Jack allowed Thomas to go to the training field and Agos to go home before he himself wandered in the alleys of forges and shops. It was late in the afternoon, but the sound of smithing and yelling could still be heard as the heat from the ovens surrounded every corner. Jack had to take off his coat and stop by the item shops several times because there were air conditioning systems inside. However, the owners weren’t particularly pleased seeing a customer go in and out without even looking at the stuff.

The smell of smoke, sweat, and melting metal were all over the place. The road was covered by a sticky and slimy surface, creating splashy sounds when moving. The houses all had a layer of soot and dust on them, like it or not. Most of the workers here were either bare-chested or only wore a thick apron, a pair of smithing glasses, and gloves, constantly walking between the shops and stalls. They seemed to always be in a rush, heat coming out from their bodies as their faces were hard and stressed out, much like the pieces of red hot metal being pounded on the anvils in their houses. Smoke rose, covering the clear sky above and suffocating the air below it.

In this maze of a place, the way to tell directions to the forges was to follow the trails of black color; the darker, the closer. Making his way through the cursing and the taunting, Jack found the forge that Meinhard had introduced, Sword in the Forge. It was at the end of a rather empty alley, and unlike other ones, it didn’t have smiths going back and forth or a stall to display its forging process and products. The forge itself was quite small, though definitely sturdy, being built from blocks of stone. Outside looking, it looked more like a normal living house than a place to make swords. Above the wooden door was an old tattered barely-hanging sign with a symbol much like the name, a sword in a forge.

Jack pushed the door in as the hinges creaked like they were falling apart. Inside the house was a small counter and a bench by the wall. There was a simple electrical rod, brightening up the place with its yellow light, shining on the swords newly forged swords displayed on the wall. Jack wasn’t too impressed by their quality, though. They didn’t look like something that Meinhard would recommend to him.

A short old man walked out from the door by the counter. He was only at Jack’s height but was more muscular than anyone Jack had ever met, counting the previous worlds. It seemed that his small stature had helped elevate his very muscles as his sweaty skin shone under the yellow light of the ceiling. All that remained of his hair was two chunks on each side, above the ears; the rest of his head was baldly cleaned. His nose was big and aquiline, his lips thick and cheeks wrinkled. He wore a dirty old apron and a pair of even extra thick gloves. When he entered the room, the air went a bit nasty. Jack wasn’t sure if it was the sweat or something else.

He grumpily looked at Jack, spat out at the corner of the wall, then asked.

“Sword?”

“No,” Jack shook his head, “I….”

“Small ones?” He didn’t let Jack finish his sentence.

“No,” Jack answered, “I….”

“Custom made?”

“No…”, Jack started to get irritated.

“Material deal then?”

“Not that too….”

“Then get out!”

He spat another one out, right in front of Jack’s shoe tip.

Jack could feel the blood boiling in his veins as he tried his best to keep it from bursting out of his head.

What the hell is wrong with these people? Dan, then this guy.

“Meinhard told me to come here!” Jack spoke out before the man could open the door to the back of the house.

“More reason for you to get out!”

As the man turned his head and was about to give Jack another spit of his body fluid, Jack stopped him with his next words.

“I want to learn blacksmithing.”

“You? Smithing?”

He took a closer look at Jack, from head to bottom. As Jack thought he was evaluating to see if Jack was suitable to learn the skill, his words really made Jack lose it.

“You got the money?”

Jack gritted his teeth. He would normally maintain his composure better than this; that would be the case if he hadn’t met Mr. Dan and felt tired all day.

“You’re Bastian?”

The old man nodded.

“Yes, it is I, the one and only.”

Yeah, one of you is enough, Jack thought to himself.

“So, how much?”

“Ten gold coins? If you can’t pay, get out, I’m busy!”

Recalling the empty alley and the lack of reception, Jack could see that this man would hardly get any customers. But, placing his trust in Meinhard, Jack stayed with it.

“One coin!” Jack said as decisively as Bastian did.

