P/N let me know if there's any mistakes and I will try to fix them, sorry for cutting the previous chapter short, it was too long.
"Eh? Oh."
I look over my shoulder and see that Mr. Welf is pointing at my lower back,
where the Divine Knife, my dagger, and the Minotaur Horn are.
"This is…Yes. It's a Minotaur drop item…but for some reason I just can't let
it go."
A scorched horn with bits and pieces of red showing through. I don't really
consider it to be a good-luck charm, but I can't shake the feeling that selling it
off is wrong somehow.
…I can't turn my back on everything that I went through with that Minotaur.
At the very least, I should leave it as it is.
Although it is kind of useless, carrying it around like this…
"…How about making something out of that?"
"Eh?"
"Using that horn to make a piece of equipment. I could make one hell of a
weapon from the Minotaur Horn."
My eyes go wide.
Of course! The direct contract—I bring him drop items from the Dungeon,
and he'll make weapons for me!
Mr. Welf's suggestion is like an angel's song to my ears. This way I can
always keep it with me, and the drop item won't go to waste. I nod my head as
fast as I can.
"Yes, please!"
"That settles it, then."
I hand the Minotaur Horn to Mr. Welf.
He holds it in his hands for a moment, looking over every inch of the item.
"…Were Minotaur Horns always red?"
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind, not important…It's in pretty good shape, and quite a bit denser
than usual. Little bit of shaping, some elbow grease, and it should become one
fine blade…"
Mr. Welf is getting more and more excited as he looks at the Minotaur Horn.
Talking under his breath and scrunching up his brow, he takes his eyes off the
horn for a moment and looks up at me.
"Bell. Can you let me do my own thing? I want to take my time making this."
"S-sure. I'm not a smith, so I wouldn't be able to tell you what to do,
anyway…"
"Thanks, that helps. Since we're only using this horn, your options for a new
weapon are kind of limited…"
One shortsword or two daggers.
That's the Minotaur Horn "menu" that Mr. Welf presents for me.
He says that trying to stretch it out into a shortsword would make the blade
very thin, so he recommends the latter option.
The Divine Knife is one thing, but my dagger was provided by the Guild…It
might be time for an upgrade. I don't think that a weapon of the lowest rank
would be much use against the monsters I'll face in the middle levels.
This might be a good opportunity for an upgrade. I've used my dagger for
about two months already, so I decide to hang it up for good.
I ask Mr. Welf to make the daggers.
"All right, that's what I'm talking about. I'll just make one for now and use
the leftovers to make another once I learn Forge. Wait and see what I come up
with then!"
"Ah-ha-ha-ha…"
Mr. Welf has a very excited glint in his eyes, and I can't help but chuckle at
his enthusiasm.
He doesn't waste any time in getting my measurements after that. Grabbing
measuring tapes and different tools from a metal bucket, Mr. Welf works his way
around me, measuring as he goes.
He asks me to take off my boots and spends a great deal of time recording the
shape of my feet.
"You can head home once I'm finished here."
"Um, Mr. Welf, about that…"
"Yeah?"
"Would it be okay with you if I watched…?" I manage to ask as he looks
over the palm of my hand, specifically where the hilt of the blade would sit.
I really want to see what a smith does and how weapons are forged. Coming
all the way out here has piqued my curiosity. Mr. Welf works his way up my
shoulder as I'm trying to picture what's about to happen in this place.
Mr. Welf doesn't know how to respond to my honesty. "You're a strange
one," he says while tilting his head to the side. But he agrees to let me stay.
I promise over and over not to get in his way. I don't know if it's because I'm
getting excited, but my cheeks are suddenly very hot.
"It gets pretty damn hot in here; it'd be a good idea to take off your armor."
"Eh, ah, yes."
Not really understanding what he meant, I follow his directions.
Down to my undershirt, I set all of my armor in the corner and turn to face
Mr. Welf. He's in the opposite corner, next to the forge…lighting a fire.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
"Heating up the drop item."
"You're going to burn the monster's horn?!"
