P/N let me know if there's any mistakes and I will try to fix them
It was then that Wil realized that Welf had brought all the other weapons
wrapped in the cloth to help him break away from their clutches. His face
instantly changed from surprise to burning red with rage.
Welf simply said there was no way to forge a magic sword in less than half a
day and shrugged.
"Already forgotten what I told you, foolish boy…? Orario will become a
hellscape…!"
Welf interrupted his father's trailing protests.
"That sword in your hand is the only real Crozzo, isn't it?"
""
Bell, Tsubaki, and all of Hephaistos Familia reflexively leaned closer to the
two men in the center of the warehouse after hearing those words.
Only Hephaistos herself was unaffected as she watched the tense scene play
out.
"Spending some time cooped up in my shop was just what I needed to cool
off. Even if that many magic swords survived the purge, there's no way Rakia
would let them all out at the same time."
Just like his family, Welf knew the Kingdom of Rakia pined for its glory days
when Crozzo Magic Swords reigned supreme, and was therefore very attached to
them. They wouldn't risk the few magic swords that remained on a plan that
might or might not succeed. It was highly unlikely that this expeditionary force
would be granted access to the remaining Crozzos in the first place.
He had reasoned that their original plan must have been to reunite with their
allies outside the city wall, armed with all the new Crozzo Magic Swords he had
supposedly forged, and then trap Alliance forces in a deadly pincer.
Welf had figured out that his return to Rakia was the bargaining chip, how his
father had negotiated his way to acquiring one of their precious remaining magic
swords.
Wil stood there in shocked silence, all but confirming Welf's suspicions. His
allies did indeed all carry magic swords, but they were not Crozzo Magic
Swords. Each of them exchanged nervous glances.
Welf stood tall, confident. Wil took a step back in the face of his son's sharp
gaze.
"Gah GRHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Wil's eyes suddenly flashed as he howled with rage.
"Stay back! Just one is enough to burn all of you into oblivion!"
Another wave of nervous energy shot through the warehouse as the man
holding the sparkling red blade teetered on the verge of losing his mind.
Their fate would be determined by the flick of the wrist. Bell thrust out his
right arm to unleash his own Magic at any moment. Tsubaki licked her lips, her
hand nervously resting on the hilt of her thick katana, her right foot shifting
closer to get the best jump possible.
Amid all this tension, Welf said:
"Do it."
His father froze. Welf's red hair flicked to the side as he jeered coldly at the
man.
"Go ahead and try."
He grinned, flashing his teeth.
His father must have gone past the breaking point because he ignored his
allies' calls to stop and took a step forward with the Crozzo Magic Sword held
high above his head.
"Y-you FOOLISH BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY!!"
Then, before the red sword could fall—
Before Bell, the High Smiths, and even Tsubaki could react—
Welf's eyes flew open as he slashed the dark-crimson longsword in his grasp
with all his might.
"—Raging Inferno!!"
An explosion of flames rushed forward.
At the same time, a wave of fire surged from Wil's red magic sword to meet
it.
In front of all of Welf's current and former allies, in front of Hephaistos's
intense one-eyed gaze, the young smith's crimson flames absorbed and
overpowered the red—and wiped them out. A roaring fire and a small mountain
of sparks filled the warehouse, the heat blasting in all directions.
Those who were caught in it were thrown off their feet; others dropped to all
fours in a desperate effort to withstand the shock wave. Red hakama violently
shifting around her legs, Tsubaki stood tall in front of her goddess to protect her.
Then, when everyone's eyes had recovered from the red glare enough to
comprehend their surroundings…
Bell and the other observers slowly looked up…and saw Welf, standing tall
on both feet, and Wil, firmly planted on his rear atop the charred floor of the
warehouse.
Wil's face froze in disbelief, when suddenly—CRACK! The red magic sword
in his grasp fell to pieces. Welf 's dark-crimson longsword was not only still in
one piece but sparkling with even more magic energy.
The difference between the power of the two blades, as well as their limits,
was plain for all to see. There was no comparison.
The magic sword forged by the boy, who had coughed up blood working as
hard as he could to improve his Status, was superior to the one forged by his
forefathers, who relied on only their inborn talent. That was all it was.
"…Why?!"
Wil, absolutely dumbstruck as he stared at the remains of the magic sword,
howled at his son.
Trembling from head to foot, the last of his self-control disappeared and
every pent-up emotion came raging out of him at once.
