CHAPTER 134: ADAM INTO THE FORGE 2

He had other projects today to finish as well. Time to start them.

"Let’s began," he said before opening a sealed wooden crate. Inside lay a length of Worldroot Oak — a deep, almost black wood with faint veins of silver running through its grain. This tree grew only in the hidden groves of the dwarven kingdom’s sacred mountains, its roots said to pierce the planet’s core. It was one of the strongest woods in existence, nearly as hard as steel yet light as feather-bone, and it could conduct both mana and physical force without losing integrity.

"Perfect for both a spear shaft and a wand."

He laid the wood down gently as though setting a priceless treasure on an altar.

Adam began with Elreth’s weapon. She was a knight, her fighting style fierce and relentless, her strikes decisive. She needed a spear that could keep up with her — one that wouldn’t splinter under heavy blows, one that could pierce through the thickest monster hide.

First, he prepared the shaft.

Using a rune-carved lathe powered by a pedal system, he began shaping the Worldroot Oak. The wood resisted the blade at first, as if testing his resolve, but Adam’s hands were steady. Each pass of the tool shaved away fine curls of black-and-silver grain, filling the air with the earthy scent of the ancient tree.

The sound was rhythmic — shhhk, shhhk, shhhk — like the whisper of wind over a cliff’s edge. Sweat beaded on his forehead, not from the forge’s heat but from the precise care needed to keep the shaft perfectly balanced.

Once shaped, he reinforced it by infusing it with mana. Dwarves didn’t simply craft; they breathed life into their creations. Adam closed his eyes, placing one hand on the wood, the other gripping a rune stone. He murmured an ancient dwarven incantation, his voice deep and resonant:

"By root and stone, by iron and bone — awaken, and be unbroken at long as you can."

The silver veins in the wood glowed faintly, drinking in his mana until the shaft thrummed with a heartbeat-like pulse.

Next came the spearhead. For this, Adam chose a blend of Darksteel for its durability and Mithril for its prana conductivity. He set the metals into the crucible, stoking the forge until the coals glowed white-hot. The roar of the flames was deafening. Sparks leapt as he poured the molten blend onto the anvil.

Clang.

The first strike rang like a bell, deep and resonant. Each blow from his hammer sent ripples through the glowing metal, shaping it bit by bit into a slender, lethal spearhead. The edge gleamed silver-white under the forge light, so sharp it could split a falling hair.

He carved battle runes along its base — Vharok for piercing power, Thrun for balance, and Korr for durability. As he struck each rune into place, they flared briefly with golden light before sinking into the metal.

Once the spearhead cooled, he fitted it perfectly onto the oak shaft, binding it with a dwarven-forged collar of Runesteel — a rare alloy that could self-repair minor cracks. He gave the weapon a few experimental spins; it moved like an extension of his arm, smooth and deadly.

"This... will suit her," Adam murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Khione’s weapon required a different approach. As a mage, her focus was precision, mana control, and channeling spells efficiently. A wand wasn’t merely a stick of wood — it was a conductor of will, a bridge between the mage’s soul and the raw forces of prana to full channel the law.

Adam selected another length of Worldroot Oak, this one straighter and thinner than Elreth’s spear shaft. He carved it slowly, the shavings curling away like ribbons. The wood’s silver veins shimmered faintly, as though aware it was being shaped into something sacred.

For the core, Adam needed something special. From a locked chest, he withdrew a crystal shard — a piece of Moonlight Quartz, mined only in caves that see the light of the full moon once every hundred years. The crystal was pale blue, almost translucent, with a faint inner glow.

He split the wand shaft lengthwise, hollowing a groove just deep enough to seat the crystal shard. Then, using thin strips of Mana Silk — threads spun by the dream spiders of the Deep Hollow — he bound the crystal inside, sealing the shaft with a seamless join.

The wand now had a living core, one that would amplify Khione’s spells and reduce the strain on her body during prolonged casting.

But Adam wasn’t done. He etched arcane runes along the length of the wand — Luthien for mana flow, Aeyra for spell clarity, and Velith for stability. Each rune was filled with powdered Starlight Silver, giving them a soft glow even in shadow.

Finally, he polished the wand with oil from the Mana Bloom Flower, a rare plant that enhanced magical resonance. The wood gleamed, its surface so smooth it felt like touching still water.

Both weapons were complete — the spear, standing tall and deadly, its black-and-silver shaft and gleaming spearhead radiating strength; the wand, elegant and refined, with glowing runes and a faint hum of magic.

