Star Forge Titan

"Hey, I don't know who made up that rumor, but as a victim, I'm very angry."

Thorin grinned, looking like an enraged hound, venting his anger with a low growl.

"Well, well then, how about we teach those bastards who are hiding behind the scenes and stirring up trouble, and involving so many innocent people, a lesson? It would be best if we could drag them out under the sun and expose them to the sun." Alvin also let out a low chuckle, but there was no smile in that laugh.

"That's great! I'd really like to see that scene." Thorin nodded without hesitation, then pressed the axe behind his back.

"My axe would be willing too, I suppose."

"What a coincidence." Hearing the cheerful roar of a soul-made weapon in the spiritual space, Alvin couldn't help but smile.

"My axe thinks so too."

Chapter 109: An Old Friend Comes

Shortly after Alvin left, an uninvited guest came to the courtyard where Master Rigor was resting.

A stranger, shrouded in a large black cloak, descended from the sky and stepped silently on the cold, dew-soaked stone slabs of the courtyard.

He cast his gaze towards the room on the side where the disciples were resting, and then heard an old voice coming from behind him.

"Don't look. My old disciples are not here. One of them is plotting your heads, and the other is sharpening his axe."

Elder Rigor, who was always cheerful in the past, now revealed some extremely depressed emotions in his voice.

The reason why Rigor said these words so bluntly was because he knew that the other party also understood what a great cause the Fist of Freedom was going to accomplish, which was to change the world.

"What a pity! Judging from the information, he's a rather interesting child," the stranger said with great regret.

"My last disciple is not Hayden. He won't be fooled by your sweet talk. Having said that..."

Rigor suddenly took a deep breath and let out an angry roar.

"Stay away from this old disciple, you pathetic monster who has lost all of his humanity and is now nothing but an empty shell!"

"Monster? How can a lowly servant call your former master, my loyal guard, my poor slave, my dearest Gael, that? "

Facing Rigor's angry rebuke, the stranger was not angry but happy. A strange laugh came from under his hood. The normal human voice was mixed with a few hissing sounds of unknown origin.

It sounds like a record that has had other noises accidentally mixed into it during the copying process. Although the melody played is still as beautiful as the original one, the occasional noises seem even more harsh because of the beauty of the melody.

"Don't call me by that name. I am now Leag, Grand Elder of the Free Fist and mentor of the Fist Fighters. Even if only a remnant of my soul remains, it will only burn for freedom."

The Great Elder slowly stood up from the recliner. His originally old and hunched body straightened up, and his small eyes revealed a dazzling light like the bright stars in the night sky. Faintly, one could hear a dull sound like a heavy hammer hitting a drum coming from his chest!

Rigor's shriveled body was like a cotton ball that swelled up after absorbing water, and muscles quickly emerged.

"No need to get excited, how much more can you burn?"

"Don't worry, we are not here to fight today." As he said this, the stranger raised his arm covered by wide sleeves and pressed it down lightly.

An invisible force instantly fell on Rigor, causing his eyes, which were originally as bright as stars, to dim a little, and his body shape also stopped changing.

"Just as you can sense our arrival, we can also sense your presence. Therefore, we are extremely happy to set foot in the city of Ismailia today." The stranger turned around and faced Gale, his hood covering his entire face, leaving only a darkness that was difficult for the eyes to penetrate, quietly lurking under the wide dark cloak.

"Unfortunately, I haven't come here in person yet. After all, I'm not ready to meet another old friend just yet."

"Meet? Ha, for a bunch of monsters like you, there is no such thing as past friendship left. The only iron reality is killing each other!" Rigor stood in place, and the stone slabs under his feet cracked silently.

"Yes, a hundred years ago, we never imagined that things would develop like this." The stranger was not offended by Rigor's offensive words, but just let out a long sigh, his tone sounding quite melancholy.

But the words he spoke next revealed undisguised joy.

"What we never imagined was that after more than a hundred years, the seeds we sowed would grow into such lush and useful trees."

Looking at the stranger in front of him who was extremely tall but completely shrouded in a black robe, Rigor's vigilance was raised to the highest level.

"Since you can't come in person, does that mean this is an incarnation?" Suddenly, the old man laughed contemptuously.

As if recalling something, he said slowly in a calm tone:

"It seems that the great king to whom I once offered my allegiance has now completely transformed into a despicable rat who can only hide his head and show his tail."

"..." The stranger fell silent, but the pressure emanating from his body became stronger and stronger. It was the magical pressure that only a truly powerful transcendent possessed, and it existed as if it were a substance.

In response, Rigor acted completely unconcerned, and continued speaking as if he hadn't noticed anything:

"Since that incident, do you remember the last time you revealed your true form?"

