The metal slowly began to change shape.
At first, it was merely a thinner, longer, more compact bar. Its internal structure was beginning to align, the metal's grains orienting themselves in the direction of the hammer strikes.
Then...
One end began to lengthen.
Kyrian's strikes focused on a specific area, compressing the metal and stretching it. It was a slow process that demanded patience and precision. Many strikes. Many reheatings. A gradual movement, almost imperceptible, yet constant.
The other end became narrower. The future blade was beginning to take shape, its rudimentary form emerging beneath the repeated hammer blows.
An elderly blacksmith's eyes widened ever so slightly.
"..."
"He's actually shaping it." His voice was barely above a whisper, as though speaking to himself.
"He's not just hammering aimlessly. He has a goal."
Another replied quietly, equally astonished.
"This should take a beginner days." His eyes never left the young man.
"How is he doing it?"
