Kairos looked at the master Edgar from the corner of his eyes. He has three masters of great renown and know exactly how to strike the weak point of someone like Edgar Silverforge.

Right now Edgar is standing closely to several people who are slowly sipping their precious ale. None of them would share a sip with this dwarven master despite wanting to get into his good books.

It can’t be helped.

The perfect blend and the intoxicating taste is but a fraction of the ale’s pull.

Kairos had infused all his knowledge of herbs learned from Helena, combined with the secrets he gleaned with Heart’s Echo, and the way of cultivation, into his brew.

On Gaia, cultivators are also known as those on the path to immortality.

Each of them have a unique path of their own known as Dao, and cultivating their Dao is what makes them be known as Cultivators.

On Axis, there are no cultivators at all on the surface.

At least besides the Time-space ring Kairos had picked up, there is no evidence of their presence.

Dao can be of any type, like forging, brewing, healing, or combat, and there is a saying that they all lead to one source.

When Kairos offered them a drink, he inevitably shown them a glimpse of his Dao.

It is attraction that no mortals could resist.

They seemed to be guided by heaven’s will to breath in the drink and by the time they finished they stared at the empty cup with longingness.

The delight of the tongue is mere passing, but the grasp of Dao will become a nourishing sustenance for them.

Of course, this is not all of the drink’s benefits. Kairos had brewed it to be a part of his healing concoction. Although its effects are seemingly limited that is only relative to Kairos’s Titan physique.

For the usual folk that are not a step away from immortalhood through external cultivation, this is a treasured healthy drink.

It is made to excite one’s cells, granting excellent rejuvenation and boosting vigour. For the next few days, those who had a sig will experience a great restoration and feel years younger.

And those already young will have stronger bodies. Much, much, stronger.

Furthermore, the liquor is still in the state of incomplete.

When it fully matures – taste, Dao, and health - every benefit it has will only be more.

At the side, Master Edgar finally took hold of an empty cup and stood there with obvious disappointment on his face.

Kairos turned his face over and made an expression of great surprise, “Master Edgar! I was hoping to learn from you your craft.”

The master’s eyes sparkled. He quickly returned the cup and hurried over to Kairos. On the way, he recovered the demeanour a master blacksmith should have and recomposed himself.

Kairos immediately offered a pot of ale to the master with a smile, “For a chance to be taken under your apprenticeship.”

The dwarf almost pounced on the liquor like a cat on a mouse but stopped himself with immense self-control.

“You know, you have to be tested for your talent. If you fail, I’m not going to return this to you,” Edgar says with hands hovering above the pot.

The goods changed hands with a fair warning that the concoction had not yet matured, and then the dwarf master brought Kairos into the hut for his test.

“Have you got any experience?”

“Some.”

“How many years?”

“Four… a little less than four years.”

The dwarf sighed. Having just a couple of years of experience, Kairos is still a complete newbie.

It looks like the ale had been given for nothing.

After leading Kairos to a forge, Master Edgar couldn’t help but ask again, “Are you certain? I won’t return you the drink if you fail the test.”

“What is the passing requirement?”

Even Kairos is feeling uncertain when the craft of the dwarven race is rumoured to be unmatched.

“Eh… There is no passing requirement. Just make something and show me what you’ve got, sonny. If it shines, you’re golden. If it doesn’t, I’m sorry, alright?”

Kairos gave him a nod and immediately got started. He walked around the room with tools all hanged up on the walls. Outside the door are the master’s other disciples, curiously looking in.

Besides them, the friends following Kairos here were allowed to observe. News of this test were also brought back to the inn where Leo, Linda, and Relestia are lounging. By now the princess had sobered and upon her insistence the three are rushing over to watch.

Kairos finally found the tools he wanted, and he walked towards the furnace.

The air stilled like when Kairos made his food.

Right now, in his world, there is only the blade he wants to forge. The final design, the sheen, the sharpness. These are the things he is picturing, and it starts in his mind from the first step to the final hammer that will complete the weapon.

He took a deep breath.

The time is not ideal, but the difference is small. That difference will be remedied during the forging.

Every blade made is unique. Like a painting, it is an art where all the lines –straight and curved – converge at the sword tip, yet each are vastly different from the other.

Every ore is unique, every blacksmith is different, and the exact condition the blade is forged in can never be replicated.

