After identifying hundreds of magic gems, Rowe finally settled on one. The Alfheim Sapphire—a 74% effective replacement for Cole's Gem, priced at 2,920 large gold coins. Given the price and effectiveness, there was likely no better option.
Of course, the cost still stung. This single purchase had nearly halved his total savings.
After completing the transaction, Rowe left Norvi Magic. But as he walked away, he couldn't resist taking out the Alfheim Sapphire again, lifting it toward the sunlight.
The gem was crystal clear, blue as the sky, with a mesmerizing shimmer flowing inside. Its dreamlike glow justified the price.
Satisfied, Rowe carefully stored the gem and made his way toward Hadier's Blacksmith Shop.
---
Hadier's Blacksmith Shop
As soon as Rowe stepped inside, he was met with the familiar sight of the sturdy young man from his last visit—Hadier's son. The rhythmic clang of metal against metal echoed from the back of the shop.
The young man glanced up at him. "What do you need?"
Rowe wasn't surprised that the young blacksmith didn't remember him. He went straight to the point. "I need a custom warhammer forged. This is the blueprint."
He handed over the blueprints for the Fist of Verrigan—a copy meticulously transcribed with great effort. Writing the text had been easy, but the technical drawings had been a nightmare. He had no artistic talent, and replicating the intricate details had taken him several exhausting attempts.
The young blacksmith examined the blueprint for a while, then said, "It's a bit complicated. I need to show my father. Wait here."
With that, he disappeared through a side door, and as he opened it, the intensified clanging of hammers and the roar of flames momentarily filled the shop.
Rowe assumed that was the forge where Hadier worked.
A few moments later, a burly middle-aged blacksmith emerged.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered, his arms thick with muscle, though his round abdomen suggested a fondness for Asgardian feasts. His beard was dusted with ash, and sweat glistened on his forehead, giving him the aura of a walking furnace.
The young man followed behind him, holding the blueprint.
The older blacksmith smiled. "Hello, I'm Hadier. That was my younger son, Brunnok."
Rowe returned the greeting before asking, "Mr. Hadier, do you think this warhammer can be made?"
Hadier studied the blueprint again, then nodded. "It can be done—but it won't be easy. Some of these forging techniques are… unique. I'll need time to study them first. Or, you could take this to Nidavellir and have the dwarves forge it. They are the best in the universe."
Rowe had considered Nidavellir. After all, the dwarves had forged Mjolnir and Stormbreaker—legendary weapons of the gods. But making the trip would be troublesome, and even if he got there, he doubted he could afford their prices.
"How soon can you start?" he asked.
Hadier thought for a moment. "Five days at the earliest."
Rowe nodded.
Hadier continued, "Do you have the materials?"
Rowe took out the Alfheim Sapphire and handed it over. "I already bought the gem from Norvi Magic. As for the bronze, I was hoping to purchase it from you. Seven ingots should be enough—I want the hammer to be slightly smaller."
After all, Rowe was still young and not physically imposing. A large warhammer wouldn't be practical. He figured that by the time he grew stronger, he'd have more powerful weapons at his disposal.
Hadier studied the blueprint again, then nodded. "Seven ingots should work."
Rowe hesitated. "What about the cost?"
Hadier smiled. "Just pay for the bronze. This blueprint is… fascinating. I've already been paid in knowledge."
Rowe was startled. He had expected the forging cost to be significant and had budgeted accordingly. If he had known the craftsmanship was free, he could have invested in a better gem.
Still, he didn't complain. "Thank you, Hadier."
---
The Forging Process
A few days later, Rowe returned to the blacksmith shop, filled with anticipation.
Brunnok greeted him. "You're just in time. My father is about to begin forging. You can watch if you're interested."
Rowe eagerly agreed. He had never witnessed Asgardian smithing firsthand.
Brunnok led him into the forging room.
The heat struck him immediately. The air was thick with smoke and embers, and the roaring furnaces bathed the entire space in an orange glow.
Standing at the center was Hadier, alongside his eldest son, a muscular young man with towering arms. He would be assisting in the forging process.
A massive anvil, scarred by years of hammering, stood at the heart of the room. Next to it lay the materials—the Alfheim Sapphire, seven Asgardian bronze ingots, and various minor alloys.
Hadier wiped his hands on a cloth and picked up the blueprint one last time. After a moment, he nodded.
"Alright," he said. "Let's begin."
Hadier took the seven bronze ingots, tied them together with bronze wire, and placed them into the raging furnace.
As the metal heated, his eldest son retrieved a jar of transparent gel, spreading it evenly over the Alfheim Sapphire.
Rowe watched curiously.
"What's that?" he asked.
Brunnok explained, "It's a protective binding agent. It ensures the gem doesn't crack from the sudden heat."
After the gel solidified, the assistant added a layer of red clay-like substance, reinforcing the protective coating.
Meanwhile, the bronze ingots inside the furnace began to glow, shifting from dull orange to fiery red.
At the right moment, Hadier retrieved them. His son sprinkled a mysterious powder over the heated metal before Hadier raised his sledgehammer—
"Bang!"
With a thunderous strike, the seven ingots flattened, sending a shower of sparks into the air.
Rowe instinctively took several steps back, feeling the intense heat rush toward him. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and he wiped it away.
Hadier continued hammering.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The rapid, rhythmic blows merged the seven bronze ingots into one solid mass.
The assistant quickly reheated the metal, then placed it back on the anvil.
Hadier lifted a pointed sledgehammer this time. With a powerful downward swing, he punched a hole into the center of the bronze block.
The assistant immediately grabbed the Alfheim Sapphire, now glowing red, and carefully placed it into the cavity.
A hiss of steam erupted as metal and magic gem fused together.
Without missing a beat, Hadier and his eldest son alternated hammer strikes, shaping the warhammer's body.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Sparks rained like golden fireflies, and under their relentless hammering, the metal twisted, stretched, and reshaped—gradually taking the form of the Fist of Verrigan.