Jack inhaled deeply.
A thin cloud of frost escaped his lips, dissolving into the forge-heated air.
This was it
The sacred moment.
The kind that made a blacksmith's heart pound like a hammer against steel.
Laid before him on the workbench were more than just materials. They were legacy. They were challenging. They were the soul of a weapon yet to be born.
Clink!
He gently shifted the first piece.
Veiled Frost Fragments their surfaces shimmered like starlight trapped in crystal, their chill biting into his fingertips. "Cold enough to burn…" Jack thought, lips tightening as the fragments hummed with a subtle, icy resonance. A whisper of glacial wind seemed to sigh from them, brushing his skin.
Thump...thump...thump.
The Dire Wolf Core sat pulsing slowly on the table, like a heart still beating long after the beast had fallen.
Each pulse echoed faintly in his ears, syncing with the rhythm of his breath, as if daring him to tame its frost-bound rage.
Crack!
He brushed a finger across one of the Wolf Fangs, and a faint spark of mana flickered along the jagged edge.
They weren't just teeth they were remnants of hunts long past, of survival, dominance, and wild, unrelenting instinct.
Each fang carried a howl trapped in silence…
And Jack could almost hear it now.
He stood still for a long moment, just breathing.
This wasn't forging.
This was communion with power, with nature, with the very spirit of craft.
He closed his eyes.
"Time to forge…My first weapon with my own hands" he murmured.
WHOOOM.
The forge behind him flared to life, ready and waiting.
Understanding Your Materials
Jack exhaled slowly, as if afraid even his breath might disturb the sacred stillness.
Then silence.
The forge behind him flickered, its flame dimmed to a quiet crackle.
Tsss...pop. Soft embers whispered in the background.
He closed his eyes.
And reached out. Not as a smith, but as a listener.
His fingertips grazed the Veiled Frost Fragments.
Hummmmm.
A cold vibration rippled through his skin, like the distant rumble of a snowstorm on the horizon.
Their mana whispered tales of still mountains, of time suspended in icicle-bound stillness.
His fingers moved to the Wolf Fangs.
Click. Ting!
Each one resonated like sharpened bone meeting ancient steel.
He felt the memory etched into them: the hunt, the bite, the final breath of prey.
These were not trophies they were truths, carved by nature's law.
Finally, he touched the Dire Wolf Core.
Thump… thump… THUMP!
It beat like a second heart in his palm.
Untamed.
Resisting.
Alive.
The air around it chilled instantly, a breath of frost curling along his wrist.
Jack didn't flinch. He leaned in, sensing the reluctance… and the promise.
He opened his eyes icy blue flickering with resolve.
"I know what do now," he whispered, voice steady, reverent.
Heating and Forging
Jack stepped to the forge, eyes sharp, breath slow.
He touched the rune cluster carved into the base
Chiiink.
It flared in response, glowing cerulean.
Then
FWOOSH!
A surge of blue fire erupted with a controlled roar, licking the air like a living spirit.
It wasn't just heat. It was elemental focus. Precision. Discipline forged in flame.
"812 degrees…" he murmured, watching the dial etched into enchanted glass. "…steady now."
He placed the Veiled Frost Fragments into the crucible.
TSSSSSS…
They hissed in protest, the chill of ancient glaciers clashing with the forge's blaze. A ghostly silver mist began to rise
Whoooo…
like the breath of a forgotten god, curling through the air in icy tendrils.
Jack picked up the tongs and drew out the molten metal.
It shimmered like liquid moonlight.
He embedded the Wolf Fangs, then raised his hammer.
CLANG.CLANG.CLANG.
Each strike rang out, crisp and clean, echoing like a war drum in the heart of the mountains.
The sound wasn't noise it was music.
The song of steel, born from frost and fire.
Sparks burst from the blade's edge
Ting! Shhhk! Crackle.
bright white flares that flashed like falling stars before fading into smoke and sweat.
His arms moved with rhythm. Controlled. Focused.
The world narrowed to metal, heat, and heartbeat.
And slowly, it took shape
A dagger.
Short. Sleek. Silent.
Its curve whispered of speed, precision… and death.
