Void Spawn - A litrpg adventure fantasy

With how busy Samael's schedule had become, he had to readjust it several times to fit everything into one.

Now, in the early morning, he begins his forging training, followed by Olaf teaching him the ropes and how to use his weapon best. When noon comes, he's busy doing Mendez's task, and at night he does his reaction speed drills.

Gritting his teeth, Samael began to hammer away at the fold of Grinnoid steel lying in the anvil, striking the metal with great precision unlike his first few dozen tries. Now, he's able to hammer away without doubt.

The sound of steel clashing against steel thundered in the forge as Samael's focus was heightened to the max, his eyes locked at the impurities of the metal.

As the hammer smashed against the steel, sparks would fly in the air, increasing the heat of the forge more than it already is.

One by one, Samael tracked down the impurities as he rid of them without stopping, and when he finally eradicated the final one, he put it straight away under the skull crusher.

Stepping on the pedal below, the machine dropped down with a loud boom as the entire forge trembled under the sheer force of the machine, straight away flattening the Grinnoid steel rod without mercy.

Returning back to the anvil, Samael released a sharp sigh as he peeled his eyes over the moving targets, watching it as it moved back and forth before coming to a halt.

Samael's arm twitched for but a mere moment before the impurity began to swiftly slip out of the way, and had he gone for the blow, he would have failed again.

Olaf nodded as he watched Samael outsmart the impurity. As usual, it was terrifying how fast he was growing.

Waiting again, Samael patiently watched the flaw beat around before his eyes glinted. Without a second thought, he bought down the hammer in his hands as a loud boom ripped through the forge.

The first impurity had been ridden off.

A small smirk formed in Olaf's lips. It seems today is the day he advances to the third fold.

In the world of mellaguns, there exists what they call the achievement system. In that system are lists of requirements and feats a blacksmith is required to have done before to be considered at a specific level.

For a novice, even just being somewhat able to heat the metal to a sub-perfection level is enough to be considered one. But advancing to the hammering process and being able to heat the steel with utter perfection is already remarked as a person near the level of a master craftsman.

Right now, Samael is already considered a master craftsman. Stopping at the first fold is already that great of an achievement, as most weapons made with such skills can contend with those made by human grandmaster blacksmiths.

But Samael's thirst for greatness is truly a miracle, even amongst Mellaguns. Not only does he wish to surpass the third fold, but there seems to be no sign of stopping anytime soon.

Olaf himself, who has lived for hundreds of years, can reach up to the 7th fold, where he made his masterpiece that he himself uses. Seeing Samael and imagining him make it past that wall he cannot overcome is enough to send his blood boiling in excitement.

Yes, he would carve him to be something better than he, something that exceeds anyone in the history of forging.

Beads of sweat trickled down Samael's forearms as they fell on the anvil, swiftly sizzling before evaporating away. Yet his focus remained unbothered as he hammered away.

Raising the hammer up, Samael's eyes narrowed as he made micro adjustments to his form before striking down with a controlled force, something that Olaf himself does not have.

In all the years he's lived, he has not seen anyone with the ability to control their body to such a level; not even Icarius does.

As Samael neared the end of the second fold, the impurities began to shake violently as they moved without stop, fleeing his strikes. But Samael rooted them one by one.

Raising the hammer for the final time, he bought it down with a reckoning boom as he raised the steel in front of him.

It was complete.

"Good job, boy," Olaf said. "Are you going to continue to the third fold?"

Samael watched his reflection at the red surface of the steel as he nodded before putting it underneath the skull crusher.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped on the pedal as the machine fell, causing the entire forge to shake as Samael put the steel back to the anvil.

Channelling his gaze toward the impurities, Samael did not notice anything new. It looked similar to the second fold, but he would not be fooled.

Watching it carefully for a long time, Samael gritted his teeth.

There was no change.

Olaf stared at the boy's troubled face. It was to be expected. The third fold is rather tricky at first until you begin to hammer at it. It's like a race—calm at first and thrilling in the end.

Watching the clock tick away, Samael sharply exhaled as he hammered at the impurity.

A loud bang thundered in the forge as sparks flew high in the air, casting shadows over the room.

But that was only the beginning.