I yell out in surprise despite promising I wouldn't interfere just a moment
ago.
Animal horns are just like bone, aren't they? Well, I'm not sure, but…they'll
turn to ash in a fire…?
"There's something like metal inside a monster's horns and claws."
"Metal…?"
"Yeah. Ever heard of adamantite?"
Adamantite…I feel like I've heard of it before, but I can't place it.
All I can think of is that it's an extremely rare metal…
"Adamantite can only be found in the Dungeon. When it comes to making
weapons, it's the best stuff out there. Very sturdy."
"People find it in the Dungeon?"
"Yep. Sometimes pieces of it just fall out of the dungeon walls, like the
monsters. But that's once in a blue moon. Every so often I hear of someone
finding it in the upper levels, but most adventurers bring it up from much deeper
in the lower levels."
It can only be collected in the Dungeon…That means that it can only be
found in Orario.
Apparently, adamantite weapons are a specialty of Orario's. Since it's a very
difficult material to acquire, its value puts magic stones to shame.
"…So then, it's possible that monsters born in the Dungeon have adamantite
inside them…?"
"Hit the nail right on the head. Exactly. On the other hand, it's not as pure as
the stuff that comes out of the dungeon walls. It's a bit weaker."
In that case, it might not be strange that monsters born in the Dungeon are
affected by this material.
Mr. Welf tells me that only a few of them have adamantite in their fangs and
claws, but they're perfect for making weapons.
…This horn. This horn broke that thick cleaver during our battle.
"Minotaur Horns also have a metallic element to them. Heat them up just
right, and you can shape them at will."
Okay, now I get it. He's going to make the Minotaur Horn hot enough to
forge, just like a piece of metal…This is just the first step.
An image of the red-hot horn pops into my mind. It kind of looks like a piece
of candy.
From there, Mr. Welf is going to take all kinds of tools to it, just as if he were
working with metal.
"Sorry to bug you, Bell. Could you open the door and the shutters up all the
way?"
"N-no problem."
Mr. Welf wraps a hand towel around his head at the same time he speaks to
me.
I go around the room, opening every window and door.
I turn back around to find Mr. Welf poking and prodding at the fire he just
started. There is a rock at the base of the forge, a drop item from a monster
known as an Inferno Stone…The flames it can produce are so intense that
average people can't buy one.
"Just like adamantite, this horn ain't gonna bend unless I heat it just right."
Mr. Welf keeps his eyes glued to the forge while talking.
In no time at all, a roaring flame erupts from the stone and intense heat swells
within the forge. The heat wave reaches me a moment later. I'm a good distance
away from it, but I've already broken a sweat. I can't imagine what it would be
like if I still had my armor on.
Mr. Welf is completely focused on adjusting the temperature within the forge.
I sit back down in my chair and watch from behind.
It's still only midmorning. I don't even think an hour has passed since I got
my lunch from Syr. I bet Babel Tower is swamped with adventurers making their
way into the Dungeon by now.
Yet here I am in a dim room, surrounded by gloomy back streets with only
this forge for light.
Looking at the massive furnace, its red mouth wide open, everything feels
mysterious.
I can only see part of Mr. Welf's face, but his intensity matches the flames
that dance in front of him.
"You look like you've got something on your mind."
"Huh?!"
"Come on, ask away. We have a direct contract. I don't want to have any
secrets."
A few moments pass in silence. His preparations complete, Mr. Welf
withdraws his face from the forge and looks at me.
I freeze on the spot, stunned by his sudden request…How did he know?
It's not that I have a specific question to ask him, but there's something that's
been on my mind for a while. Every time I hear about Mr. Welf, my curiosity
grows and grows to the point that if I'm not careful, the words will spill right out
of my mouth. I guess he must've caught on.
He has a gentle aura about him. A light smile on his lips. I can see a look of
trust in his eyes…At least I think so.
I swallow all the spit in my mouth and take that first step to finding the
answers from Mr. Welf himself.
"Why don't you…Why don't you make magic swords, Mr. Welf?"
I can still remember how happy he was when I became his client.
