Ultimate Level 1

The moment Max entered the thick metal doors that led into the actual forge, he couldn’t wipe away the smile that had formed even if offered a thousand gold.

Over a hundred dwarves were working in unison, dozens of them singing a song as they pounded metal.

Down we go, where shadows creep,

‎ Through stone halls cold and secrets deep.

‎ With pick and axe, we carve our way,

‎ For gold and glory, we’ll not delay.

Strike the iron, strong and true,

‎ The mountain’s gift, it’s ours to hew.

‎ Forge the blade, the axe, the shield,

Hammer falls, the anvil rings,

‎ Echo loud as the mountains sing.

‎ Fire and stone, our hearts the same,

‎ We craft with pride in the hammer’s flame.

“First time hearing dwarves sing like this?”

Max nodded at Fowl, feeling the deep tone of all the dwarves as they created a melody that matched the cadence of their strikes of their hammers.

“It’s… amazing. I’m at a loss for words.”

The pair of guards who were escorting them had stopped, and Max noticed both of them were humming in tune with the song, neither lifting their voices as they waited on them to follow.

“Does your family do this?”

“We used to,” his friend replied with a frown. “My mother… she… can be a difficult dwarf. I remember when she decided it would be better to limit how often we sang. There were still times that we did, but often it was reserved for holidays or special occasions.”

Sensing how his friend was fidgeting and the topic of Greeta was beginning to ruin the mood, Max gave Fowl a side hug and shook him a little.

“Well, you’ll have to teach me some of them one day. That way when I visit the dozen children all named after me, we can sing together.”

Laughing, the dwarf shook his head and shoved Max.

“Yeah… I’ve heard you sing… let’s not torture the children.”

Both men followed the pair as they led them to a large forge, where a blond-haired dwarf was singing, her voice rising above the deep tone of the men, adding the perfect pitch to harmonize with the others.

“Master Ruznula!” one of their escorts shouted. “The men our king said would be joining you today!”

A slight frown appeared on the woman’s face, her blue eyes gazing upon both of them.

“He really wasn’t joking… a human… in our forge?”

“King Dagon was not, ma’am.”

Snorting, she nodded and waved the pair away, moving from where she had been watching two men who were pounding out on a metal Max knew would make rare weapons.

“You must be Fowl Hammerfall. I can see the resemblance of your father and brother,” Ruznula said, coming to stand before them, wiping her hands on her leather apron. “And… Max Hoste… the human I’m supposed to let into the very hall Ockrim built for us to craft in.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Master Ruznula,” Fowl said with a deep bow. “It’s an honor to see this place in person.”

She huffed, her eyes staying fixed on Max.

“Thank you for honoring the king’s request.”

Shaking her head, she licked her fingers and then fixed her bushy eyebrows.

“Like I could deny the king’s request , no matter what I think. So, can he really craft?”

Max ignored the fact that she had yet to reply to him and watched his friend shift a little under her gaze.

“He can. In fact… he made this.”

“Fowl, don’t!”

Shaking his head, his dwarven friend held up his left hand as he held the legendary weapon Max had created for him.

Ruznula glanced between the pair, her eyes narrowing at them both before studying the hammer held out before her.

“Well at least it looks like something of—”

A cough came and she moved forward, reaching out to grab it as her eyes started to see the runes and markings on it along with the materials that it had been crafted from.

Pulling his weapon back, Fowl held out his hand and stopped the charging weaponsmith.

“No. This isn’t something anyone gets to inspect except me and him.”

“But those runes! Those marks! How can…”

Her words seemed to catch in her throat as she fought to look back and forth between the hammer, the warrior she knew was further in the tower than most dwarves could ever dream of, and the human she had a problem with being in this very room.

“Hit him.”

“What?”

“Hit him with it,” Ruznula said. “As hard as you can.”

“It’s okay,” Max said with a chuckle. “She wants to make sure that I actually made it.”

“Oh… that’s right. For a moment I was wondering if she had been sniffing the fumes too long.”

A chuckle came from the pair of dwarves that had been working on weapons, both having paused and watched the event unfold before them.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Max turned to face his friend and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Take your best shot.”

Laughing, Fowl nodded and backed up a few steps, spinning the handle in his hand for a moment, a devilish grin appearing.

“Gods, I hate that this isn’t going to do anything, but I’m going to give everything I have.”

Nodding, Max bobbed his head, and Fowl charged two steps, planted his feet, and swung with every ounce of power he had.

The hammer connected against Max’s unarmored chest, the flat head coming to a complete stop and making Fowl stumble as the power of the attack just vanished.

“Dear Ockrim…”

Other gasps could be heard as Max noticed the song had ended, every dwarf staring at them as Fowl stood upright and twirled the hammer a few times before storing it.

“Now, as I was saying, Master Ruznula, my friend and half-brother is able to craft many wonderful weapons. Perhaps you can pull the donkey out of your arse and trust that King Dagon knows what he wants.”

The blond beard on the woman performed a melody of dance movements, moving all over her face as her jaw worked and no sound came forth for a few.

