One cauldron by the ridge looked like a well extending all the way into the core. Yellow smoke oozed from it with golden rays, looking like the crown of a fire prince.

Next to the cauldron was an anvil with a weapon being hammered. Each thunk echoed across the ridge.

The blacksmith was a tall and sturdy youth. His skin was coarse, seemingly from traveling too much and exposed to the elements. Thus, he looked older than his actual age.

His shirt was wrapped around his waist. His bulging muscles seemed to be brimming with strength, ready to erupt at any moment.

He had a broad axe hanging by his waist, crafted with precious metals. The rays...