If he would just make magic swords, he would have more clients and money
than he would know what to do with.
He already has a famous name that would draw in people from all over.
That's the power of the Crozzo family.
I have to know the reason why he doesn't even try.
"Well, there are a few reasons, but…"
His mouth curling into a grimace, he casts his gaze back into the flames.
"I hate magic swords."
Then he starts to explain the reason why he despises them so much.
"Truth is, I told you my work doesn't sell, but I've had a ton of clients…Nah,
still do."
"Eh...?"
"It's so simple that it makes me sick. All these people see my armor and
weapons in the shop, but once they see my signature, 'Crozzo'…they come
knockin' at my door, beggin' me to make a magic sword for them."
Mr. Welf pumps more air into the forge, using a tool at his feet.
"They completely ignore my work, it's all just magic sword, magic sword,
magic sword…That's all everyone other than you ever said. I know and realize I
don't have much experience, but…You know? It hurts."
The slightest of wrinkles appears below his mouth, the only dark shadow on a
face blanketed in an orange and red glow.
A magic sword that is said to be strong enough to burn away the sea,
probably the strongest ever. Everyone was after the magic swords of the Crozzo
name, not Mr. Welf's armor or weapons.
None of the customers who came to him looked him in the eye…Could they
only see the value of the Crozzo bloodline?
All they saw were the magic swords.
"Um, Mr. Welf…How did, um, you know…"
"Yeah, things went downhill fast. Lots of yelling. 'Get lost, you bastards!'
and 'Who would listen to the likes of you?!' I chased them all away."
"Ha-ha-ha-ha…"
I'm lost for words; all I can give him is an empty laugh. However, I get it. I
understand.
He's angry at the people who wouldn't give his armor and weapons any
attention. Well, part of it could be that he's angry at the Crozzo blood flowing
within him.
I hear what he's saying and I get it…But.
"Um…Is that the only reason?"
I feel like there's something more.
He said he hates magic swords, but there has to be a deeper meaning.
"…"
An answer doesn't come right away.
Taking his eyes off the forge, Mr. Welf walks over to his workbench and
looks down at the Minotaur Horn. Picking up a chisel and hammer, he sets to
work on breaking the horn in two.
After about fifty shrill impacts, the Minotaur Horn finally splits right down
the middle. Setting the relatively larger half off to the side, he carries the smaller
half back to the forge and sits down.
"Do you know why the Crozzo family can make magic swords in the first
place, Bell?"
He pinches a piece of the horn with a special tool and thrusts it deep into the
heart of the flames.
"I don't…" I respond as I watch him move onto the next step in the weapon-
making process.
"There was once an ordinary man named Crozzo. It was his descendants who
made his name what it is now. We call him The Ancestor. All this happened
before the gods came down here."
We call the time before the gods came to this world "the Old Age." That era
ended about a thousand years ago.
The Crozzo family history can be traced back that far?! Wow…
"The story goes that The Ancestor was a smith down on his luck. Nothing
would sell. And of course, he couldn't make magic swords. However, it's
beyond a shadow of a doubt that he's the one who started it all."
A breath.
"The Ancestor risked his life to save a member of a certain species from a
monster."
"A certain species…?"
"A fairy."
—"Whaa?!" My voice hits the floor in shock.
Mr. Welf smirks at the surprise on my face and continues his story with even
more enthusiasm.
"The fairy did everything it could to save the life of the man who was
bleeding out on the ground. It cut part of its body and gave him some of its own
blood."
"S-so that means the Crozzo family has…?"
"Yeah. We've got fairy blood in us."
—Fairies.
Nymphs, spirits, elementals, jinn…Their mysterious race has many names
here on Earth. Their population is extremely small compared to the other races.
"The most loved of all the children." "Children of the gods."
Humans and demi-humans have many stories about them, but the one
common thread is that fairies are the ones closest to the gods themselves.
"The Ancestor made a full recovery, like nothing ever happened. A full-
blown miracle. However, after that day it was said that he could use magic
despite being human…and he could make magic swords."
