God Of Forges Chapter 1: A New World

Dennis Smith grew up admiring his father, who more than lived up to his surname. Indeed, he was a blacksmith in modern times. Even though the trade had gone somewhat out of fashion in those days, he was very deeply passionate about it. He would make extremely high quality weapon replicas such as Cloud’s Buster or even lightsabers.

Not an actual lightsaber which could slice through almost anything, of course, but something that looked just like the real thing. His dedication to his craft and high quality eventually gained the attention of producers and directors for famous movies and tv shows such as Game of Thrones. 

Dennis would spend most of his time afterschool with his dad at work, learning everything he could from him. He did not find schoolwork appealing in the slightest… but smithing? He could read all sorts of books about it, watch his dad work all day and tire himself to the point of complete exhaustion helping him out. 

He wanted to be just as good as Mr Smith… no, he wanted to be even better. All those elaborate, beautiful and simply jaw-dropping weapons, armour, tools, furniture and even the small things like cooking utensils! He wanted to learn and perfect every aspect of smithing.

It was more than just a hobby or a trade… it was the life he had chosen.

As for his mother, she had died in childbirth. Mr Smith had taken all the parental duties and house chores; teaching, cooking, cleaning, washing, taking him to school and back. He was a reliable, good-hearted, man who smiled often despite his loss. Never once did Dennis see him cry or look even an inch vulnerable. He was strong as a pillar of steel.

He did try dating again… but it went terribly each time as his stepmothers didn’t care for his son even in the slightest. As such, he broke up with each one and eventually gave up. 

“Love is like fire.” He once told Dennis, beating his hammer against iron. “If there is enough charcoal, it will burn bright and for a long time… but without continuous care, the fire will fade.”

“Were you drinking again?” Dennis questioned, raising an eyebrow at his random remark.

“Drinking? No.” Mr Smith smiled, turning to his son. “Have you ever loved a girl?”

“...” Dennis shrugged. “No.”

“How does a handsome, tall and strong lad like you not have a girlfriend yet?”

“They’re all annoying. Besides, I’d rather be smithing than going out on dates and spending my money on overpriced food.”

“Hmm…” Mr Smith showed a hint of a smile. “You’re just like me when I was younger, you know. I didn’t have any girlfriends either. Until I met your mother.”

“You’ve told me a dozen times.”

“She was like an angel. Gentle, caring, loving and understanding. See, the real beauty isn’t what’s on the outside… it’s what is on the inside - and she was more beautiful than any other.” Mr Smith remarked as his eyes glistened like flames. “You were her last gift, Dennis, and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“...” Dennis’ eyes wavered a little. To him, those words were worth more than a truckload of pure gold. “Don’t make me cry, you old bastard.”

“There’s nothing stronger in this world than love. It’s the fire in our hearts that drives us to live, to do better, to cherish what we hold dear.” Mr Smith stabbed his sword into the fire and smoke rose up. “Love leads to family, and family… is the most important thing of all. A real man takes care of his family, no matter how much it burdens him.”

“You are my family, dad.” Dennis blinked.

“I will not live forever.” Though warm, Mr Smith’s smile had some pain to it. “None of us do. One day, you will have to find a wife and build your own family. Make sons and daughters who will carry on your name after you. That is more important than anything else, Dennis. Family and legacy.”

“Because after we die, the only thing that is left of us… is our legacy.”

One Mr Smith finished, he looked at Dennis for his reply.

“I will make my own family… one day.” 

Dennis’ tone didn’t sound very convincing, even to himself. He was still a teenager, after all. He didn’t give much care to the more serious aspects of life such as love. He just wanted to smith.

“When you do find a wife, make sure she loves you for who you are… and you do the same.” Mr Smith nodded. “Not your elaborate design, the gemstones on the hilt or shine of your blade. Just who you are. Your steel.”

Mr Smith had a way of speaking when it came to people. In his terms, elaborate design meant appearance, gemstones meant wealth and shine was fame. The strength of the blade itself was what mattered. 

“Yes, Dad.” Dennis sighed. “I’ll get a sweet wife, a cabin by the lake, plenty of annoying little brats, and we’ll live happily ever after.”

“You will understand one day, Dennis.”

…

A long stroke of misfortune would come upon the Smiths not too long after. Mr Smith would die from lung cancer after a long yet futile fight. Dennis couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to.

He walked out of the hospital alone, with the dark gloomy skies of London reflecting his state of mind. He didn’t know what awaited him nor did he want to. The wind was strong, scattering all the litter across the street. He kept walking aimlessly.

