The pain in Arwin’s stomach intensified with every passing second. He wasn’t even sure what he was searching for. It wasn’t like he could just break into a shop and steal a magical item, nor was he going to find one lying around on the ground. I suppose I could break in somewhere, but then I’d be a wanted man. No. I need a smithy. This class should let me forge something. If I can just find a smithy somewhere, I’ll be fine. That was easier said than done. The agony was so intense that Arwin could have sworn that his stomach was actually eating itself. He’d been stabbed, cut, and ripped up by magic more times than he could count – none of it came close to this. His body begged him to lie down and curl into a ball. To give into the pain in hopes that it would end sooner. Arwin’s mind rebelled. He ground his teeth and pressed on, leaning on a wall for Read the latest chapters on NovelHub - completely free! As Arwin turned an alleyway, muted voices reached his ears. He forced his eyes up, squinting. Standing just feet away from him in a corner of the alley well within the shadows was a bald man in dark clothes. He had his dagger to the neck of a short, hooded woman with blonde hair and a scarred face. She looked to be roughly in her late teens. She and the man were arguing about something, but Arwin’s ears barely even registered the words. He mustered his energy and took a step toward them. “You,” Arwin growled, his pained words coming out coarse. “Smithy. The nearest one. Where is it?” “We’re doing something here,” the bald man said. “Don’t get any ideas. Get lost before you get run through as well.” I suppose I oversaw the forging of most of my armor, not all of it. Either way, the first step he could recall was fire. And, to get fire, Arwin needed – Sitting near the hearth was a black brick. A piece of flint. It was mostly used up, but all he needed was a spark. Arwin heaved himself over to it, grabbing the piece of flint, and struck it with the dagger that he’d taken from the thief. It scraped against the flint, sending up a tiny cloud of dust and doing nothing more. Undeterred, Arwin struck it again. The fourth time, his efforts were rewarded. A tiny spark leapt as he struck the flint, landing on one of the dry, burnt pieces of wood nestled amongst the charcoal. Perhaps fortune smiled on Arwin, or perhaps the gods were smiling on him. Regardless of the reason, the spark took. He struck the flint a few more times until a tiny fire started to spread across the dry wood. Arwin fanned the flames as they grew, flitting across the dry wood and quickly filling the hearth. He grabbed the handles of the bellows, squeezing them desperately and pumping air into the flame. In minutes, a fire started to roar. Arwin’s stomach reminded him that he didn’t have minutes to work with. At any point, his time would run out and he would die. I’m not even guaranteed to make a magical item. I hardly know what I’m doing, but I have no choice but to try. Arwin staggered over to the pile of metal and grabbed a piece, barely pausing for long enough to check how good it looked. They were all garbage, and he didn’t need to make a work of art. He practically threw it into the fire, then immediately remembered that he had to take it back out. Cursing under his breath and pumping the bellows to keep the flame going, Arwin scanned the room once more. There was a poker already resting in the hearth, but it wasn’t exactly what he needed. His eyes landed on a pair of crusty tongs lying on the ground in a pile of rotted wood. Beside it, leaning against the anvil, was an old hammer. The wood making up its handle didn’t look particularly reliable, but it was better than nothing. Arwin turned his attention back to the piece of metal. It was only barely starting to heat, but he didn’t have any way to make it hot faster. All he could do was continue pumping the bellows, gritting his teeth as the pain continued to scale. It was another five precious minutes later when the metal finally seemed hot enough to work with. Arwin released the bellows, lurching forward and grabbing the tongs with fumbling fingers. He stuffed them into the hearth, sending out a shower of sparks as he grabbed the slightly reddened piece of metal and slammed it onto the anvil. Snagging the hammer with his other hand, Arwin brought it down on the piece of metal. It struck with a resounding clang, and Arwin immediately found a problem. The hearth hadn’t been anywhere near hot enough, and the metal had only slightly bent at his strike. The amount of time it would take to let the hearth heat properly was too great, though. Arwin raised his arm and called on [Scourge]. His hand fell, power infused into his muscles, and he struck the metal again. This time, it gave beneath the blow and bent. Arwin suppressed a pained grin and raised the hammer once more. If he didn’t have time, he’d just have to cut a few corners. Over and over, Arwin’s hammer fell on the strip of metal. He flattened it out, using the tongs to hold it in place as he pounded away. Arwin stuck it back into the hearth as it cooled, then pulled it back out as soon as it felt ready to work with. He had absolutely no idea how to forge just about anything, but a bracelet seemed easy enough. It was just a circle, after all. He hammered at the metal again, starting to put a curve into the metal. With every blow, he felt the molten coal inside his stomach start to burn hotter. Time was nearly up. But nearly wasn’t the same thing as completely, and so he kept at it. The strip of metal started to curve, and the two pieces finally came around to touch each other. It was, without a doubt, the ugliest bracelet that Arwin had ever seen. And yet, a bracelet it still was. Even though it still glowed with faint heat, Arwin felt the Mesh rise up within him. [Metal Bracelet: Garbage Quality] has been forged. Forging a magical item has granted you energy. Achievement: [The First Step] has been earned. [The First Step] – Awarded for forging your first item. Effects: Your first item has been granted magic. May it serve you well. This achievement has been consumed upon creation of your first item. The Mesh traced words through the air as Arwin inspected his newly made bracelet. Metal Bracelet: Garbage Quality [Running Hot]: This item was forged hastily, imbuing it with the panic of a dying candle. While wearing it, you may use a small amount of your magical energy to imbue your attacks with the Fire element. Arwin could have cried in relief. He grabbed the Bracelet, the heat still singing his skin, and brought the bracelet to his mouth. It was a monumentally stupid idea to try to bite down on a piece of hot metal, but he had no idea how else he was meant to eat something. As his mouth opened and his teeth touched the bracelet, a surge of energy raced down his body and into his stomach. The metal groaned within his mouth. And then, with a loud crack, it shattered. Relief flooded through Arwin as the pain started to abate. He chewed, unaware and uncaring of how he was eating straight metal as if it were bread, and then swallowed. The pain continued to recede, but Arwin wasn’t taking any chances. He took another bite from the bracelet, grinding the metal between his teeth. As Arwin went to take another bite, he heard a foot fall behind him. He turned, still chewing on metal, as five cloaked men stepped into the shop, their weapons drawn. “What do you want?” Arwin asked, taking another bite from his bracelet. The taste was starting to grow on him. It almost felt a little bit spicy, but that might have been his tongue burning. “I’m busy.” “This is the guy that roughed Blin up?” one of the men asked. “It’s him,” another said, tapping his nose. “Followed him here.” The first man glanced at the largest with an uncomfortable frown. “Boss, I–” “Shut up,” the large man snapped. “You don’t fiddle with the Brothers Six and just waltz off. He only got a dagger, idiots.” “Brothers Six? What are you, a circus troupe?” Arwin asked. He finished off the last of his bracelet, then let out a slow sigh. The last traces of pain had finally vanished. Heat coiled in Arwin’s fists, and a cold smile split his lips. He could think properly again. “Get out, you corny shits. I value my solitude.” “I’m the one who calls the shots here,” the large man said, pointing his sword at Arwin. Magic crackled around his hand and entered the blade, igniting it with hissing yellow lightning. “And you’re paying in blood for what you did.” Of course he’s got magic. This is going to be a little more annoying than I was hoping for. “Idiots.” Arwin grabbed the poker from the hearth and pulled it free, its tip glowing red-hot. “Come on, then. I can’t say I enjoy moving much after a meal, but I’ll make an exception if it shuts you up.”