Chapter 104: Járngreipr

Eight ingots of eitr-forged iron. That was to create the foundation of the gauntlets, according to Dasha. Hephaestus meticulously placed the eitr-forged iron into a series of interlocking plates. Four ingots for each gauntlet.

The Great Forge, a marvel of divine craftsmanship. At the heart of the forge stands the Anvil of Stars, an immense slab of eitr-forged iron infused with celestial energies. It radiates a faint luminescence, with ancient runes etched along its surface, shimmering like constellations in the night sky.

That was where it began. Together, Hephaestus and Tvashtr began to slam down at it with their tools: Hephaestus’ hammer and Tvashtr’s axe.

There was no melting eitr-forged iron. There was no forging or melting, the latter being impossible with metals of this magnitude.

The gods needed to use their hammers to commune. They must convince the soul of the ingots to bow down to them—to surrender to their will and intentions. The amplification of magic was immense, hotter than any volcano on Earth and would take a long period of time. Dasha instructed Grace and Xavier to do him a favour. The process of forging Járngreipr would take two weeks—or one week given the skill of the divine blacksmiths. While he stayed, they would do his bidding.

Day one was spent hammering.

Hammer.

Axe.

Hammer.

Axe.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Clang! Clang! Clang!

A rhythm was set. An unyielding rhythm that went for hours upon hours without break. Often, they wouldn’t strike the ingot but the anvil. A peculiar technique from an outside perspective but an intended one. By striking the ingots and then the anvil, energy was conserved and the arm was protected.

Between strikes, as they inspected the workpiece or adjusted its position, they ensured their tools fell gently onto the anvil. This technique allowed them to conserve energy by keeping the hammer in motion, ready for the next strike without the need to repeatedly lift it.

Furthermore, instead of relying solely on muscular strength to halt the moving hammer, they guided its controlled bounce off the anvil. This method not only saved energy but also mitigated the risk of elbow injuries. Allowing the hammer to bounce in a controlled manner minimized strain, preventing potential discomfort or injury that could have arisen from forcefully stopping its movement.

Arms crossed, Dasha watched over them. The two large anvils, opposing each other yet connected deeply, were regarded as one: the Anvil of Stars. The Anvil that was made from the metal of the oldest stars in the universe. The enchantments etched on them glowed brightly.

Their tools and their divine strength would never break the Anvil of Stars. Never.

Day two arrived.

The ingots gained a silver hue. The magic of Hephaestus and Tvashtr had instilled itself inside the ingots. If they were any other creature, it would have taken weeks. For them, it was a measly twenty-four hours.

On the second day, the shape needed to be constructed. It was time to forge.

Tvasthr uttered an incantation:

“I hold the thunderbolt, mighty and auspicious.

Unleash your power, O thunderbolt, O Indra!

May this weapon be infused with the energy of Rudraksha!”

His metal axe, long and powerful, was imbued with a supernatural lightning.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Hephaestus’ hammer was the same. No incantation was necessary on his part. The tattoos imprinted on his body glowed, connected, and lit up the engravings on his hammer. Two became one.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Two days were spent shaping the ingots. Throughout it all, Dasha was wide awake. He took thirty-minute power naps, but other than that, he gave him the necessary instructions.

“Turn it five degrees to the right.”

“Your aim is off. Five daktylos higher.”

“Tvashtr, the curve should happen half a finger’s width earlier.”

Dasha’s supreme precision went hand-in-hand with their divine skills. Not one member of the three-man team weighed them down. Each was gifted. Each was skilled.

Two days of forging. Two days of orders. In his opinion, it wasn’t dissimilar to following the instructions of a lab. Dirtier, messier, and hotter, but similar in principle nonetheless. If it weren’t for his newfound equipment, he would have burned to death during the very first strike of forging.

At the end of the third day, Dasha prepared to close his eyes for a power nap. It was a skill he often employed to be able to make the time to study through his masters in theoretical physics and chemical engineering.

[ Warning! Warning! ]

[ Contract of Obedience has been breached! Paul has been restrained! ]

[ Terminate Paul? Yes or no? ]

Dasha crossed an arm, the other propping up his chin. ’Paul decided to betray me? After all the effort I put into him…oh well.’

