I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 633: Unyielding Student Of The Forge

The first day for Northern was exhausting. After putting both the forgemasters and the unfortunate student in their place without trying, Northern was hurled away by Eleina.

And he did not like it.

He spent the entire day striking a hammer on heated steel—several of them, if he was not overstating it, perhaps close to a thousand.

Which was insane for his first day. He had thought that the best thing that could have happened to him was finding a teacher like Eleina who was a natural student.

But several students had come around to offer their condolences to him instead, many even tapping his shoulders with a look of pity on their faces. This was before he received his first task from the forge prodigy.

When he started work, that was when Northern understood what those looks were for.

Eleina was undoubtedly the most brilliant person in the forge, the best forgemaster, only that she was a student in her fourth and final year.

But her work ethic made it impossible for anyone to want to be taught by her. The students said she usually demanded absurd and impossible things.

Eleina was a bit closed-minded and incapable of empathy. Every student that had temporarily come to learn from her, she had always put on a workload too high for them to catch up with, which had caused several students to resign from the blacksmithing course to go to other non-combative courses.

When this became a very serious issue, with students in the forge being fewer than ten and not enough workers to meet daily targets for weapon forging, the head forgemaster asked Elaine to stop taking students and instead focus on her own work.

Of course, the forge prodigy had thrown a tantrum when this happened, but there was nothing she could do. This ultimately led to her presence in the forge being rare.

Usually, she just showed up and struck a few metals. Northern was told that, in fact, the longest she had stayed in the forge in three months happened to be today, which was undoubtedly because of him.

Every student had something to say about her while they were on break the first day and advised him to pull out of the course because Eleina would ask him to accomplish things that were not even possible for her.

Northern had seriously considered all their inputs, thought about it very well, and there was only one conclusion he could arrive at.

’They are weak. All of them.’

To Northern, it was simple: if there was anyone who couldn’t meet Eleina’s target, it was because they lacked the will to push past their limits.

In Northern’s eyes, those who quit under pressure were the ones who failed themselves, not their teacher.

”She’s not the problem,” he muttered to himself, ”The problem is their lack of resolve.”

Northern wasn’t blind to Eleina’s harsh methods, nor was he particularly fond of her domineering attitude.

But there was something undeniable about her—a relentless drive that mirrored his own.

If there was one thing Northern respected, it was someone who refused to settle for mediocrity, someone who pushed others to exceed what they thought possible.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, his arms sore from the repetitive motion of hammering. His muscles screamed in protest, his body heavy with exhaustion, but his resolve only grew stronger.

He remembered the mines, the suffocating heat, the constant hunger gnawing at his stomach, and the unyielding weight of the axe in his hands. Compared to that, this forge felt almost merciful.

As the break ended, Northern watched Eleina stride back into the forge. Her confidence was unwavering, her fiery spirit an almost tangible presence. She didn’t even glance at the other students, her focus solely on him.

”Well?” she said, her voice cutting through the clatter of the forge. ”Still standing, or should I find you a replacement?”

Northern straightened his back, forcing the weariness from his face. ”I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly.

Her sharp smile returned, one that bordered on amusement and approval. ”Good. Let’s see if you still feel that way by the end of today.”

She gestured for him to follow, leading him to a secluded corner of the forge where an anvil stood surrounded by half-finished weapons and scattered tools. Beside it was a smoldering furnace that radiated an oppressive heat.

Eleina grabbed a chunk of raw steel and tossed it onto the anvil. The clang echoed through the forge, drawing the attention of a few curious students.

”Today’s task is simple,” she said, though her tone suggested otherwise. ”You’re going to forge this into a blade. Not just any blade, but one that’s sharp enough to slice through stone and durable enough to survive a hundred battles.”

Northern raised an eyebrow. ”You expect me to do that on my second day?”

”No,” she replied, folding her arms. ”I expect you to try and fail. Repeatedly. Until you either get it right or collapse from exhaustion. Whichever comes first.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, a faint smile breaking through. ”You really know how to motivate a guy.”

”I’m not here to coddle you,” she shot back. ”You wanted to learn from the best, didn’t you? Then earn it. Every strike of the hammer, every bead of sweat—you either make them count, or you waste my time. And trust me, I don’t take kindly to having my time wasted.”

