He had drunk a little too much and slurred his words. "And those fellows from Vanaheim-every last one of them demands an irritating level of precision."
"They found the finest smiths in the universe, the Dwarves," John said, raising an eyebrow. "Precision is no obstacle for Dwarves."
"I like you so much, Wick." Eitri burst out laughing and said proudly, "There is no weapon that can stump the Dwarves."
"We seek challenges."
Carried away by the drinking, Eitri pulled John along to see how the Dwarves forged their weapons.
They used a neutron star to heat and melt the metal, infusing it with magic power.
Every weapon had its own dedicated forging mold.
Inside were meticulously carved patterns hundreds of times finer than a strand of hair.
None of these techniques were publicized.
John watched, silently committing them to memory.
Eitri really liked John as a guest, so he was especially generous.
He used precious uru metal for the Twilight Sword's new blade.
As the reforged blade emerged, the broken Twilight Sword was due for a new name.
Eitri, the Dwarf King, asked John to name it.
"Let's call it Dusk."
With those words, the sword received a name bestowed by the Wizard King.
Light shone from it, much to Eitri's surprise.
"This has never happened before."
As their maker, Eitri knew the abilities of every divine weapon.
But this reforged sword clearly had no such function.
It had all happened because John had named it.
John drew the sword.
The intense heat gradually cooled in his palm as he ran his hand over its patterns.
They were so fine that the surface felt almost flat.
To carve such intricate patterns with a Dwarf's fingers was truly breathtaking.
Reborn in fire, Twilight had become Dusk.
John could feel the energy