“Well, why don’t you rob me then? What the hell are you gonna do with the other nine?” Bastian frowned.

Jack held back his crooked smile.

“Take it or leave it? I have other shops waiting for me!”

Seeing Jack making his way to the door, he called out.

“Fine, fine! One it is, my loss.”

Loss your ass, Jack cursed with a smile.

Jack took out a gold coin from his pocket. Just before it dropped into the rough black hand of Bastian, he stopped. Jack hesitated, seeing the untrustworthy face of this shop owner.

“What? What’s wrong?” Sebastian rushed him.

Jack instead quietly took out five silver coins and put them on the counter.

“This is the deposit. After the study, I’ll pay you the rest.”

Bastian opened his mouth, trying to say something but stopped himself. His eyes sneakily looked at the five shiny coins on the counter. He pretended to sigh, waving Jack to follow him.

“Come inside!”

The room at the back was much more spacious, opposite to the crampy front, as all the space must have been saved for this part. On the right, there was a red hot oven, big and bulky. The pipes around it were sophisticatedly connected like a web way, some leading to the ground, others to the ceiling. By its side lay the smithing tools such as hammer, vise, many types of tongs, and coal, making a mess on the floor. On the left was the anvil, where a twisted sword was lying on. A wooden table in the middle, equipped with saws, blades, and scissors, was the place to add the finishing touch like sword hilts and sheaths. There was also a chest in the far corner of the room.

As Jack was examining the room, Bastian walked to the sword on the anvil and threw it into a corner, where the scraps were.

“It’s your fault, kid! I was hammering it, and you went in, disrupting my rhythm.”

“Rhythm?”

“Yes, rhythm, you idiot! Now I have to start all over again.”

Jack bit his lips, his hand shaken, unable to say anything.

Bastian walked close to the corner chest. It looked dark and empty inside. But somehow, the old man pulled out a bar of silvery metal. It could be iron, steel, or something completely unknown to him. Back on Earth, he knew nothing about blacksmithing. During his time in world No.146, he had done some research, but it wasn’t anything remarkable since magical power was too overwhelming over there, or perhaps they hadn’t had a sufficient foundation for blacksmithing to develop. So there he was, clueless.

Bastian smirked, waving the bar of metal in front of Jack.

“Know what this is?”

“Steel?” Jack guessed.

“Almost got it, but not there yet, you dumb head. It’s mana-infused steel. You see the stirring around it? Can’t even tell a basic piece of steel. Who do you think I am to use a lowly piece of crude metal, ayy?

A grumpy crazy old man, Jack wanted to burst it out.

Anyhow, he had managed to learn about the existence of such material. If so, according to his unreliable blacksmithing knowledge, the carbon content wouldn’t be too crucial in defining the product's quality.

Bastian tapped the bar onto the ground several times, then stared at Jack.

“Now,” Bastian said, “shut your mouth so I can work.”

Jack nodded. He only cared about how the process would go.

Bastian started. Jack thought it would take some while to melt the metal but was surprised to see how different the process was. Bastian threw some coal into the fire with a shovel. Then he spread his hand toward the oven, unleashing an intense flow of mana into it, stirring up the temperature. The fire rose quickly as the pipes around the forge started shaking. Jack could see some kind of fuel being pumped into the oven. Lastly, a thin blurry mana barrier was set up, preventing the flame from bursting out too much.

Jack was in awe witnessing Bastian control the fire in some sort of pattern. The flame, at times, circled the metal bar; other times, like crashing waves into the material or just barely caressing it. After some moves, Bastian pulled the bar out, put it on the anvil, took out a hammer, and started pounding the red hot part.

Jack quietly watched, slowly feeling the pounding in some sort of rhythm. One into the metal, one into the anvil, two into the metal, two into the anvil. Jack assumed it would affect the material in some formulated ways. Though barely understanding, he tried to focus on getting the most of it.

As for Bastian, nobody could see his enthusiastic smile. Perhaps it was the excitement of finding a new apprentice, or maybe he was just thinking about the shiny golden coin about to go into his pocket.