Eventually, he returned home and didn't even have the stomach to eat a single thing. He went straight to his father’s workshop and fired up the forge. All of the materials that his father had stacked up had begun to collect dust… but not for long.

Dennis didn’t think, his body moved for him.

Hours would pass as he worked continuously… and those hours would continue to pile on as he worked on a tribute.

‘Legacy…’

He hammered.

‘Legacy. Love. Family.’

CLANG.

‘I’ll make you proud, dad… I’ll make the best sword you've ever seen. Just watch me from heaven.’

He worked on it nonstop, using all the skills he had accumulated and absorbed from his father. He didn't rest, properly. The only thing that stopped him was thirst, hunger and blacking out from time to time. He was completely focused on his weapon’s completion.

When he finally finished it after three days of hardship, a satisfied grin graced his face.

He had forged a most brilliant longsword, whose dark steel had been folded numerous times and sharpened meticulously. By all means, it was an illegal sword he held in his hand that could easily take a civilian’s life. It was not beautiful in the usual sense… but it had its charm.

“Isn't it beautiful?” Dennis questioned, energy fading from his limbs. “I'll call it… Dragonheart.”

“My… sword.”

He collapsed from exhaustion.

…

Only darkness surrounded him.

The next thing he saw was a workshop with a forge. He tried to look down but saw no physical body. He had taken the form of his soul, a blazing red sphere. There was no one with him… no one but a ghastly and colossal figure with absurdly long silver hair. It shined like moonlight and gracefully swayed despite a lack of wind.

A deep layer of black mist covered his face, and a pitch-black cloak adorned his entire body, leaving not a single inch of skin visible. He stood at the very corner of the room, not moving an inch. Not until part of the mist faded… and displayed a pale smirk.

‘Did I… die?’ Dennis’ eyes widened. 

“Dennis Smith, Dennis Smith… Dennis Smith.” The ghastly figure repeated with an eerily soft voice, tossing a clipboard with a piece of paper and black pen his way. “Sign the contract.”

“... Who the fuck are you?” Dennis blinked, raising an eyebrow. “Where am I?”

“I have a great many names, boy. For the sake of simplicity, I am your God…” A finger emerged from its long sleeve, pointing at him. “And I have chosen you, of all beings who exist.”

“Chosen for what?”

“Why, an opportunity to live a second, greater life. Is that not what you seek?” The ghost lowered its finger. “It was inevitable that your mundane life would come to an abrupt end. Whether it was playing hero, overworking yourself or being thrown into an accident of sorts, you would always find yourself here.”

“Why me?” Dennis questioned.

“To entertain me.” The ghost grinned, stepping forward. “You possess an incredibly powerful soul, which, paired with your insurmountable will and absurdly dedicated mind, makes you quite the prospect. All of that talent would be a true waste on such a lowly world where you are chained to a mortal body with such pathetic limits…”

“Now you have only one path before you… complete rebirth. An opportunity to fulfill your boundless potential.”

The clipboard rose from the ground, and he offered it to Dennis directly. He looked down and read the words on it. 

“Choose your blessing out of the options available. They are based on the life that you have lived.”

Blessings:

• Smith

“There’s only one option…” Dennis remarked, raising an eyebrow. “What is there for me to even choose?”

“Ah, yes.” The ghost cackled. “Alas, it does not seem that you were all that versatile of a person. It’s not my fault you only did one thing in your life. Perhaps if you had more passions, you’d have more choices…”

“Go on, tick it.”

“... If I don't?”

“We’re going to awkwardly stare at each other for all of eternity.” The ghost replied, tilting its head slightly. “Does that sound like fun to you?”

“... You’re not my kind of company, unfortunately.” 

“Precisely. Go on. Don’t you want to be the best smith who ever lived?”

“I do.”

“Then… this blessing of mine will set you up nicely.”

Dennis stared at the paper before ticking the Smith blessing.

“Now what?”

“Now you shall be reborn as the incarnation of Vulcan, The God of Fire, Volcanoes, Deserts, Forges, Craftsmanship, Engineering and Metalworking. Your name will spread like wildfire across the world as great masters and mighty emperors kneel to grasp even one item from your forge. That is, if you live long enough to fulfil your potential…”

The clipboard vanished, and the world around him twisted beyond recognition.

“This is farewell, for now… little Vulcan.”

~

[1st Person, Dennis pov]

It's as if I was cursed to never know what having a mother was like. By the time I gained consciousness at the age of seven, she had already been dead for three years. The only thing that she had left behind was a black ring.

