New Thor's Hammer

Three days later, Solam and Weslan practically had to crawl out of Medlir's forge. It couldn't be helped—the place simply wasn't fit for human habitation. It had been manageable at first. Although the temperature was high, both of them had ridiculously strong physiques, so they could endure it. But once Medlir turned the magical furnace in the forge up to maximum power, it became downright lethal.

That damned place was underground, and its ventilation had always been poor. Once the furnace was activated, the temperature inside more than tripled. If Solam and Weslan had not both been able to use spells, that heat would have roasted them into jerky.

Even so, the two of them had nearly collapsed. The real reason was the smell coming off Medlir. Solam had truly witnessed a dwarf's resistance to high temperatures. At well over a hundred degrees, Medlir was completely unaffected. He remained bare-chested, constantly swinging his forging hammer and striking Solam's battle axe with a clang-clang-clang.

But dwarves had sweat glands too. At such high temperatures, Medlir naturally sweated heavily. The moment the sweat emerged, it was baked dry by the heat, leaving only a layer of oil on his body. That dried sweat mixed with Medlir's natural body odor was indescribably foul. Solam felt that even a mage's Stinking Cloud could not compare. That sour, rancid stench nearly made him pass out.

Solam and Weslan had wanted to leave after half an hour, but that old bastard refused to let them. According to him, since they had entered his forge, they absolutely could not leave before the forge was moved again. After all, he was fully focused on working on Solam's warhammer and had no time to relocate the forge. So, to prevent Solam and the others from betraying him, he could