A flood of memories prepared to enter his mind. He didn’t care. The circumstances behind his betrayal did not matter. Without thinking twice, he clicked yes. The day went on.

Day four. The day of heating up the vague shapes.

Though close to the shape of gauntlets, it wasn’t quite there. The magic inside the eitr-forged iron needed to activate further in order to be properly given a shape.

“The Great Forge was gifted a furnace from Agni himself: Anvaya Agni Kunda. It is able to emit flames not one bit inferior to Agneyastra. It is akin to the sun of the sol system itself.”

Following Hephaestus’ brief explanation came a series of chants. The two gauntlets placed inside the furnace, to the side of the furnace doors was an outline of a palm. Tvashtr gestured at Dasha to place his hand through it, despite the eerie red emanating from it.

“It will burn you,” Tvashtr said. “But if you do not do this, then the weapon will not be created for you. It will be a pure imitation of Thor’s gauntlets. Unless…that is what you wish?”

“No.” Dasha stepped forward and put his hand through. “This is mine.”

Hiiiisssssss!

He remained unaffected as he aligned his hand perfectly to the outline. The front most layer of skin stripped away, then the second. The third clung on, fighting against the impossible fire.

Pain did not matter. Pain could be powered through, yet in spite of his thoughts, a subtle tremor ran through his being. At first, there was a distant warmth, akin to the gentle touch of sunlight on a cool morning. The sensation grew gradually, the heat seeping into his flesh like tendrils of fire creeping along his skin.

A tingling sensation danced along his fingertips, a prelude to the intense heat that followed. It wasn’t a searing pain at first; rather, it felt as if a powerful energy surged through his hand, awakening dormant senses.

The heat intensified, a steady crescendo that coursed through his palm, igniting a fiery sensation that ebbed and flowed like the unpredictable dance of flames. It was a paradoxical feeling – a blend of searing pain and an otherworldly surge of power that seemed to surge through every vein and sinew of his hand.

How much time passed? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. His eyes remained fixated on his hand and the growing heat.

“Here it comes,” said Tvashtr. “You have done well so far.”

Then, the sensation peaked and white-hot intensity enveloped Dasha’s hand. He gritted his teeth, his features contorting slightly in response to the searing agony. Yet, beneath the pain, there was a strange connection, an inexplicable communion with the furnace and the forces it held within.

Day five.

Hiiiisssssss!

He removed his hand from the furnace in the same minute Tvashtr took out the gauntlets. Two steps remained. Two days remained.

It was time to add the ten scales of dragon scale leather and ten ancient rune stones.

The gauntlet’s redder than blood and seering, the European adult dragon scales clung to them eagerly. At this stage, the eitr-forged iron was sensitive to magic and pulled in whatever was necessary. So that was what they did with the scales and the ancient rune stones.

Hephaestus placed the scales on the bottom side of the gauntlet’s to act as a comforter to the wielder, while Tvashtr filled the holes on the fingers with the ancient rune stones. Afterwards—

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The scales and the stones needed to be one with it. To be forced as one rather than separate entities.

It worked.

All that was left was the magical engraving. With Dasha’s guidance and memory, the process took no longer than twelve hours.

The final line of dwarven runes was done by Hephaestus. At the moment of completion, the gauntlets turned red, ripped away from the Greek god, and floated in the air. The gauntlets, trying to find their master, approached Dasha Pang. Black, sleek, radiating in a red hue of magma, they slipped into the mortal’s hands without causing the slightest burn. Fresh off the forge, the gauntlets should have burned him to a crisp but didn’t because they refused to harm their master. He who created them. He who gave them their source of life.

He who would give them purpose.

[ Receive:

Járngreipr ]

[ Weapon Name: Járngreipr

Rank: S

Attack: 550

Magical Might: 750

Current Value: ?

Description: Thor’s legendary gauntlets now reforged into Dasha Pang’s personal gauntlets! Metal fledglings without the backing of legends or gods waiting for their potential to be unleashed. ]

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