Creation System: Reborn As A Fantasy Worldsmith



After walking for only a few minutes in this new pathway that was only 10 by ten feet in width and height, it suddenly opened up into a giant cavern space. The roof was over 70 feet up in height and the spaciously spread walls were nearly 100 feet apart.

There were still some spider webs spread around, but instead of the radioactive green walls lighting up the cave, it was again the amber crystals. As they walked in, they noticed several smaller cave holes leading to this one large cavern.

After walking forward for only a little, they already noticed the end of this cavern about 500 meters away in front of them. After getting closer, they noted that there was a small hut atop a ledge at the very end of the cave.

Once they reached the bottom of this ledge, Alten said, "So this is it I guess huh?" Looking up at the ledge that was around 20 feet in height with his hands on his waist.

The three went up a flight of stairs to the right of the ledge which led them up to the top, before slowly approaching the hut and standing in front of the door.

The walls of the hut were made from a combination of wooden logs and stones, providing stability and insulation against the natural chill of the cave. The logs, weathered by time and the elements, had a rustic charm to them, adding character to the dwelling.

Smooth, flat stones adorned the base of the hut, arranged in a mosaic-like pattern, suggesting that someone had taken the time to beautify the entrance.

The roof was made from a thatch of dried reeds and grass, perfectly suited for blending in with the environment and providing protection from occasional dripping water in the cave. A large chimney jutted out from the roof, indicating that there was some sort of fireplace or forge inside.

The hut's door was a simple wooden contraption, held together by wrought iron hinges and a latch. It seemed sturdy, but at the same time, it carried an air of mystery.

After a few seconds, Lyrian reached for the door-knocker before giving it three knocks. An awkward silence followed as he did this, prompting him to reach for it again a second time.

But just before his hands touched the door-knocker, a small trapdoor in the middle of the door suddenly opened, revealing only a bright silver eye, a white eyebrow, and a little bit of under-eye skin.

The trapdoor suddenly opening was a bit of a shock, but before the three could react, a voice abruptly sounded from the inside, "Who are you? What are you bothering me for!?" It exclaimed in a rough, hoarse tone.

"We've come here to get my sword repaired. Your brother Igniel sent us." Lyrian quickly said, referring to the white-haired dwarf from the village, "We tried to repair it there, but no one could fix an obsidian blade."

On saying this, a moment of silence followed, causing anticipation to rise in the three as they waited for an answer.

"Huh? You want me to fix your little obsidian blade?" The voice asked from the other side.

"Yes! Precisely!" Alten answered.

"No. Get lost, brats. I have things to do." The trapdoor suddenly slammed shut as footsteps could be heard walking away from the door.

Before long, metal clinking began to sound from inside, while the three were left baffled and silenced.

"Shoot! I guess it was too much of a task to ask. I mean, it's not like he owes to it us." Alten said, disappointed.

Leon also chimed in, "Hmm... well, no matter what the context behind it is, we've been fully denied. Might as well return now."

On saying this, they both waited for Lyrian, to remain silent, to speak, "No." He said, shocking the two of them slightly.

"What do you mean, no? He already said no to you, you can't just refuse his refusal." Alten exclaimed in confusion.

"Why can't I? Is it that much to ask?" Lyrian paused for a moment before facing the door, "This sword was a gift given to me by my father! I know you are a master blacksmith, so please, do me a favor and fix it for me! If you do, I will make it up to you!" He shouted.

Inside, a dwarf with a head full of braided white hair turned to look past his shoulder at the door. He was old, clearly in his fifties, having a dark complexion. He was adorned in a dirty white apron full of dark spots of ash, under which was a pair of old brown cargo pants and a dirty white tank top.

Both his sweaty arms were full of ash and his face, with beads of sweat dropping off of it, was covered in small scars all around. Noticeably, there were two large scars, one on his arm stretching from his elbow all the way to the back of his hand, and the other on the left side of his face, stretching across his entire cheek.

For Lyrian, the dwarf inside did not speak, so he was left in an awkward silence.

...

Alten couldn't help but speak, "Look, I know you want it fixed, but... clearly, he doesn't care for it right now."

"Alten is correct right now," Leon said, agreeing with Alten's point of view.

"Igniel said that he will undoubtedly accept my request, and I believe him. You guys, head back to the village. You can wait for me if you want, or you can try to find the golden-tiered creature on your own, but I won't leave this damn hut until my blade is fixed." Lyrian suddenly said, determination in his eyes.

"Wha- what!?" Alten exclaimed in shock.

"Did you hear me, blacksmith? I won't leave until you fix my blade!" Lyrian said, walking to the right side of the door and plopping his body down to the floor. Sitting in a crisscrossed position, he tied his arms and closed his eyes, unwilling to move.