Northern said nothing, his focus shifting to the raw steel on the anvil. He picked up the hammer, its weight a familiar strain on his arms.

There was something insane about Northern’s body, something he had been observing since the first time he started lifting the hammer.

The first day was exhaustive. When he got home, he fell on his bed and slept off, so much that he missed dinner. Fortunately for him, they served breakfast and he had something in his stomach before reporting the second day.

The second day, it was strenuous, but not like the first day. It was slow, very slow but Northern could feel his body changing, it was like his entire muscles were reforming to better suit his actions in order to not just reduce exhaustion, but also produce the maximum ratio of output.

He wasn’t sure at first but he wanted to confirm it as he continued to use the hammer.

With the thought in mind, Northern placed the steel into the furnace, the flames licking at its surface until it glowed a fierce orange.

The heat was intense, the kind that could make lesser men falter, but Northern’s grip only tightened.

As he pulled the steel from the furnace and placed it on the anvil, Eleina watched him with a critical eye.

”Remember,” she said, her tone softer but no less firm. ”A blade is more than just steel. It’s an extension of its maker. If you don’t put your soul into it, it’s nothing more than a useless hunk of metal.”

Northern didn’t respond immediately. Her words lingered in his mind as he raised the hammer, the weight settling comfortably in his hand.

’Put my soul into it?’

The idea wasn’t foreign to him. It was how he had survived so far—pouring every ounce of himself into whatever challenge lay before him.

The first strike landed with a sharp, echoing clang that silenced the forge for a brief moment.

The sound reverberated through the room, and the students who had been snickering or whispering behind his back now turned their attention toward him.

Northern didn’t care about their stares. He focused entirely on the steel in front of him, watching it compress and shift under the force of his hammer. Sparks flew in chaotic arcs, illuminating the sweat glistening on his forehead.

Strike after strike, he fell into a rhythm. Each swing of the hammer was deliberate, a controlled release of power that steadily molded the raw steel into a semblance of a blade.

Eleina stood nearby, observing with her arms crossed. She offered no praise, no words of encouragement, just a silent, scrutinizing presence.

It would have been unnerving to most, but Northern welcomed it. Her watchful gaze felt like a challenge, and he thrived under the weight of it.

By the time midday came, his muscles were burning again, but there was something exhilarating about the process.

As the students took their break, Eleina called out to him. ”You’re not stopping, are you?”

Northern wiped his brow, his grin defiant. ”Not until this blade’s done.”

She nodded approvingly but didn’t let it show on her face. ”Then keep going, but don’t get complacent. The steel won’t forgive your mistakes.”

With that, she walked off, leaving Northern alone with the blade that was beginning to take shape.

He wasn’t a perfectionist, but he knew there was no room for error here. This was probably Eleina’s way of testing him, not his skill, but his resolve.

As the hours dragged on, Northern’s hands began to blister, but the blisters would heal and then form again and heal.

The hammer felt heavier with each swing. His body screamed for rest, but his mind stayed sharp.

And as he grew tired, even without Chaos Eyes, he could see it, the faint outline of what the blade could become if he just pushed a little harder.

By the time Eleina returned, the day star was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the forge.

Northern stood by the anvil, the crude blade cooling in a basin of water. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

Eleina picked it up, examining it under the fading light. ”It’s rough,” she said bluntly, ”but it’s not bad for a beginner.”

”Thanks,” Northern replied, his voice hoarse but steady.

She set the blade down, her expression unreadable. ”Don’t take this as praise. You’ve still got a long way to go before I’d consider you even remotely competent. But...” She paused, almost as if reluctant to admit it. ”You didn’t quit. That’s more than I can say for most.”

Northern smirked, leaning on the anvil. ”What can I say? I’m not like most.”

She gave a small snort, shaking her head. ”We’ll see if you can still say that after tomorrow. Same time, same place. And bring your A-game, or I’ll know.”

As she walked away, Northern allowed himself a moment to breathe. His arms were trembling, his body on the verge of collapse, but his resolve was stronger than ever. He looked at the crude blade he had forged, a small sense of pride welling up inside him.

It wasn’t perfect, but neither was he. Yet.

For now, it was enough. Tomorrow, he’d do better. And then he couldn’t wait to see his progress after one year.