'll embed 'em into the blade's spine to help it channel elemental flow properly. Without proper alignment?" He snapped his fingers.
Crack!
"The enchantment collapses. Blade turns brittle. Useless."
He lowered the materials back onto the table and slowly faced the class.
His voice dropped to a low, steady growl.
"Remembering this well, knowing your material is like knowing' your enemy. Learn their properties. Respect their temperament. If you try to force a bond with unstable materials..."
He looked directly at Jack and the others his emerald eyes gleaming with conviction.
"...you'll not forge a weapon. You'll forge a curse."
A heavy silence followed, broken only by the gentle hum of mana and the crackle of nearby flames.
Jack inhaled deeply, the scent of frost ore, beast core energy, and smoldering coal mixing into a cocktail of adrenaline and wonder.
He wasn't just learning to forge metal.
He was learning to shape power.with danger, skill, and reverence.
-------
Step 2: Heating and Forging
Professor Borin stepped toward the enchanted forge.
WHOOSH!
At a flick of his calloused fingers, the forge roared to life, its flames surging in a controlled burst of azure and gold. The air shimmered from the sudden heat, casting long flickering shadows across the classroom walls.
The students instinctively leaned back from the heat, but Jack leaned forward, captivated.
"Listen up!" Borin barked, voice rising above the crackle of fire. "The Veiled Frost Fragments need to be melted at precisely 812 degrees . Not a tick higher, or the frost essence will vanish faster than your courage on the battlefield."
He reached into the tray and picked up the shimmering fragments, now encased in protective tongs, and slowly lowered them into the glowing crucible.
HISSSSSSSSS!!
Steam hissed violently as frost met fire. A swirl of icy mist and molten light erupted, clashing like two opposing titans. Runes etched into the forge's base began to glow in response, amplifying the heat without overpowering the elemental balance.
"Control the flame. Forge it quickly and keep it steady. Or you'll be fishing shards of disappointment out of your boots."
Borin moved with the rhythm of a master.
CLANG… CLANG… SHHHH!
His hammer danced through the air with perfect timing, striking the metal as it glowed a brilliant pale blue. Each hit rang out like a drumbeat of creation strong, resonant, precise.
CLANG!
SPARK!
The room is filled with golden arcs of magic and heat.
Jack felt each strike resonate in his chest.
Not just metal... but meaning.
Not just forging... but becoming.
"Now!"?" Borin growled, sweat glistening on his brow, "Fuse in the Wolf Fangs. While the steel's still soft."
He pressed the fang pieces into the glowing ore, where they hissed and pulsed melding into the forming dagger like lightning threading through storm clouds.
CRACKLE… SHHHHH… FWOOOSH.
Mana flared as the materials bonded. The faint howl of wind echoed, almost like a wolf spirit had awakened within the metal.
Borin looked up, his voice lower but brimming with pride.
"As for the shape, don't go forging a bloody broadsword. The Frostfang Dagger is short, curved, and light. Built for precision, not brute force. A weapon of shadows, for those who strike first… and vanish."
He stepped back, setting the half-forged blade down onto a cooling rack.
The blade pulsed softly, steam wafting from its icy glow.
Jack's heart pounded.
He could see it now with his own hands gripping the hammer, the firelight on his skin, the sound of sparks ringing like a battle hymn.
This wasn't just blacksmithing.
This was art... alive with flame, frost, and fate.
-------
Step 3: Quenching and Tempering
Professor Borin grunted as he lifted the now-shaped dagger with a pair of long iron tongs. The blade glowed like a dying star.pale blue, pulsing with frost energy, veins of white mist coiling around its edge.
He turned to a basin carved from enchanted obsidian, filled with Frostwater, a mystical liquid that shimmered like liquid moonlight. Runes glowed faintly around its rim, and a biting chill rolled off it in waves.
"Now, brace yourselves," Borin muttered.
Then
SSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
The moment the glowing blade plunged into the frostwater, the room filled with a sharp, violent hiss.
Steam exploded upward, white and ghostly, rising like a summoned spirit. The scent of metal and ozone hit the students like a wave.
HISSSSSSSSSSSS!!!
Frost crept up the handle as the enchantment sealed into the steel. The whole room watched, breath caught.
"Quenching," Borin said over the hissing, "locks in the blade's form. But it also hardens the metal too much. Makes it brittle a beautiful dagger that snaps in its first fight ain't worth dragon dung."
He pulled the blade from the basin, now cool and faintly misting. The edge shimmered, and the room reflected in its pale sheen like ripples on a frozen lake.
"But we ain't done."
He strode back toward the forge, his steps heavy with purpose.
Thud. Thud.
The metal clinked as he laid the blade back into the lower flame softer this time, calmer, controlled.
"This is tempering a slow reheat. Just enough to coax strength back into the steel."
The flames licked the edge gently, like whispers instead of roars. The color of the blade shifted from icy blue to a soft silver sheen. Jack noticed the runes along the blade now pulsed more slowly… as if breathing.
