As the flickering light of the fire danced across the dim corners of the cave, I leaned my back against the stone wall and took a deep breath. I now had a basic furnace, a stone anvil, and crude but functional tools. But everything was a mess. Leaving my tools scattered on the cave floor and piling up the materials I found in corners was slowing me down.

  Order was essential.

  This place would be both my workshop and temporary home. So I needed to create practical storage areas and organize my materials. I couldn’t afford to waste hours searching for my hammer or wondering where the Sinsak?yü I collected for the bow had gone.

  I got to work.

  Storage Area Plan:

  The first step was to measure the width of the cave again and mentally divide the area into sections:

  

  
• Main Work Area: The furnace, anvil, and basic crafting corner.


  
• Tool Wall: A setup to hang tools like hammers, chisels, knives, and saws.


  
• Raw Material Storage: A spacious corner for charcoal, stone blocks, and unprocessed ores.


  
• Finished Product Shelves: Neat shelves for weapons and equipment I was working on.


  
• Personal Space: A corner for sleeping and a small compartment for provisions.


  

  To create these sections, I would once again make use of whatever materials I had. I had nails in my bag, but I needed wood. So, I grabbed my primitive axe and stepped outside.

  In the forest, I searched for sturdy, dry branches that hadn’t rotted. Thick branches would do the job. I swung the axe and cut pieces of wood into plank-length sections, stripped the bark, and roughly smoothed the surfaces.

  When I returned to the cave, I laid the cut branches on the stone floor and thought carefully. I could build a simple shelf system.

  Using my [Shatter] ability, I carved small recesses in the softer parts of the wall. I placed the branches in these recesses and secured them with nails. This process took hours; hammering nails into stone was no easy task. But in the end, I had a sturdy two-tiered shelf.

  I placed my smaller tools, usable metal scraps, and the herbs I collected for making poison on this shelf.

  The next step was to organize my tools. The corner of the cave closest to the furnace was the ideal spot. I returned to the forest and gathered thinner, longer branches.

  I fixed the branches horizontally to the wall and made small hooks with nails. Hammer, chisel, axe head, knives... I hung each tool in an easily accessible spot. Even this small adjustment sped up my work significantly.

  I didn’t want to pile up ores or charcoal randomly. I decided to create simple, chest-like structures from stone blocks.

  I dragged several large stones to a corner of the cave and stacked them. I filled the gaps with clay-like mud and left it to dry. I created small compartments to store charcoal, collected stones, and other raw materials separately.

  After a while, I went outside to find large, flat stones and brought them back. I placed these stones on top of the chest-like structures as lids, to prevent the materials inside from getting dusty or damp.

  I also needed a small storage area within easy reach of my bed, so I used [Shatter] to carve a niche into the wall next to my sleeping spot. I prepared a space for water, food, and other essentials, adding a tiny shelf made of stone slabs to store dried fish and edible plants I had gathered.

  By the time everything was done, the cave had transformed completely.

  My furnace was burning. My stone anvil was in place. My tools were neatly hung on the wall. My ore storage was organized. Small metal pieces I was working on sat on the finished product shelves. And most importantly, I had a corner to sleep in.

  I collapsed onto the floor, drenched in sweat. My hands were starting to callus, and dirt had built up under my nails — but the cave was no longer just a shelter.

  This was now my workshop.

  I had order, a workspace, and basic tools. This organization would give me the opportunity to create more complex weapons. Maybe tomorrow, I could explore the cave’s deeper sections and find real ore veins.

  But for now, I leaned against the stone wall and listened to the peaceful crackle of the flames.

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  Step by step, I would turn this place into a true blacksmith’s fortress.

  There were only a few hours left until sunset. The pale light filtering through the cave entrance slowly turned crimson, and the sky looked like it was on fire. I was exhausted, my muscles ached, but as I watched the roaring flames, I felt a deep sense of restlessness. My furnace wasn’t fully functional — the heat wasn’t reaching the necessary level, which was a major problem for metalwork.

  The only way to intensify the fire was to make a proper air bellows. A bellows, with its air chamber, would blow pressurized air into the fire, raising the heat and making metal easier to work with. Fortunately, I had a valuable material from slaying the steel-toothed wolf: a thick, durable, fire-resistant hide. It was the perfect material for the bellows’ skin.

  The sun would set soon, but I knew what I had to do. I needed to act quickly.

  The first task was to gather materials. I rummaged through my bag:

  

  
• Steel-Toothed Wolf Fur — for the main body of the bellows.


  
• Durable Branches and Thick Wooden Pieces — for the frame and handles.