The stranger remained silent, but the magical pressure around him became increasingly terrifying.

"In my opinion, it's because of fear, right?" Rigor stood stubbornly in the range of the pressure.

"What are you afraid of? Are you afraid of your own ugly appearance, or of that power that shouldn't exist in this world!?!"

The old man's short figure was like a small boat in a storm, his clothes rustling in the strong wind brought by the pressure, but his originally hunched back was now as straight as a pine tree, and he stood firm the whole time.

"Hmph." The stranger snorted coldly, standing in place and waving his sleeves violently.

The next moment, Rigor was hit by an invisible force and flew backwards.

"A slave is always a slave."

The voice drifted in the air, and the stranger's figure disappeared.

"Cough cough." Rigor struggled to get up and couldn't help but coughing. Behind him was a big tree that he had broken.

"As arrogant as ever, just like a hundred years ago."

Looking in the direction where the stranger disappeared, the old man touched the broken branch distressedly, but suddenly an irrepressible smile appeared on his face:

"But the world has changed, and the younger generation is growing up. The horns of arrogance growing on the heads of inhuman monsters will eventually be broken by the courage of fighters."

Rigor seemed to be repeating some prophecy, or he seemed to be just talking to himself.

When Alvin came back, he saw the old man holding a broom and cleaning the fallen leaves in the yard without any airs of a superior. There was a broken and fallen tree behind him.

"Master, what happened? Why did the tree fall?" Seeing that Elder Rigor seemed fine, Alvin did not let down his guard.

This is a secret safe house known only to a few people. How could such an accident happen so suddenly that even the big tree in the yard was broken?

It's impossible that the master fell asleep in the recliner, then performed a set of boxing techniques while sleepwalking, and accidentally broke the tree, right?

"Once a tree has grown into a forest, it will eventually experience wind and rain." The elder patted the old tree trunk lying on the ground, but his tone seemed relaxed.

"Take it and practice." Pointing to the fallen tree, Rigor said casually:

"But I don't need it anymore... Well, thank you, Master anyway." Ivan wanted to say that he no longer needed to practice the delicate operation of configuration force by cutting wood.

But at this moment, Master Rigor obviously didn't want to talk about something, so asking more questions would only cause more trouble and make him unhappy.

Why get information by hurting the people around you? You can just hurt the enemy.

Anyway, the enemy is not human.

Chapter 110: Fists Like Meteorites

He didn't intend to interrogate his master, who treated him so kindly, like interrogating a criminal, but that didn't mean he didn't take it to heart.

Back in the house, Alvin sat down at the work table, which was one of the works he had been working on while practicing carpentry skills (big mistake) some time ago. Then the tall black-haired boy began to think.

Wondering how to figure out what just happened in the courtyard?

It was that bold fellow again, who actually dared to break the teacher's favorite tree.

The old man is so old that there are obviously not many things that he likes. Although the tree was not planted by the master himself, it can be regarded as a sun-bathing friend who has accompanied him for many days and basked in the sun together.

Can this be tolerated?

I can’t tolerate this, I can’t tolerate it!

After thinking it over, Alvin decided that he couldn't deal with this problem alone.

So, he decided to go find Brad after the game.

Why after the game? Of course, because there is a boxing match today.

Speaking of which, will that sudden supporter who appeared before bring me an unexpected surprise today?

With a subtle sense of anticipation, Ivan began his work. He took out a small amount of mithril and a number of dwarven fine-forged steel ingots from the psychic space. These were purchased through Gripi, now known as Thorin, from the dwarven craftsmen who had temporarily evacuated Ismailia.

Alvin had no intention of taking advantage of the situation. Firstly, he disdained to do something that was inconsistent with his own aesthetic taste. Secondly, there was no need to do so simply considering his own ability to pay.

At that time, Thorin seemed very grateful when he heard that he was willing to purchase the materials on the order at twice the market price.

At first, the young dwarf thought that Alvin was trying to use this opportunity to support the dwarves who had been forced to leave their homeland, and at the same time to help him redeem some of his reputation. He even couldn't help but ask why Alvin was so kind to him and his people. Was it because he or his elders had some kind of kinship with the dwarves in the past?

But when Thorin heard Evan say that he wanted to settle the bill with gems, and that he wanted to use elemental crystals, magical gems that contained elemental magic, the young dwarf couldn't help but reveal a look of seeing a fat sheep, or a rich man, on his face.

As mentioned before, the dwarves of Palladia have a long tradition of commerce. While their philosophies are old-fashioned and conservative, often adhering to the business philosophy of "as long as my goods are good, you'll definitely come back to buy, so it's up to you to buy if you want." However, they do possess basic business knowledge, which is passed down from generation to generation to the younger dwarves.

