Chapter 008
The brazier, cold to the touch, hadn’t seen fire in ages. All that remained was a thick layer of soot.
After wiping away the accumulated dust, I picked up a piece of charcoal made from the sacred Roble Oak—Thor’s tree—placed next to the brazier.
It seemed freshly made, dense and of excellent quality.
“The brazier’s covered in dust, but the charcoal’s nearly new. You haven’t fully let go of your smithing days, have you?”
“Shut up and light the fire.”
“Yes, sir.”
I stacked the Roble Oak charcoal and oak logs into the brazier. Then, focusing my faint mana into the wood, I lit it using the lantern flame hanging from the forge ceiling.
With a flash, the flames instantly caught the logs.
Fwoosh!
This wasn’t an ordinary forge—this was a dwarven forge. From afar, it looked like normal fire, but in truth, it was a chamber that housed a fire spirit.
As the spirit devoured the mana-infused logs and the sacred Roble Oak charcoal, the flames began to take on a divine aura.
When I easily summoned the dwarven flame, Eitri’s eyebrows twitched as he watched.
“I’m doing it exactly by the book, right?”
“…”
Whether it was pride or stubbornness, Eitri chose not to reply.
‘Then I’ll continue exactly as you taught me.’
Now it was time to work the bellows to feed the flame—not just with wind, but with will.
Will.
In my previous life, Eitri had repeatedly emphasized that will was the alpha and omega of forging.
And my will—to stoke this fire—was stronger than any other.
Puff! Puff!
I pumped the bellows rhythmically.
The fire grew.
Still not enough.
Just a faint yellow.
Only the beginning.
I had too much to do.
I had to kill gods—many of them.
Puff! Puff!
I couldn’t afford to fail at something as simple as stoking a fire.
So burn. Burn hotter and forge my weapon.
Puff! Puff!
The flame turned white.
Sweat drenched me.
My arms ached from pumping the bellows.
I forced power into every push, my limbs trembling.
Eitri finally stood up, trying to stop me.
“That’s enough. I see it now—you really can handle the dwarven flame. I won’t kill you…”
“Just a little longer. It’s nearly there.”
The white flame darkened… and then began to turn blue.
Then, just when it seemed it might turn mint-colored—
FWOOOM!
It roared upward in a brilliant burst.
‘I did it.’
As the flames settled, they glowed a vivid blue.
“Heh… hehehe…”
Eitri laughed, stunned by the sight.
“To think I’d see this again before I died.”
The old dwarf’s voice quivered.
“How is it?”
“You… you sure you’re human? You’re not a god in disguise?”
“I’m human. And besides, would a god bother learning dwarven techniques?”
“Fair point. They’re even more arrogant than elves.”
Eitri stared at me for a moment, then asked,
“Who taught you?”
“Interested in learning from my master?”
“No, I just want to know which lunatic dwarf taught a human our ancestral secrets.”
He had no clue it was him.
“You’d be surprised.”
“Ivaldi? His sons? No, they’re idiots. Gundr? Nah, he’s not capable. Maybe Alvis—he does like to share what he knows.”
“None of them.”
“Then who?”
His eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“Can’t say. My master asked me not to reveal it.”
“Why not? Damn, I’m dying of curiosity!”
I chuckled at his one-man show.
Then suddenly, he snapped his fingers as if he figured it out.
“Got it! You’re… you’re Brokkr’s apprentice, aren’t you?! That dumb little brother of mine took in a disciple?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? It makes sense now. Even if Brokkr was slow, he was great at teaching. That explains why you’re avenging him, too.”
He reached his own conclusion and softened.
“If you’re my brother’s apprentice, then you’re mine too. From now on, call me Master.”
True to his stubborn dwarven nature, he had no intention of listening to me. But I didn’t bother correcting him.
After all, technically, he wasn’t wrong.
“…Understood, Master.”
“Good. Now, let’s fulfill our promise.”
Eitri picked up a hammer and smiled.
The fire in his soul had returned after witnessing the blue flame.
“What weapon shall I forge? Speak. I might not be in my prime, but I can still make something worthy.”
“A longsword designed for stabbing.”
“Not hard.”
I brought out a chunk of Yarnvidr’s Blacksteel.
“Please use this for the blade.”
“Yarnvidr’s Blacksteel, huh? Where’d you get this rare stuff?”
“It was a gift.”
“Alright, I won’t pry. It’s a tricky material, but I’ve worked with it before. Got a specific size in mind?”
“Blade length: 92 cm. Width: under 5 cm. A shallow groove down the center. Oak for the grip, 22 cm long.”
“Very precise.”
“I thought it all through.”
This was the exact spec of the weapon I’d used in my past life—the nameless blade that had protected me.
Now I’d forge it again, but stronger.
“We’ve got everything here but the steel. Just keep the fire burning right. Think you can manage?”
“Of course.”
“How long can you keep it going per day?”
“Four hours—six at most.”
“Tight schedule. We’ll finish the weapon in three days. Let’s sweat together.”
“Understood.”
Eitri had transformed since seeing the blue flame—as though he had finally let go of his brother’s death.
But I knew better.
What he’d let go wasn’t the death itself—but the despair that followed.
Now, he would burn not with grief, but with hope for revenge—and become my greatest ally.
I’d help him avenge his brother, and he’d help me avenge myself.
That was enough.
“Let’s begin.”
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The forge of Eitri & Brokkr burned brightly for the first time in a long while.