  
• Stone Nails and Wooden Wedges — to secure the frame.


  
• Plant Fibers and Raw Leather Strips — to bind the fur and ensure airtightness.


  
• Small Stone Pipe Piece — for the air outlet.


  

  Everything was ready except for the wedges and the stone pipe. The workshop was still being set up, but even with materials found in nature, I could start.

  The first step was to make wooden wedges to hold the boards together. The wedges would tightly lock the boards, ensuring the frame of the bellows was sturdy. I placed a few hard wooden pieces I had collected from the cave entrance on the ground, grabbed my axe, and carefully started cutting.

  Cutting: I cut the wood into pieces about a handspan long, trying to keep the thickness even so they would fit snugly between the boards.

  Carving: I drew my knife and carved the wood into a tapered cone shape. These tips would fit tightly into the holes I’d drill into the boards. It required patience for the fine details. My hand scraped against the rough wood several times, reddening my skin, but I didn’t stop.

  Smoothing: Once the carving was done, I rubbed the wooden pieces against the cave wall to remove splinters. The smoother the wedge, the more securely it would fit.

  Result: I had made four sturdy wooden wedges — enough to secure the bellows' frame. But my work wasn’t done yet. Next, I needed to craft the air outlet pipe.

  For the bellows to feed the fire properly, I needed to direct the airflow. A narrow channel would increase air pressure, dramatically raising the furnace temperature. I ventured deeper into the cave, carefully examining the half-decayed stone blocks. I was searching for volcanic, porous rocks — lightweight and easy to carve. I was lucky. With the help of my [Examine] ability, I quickly found a medium-sized stone deeper in the cave.

  Shaping: I placed the stone on the cave floor, took my hammer, and began tapping gently. I tried to break the inner section to create a rough channel. It was tough at first; fragments flew as the stone cracked.

  But I had a powerful advantage:

  [Shatter] ability.

  I carefully examined the stone’s structure with [Examine], mentally analyzing the fracture lines. When I activated [Shatter] and lightly touched the stone, the internal veins cracked, breaking apart irregular sections. This made it much easier to carve a smoother, cylindrical hole.

  I grabbed a sharp stone shard and started scraping the inner surface. The smoother the inside of the pipe, the more efficient the airflow would be. It felt like I worked for hours, but the final result satisfied me: a roughly 30 cm long, narrow, yet smooth stone pipe.

  I tested it by holding the stone pipe to my mouth and blowing gently. Air shot out powerfully from the other end — perfect for intensifying flames when directed at the fire.

  Next, I needed to assemble the bellows' frame. I laid out the thick wooden pieces and sketched a rough triangular structure. The bellows’ body would work like two wooden plates: the top and bottom parts would compress the air chamber to create airflow.

  I used my primitive stone axe to cut the wooden planks. The stone-tipped axe was sharp enough to shape the logs. I whittled the branches, removed splinters, and smoothed the planks, aligning the two pieces as best as possible.

  Then, I added a simple hinge mechanism. I hollowed out thinner branch sections to connect the two planks, creating a movable structure so I could lift and press the top plate.

  I laid the steel-toothed wolf fur by the furnace. The fur was incredibly durable — not fireproof, but tough enough to withstand intense heat. It was perfect for the air chamber of the bellows.

  I drew my sharp knife and carefully cut the fur into a large rectangle, planning to wrap it around the wooden edges. I pierced the leather slowly with the stone blade, threading plant fiber cords through the holes and sewing the leather tightly onto the wood.

  The bellows had to be airtight. I stitched the seams tightly, sealed the leather joints with resin, and placed them by the fire to dry for a few minutes.

  The most crucial part was fitting the air outlet pipe. I inserted the pipe into the narrow end of the bellows, bound it tightly with plant fibers, and sealed it with resin again.

  When everything was ready, it was time to test the bellows. I gripped the top handle, lifted it, and pressed down — a powerful gust of air shot out from the stone pipe. I directed it at the fire, watching the flames grow with each quick pump.

  The bellows brought the forge to life.

  With every press, the flames surged, turning a deep orange, and the temperature visibly increased. I used the bellows for several minutes to keep the furnace hot, then collapsed onto the stone anvil, breathless.

  By the time the sky had gone completely dark, the air bellows were complete. I was exhausted but satisfied. With the bellows, I could now shape tougher metals — iron, steel, maybe even stronger alloys. All of it was now within reach.

  The cave shimmered with a warm, orange light as the fire crackled. I sat on the stone anvil, trying to catch my breath. My hands were calloused, my arms ached. But only one thought lingered in my mind: I would turn this workshop into a true forge of legends.