“I… I… Forgive me, Sir Hoste.”

“Just Max,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “You’re not the first to doubt my ability, and I understand how special this place is to you and your people. My friend has sung the praises of how great a gift this is for you all. Even as a human, I can say that Ockrim is a great god, and truly loves his people.”

Slowly the woman’s head moved up and down, and then she grinned, stepping forward and slapping Max on the arm, her smile growing when he didn’t move at all from her blow.

Her arms are like small tree trunks.

And she’s as tall as you.

“Well, forgive me for being a fool. I guess I will have to make this up to you somehow. Can I ask what level you can craft?”

“Will you tell me yours if I tell you mine?”

Shaking her head, Ruznula winked at him.

“Not on your life, but I think we can do this the old-fashioned way. The way dwarves do this.”

***

Sweat poured down his face, and Max used the back of his hand to wipe away the perspiration.

“Speed up the air flow.”

Fowl grunted, a sheen of sweat pouring down his face as well. He was smiling, though, as his brother Grondir worked beside him.

The heat overcame neither, but as they worked together, each of them was focused on the task of crafting a few weapons; the sheen of working with metal appeared anyways.

Ruznula was about ten yards away, hammering again on another blade, having easily kept pace with Max as he worked through the uncommon, rare, and epic quality weapons. Now both of them were moving on to materials that would allow for the creation of something legendary.

All the other dwarves had stopped working, the sound of only two hammers and the bellows each weaponsmith had working their coals rising above the murmurs and discussions from those present. Hours had passed, and most only left to relieve themself, not passing up the opportunity to witness a rare thing, according to Fowl.

Adjusting the blade of the dagger he was heating, Max poured a little fire magic into it.

Some might say that is cheating.

Would you?

Laughter came from Bob.

Oh, I have no problem with it. Still, I find the deck stacked against you. She moves with such a better grace and pace. While this isn’t a race, we both know she has a lifetime of crafting to draw upon.

Which is why we’re going to cheat even more.

As the blade reached the glow that he needed it to be, he transferred it to the table and began to carve runes and lines in it.

“Is he—”

“Why would he do that?”

Smiling to himself, Max knew what they were all wondering. There was no need to carve these things into a blade if one wasn’t going to imbue it with an elemental core. Decorations were nice, but the true power of a blade wasn’t just the magic one put in it. The metal used, the quality of the crafting, how it was shaped and tempered. All those things were just as important as what he was about to do.

He could sense Ruznula’s hammer pause, the rare break in her steady rhythm as she turned and looked at him.

“Are you really going to play that game? I’m not opening the vault for you to fail on something.”

“Don’t worry about what you think will happen,” Max said as he looked up for just a moment at her. “I’ve got my own materials.”

She snorted, and her hammer began to sing the same song again, each strike hitting as she hummed a song.

Let’s go for broke.

That is what I love about you, Max. Always willing to go big.

***

Every eye was on him and the blade he was still working on. Four more hours had passed, and Ruznula paused her own crafting, having finished the dagger she had infused with an elemental core as he had.

“Why risk it?”

“What’s the point of this whole thing if I can’t go for broke?” Max asked, never taking his eyes off what he was doing. “Everyone knows you have the godly tier of crafting. I can see it. You toyed with me. All that you need are the right materials, none of which you have.”

A chuckle came from Ruznula as she stood closer than the other dwarves, each of them almost climbing on top of each other.

Taking a deep breath, Max blocked out the throng, well aware of what he was attempting.

I’m an idiot but I’m grateful for the help.

We both know you’re a fool, but at least your heart is in the right place. Now focus on this.

Bob handled the flow of magic and mana, no longer requiring Max to try to manage doing both things at once. With his concentration able to be completely focused upon the task at hand, the lightning core he held in the glove he wore, arced with each trace of the runes.

Slower… good… we’re close.

A large arc leaped between the blade and core, causing a gasp from all those nearby, yet Max didn’t flinch, knowing he was close.

Yes… right there. Now, feel what I’m going to do. It’s going to want to push away. The amount of power contained in this small blade is at its limit. Do not allow it to stray from the blade. Even the smallest gap will cause this to fail.

Not even risking a grunt and unable to remember how long it had been since he had taken a deep breath, Max felt the rush of lightning, fire, ice, and earth magic pour from him into the dagger. All twelve inches of the blade glowed, and it was like a wild beast, fighting against the core in his hand, and the vise which held it fast.

Grateful for every ounce of strength he owned, Max fought against the raging torrent of magical power, holding the core exactly where it needed to be.

With one last movement up the blade, the core pulsed, and a flash of light went off, causing a blinding display of power, requiring everyone to shield their eyes.

As the spots faded from his vision, Max grinned, seeing the notification.

[ 50 Experience Gained ]

[ New Weapon Skill Unlocked ]

[ Elemental Mastery Weapon Crafting Gained ]

[ Determining Skill Rank ]

[ Elemental Mastery Weapon Crafting Skill - Legendary ]

Holy—

Elf tits!

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