Thor's Hammer

"A weapon? With a mind of its own? You're really not pulling my leg, are you?"

This sounds like nothing but hot air.

"That's just your lack of experience talking. You should know that while sentient weapons aren't exactly common, they aren't exactly rare either." The old man wore an expression that said, You're ignorant, so keep your mouth shut.

"There is a type of blacksmith in this world who can infuse their own thoughts into a weapon during the forging process, granting it a consciousness of its own. These weapons vary in strength, but they all share one trait: they choose their own masters. Those not acknowledged by the weapon cannot unleash its true power. Each weapon has different criteria for selection—most often based on alignment, though some have specific requirements. However, this heirloom of ours was crafted specifically for that predecessor of ours. Naturally, he didn't need to meet any requirements to wield it freely."

"Then what are the requirements for this one?"

"How would I know? That predecessor didn't leave behind a single word, which is why no one has been able to use this weapon for so many years."

"Then why did you call me here?"

"To test you, of course, and see if you can meet the requirements. If you can, that's for the best. If not, then you'll have to select the next master or guardian for it from among your future apprentices," Blackhand said solemnly.

"..."

"Can I refuse? I recall you have plenty of apprentices; why not hand it to them?" Solam didn't want to be responsible for a warhammer that couldn't even be used for its intended purpose—or even as a regular hammer, for that matter. Who would be held liable if he broke it? Besides, Solam still suspected the old man was just messing with him.

Seeing Solam's skeptical gaze, the old man sighed. He, too, had thought his master's words were nonsense when he was young. If he hadn't traveled through the dwarven kingdom of Talundir, he wouldn't have known this weapon had such a ridiculous setting.

"Damn it, you still don't believe me?"

"I'd be a fool to believe you. Doomhammer and my family's Bloodfire are both far more famous than this warhammer, and I've never heard of them having any such requirements."

"Damn it!! I told you this is a special weapon! Besides, even if I were lying to you, I wouldn't go to such lengths. Never mind the effort it takes to forge a hammer like this; I wouldn't even know where to get this silk robe wrapping it. It's damaged, sure, but just feel the residual power on the silk, and you'll know whether I'm telling the truth or not."

If the old man hadn't mentioned that the black cloth wrapping the hammer was a robe, Solam wouldn't have noticed. But when he focused his senses, he could indeed feel a faint, lingering fluctuation of power within the silk—completely different from elemental energy. It must have been the legendary power of magic. It seemed the old man wasn't lying; the cost of such a ruse would have been far too high.

"Besides, our line of shamans has had this tradition since ancient times: the master passes this treasure to their best apprentice. It's an opportunity reserved only for the master's favorite. How about it? Are you happy? You are my favorite apprentice, after all. A bit flattered, aren't you? Hahahaha!"

Watching the old man preen with self-satisfaction, Solam was speechless. Still, there was no harm in trying; it wasn't like he'd lose a limb over it.

Solam looked at the weapon, lost in thought. He felt that if this weapon truly possessed a consciousness, his "Communication" ability might actually be useful. No sooner said than done, Solam picked up the warhammer, pressed the hammerhead against his forehead, and began using his "Communication" ability to attempt a dialogue.

Solam gathered all his focus, concentrating on communicating with the warhammer's consciousness.

Suddenly, everything around him began to fade from his perception, and a voice began to echo within his heart.

"moлhnr..."

"moлhnrmoжeт..."

Though he didn't know what the words meant, Solam found himself involuntarily whispering along.

"moлhnr.moжeт.ncпoль3oвaть.moлoтok!!!!"

To the old man, Solam looked like he had been possessed. He watched as Solam pressed the hammer to his forehead and began muttering in a language he had never heard before, only to suddenly start shouting.

The moment Solam finished shouting that bizarre phrase, the runes on the warhammer erupted with blinding light, and lightning began to flicker across the hammerhead, as if the entire weapon were encased in a storm.

Blackhand was stunned. Even a fool could see that Solam had been acknowledged by the warhammer.

To be honest, Blackhand hadn't expected Solam to succeed. This warhammer had been passed down for hundreds of years without ever acknowledging a master. He had given it to Solam partly because of tradition, as he claimed, but also because he wanted to tease him and see him humbled as payback for his constant lack of respect.

