Chapter 240: Diamond-Hard Woman Problem
Outside the forging room, Damian leaned against the wall and let out a slow breath. Inside, the furnace flames continued roaring fiercely.
WHOOSH!
Garron stood beside him with his thick arms crossed, clearly listening to every movement coming from inside the room.
For a short while, neither of them spoke.
Eventually, Damian glanced sideways at the old blacksmith. "Right, Elder Garron."
Garron turned his head. "What?"
The corner of Damian’s lips lifted slightly. "I already talked to Elder Mirena."
The moment those words left his mouth, Garron’s rough expression immediately changed.
The old blacksmith turned toward him so quickly that Damian almost thought his neck was going to crack. "You talked to Mirena?"
Damian nodded casually. "Yeah."
Garron’s eyes immediately brightened, and his face lit up with obvious expectation. "Good brat! So? What did she say?"
Damian looked at Garron’s hopeful expression and suddenly felt a little guilty.
Only a little.
He coughed lightly and scratched his cheek. "Well... I still don’t really know what kind of sword she specifically likes or wants."
Garron’s expression stiffened. "What?"
Damian quickly raised one hand. "Listen first."
Garron reluctantly kept quiet.
Damian continued, "She said the best sword is one that can cut, doesn’t lie to its wielder, and stays quiet."
Garron’s brows slowly furrowed as he considered those words.
Damian added, "She also dislikes noisy swords... and noisy people."
Garron’s expression became noticeably more complicated.
Damian glanced at him before continuing a little more carefully. "As for her love life... according to Master, Elder Mirena basically only has eyes for swords."
The corridor fell silent.
Only the muffled hammering from Vulkara’s forging room continued behind the closed door.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Damian let out a sigh. "So, honestly, Elder Garron, I don’t think you’re going to reach her heart through normal means."
Garron’s face darkened. "Damn."
The old blacksmith rubbed his rough beard while frowning deeply. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do, huh?"
Damian opened his mouth, then soon closed it again. For once, even he could not come up with an immediate shameless solution.
Elder Mirena was simply not like an ordinary woman.
Gifts might work, but only if the gift was connected to the sword and somehow managed to satisfy her ridiculous standards.
Sweet words would probably go in one ear and out the other.
Flirting seemed completely fucking useless.
Trying to act pitiful would most likely get Garron ignored, and if Mirena was in a particularly bad mood, she might even mock him for wasting her time.
Damian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Honestly... I don’t know either."
Garron stared at him in disbelief. "You don’t know?"
Damian gave him a completely serious look. "That woman is diamond-hard, Elder. Even my usual tricks might get cut apart before they have the chance to begin."
Garron released a heavy sigh, and his shoulders dropped slightly.
For a man capable of beating metal into weapons with his bare strength, this particular problem seemed far more troublesome than any stubborn ore he had ever worked with.
Damian remained quiet for another moment before suddenly pointing his thumb toward Vulkara’s forging room. "Why don’t we ask the Tyrant Hammer later?"
Garron blinked. "The hammer?"
Damian nodded. "Yeah. [Infernal Forge Tyrant Hammer] is a King Grade weapon spirit. It should know far more about powerful weapons than either of us."
His eyes brightened slightly as the idea became more reasonable the longer he thought about it. "Maybe it can tell us what kind of sword Elder Mirena would actually want."
Garron slowly rubbed his beard again. "That... might actually not be a bad idea."
Damian immediately looked pleased with himself. "See? I’m useful."
Garron glanced sideways at him. "Barely."
Damian’s mouth twitched. "Damn. Everyone keeps saying that to me today."
---
Outside the forging room, Damian was still leaning against the wall while Garron rubbed his beard thoughtfully.
Inside, the hammering had continued for quite some time.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Each strike sounded rough, heavy, and fierce, matching Vulkara’s personality almost perfectly.
Damian listened for a while before muttering, "She’s really going at it."
Garron slowly nodded. "Her rhythm is still a little wild, but there’s strength behind every strike."
Damian raised an eyebrow. "That means it’s good?"
Garron glanced at him. "It means she has potential."
Damian’s mouth twitched. "Why do elders always talk like that?"
Before Garron could answer, the hammering from inside suddenly stopped.
The corridor immediately fell quiet.
Damian straightened slightly, while Garron’s attention shifted entirely toward the closed door.
A few breaths later, Vulkara’s voice came from inside. "You two can come in now!"
Damian immediately pushed himself away from the wall.
Garron’s eyes also sharpened as the two walked toward the door and pushed it open.
CREAK...
A wave of scorching heat rushed into the corridor.
Vulkara stood beside the anvil, her face covered in sweat and her short red hair completely messy from the heat and effort.
Her breathing remained slightly uneven, and her hands trembled faintly from the strain of forging for so long.
Despite her exhausted appearance, her eyes burned with unmistakable pride.
Above her, [Infernal Forge Tyrant Hammer] floated silently.
Its crimson-black flames pulsed at a slow, steady rhythm while its attention remained fixed on the weapon lying across the anvil.
Damian and Garron naturally looked over as well.
Resting on the dark anvil was a short, heavy dagger.
It was neither elegant nor delicate. Its body was thick, slightly rough around a few edges, and clearly lacked the refined appearance of a weapon forged by an experienced blacksmith.
At first glance, it even looked somewhat crude.
However, the aura contained within the dagger was surprisingly stable. The heat and metal Qi infused into it did not clash or leak chaotically, instead remaining firmly contained within the weapon.
Garron’s brows rose slightly. "Oh?"
Damian’s expression also changed.
With his own talent and experience, he could tell that the dagger was actually quite good for Vulkara’s current forging level, especially considering she had only just received the forging art.
Vulkara lifted her chin and tried her best to look calm, although the excitement practically glowing in her eyes ruined the act completely. "Well?"
Damian looked between her and the dagger before giving an approving nod. "Not bad."
Vulkara’s lips twitched as though she was trying very hard not to look too pleased with the praise.
Garron stepped closer to the anvil and carefully examined the dagger from several angles, his earlier amusement disappearing as his experienced blacksmith’s gaze took over.
For several moments, even [Infernal Forge Tyrant Hammer] remained completely silent.
The King Grade hammer simply floated above them, its flames pulsing faintly while it continued inspecting the weapon Vulkara had forged.