Grillo and I had been hard at work forging my two axes, a process that had proven far more challenging than expected. Elorium, the primary material for one of the axes, was as fascinating as it was frustrating. It was unbreakable, its strength rivaling mithril and adamantium, but it had a significant drawback: the more it was heated, the weaker it became. This made traditional forging methods useless, which was why the material wasn’t widely used or valued.

  Fortunately, my elemental abilities provided a solution. By using my earth magic, I could mentally guide the Elorium into the desired shape, feeding it mana to coax it into compliance. It was an exhausting process. Even with my [Soul Vortex] trait granting me 25% faster mana regeneration, shaping the stubborn metal took days.

  As I fed the material mana, it seemed to hum with life, glowing faintly as though it were awakening. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the metal had a mind of its own, greedily absorbing every drop of mana I gave it. When the first ax was finally finished, I handed it over to Grillo for polishing and sharpening.

  “Feisty thing, isn’t it?” I muttered.

  Grillo grinned. “Aye, lad. It’s got a personality, that’s for sure. But that’s what makes it special.”

  While Grillo worked on the ax, I considered heading home to read some of the books he’d gifted me. Sadly, none of them were on magic. Dwarves, as a rule, weren’t particularly attuned to magic, save for those who specialized in enchantments. Most of their knowledge focused on practical applications, like rune crafting for weapons and machinery.

  Still, the books were filled with lore and history, which was fascinating in its own right. One volume, in particular, had caught my attention. It told the tale of another Earthling who had been brought to this world long ago, summoned by the gods to save it from destruction.

  The hero’s name was Bob.

  I wasn’t joking. The man’s name was Bob.

  Apparently, when faced with a world of myth and magic, the best he could come up with was “Bob.” It would have been funny if his story weren’t so tragic.

  Bob had been brought to this world to stop a dragon who had turned to darkness, making pacts with demons to gain power and an army. Yet, when Bob confronted the dragon, he discovered that she wasn’t the mindless monster the gods had portrayed her to be.

  The dragon, who was once human herself, revealed the truth.

  She had been born as a human on Earth, but as one of the last dragons trapped there, she’d sought a way to escape her dying world. She had found a portal to this realm, but it was poisoned to prevent humans from following. Bob, her lover, had traveled through the portal with her, only to succumb to the poison. In desperation, she begged the other dragons to save him, but they refused. Bob died in her arms, and her grief and rage consumed her, driving her to darkness.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Bob, however, was not the only one the gods had summoned. The dark gods of this world, seeking to manipulate the dragon, resurrected Bob’s soul, binding it to a cursed form. His body became living mercury, a poisonous abomination designed to destroy the dragon.

  When he finally confronted her, the dragon knelt, prepared to die by his hand. Instead, Bob remembered fragments of his past life and asked, “Who are you, and why do I know you?”

  Through tears, the dragon told him everything. Her confession broke his heart.

  “I cannot live as this weapon,” he told her. “Destroy the ring that binds my soul and set me free.”

  Though it broke her, the dragon obeyed, shattering the ring that had brought them together and now enslaved him.

  Bob refused to kill the dragon and instead took her to a sanctuary, defying the gods who had summoned him. For this act of rebellion, he became their enemy. His fate was unknown, though most believed the gods had eventually hunted him down.

  Bob’s legacy, however, endured.

  His skill as a swordsman was unparalleled. The tales said he had become so powerful that he could cut without a blade, his mere movements cleaving the earth itself. In one drunken moment, he supposedly swung his arm and carved a ravine so deep it rivaled the Grand Canyon. To this day, it was known as “Bob’s Ravine.”

  He was also known as the Black Swordsman, a title that, at first, I thought referred to his weapon or attire. No. It was literal—Bob was one of the only Black men this world had ever seen.

  The gods, it seemed, didn’t create humans in this world. They abducted them from Earth, often taking explorers and wanderers whose disappearances could be easily explained. It made sense why old myths spoke of the dangers of the woods or falling off the edge of the Earth. The gods had been snatching people away for centuries, all in the name of “exploration.”

  The book also delved into Bob’s more infamous exploits. Apparently, he had an insatiable appetite for companionship, and his love of elven women was particularly notorious. His escapades gave rise to the subspecies known as “dark elves.” He didn’t stop there, either. His affection for curvier partners led to the creation of dark dwarves.

  I couldn’t fathom how one man could create an entire subspecies, but then I remembered Earth’s history. Genghis Khan, for instance, had left his genetic mark on an estimated 16 million descendants.

  The thought made me wonder about my own potential future. With my good looks and golden eyes, I might be even more popular than Bob.

  A chill ran down my spine.

  I turned to see Emma giving me a glare so sharp it could cut through mithril. She had been reading over my shoulder and had clearly seen my expression as I mused about my hypothetical popularity.

  Her eyes promised vengeance.

  Emma didn’t say a word, but her silent threat spoke volumes. If my thoughts ever strayed too far, she would “burn down the only tree in my forest,” as she put it. I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound pleasant.

  Chastened, I gave her an apologetic look and returned to my work.

  The book remained untouched for the rest of the day.

  . No wonder all the species were familiar, I thought. Bob must have exploited the fact he was exotic because he supposedly bedded an unfathomable number of women. The book said his love of elven women alone created the subspecies known as "dark elf." He also created dark dwarves because he sometimes liked more "meat" on his women. I couldn't fathom sleeping with enough partners to make a whole new race of people. I wouldn't think it possible but I remembered Ghengis Khan from earth's history.