"Humans?" The old ghost was about to say something derisive, but when Damon stepped out of the blood gate into the smithing building, right in the thick of things, the ghost immediately swallowed his words.
The sheer sight before him stole even the ghost's arrogance.
Several humans filled the sprawling forge hall, each surrounded by a faint aura of mana, sweat, and discipline. Sparks flew like fireflies as molten streams poured into molds, and hammer strikes echoed in perfect rhythm.
The ghost's mouth opened… then closed again. For a long moment, he simply hovered there, his spectral form flickering in disbelief. "This… this is…" He drifted forward, inspecting a few works. Each time, the ghost's face only showed surprise, and he nodded in satisfaction as he turned his attention to the next one.
"How the hell did you manage to find so many talented young ones?" The ghost was utterly shocked.