It was strange, how I got reincarnated. It was always me… yet I didn't have control over my actions. Sort of like when you're a baby. I still had some memories, of course, but most of it was pretty blurry.

I was born as Xiao Jian, the third son of the Xiao Clan’s Leader, Xiao Zhan. Everything was ancient Chinese here. Definitely not my first choice in terms of culture; I was always more of a European person. English, mainly.

Buuut… I did have a soft spot for ancient technology. The whole thing about Dou Qi bewildered me at first. It's basically a leveling system that everyone shares. The higher the level, the more crazy shit you could do.

Since I wanted to smith the best armaments the world had ever seen, I had to reach a level my clansmen could only dream of.

…

[3rd person]

‘Holy shit, I'm a ugly little boy.’

Xiao Jian looked at himself in the mirror. His appearance was not at all that of Dennis Smith. He had gone from a tall, muscular, youth with the most handsome of faces to… a red-skinned monstrosity. Well, monstrosity was maybe a little much but he had extremely few attractive features and countless bad ones.

His skin was a burning red, as if his entire body was covered in a terrible rash. He had been born blind in his right eye and he was absurdly obese. Added insult to injury, he was also short for his age. He also had a large nose that looked like a red mushroom full of black spots and a head that was a bit too big for his body. A little red-faced, fat, goblin. 

It was safe to say that he wasn't getting anymore Valentine’s cards, flowers or chocolates.

‘Bulking season is going crazy.’ Xiao Jian joked about his own physique rather than despairing over it, putting his head down and seeing a quadruple chin. Then he flipped over his shirt and saw a couple rolls. ‘It could be worse… probably.’

Though it was a far cry from his old appearance, Xiao Jian didn't give it as much care as other people would.

“Jian’er, we have guests.”

Xiao Zhen’s voice led to him turning away from the mirror and pulling down his shirt. He turned to the door.

“I’m coming.”

He didn't waste much time getting out and facing his father. It was a strange feeling, having another dad. Xiao Zhan treated him well despite his… deficiencies. Where many fathers would toss him into the fire or leave him in a forest, Xiao Zhan had raised him in earnest as his son.

For that, Xiao Jian was fond of him. He was one of the few, few people who didn't see him as some strange red imp.

He would join his father in welcoming the guests from the Nalan Clan, which included the famed Lionheart Commander of the Jia Ma Empite, his son and granddaughter. She was definitely cute for her age, though Dennis wasn't interested at all. 

Neither was his fiance, for that matter. If anything, a look of disgust mirrored her face as she gave him a glance.

“Ah, so that’s the Xiao Jian I’ve been hearing so much about…” Nalan Jie observed with a slight smile. Dennis didn’t know if he was being made fun of or the man was trying to make light of the situation. “He is well fed, it seems. Leader Xiao, do you know the cause of that particular skin condition?”

“Jian’er was born that way.” Xiao Zhan affirmed. “It does not seem to affect much other than his outer appearance. He is a filial, well-behaved, son.”

“Hmm.” Nalan Jie stroked his beard, looking at Xiao Jian. The boy returned that look, wholly unphased. A deep fire burned in his left eye - a look the elder recognised. “Yes, this one has spirit. I believe that his unknown condition is more of a blessing than a curse… a sign of something extraordinary. In time, he will grow to be a brilliant man.”

Nalan Su, his son and Nalan Yanran’s father, gave Nalan Jie a raised eyebrow. He clearly did not agree with that assessment. How could his daughter marry such a hideous creature?

Xiao Jian only said what was necessary, knowing that most people didn’t like him all that much so he didn’t drag his moment in the spotlight. None of it was his personality, either. He had been effortlessly popular in school before, the kind of person others admired for being fearless, reliable and strong.

The only difference between him then and now was obvious; the appearance God had given him.  While he had all of the negatives, none of the positives had presented themselves… yet. His Smithing ‘blessing’ was neither here nor there. 

At least there was one comfort in it all… the food.

Dennis was shameless in that regard, eating more than his fill.

~

Right after the feast, Xiao Jian took his fat ass to work. Dennis was always fond of being bigger than other kids… only that his size was mostly muscle. In this case, he was only fat. Very, extraordinarily, supremely, fat, for that matter. He knew that extremely intense training from the start would do more harm than good, so he kept it light. Lifting some stuff he could find in his room, pushups, situps… calisthenics were his best friend.

After all of that, he was sweating bullets and felt absolutely exhausted.