Samael flinched as he watched the impurity he hammered to explode into four different pieces, scattering around at great speed and difficulty trajectories.

Without time to spare, Samael bought down his hammer with great speed, his form beginning to break down as he followed one smash after the other.

Some of his shots were even quite inaccurate as he chased after the impurities. They showed no signs of stopping and often changed trajectories when the hammer is inches from it.

With the mistakes piling, Samael bought down the hammer; the piece of Grinnoid metal is now ruined.

Olaf patted Samael's shoulder. "It's okay, boy; this was an expected outcome."

Yes, the third fold is as such. It is a massive contrast to the second stage.

The third fold uses this surprise tactic to impose pressure upon the blacksmith so that they may begin to crumble under the intense speed of the impurities.

Aside from it's abhorrent speed, the branches of impurities it scatters after the initial strike are smaller, meaning it is harder to accurately strike them, especially with how fast they're moving and changing directions.

Not only that, but once you begin the third fold, it sets off a chain reaction that also triggers the rest of the impurities to explode and increase in number. To succeed, you must accurately and with great speed, eliminate each flaw like it's a virus.

Ending their session there, Samael took a short rest as he entered meditation for the maximum effects. When all that was done and he had recovered his strength, Olaf began his first lesson.

"I've seen how you fight," Olaf said. "I've watched some of the records and have taken note of your strengths."

Taking out an axe similar to Samael, Olaf resumed. "However, judging by your fights, I'm fairly sure you weren't taught much about how to handle your blade."

Samael nodded. "I never had a formal mentor regarding weapons."

"Well, that changes today," Olaf said. "I'll teach a couple of things."

"First, I teach you the basics to utmost perfection," Olaf said. "Second, I teach you the strengths of your weapon and how to fully utilise it."

"That's all?" Samael asked, his brows raised.

"No, the final thing you'll learn from me is what separates a master of the blade from others who claim themselves versed in their weapons," Olaf said.

"That's...?" Samael asked.

"Blade Unity," Olaf said as he raised the axe in front of him, the blade humming as Samael felt the wind begin to pick pace, the air seemingly enough to cut him.

Samael nodded as he took out Crimson Raven.

"But to get there, we begin with the basics," Olaf said as he approached Samael.

"Knowing the way you fight and teaching you the relevance of a stable stance is useless, as you won't benefit from it," Olaf remarked as he withdrew his arm before delivering a blow that sent ripples across the room. "So instead, I'll teach you the proper form of striking."

"When striking, you don't just swing your weapon blindly; you must take into account the angle of your blade, the proper use of your explosive power, and the proper use of your body," Olaf said. "Strike once, boy."

Nodding, Samuel took a stance as he swung down, cutting through the air.

"As expected," Olaf muttered.

"I'm guessing I failed?" Samael asked.

"Pretty much," Olaf said.

Samael smiled wryly at the man's brutal honesty. Yet somehow, he felt it was common for Mellaguns.

"To fix your form, we begin with your body," Olaf said as he approached Samael. "Observe my swing."

Swinging his axe once more, Samael carefully watched the blade go down.

"When I swing, I don't only use my arms like you do. Instead, I also use my hips and the rest of my body to support the attack; this increases the amount of power behind your hits," Olaf said. "Try it yourself."

Samael nodded as he looked back at what Olaf did. Taking stance, Samael raised Crimson Raven as he swung down.

"Wrong," Olaf said. "Again."

Doing it again, Samael paid more attention to his body instead of his arm, and as he did so, he swung down, generating far more power.

Yet, it was still not enough.

"Wrong," Olaf said. "Again. Focus more on your hips."

Tightening his grip, Samael took a deep breath as he swung down, making sure to use his hips and put his weight behind his slash. As the blade dropped, the wind parted and a small shockwave swept through the room.

"That's much better," Olaf said.

Samael nodded as he gazed at his blade, his brows raised. That much power for such little changes?

"Although it may seem not much to change your body movement when attacking, trust me, doing it in every attack is enough to make up for it," Olaf said. "Let's move on to the next one."

"Angle of attack?" Samael asked. "Isn't that just me adjusting my blade?"

"Yes, but also no," Olaf said. "Yes, because you are fundamentally correct. It is indeed you adjusting the angle of your weapon. But also, no, because if you're merely moving it, then that still fails to employ what we wish to employ."