Even though he was a bit of a clown, as Solam said, even a clown wanted his apprentice to show him some respect.

"Damn, it actually worked." Solam's shock was no less than Blackhand's. As a transmigrator, it was hard for him to believe a weapon could have a mind of its own, but the reality before him had tossed his worldview into the abyss. It was just too un-materialistic.

"Quick, quick! See what this warhammer is actually capable of!" The old man was beside himself with excitement. He had held onto this weapon for decades and was dying to know its true power.

He knew that once a sentient weapon acknowledged its master, the master could use "Observe Attributes" to view the weapon's functions and history. Other magical weapons would require an appraisal by a master blacksmith or a zero-level cantrip like "Identify" from a mage.

Solam hadn't known about these nuances until the old man explained them.

After hearing the old man out, Solam couldn't wait to use "Observe Attributes." The old man had given him the hammer, so it was his now—he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious.

Warhammer: Thor's Hammer

Thor's Hammer was forged by the dwarven master smith Krunn Fell Bronzebeard to reward an orc shaman of the Blackrock Clan for defeating a lesser abyssal lord. To thank the savior of his clan, the weapon was crafted specifically for that shaman, and Krunn poured that intent into the weapon during its creation. This master smith, though unknown to the outside world, possessed superb skill. He poured his heart and soul into forging this hammer and passed away immediately after its completion, leaving him no time to tell the shaman the weapon's true name. Consequently, only that shaman could use it, and no one else had been able to wield it since.

Equipment Abilities: Grants the wielder immense strength (Strength +2) and a sturdier physique (Constitution +2).

Grants the wielder immunity to damage from ranged attacks such as arrows, darts, and stones (Protection from Ranged Damage).

Greatly increases the wielder's physical and magical defenses.

Lightning Strike (Level 6 spell) once per day.

Lightning Bolt (Level 4 spell) three times per day.

Every attack deals powerful lightning damage.

Special Ability: Due to the will of Krunn Fell Bronzebeard, the hammer only acknowledges those who correctly speak its true name. The hammer is as stubborn as a dwarf and will never leave its master until they die. (Whenever thrown, it automatically returns to the master's hand.)

Solam was stunned as he read the stats; the hammer was almost stronger than he was. He was only a level 5 shaman and level 6 warrior, yet the spells it could cast were at least level 11 mage-tier.

The +2 to Strength and Constitution was particularly vital for a shaman. Solam felt that if he were to test his strength against Krum now, he wouldn't be at a disadvantage at all.

When Solam told Blackhand the hammer's attributes, the old man went green with envy. If Solam didn't know his personality, he would have thought the old man was about to kill him for the loot.

In truth, Solam could understand the old man's frustration. He had guarded such a legendary item for years, unable to use it, only for it to activate the moment he handed it to someone else. It was inevitable that he'd feel a bit unbalanced; Solam would have felt the same way.

"So, you were acknowledged by this hammer just like that?" The old man glared at Solam. He knew it wasn't Solam's fault, but he just couldn't stand the sight of him.

"Uh..." I wouldn't call it 'just like that.' I put a lot of effort into communicating with it, though I can't tell him that because of my ability.

"Was that gibberish you just chanted the so-called True Name?"

"Mm." Solam felt it was better to keep a low profile for now. He wasn't sure if this weapon truly shared a telepathic link with its master, but the light and lightning upon it had vanished, making it look no different than it had moments ago.

"Eh? Why did it go limp again?"

"It didn't. It just reverts when it's not in use; otherwise, it would be far too conspicuous."

"No way. You have to teach me that gibberish too. I've been guarding this thing for so many years, after all—I have to at least try it out and see what it feels like to hold this toy."

"Uh..."

"Uh, my foot! Don't tell me you're going to be that disloyal, kid. I am your teacher, after all."

Solam looked at the old man's expression and realized that if he didn't let him try, the old man would never give up. He had already said that this warhammer could only recognize one master at a time. But whatever; it wouldn't cost him anything to let him try. Letting him give it a shot might be the best way to make him give up completely.

And so, he told him the True Name.