Quenching and Tempering
Jack gripped the glowing dagger with his tongs. It pulsed with heat a breath away from melting, alive with raw energy.
Then, without hesitation
TSSSSSSHHHHHH!!!
He plunged it into the enchanted frostwater.
The clash of elements screamed through the forge.
Steam exploded upward, white and furious,
WHOOOOSH!
Rolling in thick tendrils across his workspace like a sudden winter storm. It swept over his face, stinging his eyes with cold tears.
He didn't flinch.
Through the fog, he reached in, drawing out the steel now solid, but still too fragile. The first trial passed, the next awaited.
Back into the forge.
Fwoom!
A gentler heat this time. Controlled. Careful.
Tempering.
He watched the blade closely until the colors shifted, from blue, to orange, to the faintest gold sheen.
Then another dip. Slow. Steady.
Ssshhhh.
The song of steel finding balance.
Jack held it up to the light.
The dagger gleamed like moonlight on a frozen river.
He gripped the blade by the hilt and gave it a test bend
Creeeeak… Snap!
Not broken. Rebound. Alive.
The steel flexed and returned, smooth and firm like a heartbeat reborn.
Assembly and Enchantment
Jack moved with precision, his breath slow and even. There was no room for haste here only purpose.
He took the hilt: frost-hardened wood, smooth as riverstone and cold as a mountain peak.
He wrapped it layer by layer in leather treated for cold resistance, pulling each strip taut.
Tug. Wrap. Press.
The binding was firm. Unyielding. Meant to last.
Then came the heart of the blade.
He lifted the Dire Wolf Core
It throbbed in his hand, steady and primal.
Thump. Thump.
Like the heartbeat of a sleeping beast.
With care, he guided it into the hollow of the handle.
Click.
It locked in place with a whispering pulse.
Now came the soul.
Jack uncapped his silverdust pen. The ink shimmered, catching light like snow under moonlight. He leaned in, breath held, and began tracing the Frost Enchantment Circle
each rune drawn with reverent intent.
Scratch… Glide… Scratch…!
Arcane symbols etched in silence, feeding off his focus.
As he closed the final loop, the entire blade pulsed once
Thump!
Then again
Thump!
A cold wind coiled around the dagger, spiraling up from the hilt to the tip. Tiny shards of ice began to formclinging, dancing, gleaming.
The blade glowed faint blue, alive with mana.
It didn't shimmer. It breathed.
Jack smiled faintly.
"It looks like alive."
Finishing and Testing
Jack sat in focused silence, the world narrowing to a single point: the blade.
He took the frost-sand fine as powdered glass, infused with glacial mana and began to polish.
Shhhnk! Shhhhnk!
Each pass of the sand across the steel left a trail of shimmering clarity, like moonlight captured in metal. The dagger gleamed pale and sharp, its edge whispering promises only a weapon could make.
Jack stood, blade in hand.
Before him, the testing dummy waited blank, unknowing.
He inhaled slowly. Held it. Exhaled.
Then he moved.
Shhhk!
The dagger sliced through the air like a breath of winter wind.
THWACK!
It struck the dummy dead-center.
CRACKK!
Frost erupted from the impact like a blooming flower of ice. Crystalline veins raced outward, freezing the target's chest in an instant.
The air grew cold. Quiet. Reverent.
For a moment, the forge room held its breath.
Then
A deep, gravel-edged voice cut through the silence.
"Well done, lad. Your blade sings with cold death."
Jack turned.
There stood Borin, arms crossed, beard twitching in proud approval.
"You got the heart of a smith."
Jack dipped his head, not just in respect but in acknowledgment. Of what he'd done. Of what it meant.
"Thank you, Professor."
Around him, chaos danced hammers striking, voices rising. Students shouted, swore, cheered.
Sparks flew like fireflies in a storm of creation.
But for Jack, the world had stilled.
This was more than forging.
It was proof. Purpose. A connection to something greater magic, will, the shaping of destiny by one's own hand.
The forge winds curled around him, warm and cold all at once like spirits brushing past.
Jack looked down at his dagger, still humming with frost.
And he smiled.
"This… is only the beginning."
---------
To Be Continued…!!