When Kairos began his work, Edgar had a frown. It was too fast. A master smith would’ve spent more time weighing and judging the ores’ content.

He stepped over, careful not to get in Kairos’ path, “What are you going to make?”

“A simple blade, for a man. It will be seventy centimetres long, weighing three kilos.”

“That’s heavy. More than twice of what it should weigh… and long. For a man, not a dwarf.”

The dwarven master blacksmith was secretly disappointed.

There is enough metal in the ores to make such a weapon, but barely. The very little leeway means that Kairos might not be able to adjust it to optimisation. Most master blacksmiths will make a smaller sword with more ore.

The heating, folding, quenching, changes the condition of the metal every moment. It can result in a different amount of decarburizing that the weapon can tolerate. To have the weapon weigh more than twice of what it should will make its folding to be much harder to control.

And the trimming and polishing processes will shave away a lot of metal to make the perfect shape.

Using barely enough ore means that Kairos have to be very careful.

But all these are not the crushing reason that this forge will fail.

A weapon’s strength comes with how fast it can be swung, and being too heavy makes it slow and weak. Clubs, maces, even two-handed swords are exceptionally light but once a while there will be customers coming in for a heavy weapon, not understanding that it is counterintuitive.

The dwarf shook his head. The test should be over already, but because of the ale, he felt obligated to let Kairos finish.

“You certain?” Edgar asked again. He already gave more clues than any of the examinees that came before.

Kairos nodded and the dwarf sighed again.

And then the worst thing happened.

Kairos started refitting the forge room. He did not start the fires, nor did he ensure the quenching water is pure. Instead, he started making adjustments to the forge and disrespected the dwarven master blacksmith.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Do you even know what a blacksmith is?”

“Losers like you should get out of there, right now! A forge is no place for a greenhorn!”

“Master Edgar, please let us throw this pretentious youngling out.”

The other students shouted at Kairos with pure hatred, but he did not seem to notice and focused on adjusting the furnace.

Kairos do not have fire-runes for forging like he did in Gaia nor the flame magic that dwarven blacksmiths use. He had to do this the traditional method, but usual furnaces are just incapable of producing enough heat and pressure.

The basic elements of forging are water, wind, fire, and metal. They have to be in perfect unison and right now, Kairos is adjusting it.

“He is making a wind tunnel,” Edgar explained, dismissing his disciples.

Having said that, everyone became hush.

It’s true that for those without magical aptitudes this forge will be hard to operate, but why would such a person would come to Blacken Soot City to take the test?

“If he really has any love for the craft, I’m sure he will learn a few spells. He is just here for attention,” a gnome by the name of Glittersprout scoffed. He is the oldest among Edgar’s disciples, the most influential, and liked to keep things that way.

His words instantly garnered the concurrence of all the other disciples. They are all extremely talented blacksmiths and proud to be selected. To be making changes to the forge because he don’t know spells is a great insult to many of them.

“What if he cannot use magic?” an elf said.

“Well then it means he is untalented and should not be here,” said the second-in-command among the disciples – a human named John Doe.

“Some people are just too full of themselves,” Glittersprout agreed.

The other students made up mostly of dwarves were all quiet. Their teacher hushed them and it was enough. The dwarven kind are fiercely loyal, first to their race, followed by their clan, then family, and lastly teacher.

Four clans: Bluebeard, Scarlethammer, Silverforge, and the royal clan Goldplate.

A hundred families, twenty-five per clan.

One King.

The clans may have squabble with each other and families with other families, but they are born to be loyal. It is a racial trait imprinted in their blood.

But, while they may be silent and completely trusting of their teacher, many of them agreed with Glittersprout.

At this time, Kairos had finished adjusting the furnace. Edgar secretly applauded the modifications. It was cleanly done without weakening the furnace’s magic receptor.

“That hammering pattern. I see… yes, yes. Converging shockwaves. I’d love to meet whoever taught him that.”

In the eyes of another, Kairos’ tapping and knocking only shown that he is an experienced carpenter, but a master can recognize the work of another master.

Unfortunately, that tiny little shimmer of hope was dashed at record speed.

Kairos, with a flint stone in his hand, cannot seem to figure out how to start a fire.

“Um… Just give me a second here. It’s my first time using a flint.”