Krovane clenched his fists tightly and tried to lift the hammer.

  He froze for a moment when even moving it felt incredibly heavy. Far heavier than he had expected.

  He glanced toward the bald man, who was smirking at him. Without waiting to see what Krovane would do next, the man turned around, clearly ready to walk away.

  There was no real hope for a weak, skinny kid like him, right?

  Until… the bald man suddenly stopped.

  A loud clank echoed through the workshop, and he turned back.

  Krovane had slammed the hammer down onto the red hot metal resting on the anvil. He gritted his teeth, struggling to keep his left hand steady on the tongs while his right hand trembled, almost losing its grip as it fought to control the hammer.

  Krovane grinned at the bald man. “I did it.”

  The man fell silent, his eyes slightly widened.

  “Now, do it nine hundred and ninety nine more times.”

  “Yes, sir!” Krovane replied, his hands shaking as he tightened his grip around the hammer handle.

  Was this really the kind of work that Krovane would end up liking? At the very least, that was the feeling he got from the first strike of the hammer.

  He clenched his teeth again, steadying his grip on the hammer’s handle, and swung it down once more. A loud clang rang out, and the vibration from the impact shook his entire body, down to his bones. It was a sensation so intense that it felt like a single strike alone was draining all the strength he had.

  He had already been running all day earlier, pushing his legs until they felt weak and stiff, like they might give out at any moment. And now he was starting another training session, this time using his arms?

  No, not just his arms. Refining metal like this required far more than that. It demanded full body coordination. He had to keep the tongs steady to hold the molten metal in place, while also controlling his balance and weight to deliver each hammer strike properly.

  Another strike landed, and it felt as if his brain rattled inside his skull from the impact.

  He could truly feel the incredible effect of this mana awakening. Just a week ago, he would never have imagined that his body could endure physical pressure like this.

  There was something Rogan had once told him during training. Forcing the body to train until it was truly pushed to its limit would have a powerful effect on cultivating the mana core. People in this world achieved breakthroughs by pushing themselves that hard!

  Train your body until it breaks. Until you have no choice but to level up and strengthen your mana core, which in turn improves your physical condition as well.

  What a beautiful way to become strong, right? Hah!

  It was slow, painfully slow. Yet Krovane had to do this one thousand times? Was that not too excessive?

  He had already struck the metal twenty times, and even at this point, he felt like he was about to pass out. And he still had to do it a thousand times?

  He swallowed hard. Did he really have the strength to see this through?

  From time to time, he lifted his head and looked at the other blacksmiths. They were striking the molten metal with their hammers at a pace of two to three hits per second.

  It was no wonder, really, when he looked at their arms, some of them thicker than Krovane’s entire body.

  One thousand times!

  One thousand times!

  Krovane kept going, fighting against every thought in his head that begged him to stop.

  Another strike landed. This time, the blow slipped slightly, almost knocking the molten metal out of the grip of the tongs. Thankfully, he managed to hold it steady.

  A soft tap sounded beside him. When he turned his head, the bald man had placed a metal cup next to him. “Drink, kid. Keep your body hydrated.”

  Krovane grinned and nodded. “Yes, sir. Thanks, sir.”

  Krovane set the hammer down for a moment and reached for the cup. He brought it to his lips and caught the scent of the drink. It was just plain water. Good. He took a deep gulp, wiped his mouth, gave a small grin, and continued.

  Another strike followed. After each hit, Krovane placed the hammer down for a brief moment, just to catch his breath and steady his breathing.

  He needed about ten to fifteen seconds for each strike. How long would it take before he could finally finish this?

  But the real problem was not time. The real question was whether his body could endure the task before his right arm completely gave out and he collapsed, failing the test.

  He could, in theory, use his signature ability to slightly morph his left hand and reduce the burden on it. But he knew the real load was on his right arm.

  This hammer… how heavy was it, really? When Krovane looked closely, this hammer actually seemed smaller than the ones used by the other blacksmiths. Did they really have smaller hammers like this? And if so, who was this one meant for?

  Krovane tried to distract his mind with random thoughts, anything to forget the pain tearing through his body. Every single strike tempted him to give up.

  No. He would not give up.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Krovane, you can do this. Krovane! Go, go, go!

  From time to time, the bald man told Krovane to place the molten metal back into the forging furnace for a while. During those moments, Krovane used the chance to recover his breathing. Even then, he could clearly feel the scorching hot air blasting against his face, as if it were trying to burn his skin.

  Once it was done, the metal regained its glowing, molten state, and Krovane was ready to continue refining it again.

  After what felt like an hour, Krovane’s body was drenched in sweat. It felt like every drop of fluid in his body had been drained. He had only managed to complete one hundred strikes.

  He set the hammer down once more and wiped the sweat from his forehead. When he lifted his head and looked around… wait. Why was everyone staring at him? Had he done something wrong? Did setting the hammer down for a moment break some kind of rule?

  “I… um… I needed to rest my hand for a bit.” he said nervously.

  There was no answer at first. A few seconds passed in silence, until someone finally spoke.

  “Kid, you are doing well. Come on, keep going. You can do it.”

  “Yeah, you are doing good. Take your time. Breathe properly, control your strength, and make sure your grip is solid. Keep your center of gravity low, plant your feet firmly, and let your whole body move with the swing.”

