Learning to be a Menace [Monster Evolution/Academy/LitRPG]

They were going to forge chainmail.

Though he knew very little about forging and chainmail, he knew enough to know that it was going to be a real pain in the behind. You had to make all of those little rings, then link those rings together, and then make sure the rings are sealed shut. What a chore. Yeah, forging was not for him.

Uchronia and the MOD got to work, each of them grabbing a piece of the raw metal from the pedestal.

Despite having hands—or their equivalent—Uchronia opted to use Spirit Hands. As for the MOD, well he didn't have any hand—or their equivalent—so he was forced to use Spirit Hands anyway. Though his was slightly different from any regular Spirit Hand that he had seen. Instead of that slightly translucent , ghostly hand that he was used to, it was made entirely out of rocks.

Could the MOD use Mix, too? That was how he was able to make the Flaming Spirit Hands. That must surely be it. No idea why mind Niwla was shaking his huge bulbous head again and slapping his wing into his face.

Whatever the case, Alwin had to observe the competition between them. He had to wait for the perfect moment to disrupt the MOD, but at the same time not disrupt Uchronia. Alwin got out his own pair of Spirit Hands, using them to peel his eyes open so that he wouldn't miss anything, to something dumb like blinking.

Both of them shoved the raw metal into the forge. Their hands shifted to the bellows and pumped the flames to the point that even Alwin could feel the heat at the back of the class. He pitied those poor saps at the front.

While Uchronia stared into the forge, watching the raw piece of metal heat up, the MOD moved his Stone Hands to the anvil and hammers. They picked up the tools only to immediately chuck them into the forge as well.

What? Was that supposed to happen? Did the MOD want Uchronia as an apprentice that much that he was willing to throw the match? Why go through all the trouble of a Forge-off and an Enchant-off then? Man, why did Ministers always have to be so weird?

Alwin watched as the Stone Hands dove into the forge as well, while the MOD stood atop the bellows. Every once in a while, he used his entire body to press it down, unleashing another wave of heat. Through the sweltering heat, he could hear the sounds of hammers hammering away. They were coming from inside the forge. Shouldn't they have melted by now?

Alwin, ever the curious student, got out of his chair and rolled his way closer to the front of the class. Moving all the way right in front of the forge—disregarding any semblance of common courtesy—he peered into the flaming deathtrap.

The Stone Hands gripped onto the hammers, each one slotted in between their rocky fingers. They moved in a spinning circular motion, pounding away at the glowing hot metal that lay atop the anvil. For some reason, neither the anvil nor the tips of the hammers glowed, as if they weren't affected by the flames of the forge. Even the wooden handles of the hammers were unharmed, instead of combusting into flames.

Somehow, through some weird forgery techniques that he felt should be impossible with every strike, it was transforming the chunk into a long cylinder. Even when a glowing hot cylinder had been formed, the Stone Hands continued to strike away at it. The cylinder was slowly lengthening, turning into an extremely long and thin wire.

The MOD pressed down on the bellows with his whole body, fanning the flames of the forge even hotter. The long line of metal glowed even hotter. Was it not going to melt at this rate?

Turns out he was very, very off the mark.

The Stone Hands with hammers in between their fingers changed their technique. Now, they rolled up and down the thin wire like wheels, striking as they moved. Even though what they were doing should've just made the wire flat, instead it caused the wire to curl in on itself, forming innumerable loops like an extremely hot glowing spring, just without all of that springiness.

The moment they had transformed the wire into the world's hottest curly fry, did the Stone Hands stop pounding away at it.

Temporarily.

The Stone Hands were simply changing their grip on the hammers. From between their fingers, they gripped multiple hammers of different shapes and sizes within their palms. Again, he had no idea how this was supposed to help with forging. He did know that he had been so engrossed in watching the MOD work that he had completely forgotten about Uchronia.

Alwin leaned over to the side, taking a peek at what Uchronia was doing. She had equipped her Spirit Hands with some thick gloves. As they gripped a pair of tongs, they inched closer to the opening of the forge, retrieving the red-hot chunk of metal.

At least she was the first person to take something out of the forge. But unlike the MOD, hers was still a red-hot hunk of metal rather than coiled up wire. She placed it on the anvil, ordering a second pair of Spirit Hands to hammer away at it.

Like a logical and rational person, it was only equipped with a single hammer. It pounded the chunk of metal, slowly flattening it, but it was quickly losing that red-hot glow. The Spirit Hands gripped the chunk by the tongs once more, shoving it back into the forge as the flames heated up the metal.

He knew that there was going to be a huge difference in skills, but he didn't expect it to be this wide.

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Good thing he was here to help reduce the gap.

The MOD's Stone Hands raised the coiled-up piece of metal such that it was now upright on the anvil. They positioned themselves such that one was in the top right corner, the other in the bottom left. The Wooden Fence pressed down on the bellows once again, causing heat to erupt out of the forge. Just as the Stone Hands wound up for a swing, Alwin enacted his plan.

"Achoo! Achoo!"

He started fake sneezing, trying his best to distract the MOD from his forging. The wooden fence barely paid him any heed.