"What changes?" Samael asked.

"When angling your weapon, you don't just adjust where it points, but you must also take into consideration what you wish to hit and even which parts are soft or difficult to penetrate," Olaf said. "Here."

Taking out a dummy from his stash, Olaf set it up, and right away, Samael knew it was quite different from the rest. The dummy had organs, and even its skin felt real.

"This dummy is as realistic as it can get. It has all the bones, blood, and even organs," Olaf said. "I will give you directions on which part I wish for you to hit and see how accurate you were."

Samael nodded as he took position.

"Before you begin, adjust the speed of your strike," Olaf said.

"How so?" Samael asked.

"Lighten your grip on the first slash and harden it when you're about to strike the enemy to increase the power and maximise speed," Olaf said.

Samuel gave the man a nod as he shifted his focus back to the dummy.

"Now, strike it towards its heart," Olaf said.

Withdrawing his arm, Samael slashed in an angle as he made sure to pay attention to his body, angle, and speed.

As the blade hit the dummy, it cut through, tearing the dummy in half as crimson liquid painted the training hall red.

Olaf approached the dummy, inspecting it as he shook his head. "You failed."

Samael's brows rose as he approached the dummy, checking it like Olaf did, and straight away he saw the mistakes.

"Again," Olaf said as he took out more dummies, laying them in a straight line.

Samael swallowed as he took position once more. "Same target?"

"Same target," Olaf confirmed.

Retracting his arm back, Samael drew down as Crimson Raven struck the dummy, cutting through it's flesh like it's paper.

However, one word echoed in the room.

"Again."

This kept repeating as Samael did the drill endlessly, slicing down, observing his form, and yet failing.

However, slowly but surely, he was starting to see progress.

Keeping it at it, Samael paid extra attention to his body as he twisted his hips with his entire body, generating large amounts of power as he drove the blade down.

Without stop or rest, he did this for hours on end as noon came by.

"This is enough for today," Olaf said.

"DId I progress?" Samael asked as he wiped the sweat off his body.

"Your body form had gotten better than compared to before. But you could use more torque on your upper body and legs," Olaf said. "As for your angles, zero progress so far. But your speed is getting better."

Samael nodded as he sat down.

"It is to be expected. After all, years of bad habits had polluted your body," Olaf said. "But do not worry; I shall aid in breaking you down."

Samael felt a chill run down his spine.

"Now, I must get back to work," Olaf said as he left within another word.

***

"Not bad," Mendez said as he revealed himself from the shadows. In front of him is Ajax, kneeling on the floor, exhausted.

"To think you would be able to get this far in such a short amount of time is truly enviable," Mendez praised.

Although Mendez said he would teach both the same thing, that, of course, was not the entire truth.

Upon seeing Ajax's element, he began to get curious and understood that his shadow was different from his.

Mendez's shadow was sly and stealthy, using it to his advantage to get around his opponents and strike them in the shadows.

But Ajax? Ajax's shadow is different. It's what one would think if they said shadow. Something adaptive and ever-changing, yet never... changing.

The perfect shadow.

So he decided to train him to push the limits of his adaptability beyond that which he believed was the limit.

With how well he absorbs the things he's taught with, Mendez kept throwing everything at Ajax, forcing him to learn them.

Right now, he's already considered really good at stealth and shadow manipulation.

"Get up," Mendez said. "Once more."

Gritting his teeth, Ajax rose up as he stepped into the darkness of the room, merging with it.

Mendez smiled as he twirled, closing his eyes as he ducked, a sword passing by his head.

"C'mon, you're better than this," Mendez said as he pivoted when his foot was held in place.

Unable to move away, Mendez unsheathed his dagger as he deflected the weapon—

Mendez's eyes widened as he jerked his head to the side before turning and blocking, only for his blade to be swiped out of his hand, thrown away by a tendril of shadow.

"Clever. You've begun to read me," Mendez said as he shifted his gaze to Ajax's dagger, inches from his neck. "Not only did you hide a second dagger on the first one you threw, wounding me, but you predicted my next course of action."

"Unfortunately, you're still too weak to best me," Mendez said as Ajax looked down, looking at a dagger near his heart, held by the man.

And so the cycle repeats.