Star Forge Titan

"I saw my senior brother use this boxing style when we first met, so when I was learning Lan Dou Fist from my teacher, I took some time to recall it and came up with some unsuccessful byproducts..."

Alvin also looked at the pure white cyclone released by the prosthetic limb made of the elemental shell with a confused look on his face.

"How did you do that!?!" As a bystander, Brad couldn't help but ask:

"Yes, how did I do it?" As the main messenger, Alvin also asked the same question, and then began to scratch his hair frantically.

He had originally prepared for another explosion. Although he was very confident of the ultimate success, he estimated that this experiment was just one of the stepping stones to lay the foundation for "success".

Who would have thought it would be like this?

Admittedly, this elemental prosthesis consumed an astonishing amount of magic power and a lot of his mind because it activated [Reshaping the World] and [Elemental Shell] at the same time.

Could it be that the elemental prosthesis he created this time is already a truly mature elbow, so it has a strong sense of self-management and excellent self-learning ability, and it has learned to use boxing on its own without the control and supervision of the manufacturer, and the skill it learned is the famous skill of Wrist Blade Brad - Storm Fighting Falcon Fist.

You know, most of the Lan Dou branches are unable to learn the core secrets of the Lan Dou Holy Fist, which is the force string that can even use space as a medium to transmit power.

So they had to settle for the next best thing and use the almost omnipresent air as a medium to imitate the various winds in nature and perform boxing techniques that resemble various violent storms and turbulences.

Among the many boxing styles that have evolved from the Holy Fist, the Ranto Falcon Fist is truly a top-ranked boxing style because of its exquisite control of wind power and excellent combat moves.

Being able to perform this kind of boxing style, which is very difficult in terms of both configuration and breathing, also means being able to perform other simpler boxing styles.

At this time, Alvin finally discovered the difference from the previous experiments. Originally, considering the experimental safety regulations, he always kept the elemental prosthesis at a distance for operation.

But this time, after the prosthetic limb was made, he always held it in his hand, and even forgot to put it aside when he was demonstrating boxing just now.

Perhaps it is this direct contact that causes the magic infused into the elemental prosthesis to resonate with the elemental magic itself, which comes from the same source, and then produces signs similar to tuning fork resonance, causing the flow of magic inside the elemental prosthesis to change, spontaneously imitating the flow of magic in the maker's body.

"It really is self-learning?" Alvin widened his eyes and carefully sensed the magic power flowing in the prosthesis, and then verified his guess.

But this is not considered a success...

After cutting off the magic infusion and letting the power of the boxing configuration dissipate, Alvin felt a headache again.

By increasing the precision of the prosthetic limbs, the magical conflict between the elemental shell and the fist formation can indeed be reduced. Furthermore, the direct contact between the prosthetic limbs and the body can further reduce the difficulty of magical manipulation.

However, his original plan was to create an auxiliary prosthetic limb that would allow boxers to use the power of a second boxing configuration while still using one boxing configuration.

At this moment, this prosthetic limb did release the power of the boxing configuration, but the type was exactly the same as that used by the boxer himself.

In this way, the power of the boxing technique is doubled from one, which is indeed an excellent new discovery.

However, compared with the power of using different boxing techniques at the same time, it is much worse.

Therefore, the 'software' problem of the 'operating system' must be solved, that is, controlling the magic power at the same time to complete the two boxing configurations.

Moreover, Ivan also noticed that even the elemental prosthetic limbs that were meticulously modeled after the human body structure showed signs of damage after releasing the power of the fist configuration.

Well, this unexpected experiment proved at least one thing: the feasibility of using local materials to create elemental prosthetic limbs capable of boxing was mediocre, and generally speaking, unsuitable.

Although the existing finished products have a certain degree of usability, they cannot last long. Considering the consumption of one's own magic power and energy during the production process, they cannot be treated as disposable consumables that can be used and discarded.

Perhaps we need to change our thinking and abandon the rocks and soil that can be found everywhere, and instead use more solid and magic-friendly metal materials with excellent magic conductivity to make elemental prosthetic limbs that use boxing.

Meticulous workmanship? That's a way of thinking...

The next round of competition is tomorrow, and I probably won’t be able to make it.

Well, there is no need to rush into actual use. It is better to run the technical verification product a few more times in the laboratory first.

"Junior brother, are you okay?" Brad asked worriedly, looking at Ivan whose eyes were wandering.

"It's okay, I've thought of a solution." Alvin waved his hand to indicate that there was no problem.

"You've said the same thing several times before..." Brad muttered softly.