CRACKLE... POP...
"Then," Borin continued, "we let it cool again. Not in water this time. Let the air settle it. That's what gives it the flexibility to survive real combat. Not just stand pretty on some merchant's shelf."
He held the finished dagger in the air. It gleamed under the forge light.refined, balanced, and quietly deadly.
"This is a blade that lives. It bends but doesn't break. It cuts not just flesh, but fate."
He passed it down the rows, and one by one, students held it with reverence.
Jack took it last.
Cold... smooth... alive.
He could feel the mana pulsing through it soft, steady, like a heartbeat.
His fingers tingle.
At that moment, he didn't just want to forge a dagger.
He wanted to create a masterpiece.
------
Step 4: Assembly and Enchantment
Now came the finer work.the part that separated blacksmiths from true weapon artisans.
Professor Borin moved to the assembly table, where strips of leather, frost-hardened wood, silverdust ink, and a carefully sealed Dire Wolf Core waited like sacred offerings.
"Grip first," he said, voice calm but firm. "We'll use frostwood grown in subzero tundras, hard as steel and lighter than bone. Bind it in enchanted leather, reinforced with spell-thread soaked in lunar sap."
He picked up the hilt and expertly aligned the frostwood shaft with the tang of the blade.
Tap. Tap. Crack.
The parts clicked together with a satisfying finality. Then came the wrapping tight, neat loops of dark leather coiling around the grip like a serpent.
Whsshhh... Whsshhh... Snap!
The thread glowed faintly as he tied it off, a silver gleam flashing through the knots.
"Now comes the heart of the blade... the Dire Wolf Core," he said, reverently lifting a small crystal sphere. Inside it, frozen mist swirled like a trapped blizzard.
Borin slotted the core into the hilt's housing with surgical precision. The moment it touched the metal.
THRUMMM...
A resonant hum spread through the room. Students flinched as the frost enchantment activated.
The blade shimmered. Runic lines crawled slowly across its surface like glowing vines of frostbite.
"Feel that?" Borin asked, eyes gleaming. "That's the soul of the weapon awakening."
Jack leaned forward, his breath caught in his throat. His heart beat in rhythm with the blade's low pulsing.
Thump... thump... thrum...
Borin reached for a thin brush and dipped it into a vial of silverdust ink. He began to etch runes at the base of the blade, each stroke crisp and deliberate.
Scratch... hiss... scratch…
The ink shimmered, burning cold as it sank into the steel.
"We use a basic Frost Enchantment Circle for this one. Nothing fancy, but don't be fooled, simplicity, done right, is deadly."
As the final rune was completed, the enchantment flared.
FWOOM!
The entire blade lit up with a soft blue radiance. Frost danced along its edge, and a whisper of winter wind coiled around it like a ghost's sigh.
Borin stepped back, sweat on his brow despite the chill.
"Enchanting a blade ain't about shouting spells like a drunk mage at a tavern," he said with a smirk. "It's about harmony. Mana, metal, intent. Get the flow right and even a weak enchantment will bite like a wyrm."
He placed the finished dagger gently on the table. The room was silent, awestruck.
Jack's eyes locked onto the weapon, a quiet awe burning in his chest.
This… this was what he wanted to do. Not just
forge weapons.
Craft power. Shape destiny.
-----
Step 5: Finishing and Testing
The classroom was thick with cold mist and hushed excitement as Professor Borin approached the final stage. He set the glowing blade upon a stone pedestal and picked up a small pouch filled with shimmering blue dust.
"Now comes the final polish," he murmured.
He poured a pinch of frost-infused sand into his gloved palm. As he rubbed it along the blade's edge, a soft whispering wind rose with each motion.
Shhhh... shhhh... fffrrrhh...
The blade gleamed like moonlight on snow, its surface now flawless and deathly beautiful.
With careful steps, Borin approached a nearby testing dummy, a thick slab of enchanted leather and reinforced wood meant to mimic real armor and flesh.
"Watch closely," he said.
Then
Flick!
One fluid motion.
The dagger hissed through the air like a serpent.
SHINK!
The moment the blade struck
CRRRRRACK!!
A blast of frost exploded from the point of contact, encasing the dummy's chest in jagged, crystalline ice. The room echoed with the sound of creaking and splintering as the frost spread in veins across the target.
The entire class gasped.
Even Jack's jaw dropped.
Borin turned slowly, his emerald eyes sharp and proud beneath his heavy brow.
"That," he said, his voice cutting through the cold silence, "is how you know your craft has life."
He set the dagger down on the display rack, the chill in the air lingering like the echo of a spell.
Then, with a loud
CLAP!
Of his calloused hands, he barked, "Stations are stocked. Tools are set. Materials are ready."
A low rumble spread as forges reignited, metal clanged, and energy buzzed.
He grinned, beard twitching. "Now... It's your turn. Show me what your hands can shape."
And with that, the room burst into motion.
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To Be Continued…!!