But in dwarven tradition, a crafted weapon wasn’t truly finished until it was blessed. Adam set both weapons upon the anvil, standing over them with his hammer resting across his shoulders. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and spoke in the language of his ancestors:

"For battle and for honor, for shield and for flame —

Be as the mountain, unshaken.

Be as the river, unbroken.

Find your wielder, and be whole."

The forge fire flared high, casting a golden light over the weapons. For a brief moment, the spear’s runes glowed brighter, and the wand’s crystal pulsed with a heartbeat. Then the light faded, and the forge returned to its steady roar.

Adam let out a slow breath. He reached out, running his calloused fingers over the smooth wood of the wand, then the cold steel of the spearhead.

"They’ll serve you well, my friends," he murmured.

The dwarf prince cleaned his tools, returning unused materials to their sealed crates. The forge’s heat had left his clothes damp with sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead. But there was a quiet satisfaction in his chest — the kind that only came from forging something worthy.

When Elreth and Khione woke, he would place these weapons in their hands himself.

Normally he would have left but now that he was here better make weapon for everyone.

’’Let’s create one for those two!"

Adam pulled his growing beard lightly as he stood before a workbench littered with exotic materials. Even for a dwarf, his expression was unusually focused. He swept away the scraps from earlier projects, then began laying out what he’d need for these final pieces.

For Lux’s wand, he would need materials of purity and harmony — elements that channeled light without distortion. Adam reached for a long, slender branch of Moonlit Rowan, a rare wood whose grain shimmered faintly under the forge’s light. This wood was known to bond exceptionally well with healing and purification magic, naturally amplifying spells of the Law of Light.

Beside it, he placed a chunk of Celestite Crystal, its pale blue body refracting the forge’s flames into countless specks of rainbow. "Perfect for focus," he murmured.

"It’ll give Lux’s spells sharper control."

For Blake’s wand, the selection was different — darker, denser, and more dangerous. He reached into a locked chest and pulled out a crooked length of Nightshade Ebony, wood so black it seemed to drink in the light around it. The surface felt cold to the touch, its aura carrying a faint, almost imperceptible hum of shadow energy. This would be the perfect conduit for the Law of Darkness.

Instead of Celestite, Blake’s wand would require something far more sinister — Voidglass, a crystal born from obsidian that had been corrupted by spatial distortions deep underground. When shaped properly, it could enhance shadow magic’s flexibility, allowing it to slip through defenses like liquid night.

Adam began with the Moonlit Rowan. He laid the branch across his workbench, his hands gliding over its length. Every curve, every line of the grain was studied under his sharp eyes. Then he took out his carving knife, its blade thin as a hair yet sharp enough to shave the breath from the air.

The forge quieted. All that could be heard was the scritch... scritch... scritch of the blade gliding over wood. Shavings fell like feathers, curling and scattering in the warm light. Adam’s movements were steady and precise; for the Saint’s wand, there could be no mistakes.

Once the branch was carved to shape — a gentle taper from the grip to the tip, with a subtle spiral groove running the length of it — Adam placed it into a shallow basin of Blessed Springwater, allowing the Moonlit Rowan to soak up purity itself. The wood’s faint shimmer deepened, its grain now almost glowing with an inner radiance.

Next came the Celestite. Adam heated it gently in a crucible until the surface became soft and malleable, then struck it lightly with his hammer, breaking it into perfectly shaped facets. Each strike resonated with a faint, ringing chime, as if the crystal itself sang in response to his rhythm.

He embedded the largest Celestite shard into the wand’s tip, securing it with a binding of thin Mithril Wire — chosen not only for durability, but also for its unrivaled magic conductivity. The spiral groove in the wood carried the mithril down toward the grip, allowing mana to flow seamlessly from wielder to tip.

To finish, Adam took out a tiny jar of Phoenix Feather Dust(A/N: Not really from Phoenix just a special Feather from powerful bird with diluted phoenix blood), sprinkling it over the wand before passing it over a low, golden flame. The dust fused to the wood, leaving faint, sun-like etchings along the spiral — a detail that would resonate with Lux’s Law of Light, boosting both speed and potency of spellcasting.

When Adam finally set the wand down, it seemed to radiate warmth. Even without touching it, one could feel the faint hum of light mana swirling within. Adam allowed himself a small smile.

"That one’ll suit the boy perfectly," he said quietly.