Fairies are capable of so much that other races pale in comparison.
They're magic users, like the elves. They can call forth flames, summon
wind, create their own ponds deep in the forests, and even produce precious
metals out of thin air.
It might be accurate to say that their power rivals the gods'.
Basically, they can perform miracles.
"So did, did the Crozzo family become heroes…?"
"Nah, nothing like that. Good or bad, The Ancestor was just regular
townsfolk."
Fairies appear in many stories, especially stories about heroes—and many of
those stories are based on truth. Gramps told me that.
The fairies in those stories use their power to guide the young hero,
sometimes lending him strength, and using their power of miracles to help him
fulfill his destiny when the time comes.
Usually, they impart magic on the hero or give him a powerful blade, not
unlike what Mr. Welf just said. I even heard about a fairy who turned its own
body into a weapon.
Fairies play a big part in heroic deeds of the main characters in each story,
and are sometimes directly involved.
In the time before the gods, having a fairy on your side would have been the
equivalent of a Falna today.
"The Ancestor died at a ripe old age, but his blood was passed on. It's
probably due to more fairy magic, but it's still around today more than a
thousand years later. The gods and goddesses who witnessed everything from
above can tell that I'm a member of that line."
It's said that once the gods came down to this world, more fairies began to
interact with other races. Be that as it may, most of them avoid us. I don't know
if they're whimsical or too proud.
Gnomes are a race of fairy that lives alongside us very well. They may look
like little old men and women, but their knowledge about jewels and valuable
materials has made them a valuable part of our society.
Blessings from the gods and goddesses have made fairies less appreciated
compared to the Old Age. However, their mysterious nature still captivates
human and demi-human alike.
"Even though they had the fairy blood of The Ancestor within them, the first
few generations couldn't do much with it…That is, until a Crozzo received a
god's blessing. That changed everything."
"…Skill?"
"Yep. One that let them make magic swords. Every member of the family
acquired it the moment they received their blessing. Nothing to it."
A hidden potential awakened within them as soon as a Crozzo family
member received a Status.
Even after all this time, that fairy's power is still at work.
"Li'l E already told you what happened next. Magic swords were much more
powerful than anything else available, and the Crozzo family sold their work to
their king."
Mr. Welf explains that by this time they had become subjects of a kingdom.
To sum everything up, The Ancestor used fairy blood that was given to him
in order to make magic swords before any family members received Falna. Then
they became known as a family of magic swordsmiths because…that blood they
all shared unlocked the ability to create powerful magic swords.
The source of the Crozzos' fame comes down to the quality of their
bloodline.
"They really lived it up after that, doing whatever the hell they wanted. Their
swords granted the king's armies unbelievable power; the compliments from the
king himself and rewards for their work kept flowing in. They stuffed their faces
with the finest delicacies, nearly drowned themselves in expensive ale…Smiths
behaving like royalty—what were they thinking?"
Mr. Welf's words trail off in hesitation, his eyes not leaving the flame.
Silence falls.
For the longest time, the only sounds in the workshop are those of the
crackling flames in the forge.
"…The Crozzos got full of themselves. They forgot that they owed
everything to the fairy blood in their veins. Started thinking that their Skill was
their power, that magic swords were their right…Blinded by greed, they kept
making more and more."
—"So they were cursed."
Mr. Welf speaks more clearly than he had all morning.
"The kingdom used Crozzo's Magic Swords in war after war…earning the
hatred of the elves in the process by burning down their homes…"
"I-I know."
"It wasn't just elven hatred they wrought, but that of the fairy who saved The
Ancestor as well."
"?!"
"Fairies love to be at one with nature. They surround themselves with it. The
magic swords scarred their mountains, scorched their ponds, annihilated their
forests…Just like the elves, the fairies were chased out of their own homes."
This was the source of the elves' grudge, just like Lyu said.
Did Crozzo's Magic Swords become the fairies' sworn enemy, like how the
elves swore revenge on the Kingdom of Rakia?
"The elves took out their anger on the country. But the fairies, their grudge
was with the Crozzos."