Alwin sneezed even louder, forcefully jerking his body forward and launching the Spirit Hands that had been keeping his eyes open. They flew straight toward the opening in the forge. Now, that would definitely throw off the MOD's concentration.

But before the Spirit Hands even made it inside the forge, they spontaneously combusted. They flailed around in the air as the fire consumed them, trying their best to put out the flames, but it was too late. They burnt into nothingness, vanishing away into magical particles.

Of all the things he expected to happen, he wasn't expecting the area right in front of the forge to be so hot that things would just spontaneously combust. That was a clear safety hazard. Somebody should write up the MOD for forging in such an unsafe environment. What if a curious kid were to accidentally roll too close to the forge just to get a better look?

Huh.

Look at that. His complaining had led him to another plan.

Alwin whistled, looking at the ceiling as he not-so-subtletly rolled closer to the forge.

Mind Niwla didn't rush to take control from him. He did still shake his huge, veiny head and slap his wing into his face again, though. Maybe he was trying to come up with a signature move.

Alwin continued to roll forward. Even more sweat poured down his body, coating the floor with every revolution. It made him slick and slippery, causing him to roll like a drunk.

The rest of his class must've been on board with his plan, too, because they neither did nor said anything about what he was doing.

All of a sudden, a wooden plank sprouted out in front of him. Then another and another. Wooden planks surrounded him, caging him in.

The audacity! Who dared to trap the great and mighty Alwin?

Within one of the wooden planks was a little peephole. Alwin rolled towards it, hoping to find out who had dared to try to stop him.

Peeking through the peephole, he spotted the Wooden Fence. For the first time, he was actually paying attention to him. Success! A small success, but success nonetheless.

He looked at Alwin, scowling and shaking his body. Using his fence gate, he gestured to the forge. Yup, time to see how the MOD had royally screwed up thanks to his perfect distraction.

Alwin angled his body such that he could see the forge from his peephole. The Stone Hands had just started hammering away at the glowing hot spring. They swung, striking the spring at the exact same time. From a perfectly straight coil of wire, it bent into a perfect diagonal. They continued to whack it, circling in a counterclockwise motion. With every strike, the coil started to fan out, until it had become a square of interlocking loops. Only then did the Stone Hands lay it flat against the anvil and start hammering away at the surface. Instead of pounding it flat, the square began to coil up once more, becoming a coil of coils.

Something told him that was supposed to happen.

The Stone Hammer finally tossed the hammers out of the forge, along with the anvil. All of which looked as if they hadn't even been inside flames that reached who knows how many hundreds or even thousands of degrees. They tossed that cylindrical metal of coils onto the anvil before coming out themselves.

The Wooden Fence gave one look at the glowing hot metal before nodding, and the Stone Hands disappeared.

As the metal started to cool down, Alwin realized that the MOD had already finished making the chainmail armor. And it wasn't for any random person either. It was made specially to fit Uchronia. How did he get her measurements? What a perverted MOD!

Alwin turned his attention back to Uchronia. She was still hammering away at the metal.

Yeah, this was going to take a while.

The whole class watched her slowly forge the chainmail, but not even the pressure or the disgrace of coming in so far behind first place could deter her. The rest of the class was starting to grow bored. Some yawned while others turned to discuss with each other. Not him. He was watching her earnestly.

He watched as she turned that chunk of metal into a long, thin wire just like what the MOD had done. Then, she wrapped it around a rod, forming her own weird metallic curly fry. Instead of the even weirder hammering move the MOD had done, she took a pair of clippers to it, cutting the wire into individual rings. Slowly, and meticulously, she started linking them together, Spirit Hands working tirelessly until she had finally made the chainmail armor reminiscent of the one that Niwla had shattered during their spar.

She wiped the sweat from her plant bulb, breathing out a sigh of relief. The MOD waddled up to her anvil, inspecting her work. Though she was hiding it, Alwin knew that she was nervous. The way her roots tapped at the ground was different from when she was angry, or impatient, or upset with him. Even the way her leaves twitched in anticipation was different.

Finally, the MOD spoke, "It's pretty bad, honestly. Some of the rings are too brittle, the others are too soft. The rings you cut are, for the most part, serviceable, but the ones in the middle are uneven. It'll weaken the neighboring rings. And the way you closed them. Some of them are too loose and some are too tight. Who taught you how to forge like this?"

"Myself."

Though she tried her best to sound normal, Alwin could detect a hint of frustration mixed in with sadness in her voice.

"Are you serious?"

He turned to face Milvus, asking for confirmation. The triangle nodded.

"How long?"

"Two weeks."

"You're not pulling my gate, are you?"

"No, sir."

"Well… Let's just get the rest of this demonstration over with," he said, turning around and walking back to his anvil.

Alwin, the biggest genius in the world, already knew what to do to reduce the gap in skill. Instead of targeting the MOD, he aimed at Uchronia.

"You got this, Uchronia! I believe in you!" he shouted from within his wooden-fenced confines.

She turned to face him with a small, grateful smile. With a firm nod, her root legs started moving toward the anvil to enchant her chainmail armor. Motivated by Alwin's words—probably—she was determined to win the Enchant-off.