Tales Of The Mighty Dragonair

The first thing he did was to smelt the materials he had. He started the fire in the lower section of the oven, filling it with the highest fiery ores he possessed. Then he started the fire, waited for a couple of minutes and even used the fan to try its effect.

"So it creates a certain type of wind that augments fire; interesting," he muttered after a few minutes of observation. He also noticed the special effect of the oven; no matter how strong and wild the fire was, it was already tamed under the over lower section, with not a single wisp escaping away.

He then put the materials inside the upper section, and waited for them to melt down. All the ores he had resembling iron were put inside the pot, with blood of the bronzed giant and part of the white energy.

Then he waited. In ten minutes everything melted together. He used the fork to mix them well before holding the short hand of the upper section, taking it away from the fire, before waiting for it to cool off.

In minutes the mixture which was liquid started to be semi-solid. He held the hammer, the largest one with a broad head, and felt its heaviness on his arm muscles before starting to wave it high up and let it fall heavily over the mixture, starting to cleanse it over the anvil.

"Tuck!"

"Tuck!"

"Tuck!"

He kept hammering the mixture, creating silver sparks everywhere. At first nothing happened, but gradually some dirt and other unneeded materials were pushed away.

He kept doing this for minutes before feeling the mixture was starting to cool off beyond his desired state, so he returned it to the oven, mixed it together with the fork, then took it off the fire and hammered it again.

And again.

And again.

He kept doing this for whole hours before he felt content with the result. Midway the size of his melted mixture diminished greatly from cleansing, so he added more materials to it and kept cleansing all.

"This seems to be good," he muttered while glancing at the silver green mixture in front of him. He then put the mixture on fire to be melted, turned into loose liquid as he took the molds he created and put them one by one on the ground.

Then he carried the pot with fluid, and went to each mold to spill the fluid over it. The mold once touched the extreme heat got stiffened up, turned into hard material, not affected by this kind of temperature.

After filling the whole molds, he still had half of the liquid remaining, so he returned it to the oven before carrying each mold and put it into water.

He didn't forget to put some blood and light energy inside water, to make sure everything had the signature of both.

"Shoosh!"

"Sizzle!"

A huge cloud of fog erupted when he put the first mold in water, accompanied by many sounds as water started to rapidly cool down the melted ores. It didn't take him a minute to finish, but his face was now covered with silver green material, like a strange funny mask.

"That wasn't expected, sigh," he wiped out his face after putting the final mold on the ground. He leaned on the molds and examined it; the arrow heads were neatly arranged there.

He then took the chisel, and started the final process of cleaning the arrows and making them sharper and more defined. The arrow heads seemed quite intimidating even for him, so he treated them with extra care.

As he finished he was so eager to try to see the final arrows than make more heads, so he hurried to the shafts, which were now drying up from the potions they were immersed at, took a few and started linking the heads with the shafts.

He made the heads so they would have a long groove along the length of them, enough for the shaft tip to be inserted and fixed safely there. He also used a material to glue them together; a simple muddy material he had in his ring.

Then he started the long and boring feathering process, where he used a small nail like tool to pierce the other end of the arrow shaft, then glued small feathers he had into these holes.

The feathers came from the first flying monster he acquired, along with the scorpion queen. The bird was hurt and it shed a lot of feathers from struggling inside, and these feathers seemed to come in use now.

"So this is the arrow which will determine everything," he marveled his creation with admiration and curiosity. The arrows he made seemed really strong, but he didn't know if they were enough to kill the enemies he would face later on or not.

"It's a regret I don't have a target to practice on," he muttered while glancing at the pillar next to him before dropping the idea of trying one of the arrows here.

He didn't know what effects the garden would experience from such an attack. So he returned to make more arrow heads, taking roughly a day and a half here until he finished.

"Twelve thousand and three hundred and twenty two arrows, slightly larger than what I initially expected," he muttered as he observed the arrows stored inside his ring. He was now ready, and what he lacked was a bow!

He had the bow he had acquired from Grandpa Regil back at the village, but that bow was really weak and low grade for him now. "Sigh, I don't know how to make bows, and I have no more time to waste," he muttered before recalling the man who gave him this toolkit and smiled.

He stored everything away, cupped his hands to the pillar in a respectful stance to it, before moving out rapidly heading back to the village he once visited.

His sudden appearance again startled the villagers working in this large spacious building. Arthur didn't bother with anyone but one person; the one who gave him this kit.

"Esteemed lord, are you satisfied by the tools I gave you? Is there any problem with them?" the youngster hurried to speak up his mind, fearing there might be an unintended problem with the tools he gave to Arthur, despite being his best tools.

"What is your name?" Arthur asked without answering the youngster's questions.

"Agnus," the youngster replied.