"This time I really thought of a solution!" The black-haired boy pressed his throbbing temples and tried to keep himself calm.

"Okay, okay, as long as you're happy." Brad shrugged as if he really believed it.

"..."

The dialogue lingers on subtleties.

Then, the two of them started to change the subject at the same time.

"Junior brother, what do you plan to call that move just now?" Brad coughed lightly and turned to ask about the boxing technique.

"There's no need to give a name to this unfinished product, right? Besides being able to be thrown as a ranged weapon like a dart, it doesn't have any special abilities."

"I originally planned to design an automatic tracking mode that would let the opponent do whatever they wanted, but I later realized that to achieve that effect, you had to mark the opponent in advance. Otherwise, the tracking accuracy would be so low that it would be laughable, so it felt a bit useless."

"Look, I can hit my opponent with one punch. Instead of leaving a mark on him, why not just kill him with one punch? Isn't that simpler?"

Ivan kept on talking about his ideas, and Brad's mouth kept opening wider and wider, as if his jaw was dislocated.

"If it can't track automatically, it can't be called the Floating Blade. Oh, if we really need to give it a name, let's call it Eight Points. I mean, 'Storm Light Wheel'."

Brad was silent for a moment, took a deep breath and adjusted his mindset, then said to this ignorant (not in a derogatory way) fellow apprentice earnestly:

"...Explain it to me in detail later. This trick might be more useful than you think."

"No problem." Alvin nodded indifferently to indicate that it was no problem.

My good junior brother, just because you can kill the enemy with one punch doesn’t mean others can do it too.

Even if you need to hit the enemy once first, being able to automatically track the opponent's attack is quite impressive.

"Come to think of it, Master actually went out today." Putting away the slightly damaged experimental prosthesis, Alvin turned his head to look at the lush tree not far away.

Under the shade of the tree, the lounge chair was empty. There was no smiling old man sitting cross-legged there as usual.

"Indeed, this is the first time I've seen Master go out since we came to Ismailia City." Brad nodded.

"Although there is no need to worry about safety, is Master familiar with the roads here?" Alvin suddenly remembered a problem that comrades with elderly people at home often face.

"It should be okay. Master said we were going to meet an old friend. Even if he doesn't know the way, that friend wouldn't be unfamiliar with the way, right?" Brad said uncertainly.

"Old friend, Master also has old friends here. As expected of an elder who has lived for over a hundred years, he has made friends all over the world." Alvin sighed and then changed the subject.

"Emmmm, could it be an old lover?"

“…” Brad’s face darkened, and he started to scold like a senior brother.

"Don't talk nonsense. You should respect your elders. Don't you see how shrunk the master has become?"

"Senior brother, you are the more mean." The corners of Ivan's mouth twitched, and he forced himself to suppress the urge to laugh out loud.

"Junior brother, weren't you the one who brought it up first?" Brad emphasized in a serious tone.

"Hey hey hey."

"Hey hey hey."

"Ouch!" x2

Two annoying voices echoed in the courtyard, followed by two screams of pain.

At the right time, Master Rigol, who had been out, returned like lightning and sat back in the rocking chair that had been waiting for him.

Chapter 108: The True Dwarf Story

That night, when Alvin saw the dwarf Grepi again, he looked very embarrassed.

Not only was his nose and face bruised and swollen, but his head was also wrapped in bandages. Beneath the layers of bandages was a noticeable swelling, a so-called "big lump."

"It seems that you communicate with your own kind quite, um, harmoniously?" Ivan pondered his words, and at the same time became more and more familiar with the way dwarves communicated with each other.

"Well, it's indeed very harmonious, a dwarven style of harmony." As he said this, Gripi couldn't help but take a few breaths, apparently because talking hurt his wound.

During this period, his job was to tell the dwarves in the city to leave as soon as possible. As for the reason, the victims of the dwarves were the best reason.

The dwarves were naturally not stupid. When they saw him appear and combined it with the rumors they had heard recently, they immediately understood what had happened.

In response, no dwarf chose to reveal Gripi's news; their reaction was simple.

Give the troublemaker a hard headbutt with your head, or a hard hook punch to the face with your clenched fist, and then open your arms to hug this young compatriot who has lost his last relative.

During the transfer process, Heidi and her Golden Sands Chamber of Commerce also provided considerable assistance. Although their assistance could not be made public due to their identities, it was entirely possible to employ these transferred dwarven craftsmen in other locations.

Besides that, neither of them immediately questioned Gripi's true identity.