So, Thorin certainly knew what Ivan's words meant.

Double the market price? How could a transaction involving gemstones, especially magical gemstones, be worth only twice the market price?

If he didn't feel that he owed a favor to a great man, a certain dwarf prince might have shamelessly changed his job to a professional salesman of dwarf products on the spot, encouraging the other party to buy a lot, buy more, and buy up all the goods.

Well, what Thorin didn't know was that these elemental crystals were of absolutely no problem as magic gems, and because of their excellent quality, they could be sold at a higher price than magic gems of the same level when put on the market.

But for a Titan descendant who is good at making handmade gem dishes, the value of these gems is at best just a hassle-free, low-cost labor.

Without paying attention to the details, Alvin activated his innate ability of [Reshaping the World]. He first used mithril to make the bones of various parts of his arm, and then stretched the remaining parts of this precious metal into thin filaments.

For Alvin, the whole process is a bit like kneading plasticine. Apart from consuming magic power, he basically only needs to use his hands, which is very close to the real sense of just having hands.

But for others, the same process requires an extremely complex process. Even for dwarves proficient in blacksmithing, they must use a special forge to reach the extremely high temperature required to melt the mithril, and then they must seize the time to forge and shape it.

Under normal circumstances, this special material with excellent magic conductivity is difficult to reshape after it has been forged and shaped once.

If one wanted to shape mithril repeatedly like Ivan, kneading clay, then the dwarven craftsmen would probably only dream of such a fantastic forging method after happily drinking at least two barrels of dwarven liquor and falling into a completely drunken dream.

is it possible?

This is impossible. I don’t have that ability, you know?

After completing the basic skeleton construction, what Alvin needs to do next is naturally to create muscles and skin made of steel.

For Titan descendants who have mastered the talent of [Reshaping the World], although steel is more difficult to shape than clay and consumes more magic power, it is not something that cannot be done. It only requires more effort and careful carving of the details.

However, the situation did not allow it! The main reason was that time was running out, and Ivan was about to start the next game.

This feeling can be quite unpleasant. It's like when a modeler is in the middle of putting together a model and suddenly hears the foreman calling him. At that time, he has already selected and polished the parts in his hands, and all that's left is the most satisfying step of putting them together.

And then, I was called to work...

Can this be tolerated?

The anger comes up immediately!

Putting away the unfinished fine-forged steel ingots and the mithril skeleton with a completed preliminary structure, Alvin walked along the contestant passage towards the circular arena in the center of the arena with an expressionless face.

Although it was not his turn yet, the few words he heard indicated that the last round of competition was nearing its end.

The host was shouting the name of the legendary gladiator Jerome with enthusiasm and awe. It seemed that the immortal Jerome was going to give the audience another wonderful gladiatorial performance today.

I just don't know who my opponent will be today. I hope it's a battle that can bring real surprises.

With this thought in mind, the black-haired boy walked out of the passage. The strong light coming from the opposite side did not cause any hindrance to his dark golden eyes that were gifted with divine power.

Therefore, Ivan could clearly see that there were actually twelve boxers standing on the circular ring! And there were even more lying on the ground!!!

In the center of the ring, the immortal Jerome stood there covered in blood, laughing loudly and opening his arms in an extremely heroic posture.

"Come on, strong men who have made it to the final round of trials, don't you have something called courage? Or have you even lost that thing between your crotch? Hahahahahahaha."

The gladiator, whose true origin was unknown, kept provoking the remaining boxers with extremely vulgar words, but the latter remained trembling in place, as if they were completely frightened.

"Boring! Absolutely boring! Is this the purity of the final round of trials? I guess I can only hope to meet a formidable opponent in the finals."

Jerome spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the ground. The lion-like beast's head opened into a huge mouth full of sharp teeth, revealing the bright red meat residue remaining between the teeth.

It is hard not to associate this with the extremely hideous wounds on the bodies of some boxers lying on the ground.

Seeing this, the remaining boxers finally couldn't help it and jumped off the ring to express their resignation. Some of them even screamed shamefully.

After a while, the host and referee, who was also frightened, tremblingly shouted out the decision "Victory belongs to Jerome".

The boxer in the next round was also stunned by the scene before him, and only slowly moved onto the stage after the host repeatedly urged him.

There were more than a hundred of them, but they only dared to stand around the ring, trying to stay away from Jerome, who refused to leave the stage. Yes, the bloodthirsty gladiator did not leave immediately. Instead, he showed a look of interest, carefully observing the boxers preparing for the next round of competition.

The look was as if he was looking at a group of new prey, bloodthirsty and eager.

Suddenly, Jerome's ears moved, as if he heard some special sound, and he quickly turned around to look at the contestant tunnel behind him.