Forging in the Royal Smithy

The sky-barge, named the Cloud-Treader, sailed through the heavens like a majestic silver swan. Below, the landscape of Viraatkshetra unrolled in a breathtaking tapestry of green plains, winding blue rivers, and the hazy purple of distant mountains. The journey, which would have been a grueling, month-long trek on land, was a serene and swift voyage through the sky.

But for Amrit, it was not a time for sightseeing. It was a mobile training ground, a secluded sanctuary for focused preparation.

While the Royal Guards stood watch and Bhim patrolled the decks, his silent presence a ward against any unforeseen threats, Amrit claimed the ship's main cargo hold as his personal workshop. The hold was a large, empty space, its metallic floor humming with the faint vibrations of the spirit engine. It was here that he began the next phase of his plan.

He had power, skill, and knowledge. But the geniuses he would face at the Academy would also have powerful tools: inherited spiritual artifacts, master-forged weapons, and priceless defensive talismans. The Obsidian Kiss was a peerless blade, born of a miracle, but a single sword was not enough. He needed to equip himself. And more than that, he needed to understand the very art of creation.

He had spent weeks in the Royal Library absorbing texts on smithing, enchanting, and runic inscription. He had the theoretical knowledge of a grandmaster. Now, he would put it into practice.

He had brought with him a portable forge, a masterpiece from the Royal Smithy that used a spirit stone to generate intense, controlled heat. He had also brought a small mountain of raw materials, procured from the Royal Treasury: ingots of star-iron, blocks of jade infused with spiritual energy, rare woods that could conduct Prana, and jars of powdered monster cores.

On the first day of the voyage, he began his work. His first project was simple: armor. He needed a set of light, durable armor that would not restrict his Ghost-Flash Steps.

He took an ingot of star-iron, a metal known for its lightness and durability. He placed it in the forge, heating it until it glowed a cherry red. Then, he took a heavy smith's hammer and began to shape it.

Bhim and Sword Master Jian watched from a safe distance, their curiosity piqued. They saw Amrit lift the heavy hammer, his movements economical and precise.

Clang.

The first strike of the hammer on the hot metal was perfect. It was not just a blow of physical force. Amrit, using his transcendent control, infused a tiny, precise wisp of his Spirit-Prana into the impact.

He focused his intent. Action: Smithing - Shape and Purify.

[Crafting Action performed.]

[Crit Chance detected…]

[…Triggering a 200x Crit!]

The effect was instantaneous and profound. The 200x crit-infused hammer strike did not just flatten the metal. It sent a resonant shockwave through the star-iron, violently expelling every microscopic impurity. The metal seemed to sigh, releasing a puff of dark, smoky vapor, and its internal structure was forcibly realigned into a perfect, interlocking crystalline pattern. The ingot became denser, stronger, and more resilient by an order of magnitude.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Amrit worked with a rhythmic, hypnotic grace. Each strike was a crit-infused masterpiece of purification and shaping. The ingot of star-iron seemed to melt under his hammer, flowing into the desired shape of a breastplate, not with the clumsiness of beaten metal, but with the fluid grace of sculpted clay.

Jian's single eye was wide with disbelief. "He is not just smithing," he murmured to Bhim. "He is… communicating with the metal. He is convincing it to change its form."

In less than an hour, a task that would have taken a master smith a week, Amrit had forged a complete set of light armor: a breastplate, vambraces, and greaves. The armor was paper-thin, yet possessed a strength that could likely turn aside a blow from Bhim's own axe. It was a uniform, deep black, seeming to absorb the light, and it was completely seamless, as if it had been grown rather than forged.

But Amrit was not finished. He took out a set of fine engraving tools and a small pot of liquid silver mixed with powdered light-crystals. He began to carve runes onto the surface of the new armor. His hands moved with an impossible speed and precision, guided by his system-perfected knowledge of runic arts.

He wasn't just copying patterns from a book. He was designing a new runic array, one that integrated the principles of the Ghost-Flash Steps directly into the armor. He carved runes for spatial stability, for inertia dampening, and for reducing Prana friction against the air.

[Crafting Action: Runic Inscription.]

[…Triggering a 50x Crit!]

As he completed the final rune, the entire set of armor flared with a soft, silver light. The runes pulsed once, then sank into the metal, becoming almost invisible. The armor was no longer just a defensive tool. It was a spiritual artifact, a second skin designed to enhance his unique movement style.

He donned the armor. It was weightless, fitting him so perfectly it felt like a part of his own body. He took a single Ghost-Flash Step across the cargo hold. The translocation was smoother, faster, and required a fraction less energy than before. He had successfully created his first custom artifact.

Bhim could only shake his head in awe. "He learns a thousand years of knowledge in a single day."

For the remainder of the week-long journey, the cargo hold became a divine workshop. Amrit worked tirelessly, his creativity fueled by the limitless potential of the [Infinite Crit System].

He crafted a dozen small, razor-sharp throwing needles from the fangs of a Shadow Viper, inscribing each with a rune that would allow it to teleport short distances mid-flight, making them impossible to dodge.

He took a piece of thousand-year-old Ironwood and carved it into a simple flute. He didn't know how to play music, but he inscribed it with runes of spiritual resonance. By channeling his Spirit Sea into it, he could produce a sound that could either calm a troubled mind or shatter an opponent's soul. It was a weapon of conceptual sound.

He created explosive talismans, cloaking amulets, and communication jades that could transmit thoughts across miles. Each creation was a masterpiece, a Spirit-Grade artifact that would be a priceless treasure in Kshirapura, all crafted from raw materials in the hold of the sky-barge.

He was not just preparing for a tournament; he was equipping himself for a war. He was becoming a one-man armory, capable of creating his own legendary tools as needed.

On the final day of the voyage, as the jagged peaks of the Sky-Piercer mountain range appeared on the horizon, Amrit undertook his most ambitious project. He brought out the Obsidian Kiss. The sword was already a peerless weapon, but it was, at its core, a simple blade. He intended to give it a scabbard worthy of its power.

He took the finest materials he had left: a sheet of void-silver, a metal that could absorb light and energy; a strip of leather from a Dream-Walker beast, known for its spatial properties; and the powdered heart of a lightning elemental he had found in the treasury.

He began the forging process, his intent clear: create a scabbard that was not just a sheath, but a synergistic partner to the blade and to his own techniques.

He hammered the void-silver, infusing it with his will. He stitched the Dream-Walker leather, carving it with runes. He blended the powdered lightning core into the lining. He poured all his accumulated knowledge and a significant portion of his spiritual energy into this final creation.

He was so focused, so utterly absorbed in the act of creation, that he pushed his intent, his desire for a perfect outcome, to its absolute limit.

The system responded to this peak of creative desire.

[Grandmaster-level Crafting Action in progress.]

[Host's intent has reached a critical creative threshold.]

[…Triggering a 10,000x Crit!]