I Woke Up 120 Years After The Apocalypse-Chapter 46: Blacksmith

Varang, Oathbearers territory: Vulkania

The Rusher army was advancing toward Vulkania. At its head stood Queen Elnor, mounted on a Pire, a quadrupedal creature resembling a horse, which had undergone a significant genetic mutation, turning it into a true cerberus-like steed. She wore an immaculate steel armor, adorned with delicate decorations, worthy of her status as a former noble.

At her side rode Zarod of the Dunes, himself clad in steel armor, far removed from the miserable appearance he had displayed when he had arrived at the gates of the Rusher headquarters. He too was mounted on a Pire and stayed close to Lady Elnor, remaining silent, his gaze grim.

On their side, all of Vulkania was in frantic motion. Zulfar and Rubayd had not moved from their positions for several hours, patiently awaiting the arrival of their enemies, ready to cleave with their blades anyone who dared approach the village.

Zofyan, meanwhile, ordered a search for any additional intruders within the walls, fearing another deceitful attack.

Elliot continuously coordinated logistics. He had covered every turret and checked all the ammunition. He carried out his role flawlessly.

Leyla did not rest either. She too went to arm herself and prepare for battle alongside Plumrol, ready to defend Vulkania against the invaders, whoever they might be.

Lerius joined them in their preparations, clearly seeking an outlet to compensate for his mistake of leaving his post despite his master’s orders.

"P-P-P-Plumrol, I’ll take any bladed weapon you have, I’ll c-c-c-c-cut them."

"You’re fighting too? Aren’t you supposed to be watching the little Oathbearer?"

"I-I-I-I must make the enemies of the m-m-m-master pay for their t-t-t-t-treachery."

Leyla shook her head, placing her hand on the bot-shinobi’s shoulder.

"We’ll get through this. With the technological advantage we have, we’ll wipe them out without a problem. Stay on your mission and obey Akram."

Lerius obeyed instantly and vanished without leaving a trace. In Akram’s absence, he had been ordered to follow Leyla and Elliot’s commands and to prioritize saving the Vulkans.

Plumrol turned his gaze toward the young woman. His expression showed no confidence at all.

"You sure you’re fighting, girl?"

"What? What’s that supposed to mean?!"

"That you’re not built for war, kid."

Leyla’s eyebrows furrowed instantly and her gaze hardened. Plumrol immediately realized he had not run into a coward.

"If you don’t want me to rip your balls off and make you eat them, you’re going to give me an armor, and fast."

Plumrol burst out laughing loudly, as if he did not believe a single word of what Leyla had said.

"I think I like you, girl. I’ll make your armor."

After those words, Leyla restrained herself from driving her knuckles into the forger’s jaw, letting him go fetch her armor.

As he turned toward his reserve, Plumrol suddenly stopped and froze for a few seconds before turning back to the young woman, scratching the back of his head with a foolish look.

"Well, actually, I don’t have any ready-made armor for women."

Leyla felt the urge to slaughter Plumrol rise again.

"I’ll have to make one from scratch, then."

The young woman tilted her head slightly, startled.

"What do you mean, you’ll make one from scratch right now? You’ll never finish before the Rushers arrive... forget it."

"I will, if I skip a few steps."

Before Leyla could question him further, Plumrol rummaged through his back satchel and pulled out a hammer. It was imposing, almost pristine in appearance. The handle was the color of blood, while the head itself was black.

Leyla immediately understood what that strange hammer was. It was Plumrol’s relic, the one he had never used in six months of life in Vulkania.

"That’s your relic?! It’s the first time I’ve seen it. Why are you using it now?"

"Like you said, girl, time is running out." 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Plumrol grabbed several pieces of unheated steel and placed them on his anvil. He raised his relic and began to strike the metal, without stopping.

Leyla did not understand much about the blacksmith’s craft, but one thing was certain: striking steel before heating it made no sense.

Once again, she did not even have time to ask for an explanation before the relic itself provided one.

With each strike, sparks burst forth, growing brighter and wider. With every blow, the black metal of the hammer began to change color, shifting from opaque black to a deep burgundy red.

With each impact, the surrounding temperature rose, as if the sun itself were drawing closer to the workshop.

After several strikes, flames erupted from the relic, and the steel began to melt on its own.

Leyla stood speechless before the spectacle, incapable of uttering a single word, completely absorbed by what she was witnessing.

The flames became incandescent and engulfed the entire anvil. Plumrol shaped the various pieces of Leyla’s armor with remarkable precision and finesse. Yet she noticed something that felt wrong.

The blacksmith’s face was twisted with strain at every hammer strike, and it was not due to the heat. The pain seemed to come from the act of forging itself.

It took Plumrol barely ten minutes to forge the entire armor set Leyla had requested. By the end, the hammer burned with a thousand flames, a magnificent sight to behold.

However, Plumrol’s hands were far from unharmed. They were completely blackened, almost charred after the forging session.

Leyla stared at his hands, intrigued by the result, and could not stop herself from asking.

"Your hands, Plumrol... is that normal? Are you okay?"

"Don’t worry about it. That’s just the price of wielding this beauty."

"Be more specific. You’re annoying me."

"Every time I use my relic, my hands are badly damaged, and I slowly lose my sense of touch. They melt away little by little, and one day, I’ll lose them entirely."

Leyla was left speechless. She had not expected such a cost for such power.

"However..." Plumrol added, "I won’t stop forging with it until I’ve created the finest blades in the world."

That was Plumrol’s goal, one he had never revealed before, nor had he ever spoken of his relic. Leyla was the chosen one, allowed to hear the old blacksmith’s story.

"Go on now. Get ready, girl. They’re waiting for you at the front."

Leyla nodded, retrieved her freshly forged armor, and prepared herself.She was now, in turn, ready for battle.