Chapter 111: Chapter 111: Blacksmiths

Aiden did not waste any time.

“Come with me,” he said, turning toward the door.

Durnak followed immediately, his heavy steps echoing faintly behind him, each movement carrying the dull sound of metal grinding against bone.

They moved through the quiet streets of the town, passing dim torches and silent buildings, until they reached a structure near the inner district. It was not large, nor was it anything special at first glance, just a simple workshop built from stone and wood, its exterior darkened by soot and years of use.

This was not a system building.

Just something they had taken and repurposed.

Still, it was enough.

Aiden pushed the door open.

The moment they stepped inside, the faint glow of embers lit up the room. A forge burned at the far end, not bright, but steady, casting flickering shadows across racks of tools and half-finished weapons scattered around.

And inside, there were figures.

Undead.

A handful of them stood near the forge and workbenches, their movements slow and repetitive as they worked on metal with dull precision. Their bodies were worn, some missing flesh, others reduced to bone, but their hands still moved with practiced familiarity.

Blacksmiths.

Or what remained of them.

The moment Aiden stepped in, everything stopped.

One by one, they turned.

Then, almost at the same time, they dropped to their knees.

“My lord…”

“Praise be to you…”

“The one who commands death…”

Their voices overlapped, rough and broken, yet filled with something close to devotion. Some lowered their heads completely, others pressed their hands against the ground, as if worshiping something far beyond them.

They did not question.

They did not hesitate.

To them, Aiden was not just their master.

He was something closer to a god.

Aiden paused for a moment, looking at them.

Then he spoke, calm as always.

“Rise.”

His voice was not loud, but it carried weight.

They rose at once, though their heads remained slightly lowered, their posture still filled with respect.

Durnak stood behind Aiden, unmoving, observing.

Aiden gestured lightly toward him.

“This one will lead this place from now on.”

The undead blacksmiths slowly shifted their attention to Durnak.

For a brief moment, there was silence.

Then one of them spoke, its voice rough and uneven.

“…A superior…?”

Durnak stepped forward, his presence heavier than all of them combined. The faint glow within his body pulsed once, and even without speaking, the difference was obvious.

Aiden glanced at him.

“Show them.”

Durnak nodded.

Without another word, he walked toward the forge. He picked up a half-finished blade from a nearby table, its edge uneven, its structure flawed.

He looked at it once.

Then, with a firm grip, he pressed it directly into the fire.

The flames reacted instantly, flaring higher, as if drawn to him. The metal began to glow faster than it should, shifting from dull red to bright orange in seconds.

The other undead watched without moving.

Durnak pulled it out, then struck it against the anvil.

Once.

Twice.

Each strike rang out clearly, sharp and heavy, far more precise than anything the others had done before.

By the third strike, the blade had already changed.

Smoother.

Stronger.

Refined.

He lowered it slightly, then turned back.

Silence filled the workshop.

One of the undead blacksmiths slowly knelt again.

“…We understand.”

The rest followed.

Aiden watched the scene, then gave a small nod.

“Good.”

He turned slightly, his voice calm but firm.

“Work under him. Improve everything. Weapons, armor, anything useful.”

“Yes, my lord.”

There was no hesitation.

Aiden stopped just as he reached the doorway, his hand resting lightly against the wooden frame.

For a brief moment, he said nothing, as if something had just crossed his mind.

Then he spoke again, his voice calm but carrying a quiet weight.

“I know we don’t have many ores.”

The sound of the forge crackling filled the pause that followed. Inside, the undead blacksmiths stood still, listening, their hollow gazes fixed on him.

Durnak turned his head slightly.

Aiden continued, his tone steady.

“But don’t worry about that. I’ll find a way.”

There was no uncertainty in his voice.

To anyone else, it might have sounded like a simple reassurance, but coming from him, it felt more like a promise.

Durnak lowered his head.

“As you command, my lord. Give me materials, and I will turn them into strength.”

Aiden gave a faint nod.

“That’s what I expect.”

One of the undead blacksmiths, its voice rough and uneven, spoke from behind.

“My lord… even scraps… we can still work with scraps…”

Aiden glanced back at them.

“Then use everything you have,” he said. “Nothing gets wasted.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The response came in unison.

Satisfied, Aiden stepped out of the workshop.

The door closed behind him with a soft sound, cutting off the heat and the glow of the forge, leaving him once again under the quiet night sky.

He walked slowly through the town, his steps unhurried, his mind already moving ahead.

“…Weapons and armor won’t be a problem anymore.”

With Durnak there, even limited resources could be stretched far beyond their usual limits. Broken blades, damaged armor, even scraps of metal could be reforged into something usable.

That part was solved.

But not everything.

Aiden’s gaze drifted slightly, his thoughts deepening.

“…They still lack a mind.”

The newly created undead from the Flesh Reclamation Pit were strong in number, but they were hollow. They could follow orders, yes, but only the simplest ones. They couldn’t adapt, couldn’t think, couldn’t react beyond what they were told.

Aiden continued walking, his figure gradually disappearing into the dim light of the town.

Behind him, inside the workshop, the sound of hammer striking metal began to echo once more, louder than before, more focused, more precise.

Change had already begun.

And soon, his army would no longer just be numbers.

It would become something far more dangerous.

—-

The next morning came quietly.

Aiden was already awake.

He stood near the window of his room, looking out over the town as the first light of dawn spread across the rooftops. The air was calm, almost peaceful, but his mind was already working.

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