"…"
"And then, just before another battle like any other, all of the magic swords
crumbled without warning. Never-been-used magic swords, fresh out of the
forge. It goes without saying that the kingdom lost that battle without its greatest
weapons."
"Did the fairies do that?"
"I'm sure of it. At the same time, the Crozzos lost the ability to make magic
swords. They were cursed by the fairies."
So that's what it means to be cursed…?
When did my shoulders get so tense?
"The kingdom lost over and over after that. The Crozzo family took the
blame and was stripped of nobility. That's the fall from grace. By the time I was
born, there was nothing left from the old days."
From heaven to hell. You reap what you sow, I guess…
That explains the Crozzo family's fall into ruin.
But, wait. Hold on a second…
"You said that the Crozzos couldn't make magic swords, right? But I've
heard you can, Mr. Welf…?"
"Yeah. I can. No clue why."
Maybe the effect of the curse wore off, or maybe the fairies were satisfied
with their revenge. There might also be something special about Mr. Welf.
Even though the reason is unclear, the one thing that he's sure of is that he's
the only Crozzo who can make magic swords right now.
But Mr. Welf ran away from home and broke free from the Crozzo family…
He says that he was nothing but a wanderer when Lady Hephaistos found him.
"I know they were trying to restore the family name, but I'm grateful to my
old man for cramming all these forging techniques into my head. Thanks to him,
I learned the joy of creating something useful."
My body feels a few degrees warmer. I've completely lost track of time, but
Mr. Welf seems to know what's going on. Sensing the right moment, he pulls the
drop item out of the forge and places it on the anvil.
Although the piece of Minotaur Horn is still in its original shape, it looks like
it could melt at any moment, glowing red like that.
"Probably because I didn't hate it. I didn't hate being a shop hand, working
alongside my old man and his tools in a workshop covered in soot.
"That feeling the first time I struck metal…" he says in a voice so quiet I
have to strain to hear him.
A wet sound reaches my ears at the same time.
"However…once they realized I was good at it, my old man forced me to
make a magic sword. He said it was to return the Crozzo family to glory."
Mr. Welf takes a deep breath as he grabs a hammer with his right hand.
His lips go flat into a straight line as his eyes open wide.
This is the first time I've seen him like this—Mr. Welf's smith face.
I hold my breath.
"…Make a tool the king would appreciate, is what he was saying. But he left
that part out."
A moment later, Mr. Welf brings the hammer down on the Minotaur Horn
with incredible force.
"It's not the same. Weapons aren't like that, not even close."
The impact of metal on metal sends a shock wave of sound through the room.
The forging has begun.
Mr. Welf hits the drop item with his hammer as if he's trying to drive his
thoughts into the material.
"Even political tools are no reason to get excited. But weapons, they become
part of their wielder."
A series of shorter, more precise strikes sends out a new chorus of high-
pitched echoes throughout the workshop.
All of the strength he's built up in the Dungeon makes each blow much
stronger than that of a normal man.
"No matter what desperate straits someone is in, they must always be able to
count on their own weapon. From the moment they grip the hilt, it becomes an
extension of their arm."
He starts mixing strong hammer blows with short strikes, the rhythm of the
echoes changing every moment.
The material lengthens with the heavy impacts; the quick hits adjust the
shape.
He doesn't wait for me to respond to him. He just keeps talking as the hot
object beneath him takes a new form.
"It's our job as smiths to make weapons that last."
His passion for reliable armor and weapons is pouring out of him. It's almost
as if Mr. Welf himself is on fire.
It's pure devotion to his craft.
"We face down metal at its hottest—at our hottest. A weapon can only be
made when we bring everything we have to bear. What'll happen if we half-ass
it? Fail to pour our sweat and blood into it? What if we forget our own
ambition?"
Mr. Welf is slamming his whole world into each strike.
As if his blood is boiling, as if he's possessed by something unseen.
I wonder what he's seeing in the middle of that lump of molten metal…
"I hate magic swords. They will always break before their wielder."