  Krovane froze for a moment. The blacksmiths had not been this way when he first entered the smithy. But now, they were encouraging him. And honestly, that support gave Krovane a huge boost of motivation.

  “Yes, thanks! I will finish this,” he said with a small laugh, genuinely happy to hear their encouragement.

  Krovane swung the hammer again, this time following the advice given by the blacksmiths.

  The strike landed, and his body handled the vibrating recoil from the hammer much better.

  His arms were already numb, the harsh impacts feeling like they were tearing through the thin muscles of his limbs. Yet he knew this was no longer the body of a normal human he remembered from before.

  Krovane was an awakener. And forcing the body to work until it nearly broke was the way to train and grow stronger. He accepted that truth and set his resolve to finish this challenge no matter what.

  Two hours passed. Krovane’s vision was close to fading, and he struggled to stay conscious between each strike. Still, he knew he could not stop after coming this far.

  Three hours passed. Night had begun to fall. Maybe Emily was looking for him. Maybe Hugo was already walking around the city, trying to find where he was.

  Oh right, Krovane had not told them about this. But had he not at least given them a hint that he would apply for a job today?

  He had mentioned a few options to Emily and Hugo earlier. Hopefully, they would not be too confused searching for him.

  Four hours.

  Strangely, the longer it went on, the clearer his vision became. His focus sharpened instead of fading. It was like his body was starting to recognize every strike, every surge of pressure, every muscle being torn and rebuilt by each swing.

  Was this what it meant to train the body while cultivating the mana core at the same time? Would he level up because of this training?

  The thought of leveling up pushed Krovane to swing the hammer even harder. He had to finish this challenge. He truly had to.

  One more time. Just one more. Again. Again!

  Each strike felt like it might tear his body apart, pulling at every joint, every bone, his head, his stomach. And on top of that, his body felt like it had almost completely run out of fluids.

  The bald man brought him cups of water again and again. Krovane drank them quickly, yet his body seemed to lose sweat faster than he could replace it.

  Even so, he kept going.

  He endured.

  He continued.

  Krovane had lost track of time, and along with it, he had lost count of how many strikes he had already made. His vision was completely locked onto the molten metal held by the tongs. With every swing of the hammer, sparks burst outward, scattering across the area and even hitting his clothes, which were already slightly burned in several places.

  He could feel the presence of the blacksmiths around him. He lifted his head, and they were standing closer now, watching him intently.

  Had their work already finished? Should the smithy have closed by now? Maybe they were about to drive Krovane out for failing to complete the challenge in time. But instead, they just stood there, watching him.

  “Come on, kid, just a little more. Thirty left.”

  The words reached his ears, and Krovane almost doubted what he heard. Thirty left? No way. Had he misheard?

  “Twenty nine,” another voice called out as Krovane brought the hammer down again.

  Seriously… he had already struck the molten metal more than nine hundred times.

  “Twenty eight!”

  “Come on, kid, you can do this. Keep going, just a little more!”

  “Do not you dare give up.”

  More voices joined in, shouting encouragement. Yes, they were cheering for Krovane.

  But his right hand could barely feel anything anymore. His muscles felt destroyed, completely drained of strength. His ears rang from the constant impacts that shook his eardrums again and again.

  His body was on the verge of collapsing from the relentless heat pouring over him. His eyes burned and ached, tears streaming nonstop because of the scorching air.

  All of it piled together, leaving Krovane hanging on by nothing more than the hope that he could finish this.

  “Come on, kid! Keep going! You can do it!”

  “Twenty left!” they shouted.

  Some of them moved even closer, yelling right beside him.

  “You can do it, kid! Nineteen left!”

  But no matter how strong the support from the blacksmiths was, Krovane had reached his limit. Yes… he truly could not go on anymore. His body had completely given up. He had already pushed himself as far as he possibly could.

  His left hand loosened, the tongs clattered to the ground, and his eyes closed as exhaustion finally overwhelmed him.

  Maybe I really should not be working here.

  The hammer slipped from his grip, and Krovane fell backward.

  But then, something caught him and stopped him from hitting the ground.

  A large hand firmly grabbed his right arm, and he could feel the tongs and the hammer being placed back into his grasps.

  His body was pushed upright again, and the strength of that grip forced his eyes open.

  “Come on, kid. Push a little more,” the bald man said.

  Yes, just a little more. Just a little more!

  Krovane clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on the hammer again. He straightened his body, and the man released his hold.

  He looked toward the blacksmiths, who were all watching him. They were truly supporting him. And he could not disappoint them.

  “Eighteen!” they called out as Krovane managed another strike.

  He did it again. And again. And again.

  Krovane was hanging on with only a tiny shred of consciousness left, yet he kept forcing himself forward.

  “Ten!”

  “Come on, kid! Just a little more!”

  Yes. Just a little more.

  His eyes began to half close, unable to stay fully open anymore, but he kept swinging the hammer.

  The shouts of the blacksmiths faded, becoming distant and unclear. His eardrums had already given up.

  Still, Krovane kept striking. Once more. Yes. Once more.

  Again. Again.

  Until… in the final moment, Krovane truly could not hold on anymore. His body fell backward again, and his grip finally left the hammer.

  But at that same moment, he heard something.

  An explosion? No… cheering, or something like that.

  Applause?

  Had he… completed the challenge?