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When Roland lifted the chest lid, he wasn't greeted by pristine, gleaming mithril ingots. Instead, he found a pile of irregularly shaped metal fragments with a dull, tarnished luster.
The fragments were a grayish-silver, as if crudely mined and roughly polished, their surfaces veiled in a thin layer of dust.
Mixed among them were jagged, irregular chunks clearly torn from larger veins, their edges rough and uneven.
Several gnarled lumps of metal bore deep scratches, as if gnawed by countless pickaxes.
And a substantial amount of metallic debris, a mixture of fine shards and tiny mineral particles.
These "mithril" fragments varied in size, the largest no bigger than a fist, the smallest the size of a fingernail. They showed no signs of smelting or refining, appearing more like scraps miners had casually scraped from slag heaps or rock crevices while excavating the main vein.
Though they retained mithril's characteristic subtle, almost imperceptible lightness, the overall impression was dull and lackluster, lacking the pure mithril's cold, ethereal radiance—the crystalline glow of solidified moonlight.
Roland reached out, his fingertips lightly brushing against the frigid metal fragments. The touch was hard and icy.
The moment he made contact, his innate Material Empathy activated.
His fingertips became a bridge of perception, a clear stream of information instantly flooding his consciousness.
The core magic element affinity of this pile of metal undoubtedly pointed to mithril.
Its innate, effortless acceptance of wind elements—as natural as breathing—formed a fundamental property that no other metal could fully replicate.
However, compared to the Mithril Longsword at his waist, the Magic Power Affinity of these scraps was severely "polluted" and weakened.
He could "hear" the sluggish, fragmented flow of mana within them.
Massive impurities acted like stubborn reefs obstructing a brook, while microscopic cracks from mining resembled fault lines, shattering the cohesive mana network into fragments.
These internal flaws and weaknesses, as clear to his perception as a candle flame in darkness, were precisely what drastically reduced the metal's practical value.
The materials before him were clearly unsuitable for forging powerful magic weapons or armor.
Their inherent defects severely limited their capacity to contain and conduct potent mana.
However, if he used the Elemental Imprint technique to craft small enchanted devices, it would be entirely feasible.
Both their mana conductivity and durability far surpassed those of ordinary metals.
"Hmm, it's definitely mithril," Roland nodded, his voice calm.
Though his fingertips had left the cold metal surface, the lingering Material Empathy had firmly etched the information into his mind.
"However..."
He picked up a small fragment containing visible mineral inclusions and rubbed it between his fingers.
"Noel, I believe you understand that my primary purpose for acquiring this mithril is to forge certain tools. Therefore, I'm particularly interested in its smelting and forging methods..."
"Mr. Roland, please rest assured!"
Seeing that Roland showed no disdain but rather acknowledged its utility, the tension on Noel's face completely dissolved. He pounded his sturdy chest emphatically.
"My father said that as long as you purchase all the mithril..."
Before he could finish, Roland had already retrieved a card from his pouch and casually handed it over.
The moment Noel saw the vibrant violet pattern on the card, his expression froze.
He stammered for a long moment before finally managing to squeeze out the words.
"Mr. Roland... these... mithril fragments... aren't worth... aren't worth this much money..."
As he spoke, his gaze remained fixed on the card in Roland's hand.
He had only seen such a card once before, in the hands of Master Griffin, the dwarven forging master of the Blacksmith's Guild.
If I remember correctly...
This card allows its holder to withdraw any amount of money from the Merchant Guild, and... there seems to be no limit.
"I know."
Seeing the dwarf's nervous expression, Roland raised an eyebrow slightly.
Colin had given him this card after they returned to the royal capital from the Mistland and reconnected. Given the merchant's reputation for generosity, Roland hadn't bothered to verify the card's balance at the Merchant Guild.
"Take whatever you need from the guild yourself. Just return it to me by evening—no, by tomorrow morning."
"I... I understand, Mr. Roland..."
Noel swallowed hard, carefully accepting the heavy card with both hands as if cradling a fragile, priceless treasure.
Without a moment's hesitation, he swiftly retrieved a slightly crumpled parchment scroll from his tunic and solemnly presented it to Roland.
"This is what you requested, Mr. Roland. My father specifically instructed me to deliver it to you personally."
Roland took the scroll.
The parchment exuded an ancient, leathery scent, its edges worn smooth from frequent handling.
He unfurled the scroll, his gaze sweeping intently over the dense text and diagrams written in a mix of dwarven runes and the common tongue.
Drawing on his extensive forging experience, Roland quickly grasped the core principles of this dwarven technique.
First, he would use a specialized potion for precise smelting and impurity removal—the key to purifying the material.
Second, he would quench the mithril in "moon dew" spring water, which contained unique energy, to activate and stabilize its magical properties. This step was crucial, determining the material's final mana affinity and structural integrity.
Finally, while the mithril was in a unique, fleeting "plasticity" state, he would employ a special dwarven technique to lock its shape.
After memorizing all the information on the scroll, Roland looked up and tapped the parchment lightly.
"Noel, this potion mentioned here, and the 'moon dew' spring water..."
Before Roland could finish, Noel had already hurried to the other side of the counter and retrieved a small package.
With a clinking sound, a collection of bottles and jars was revealed before Roland.
"Mr. Roland, these are the potions and 'moon dew' required for smelting mithril. If you need more, just let me know."
"Excellent."
Seeing the sincerity in Noel's eyes, Roland nodded slightly and extended his hand.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Noel."
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Roland."
After this unusually smooth transaction concluded, Roland instructed Noel to move everything to his forging workshop.
After a brief farewell, Roland eagerly began his forging work.
The forge's flames roared to life, casting a fiery glow across Roland's focused profile.
But his initial attempts were far from successful.
The mithril ore fragments melted in a specially prepared potion, impurities vaporizing into wisps of blue smoke. However, when he quenched the molten metal with moon dew spring water, timing proved elusive.
Either the plasticity state vanished in an instant, or his unfamiliarity with dwarven techniques led to failure at the crucial moment.
The forge's flames flared and died repeatedly, silver mist dispersed and reformed, and the ground accumulated twisted, deformed failures with chaotic mana patterns.
Yet Roland's gaze grew sharper with each attempt.
After what felt like an eternity, when moon dew splashed again, silver mist hissed upward. The ore's internal mana surged to life, flowing with liquid light. In that fleeting moment of plasticity, Roland precisely seized the opportunity.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
With steady, rhythmic hammer blows, a streamlined mithril dagger quickly took shape.
Seeing this, Roland exhaled deeply and, without hesitation, reached out with both hands.
Mental power poured from his fingertips like tangible energy, the strength of the Elemental Imprint seeping precisely and steadily into the dagger's scorching core.
As the final imprint was completed, the light receded.
Roland gazed at the creation in his palm, a faint smile curving his lips.
(End of the Chapter)
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