The Innkeeper

Pain was something Lex no longer acknowledged. It was not that he had gone crazy, though there was a particular patch of grass that regularly accused him of such, but that over the past few years he had cto realize that most pain was just an evolutionary tool that was relevant back when he was mortal, but was no longer so.

Pain, back when he was mortal, told his body that there was an issue. The more severe the pain, the more severe the issue. But now, he had complete and total awareness of his body, as well as an in depth understanding of what his body could tolerate. The swas true of his soul.

But his body still felt pain, even for wounds and injuries that would heal in a matter of minutes. So once he reached a point of sufficient willpower and self awareness, pain was something he could just tune out. Even without pain, he would know if there was something wrong with him.

For example, right now, Lex did not need to feel the mind numbing pain of his meridians being seared as energy that was akin to liquid fire coursed through his body to know that he was being cooked inside and out. If anything, the pain was just his brain being discourteous about Lex's efforts.

But the answer was extremely clear. Lex could not cultivate with this fire yet, and if he stayed in its proximity for more than a couple of minutes he would be in serious trouble. His hand had already turned black, with much of his flesh already gone.

But it wasn't as if there were no gains. He definitely benefited from this, but it would just take him a very long tto recover from this injury, which meant this was not something he could try again.

Lex remained satisfied with the result, since his main goal was to just get his hands on the fire, not actually successfully temper himself with it. He walked to Luthor who sealed the small fire within the gloves, containing it perfectly.

"You good?" he asked, looking at his black, boney hand.

"I'll survive," Lex answered, after coughing out ssoot. "Let's go. I don't want to test how long those gloves can keep the flames contained."

Luthor merely nodded.

Lex teleported the both of them away, though it was not within the Inn that they reappeared. Far away in Menara, within a certain mountain range there was a place that looked like a massive bowl carved right out of the mountains.

Within the bowl was an empire of a race that had, until recently, never encountered another living race - or at least that was the official story. The real story was that this race, which had proven itself to be useful to the Heavenly tree, had been imprisoned within this mountain range until they accepted subservience to the tree.

But the tree's plan backfired, since Orin I of Veetavil mines, the first ever dwarf of this realm, never told the rest of his race that they were imprisoned. Without ever knowing they were being punished to begin with, they faced no pressure to submit.

They lived happily in the mountains, mining and forging to their heart's content. That is, until the Innkeepers voice boomed through the realm one day, letting them know that there were others out there.

Before they managed to escape, Lex found them. With dragonfire at his command, through his Glyph, Lex quickly becgood friends with the dwarves, since his flames were better for forging than any others.

With that friendship ceventually a promise. Since Lex had been so focused on learning sword intent lately, he decided he should have a proper, epic sword. Who better to make him a sword than a Mythic dwarf?

Since Orin I was still alive, though in slumber, Lex helped provide the materials he needed to awake from his ancient slumber, and in exchange the entire dwarven race gathered together to make him the most phenomenal weapon their crafting skills would allow.

The dragonfire of a real dragon was the last ingredient that was needed, though these flames were not meant to light their forges or melt the metals in their ores. Instead, these flames were an ingredient in the sword itself.

The other ingredients were no less rare or powerful than dragonfire, so there was no risk of the flames overpowering the rest of the sword.

The metal used in the sword was Veetavil, which was the first metal formed in the Midnight realm. There was only a finite amount in the entire realm, and it would never be formed again since only the birth of a realm could cause it to form.

Besides that, the sword contained a fragment of the first ever unicorns horn, the first scale ever shed by the World Serpent, the blood of Sleipnir, the eight legged horse deity, the sound of the waves of the Cosmic sea, and the strongest memory of the Heavenly tree.

When Lex first heard the requirements for the sword he thought there might have been smistake, but the dwarves really managed to capture the abstract, and used sound and memory in the forging process.

Now only three ingredients remained. The handle would be made from a piece of Lex's bone, which he had to provide fresh from his body, the dragonfire, and to bring it altogether, his sword intent.

Orin himself would complete the forging process, which had been ongoing for almost eight years now. Today would be the last day, and Lex admitted to himself that he felt great anticipation. Beside the two butter knives, he had never had a consistent weapon of his own. Although he was not a sword fanatic, and nothing could replace the sheer satisfaction of punching his enemies right in the face, a cool sword was also a must. Not to mention, if he was to embark on the journey to be the best, which he had not decided yet, then even his sword had to be the best.

Luthor and Lex walked deep into the dwarven forges until finally they arrived at a pool of lava. Beside it, a shirtless dwarf was hammering away at something unseen.

It was time.