He sat down, wiping his sweat.

‘This is a lot harder than I remember it being…’ Xiao Jian thought to himself. He laid down and looking at the ceiling of his bedroom. ‘No pain, no gain - no gain, no smithing.’

He sat right up and did some stretches before running out for some laps.

‘I’ll make you proud, father. I’ll live up to your legacy and be the greatest smith possible.’ He felt his heart tighten with emotion, something that had been extremely rare for him. He didn’t realise how much he had taken his father for granted. ‘You’ll live on through me.’

“Look at the fatty run!”

“Run you red pig, run!”

Xiao Ning laughed, finding Xiao Jian’s body jiggling as he ran all too amusing.

Xiao Jian aired them all out as he was taught to never show weakness. He was used to being revered, however, and being on the other end of that… it was eyeopening. It made him see just how superficial everyone else could be. Though, none of that mattered to the young man. He had a dream to chase and no one in the world was going to stop him.

His passion… his ambition… his purpose… it burned brighter than all else!

For the following days, he had been relentless in his training. He came to realise that, for a seven year old, he had endurance and strength unlike any other. All of that fat wasn’t just for show, either. He could take a crazy beating with all of that fat cushioning him. Though, he didn’t get to see just how durable he was as no one quite pushed him on the edge of fighting. As he saw it, they were just kids being kids. He was the type of person to only fight when it was absolutely necessary… and when it was… he wouldn’t back down at all.

Meanwhile, on the last days of their visit, Nalan Jie hoped for a closer bond between his granddaughter and Xiao Jian - who she was promised to marry. Seeing him put in the work during day and night, the commander felt that his judgement had been right. As such, he sent her after him.

…

“Hugh… hugh…” Xiao Jian took several breaths, feeling his body start to give in for the moment. He had been running like a mad man in one of the Xiao Clan’s gardens - trying to burn off the fat. ‘I hate cardio…’

“You. Xiao Jian.”

Dennis blinked before glancing back to see Nalan Yanran, who spoke to him for the first time. 

“...?”

“My grandfather wished for me to speak to you.” She held her head high, looking down on him. Though, in part, she was as disgusted as she was anxious. Her scoffing confidence had been but a mask. “I have no idea what he sees in you. You’re hideous in every way imagineable, stupid, ill-mannered and your talent is likely not anything all that impressive.”

“...” Dennis nodded with a slight smile. “Yeah.”

“Have some shame.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Should I paint my skin white for you?” Dennis blinked. The question caught her offguard, leading to a moment of silence. “You don’t need to dance around it. I know you don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here, either. Engagements from birth are complete…”

He wanted to say bullshit, but restrained himself.

“Nonsense.” He finally added, shrugging his shoulders. “You don’t like me, and I don’t like you. I was taught that marriage is a sacred bond between two people who love each other more than anything else. Obviously we’ll never get there… so, when I get older and have the power to, I’ll cancel our engagement. Or you can do it, I guess. Doesn’t really matter to me.”

“...” 

Nalan Yanran blinked, confusedly. In her mind, she would be the best thing to ever happen to him. How could he ever get a girl like her otherwise? She came from a powerful background beyond his imagination, was immensely talented and would likely blossom into a great beauty No one like her would ever stooped down to him unless forced by others - which she was. 

His nonchalant attitude about it was truly strange to her. It was the complete opposite of what she expected.

“... You’re not lying?”

“Nah.” He shook his head, looking wholly genuine. “I never lie.”

“... Well, then.” Nalan Yanran composed herself, smiling for the first time since she had seen him. She was high over the moon… imagining a world where she wouldn’t have to be stuck with him. “That would be for the best. I must thank you, Xiao Jian. You are smarter than I ever gave you credit for.”

“... No.” He chuckled. “I’m not smart at all… just a boy who knows right from wrong. I don’t want to make anyone miserable.”

“...” It was strange. For a brief moment, Nalan Yanran questioned herself. Was this Xiao Jian nearly so bad? Then she blinked and took a closer look. Yes, he was that bad. She hadn’t seen a more hideous boy in her life. “Thank you, again.”

He nodded.

She kept her smile as she turned away and happily skipped in the opposite direction. 

Xiao Jian didn’t think much of his fiancee. She was just a little girl tied to him from birth and someone he just couldn’t see himself ever marrying. Gentle, caring, loving and understanding - she didn’t meet any of those four sacred pillars that his father taught him. Of course, she could change, but he didn’t see it happening. 

‘Back to running…’

So, began his training arc.