Reinventing Magic: An Inventor's Tale
Chapter 104: Forge and Fire

Chapter 104: Forge and Fire

The Arcanum Forge roared to life, its mythril framework resonating with a deep, rhythmic hum as mana surged through its conduits. The two active cores—Naga and Storm Wyrm—pulsed in sync, their energies feeding into the central console where Kael stood. The previously absorbed and depleted Nyx’vorran core had begun drawing in ambient mana once more.

Count Edgar watched, transfixed, as a slab of mythril was fed into the refinement chamber. The metal shimmered under arcane flames, liquefying into a molten stream before being drawn into the Forge’s inner mechanisms. Above them, the holographic display flickered with data:

[Material: Mythril – Purity 98.7%]

[Enchantment Matrix: Runic Reinforcement – Stability Optimal]

[Production Cycle Initiated]

Kael tapped the spirit crystal embedded in the console, and a blueprint materialized in the air—a schematic for a suit of lightweight armor, its surface etched with intricate runes.

"Uploading design," Kael murmured.

The Forge responded instantly. A web of golden light traced the armor’s form layer by layer, the liquefied mythril solidifying in perfect accordance with the blueprint.

Runes flared to life as they were inscribed, their enchantments binding seamlessly to the metal. Within minutes, a completed breastplate hovered in the stabilization chamber, its surface gleaming with an otherworldly sheen.

Edgar exhaled sharply. "Incredible."

Kael smirked. "And this is just the beginning." He gestured to the side, where a rack of Eldersilver ingots stood ready. "Weapons next."

The Forge whirred again, this time shaping a longsword from the sacred metal. Unlike the armor, the blade required a secondary enchantment—a conductivity matrix that would allow it to channel mana with near-perfect efficiency. The process was flawless.

Edgar reached out, hesitating before gripping the sword’s hilt. The moment his fingers closed around it, he felt the hum of magic resonating through the steel. A single swing sent a ripple of energy through the air, sharp enough to cut wind itself.

"Lightweight. Perfectly balanced." He turned the blade in the light, marveling at the craftsmanship. "And this was made in minutes?"

Kael nodded. "With enough materials, we can equip an entire army in days."

His father’s awe was palpable. But then Edgar’s gaze shifted, his brow furrowing as he noticed a group of stocky, bearded figures working alongside Bryndis’ engineers.

Dwarves.

Edgar stiffened. "Kael. Why are there dwarves in your domain?"

Kael blinked, then scratched his chin. "Ah. Right. I forgot to mention that."

"You forgot?"

"It’s a long story." Kael sighed. "Short version: A rift opened near their kingdom. I helped them seal it. In return, they agreed to lend their craftsmen to Bryndis."

Edgar’s eyes widened. "Dwarves haven’t worked alongside humans in centuries. They despise us."

"Which means they see value in this alliance," Kael finished. "And they do. I didn’t just save their kingdom. I showed them what the forge could do. What we could do *together*."

Edgar studied his son’s face, searching for any hint of deception. Finding none, he shook his head. "You never cease to amaze me."

Kael smirked. "I try."

---

Three hundred thousand soldiers marched under the crimson banners of Ardania, their boots churning the earth into mud. At their head rode General Torvin, his scarred face set in a grimace as he surveyed the horizon.

"Make camp here," he ordered, raising a fist. The command rippled through the ranks, and soon the field was alive with the clatter of tents and the scent of cooking fires.

Torvin dismounted, his armor creaking, and strode toward the command tent where his captains and advisors waited. Inside, a map of the region was spread across a table, weighted down by daggers.

Lucius Drayford, the king’s war councilor, stood at its head, his fingers steepled. His cold eyes flicked up as Torvin entered.

"Report," Torvin demanded.

One of the scouts stepped forward. "Our spies have had difficulty infiltrating Bryndis. Security is too tight. But we’ve confirmed their numbers—forty thousand, with Count Valtieri’s reinforcements."

Torvin smirked. "Forty thousand against our three hundred thousand? This will be a slaughter."

"The Skyward Sentinels?" Lucius interjected smoothly.

The scout hesitated. "Only two have been observed. We have no data on their combat capabilities—only that they can fly."

Torvin clicked his tongue. "Useless." He turned to the armored artificer standing in the corner—a renowned expert from Ardania’s royal workshops. "Can they arm their Skycraft with something powerful enough to counter us?"

The artificer scoffed. "Flying those things drains mana crystals at an absurd rate. Arming them with magical weapons would be suicidal. They’re likely just for transport."

Torvin exhaled in relief. "Good."

Lucius tapped the map. "Our greater concern lies here." His finger rested on a stretch of land between their current position and a territory controlled by Duke Marveil. "He will have heard of our march by now. He will ambush us."

Torvin’s jaw tightened. The Duke’s forces were formidable. A direct clash would cost them dearly.

Lucius’ lips curled into a thin smile. "Fortunately, I have a strategy to break through with minimal losses." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper.

The other officers leaned in, listening intently.

Torvin’s smirk returned, wider this time.

Bryndis would burn.

---

Bryndis – Nightfall

Kael stood atop the city walls, the wind tugging at his coat. Below, the forge’s glow painted the streets in gold as it churned out armor and weapons. Alice stood beside him, her gray eyes reflecting the distant fires of the enemy camp.

"They’re close," she murmured.

Kael nodded. "Three weeks, maybe four." He flexed his fingers, feeling the Aether Core’s power thrum within him. Stronger. Better.

Astra materialized from the shadows, silent as ever. "Master. The Duke’s forces have mobilized. They will engage the king’s army before it reaches us."

Kael’s gaze hardened. "I see, let’s start preparing."

The next day, the morning sun cast a golden hue over Bryndis as Kael strode through the armory, his fingers trailing over the freshly forged Mythril Armor. Each piece gleamed under the light, its surface etched with intricate runes that pulsed faintly with stored mana.

Beside him, Bryndis’ engineers and the dwarven craftsmen worked in seamless tandem.

Kael lifted a breastplate, testing its weight. ’Lighter than steel, stronger than myth.’ The enchantments woven into the metal enhanced its durability without sacrificing mobility—a perfect balance.

"Victor," Kael called, turning to the towering knight commander. "Have the men test these."

Victor grinned, hefting a suit of armor with one hand. "Already on it." He tossed it to a nearby soldier, who fumbled slightly before securing it over his torso. The man blinked in surprise.

"It’s... light." He flexed his arms, then jumped experimentally. "Feels like I’m wearing cloth, not metal."

Victor chuckled, clapping the soldier on the back. "Try taking a hit in it. Bet you won’t even feel the dent."

Nearby, another soldier swung an Eldersilver sword, its blade humming as mana channeled through it. A single slash sent a ripple of energy through the air, cutting a training dummy clean in half. The man whistled. "Now ’this’ is a blade."

Kael nodded in satisfaction before turning to Victor. "And yours?"

Victor tapped his own Mythril chestplate, newly forged to his bulkier frame. "Different beast altogether." He smirked. "The enchantments on this one don’t just reinforce—they ’adapt’. Took a practice strike from Albert earlier. Felt like a tap."

Albert, standing nearby with his usual composed demeanor, gave a small nod. "Indeed. The kinetic dispersion runes are remarkably efficient."

Kael crossed his arms. "Good. The last thing we need is our frontline collapsing under sheer force."

Everything is ready.