Heidi might have her own considerations, but the reason why Ivan didn't do that was actually very simple. It was trust, trust that the other party would reveal the hidden information at the right time.

Moreover, use the most basic logic and common sense to make inferences.

How could a young dwarf, who had just reached adulthood and was limited in strength, escape from a city-state shrouded in the shadow of war for a long time, carrying the precious secrets of the Witch King, under the noses of the Free Fist and other secret forces secretly sent by the Witch King, on his own?

And the rumor about the Witch King's secret magic now seems more and more like a terrifying conspiracy so huge that it covers the entire silent desert.

The experience of fighting side by side made Alvin willing to regard Gripi as his own. Although the trust was not as unconditional as that of the closest friends, he would at least give the other party the most basic trust.

In the end, it's probably just nature.

Ivan considered himself a quiet person. He hadn't had many friends in his previous life, most of whom were strangers he'd met on the World Wide Web through virtual channels like immersing himself in games. Therefore, he was always willing to be tolerant and gentle with friends he recognized.

Besides that, the most realistic reason is one's own strength. Although it may sound a bit too realistic and even a bit pathetic, strength is indeed a fundamental prerequisite for ensuring that allies do not betray.

We are willing to believe in emotional elements, but in reality we prefer to believe in strength.

Looking at the hesitant dwarf, Ivan said straight to the point:

"Grippy, perhaps you should tell me a more appropriate name."

In response, the young dwarf avenger remained silent.

Alvin was not in a hurry. Instead, he took out the broken elemental prosthesis from the lepton space and used it to pass the time while studying and optimizing the internal structure.

After several minutes, Grippy Parritt, whose name means 'Angry Pyrite', finally spoke slowly and in a somewhat intrusive voice:

"You can call me Thorin, Thorin Armitage. Yes, the one who is said to be lucky but actually unlucky."

Grippy, or rather, Thorin, sat down in despair opposite Alvin, took a brass-shelled flat flagon from his pocket, and drank a large gulp of dwarven liquor.

At the same time, he also took a look at the strange elemental prosthesis in Ivan's hand. The craftsman's instinct made the dwarf quite concerned about it, but now was obviously not the time to discuss this.

"Unlucky guy... In other words, you didn't take away the Witch King's secret magic as the rumors said?" Alvin was not surprised at all.

Then he saw Thorin nodded heavily.

"Yes, my damn uncle, oh he is indeed dead now, my uncle did give me some things, but I don't think they contain the so-called secret magic of the Witch King."

"After all, I'm just his so-called nephew, who knows how many generations apart, not his biological son. According to our dwarven customs, it's good to get a set of silver cutlery at the funeral, most of which are cheap silver-plated ones."

Thorin took another sip of the dwarven liquor, and his eyelids twitched due to the pain from the wound and the spiciness of the wine.

"So I guess it's mostly all sorts of broken glass junk he made by burning sand. It's ridiculous that a great craftsman spent the last few years of his life burning glass. God of the Forge, that sounds like a complete joke, ahahahaha."

The young dwarf laughed so hard and exaggeratedly that big tears came out of the corners of his eyes.

"Isn't that ridiculous? Isn't that ridiculous?"

"Since arriving in this desert, nothing good has happened to me. Not only am I hung up and beaten by my uncle every day, but I'm also forced to learn this and that. There's all this bullshit theory of governing a country, and all this bullshit about how a king should be like a brutal and majestic lion, or a cunning and sinister fox."

"Are all kings the offspring of a lion and a fox? That's hilarious!"

"I just want to bang on the anvil and sing some songs, and tell a few funny stories!"

"Yes, just like those lowly bards."

"The Dwarf Prince, the noble Dwarf Prince, ahaha, whoever wants to be the prince can be the prince!"

Thorin drank the dwarven liquor in the flat flagon in one breath and jumped onto the chair with red eyes.

"Damn the Witch King! Damn the Witch King!"

"Bullshit! It's all bullshit!"

As if he had finally vented the emotions that had been pent up in his heart for a long time, Thorin slowly knelt down on the chair, looking very embarrassed.

Even the gradient green Mohawk that stood up like a rooster's comb on his head was now drooping limply like a sail that had lost its support after its mast had broken.

After remaining silent and listening to all his complaints, Ivan put away his elemental prosthesis and looked at Thorin's red and swollen eyes.

"Condolences."

“…” Thorin sniffed.

"Thank you, but no one is going to feel sorry for that rotten scumbag. He doesn't deserve it, and he doesn't deserve it."

"I know that very well. Yes, I know that very well."

Ivan nodded and changed the subject.

"What are you going to do next?"