Showers of sparks fly, red beams of light flash.
Flakes of burned metal are launched from the horn with every blow. And yet
they all just flow harmlessly off of Mr. Welf's black coat and to the floor. I
wonder if it has some of the same qualities as adventurer's armor…
Wait, that's it.
His black coat is in such rough shape because it's his work clothes.
Its black color and worn condition are all proof of how hard he's worked,
how many pieces he's made.
"I absolutely despise magic swords. That kind of power rots people's souls.
The user, the smith's pride—anyone and everyone. At the very least, Crozzo's
Magic Swords do."
The all-powerful magic swords that corrupted their creators.
"Cursed magic swordsmiths."
I think I finally understand what those words mean.
"I won't make a magic sword. And even if I did, I'd never put it up for sale."
Sweat dripping down to his chin, Mr. Welf raises the hammer again.
Another round of echoes rings out. The workshop is drowned out in a fierce
melody of impacts.
I've been so wrapped up in the spectacle that I forgot to wipe the sweat from
my face.
The metallic smell that hit me when I first walked in.
It was so strong that I wanted to cover my nose. But now it seems so far
away.
I continue to watch Mr. Welf strike the horn over and over again.
I take a look outside the shutters and see an evening sky. It's almost nighttime.
At last, Mr. Welf is almost finished.
"…That should do it."
"Whoa…!"
Mr. Welf emerges from the corner of the workshop carrying a shallow box in
his hands. He places it on his workbench.
I lean over the bench to get a good look and see a dark red blade inside.
The cutting edge of the blade is so thin I can almost see through it. It's just a
little bit shorter than the Divine Knife. The blade color matches the Minotaur
Horn almost perfectly.
The hilt is a reddish maroon color and is probably shaped to fit my hand.
"T-this…this is…really, really good…!"
"I had good material. Out of all my work so far, this has gotta be my best."
Mr. Welf smiles from ear to ear with the satisfaction of a job well done.
He's being modest, but I can tell by the look in his eye he's very proud of this
one. He wouldn't use the word "best" if he wasn't.
I bow my head over and over to show my gratitude.
"Ah—sorry. Didn't have time to make a sheath. I'll have a custom one ready
by tomorrow, so can you put up with a generic one for tonight?"
"S-sure, of course! Actually, it doesn't have to be tomorrow…It's already
late."
"Nah, it's better to finish everything when it's still warm.
"That's how metal is," he says while rotating his right shoulder.
That's just what a smith would say. Hang on, he actually is a smith. I grimace
at my own train of thought.
I wonder if all smiths are people like Mr. Welf. Images of their daily life pass
through my head as I space out for a moment.
"Now, this guy needs a name."
He leans over in front of me and takes a long, hard look at the dark red blade.
His eyes narrow as he scratches his chin with his right hand.
I've never seen someone focus so hard on something before…He slowly
opens his mouth to speak.
"The Young Bull, Ushiwakamaru...No, the Bull Dagger, Minotan."
"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, WAIT! Isn't the first one so much better?!"
"Huh? You like Ushiwakamaru better, Bell?"
"I don't even have to think about it!"
I speak so vigorously that spit flies out of my mouth and toward Mr. Welf.
I do my best to convince him to go with the first name. "Okay then…" he
says with a very sad look in his eyes, but he accepts it.
"All right, take it."
"Thank you so much, Mr. Welf!"
I grab a sheath from his weapon shelf as he holds the dagger out to me.
I say one more thank-you and reach out to take it from him…Woosh!
Suddenly the blade is pointed right at my chest!
"Ehhh?" My jaw slacks in surprise.
"That's it."
"Wh-what's it?"
"That's the last time you call me that uptight name."
His words just add to my dumbfounded shock as my eyes peel back.
"We haven't known each other for long, and I can't say we completely trust
each other, either, but call me something like I call Li'l E.
"Something like friends," adds Mr. Welf—no, Welf—with a grin.
A smile floats to my lips as I respond.
"Gotcha, Welf."
He flips the hilt of the blade forward and I grab hold.