The old man's gaze lingered on Alex for a long moment before he continued, his voice calm and measured.
"Mikhail was not the only smith of great talent in those days; but he was an anomaly, a man who defied the natural order of the world. His forges did not burn with mundane fire, but with something far greater – something older than even the Primordial Expanse itself."
Alex felt a shiver run down his spine.
"What do you mean?" he asked, unable to contain his intrigue.
The old man leaned against a nearby anvil, his expression darkening.
"The legends say that Mikhail crafted weapons that could cut through reality itself, that he wove concepts into his metal. He did not simply make weapons, he created legends. But such power does not go unnoticed. When you shape things beyond the comprehension of mortals, you invite the attention of beings who equally view themselves as above mortals."
"...The gods?" Alex asked hesitantly.
