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Whatever the process was like, the result was that Leon’s party was allowed into the Machina Forge. Leon now stood at the front instead of Garlond, following the heavy, thudding steps of the dwarf leading the way.
True to the forge’s name, “Machina,” which meant “machine”, the interior was filled with mechanical devices whose purposes were entirely unclear. Whether or not Leon’s group was gawking at them, the dwarf walked briskly into the forge without hesitation.
“It’s getting hotter,” Garlond muttered, wiping a bead of sweat from the edge of his brow.
It indeed was getting hotter. With every step they took, the heat and humidity intensified.
It was as if the Machina Forge were a living organism, pulsing and circulating heat and steam throughout its body. The clang of hammering rang sharply in the distance, followed shortly by the hiss of bellows exhaling air with rhythmic precision.
Feels like we’ve stepped into a volcanic zone, Leon thought.
It was suffocatingly hot and humid—enough to remind Leon of saunas, one of the cultural elements from the Northern Continent. An average person wouldn’t last for more than a couple of minutes in this environment.
There was a reason the dwarves didn’t take on human apprentices. Regardless of skill in metallurgy or forging, most humans simply couldn’t...
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