"Why do you not forge magic swords when you have all that power?!"
"…"
"Why do you not use that power for your family—for your country?!"
Welf didn't respond to his father's howls.
With Bell, Hephaistos, and Tsubaki looking on, he tightened his grip on the
magic sword in his hand.
"Why is it you who can forge magic swords?! If it were me, if I had been
born with the gift, by now…! Damn you, you worthless boy!"
Wil climbed to his feet as he unloaded years of frustration onto Welf.
The man's eyes were bloodshot, not much different from a ferocious beast's,
as his cloak rippled around his body. "Are you still spouting that bullshit, that
you can't stand to see a weapon that'll break? Weapons are disposable! You can
just make another one!"
That got Welf's attention. He glared daggers at his father. But Wil didn't
notice and continued his rant. "'Make more blades, bask in never-ending
honor'—have you forgotten the teachings of the blacksmith nobility who
obtained glory with magic swords?"
With those words, Welf exploded. "What blacksmith nobility?! What
honor?!"
The young man's voice cut through the air inside the blackened warehouse.
Wil fell silent as Welf took several impassioned steps forward.
A moment later, Welf's clenched fist buried itself deep in his father's cheek.
"GEH!"
The Rakian soldiers watched their leader fall to the ground in disbelief.
Several stepped forward, drawing their weapons, but…
"Stay right there!"
Welf's rage-filled warning made them freeze on the spot.
While the howl of the High Smith instilled fear in the soldiers, it was
intended for Bell and Tsubaki as well.
"Stand up! On your feet!"
"…!"
Discarding his magic sword and white cloth full of weapons, Welf grabbed
his father's collar with both hands.
Once Wil was back on his feet, lip split and bleeding, the red-haired young
man delivered another blow.
"UGAH!"
"The 'pride of nobility'? Have all of you forgotten the need that drives all
smiths?!"
The flurry of punches and verbal strikes drove Wil backward, but he raised
his head, cheeks burning red with rage.
Wil channeled that anger into his fists and threw a punch the moment that
Welf's face was exposed. It connected with the young man's jaw.
"Compared to honor, our futile desires are nothing more than trash!" Wil
unleashed his mind and fist at the same time, making Welf recoil. However, the
young man was quick to strike back. The dull impacts of their punches sounded
throughout the warehouse. Knuckles dug into cheeks.
Both men staggered, struggling to maintain balance as they exchanged
powerful blows. Wil was clearly surprised by the strength of his son's punches.
Welf launched another verbal tirade.
"The hell you callin' trash?! Can't hear you, you done-for old man!"
"You…you…YOU FOOLISH BOOOOOOOOOOOOY!!"
Overcome with rage, Wil knocked his son's arms out of the way and jumped
in close with his right fist held high.
However, every time his father's fist connected with his face, Welf was quick
to counter with an elbow or a punch of his own.
The onlookers, including Bell, watched in stunned silence, their eyes intently
following every move.
The current situation and their physical pain long forgotten, father and son
continued to intensify their fighting. Nothing else mattered to them anymore.
"A weapon only needs to be strong! Pretty words don't change a thing!"
Brown hair and red hair whipped back and forth with each blow.
Both father's and son's faces were already a swollen mishmash of black and
blue, with streaks of blood leaking from broken skin. Red droplets scattered
every time another punch connected.
His father's fists continuously pummeled his face, but Welf held his ground.
The young man refused to show any pain as he powered through the impacts and
retaliated.
"GHA…!"
Wil lost his balance and staggered backward. Welf roughly wiped the blood
off his face with his forearm.
"Right now, I'm no different from any other guy who swings a magic
sword!"
"…!"
"Is that real power? Is it our fate to keep making these things?"
On one side, a Level 2 High Smith. On the other, a Level 1 descendant of
fallen blacksmith nobility.
Despite the absurdity of it all, Welf put all his being into every punch, his
spirit behind every blow.
"Of course it isn't! It can't be!"
His father's eyes went wide as Welf drove his fist directly into the man's jaw.
"A weapon is part of its wielder! A valued partner that stays by their side
through thick and thin, carving a way forward! A piece of their soul!"
"That's…that's nonsense…!"
"As smiths, we have to take pride in providing that kind of weapon!"
Catching a glimpse of the white-haired boy out of the corner of his eye, Welf
delivered three more blows.
He poured all his soul into his blood-splattered fists.
"…We'll have nowhere to go if we get run out of the kingdom! The name of
Crozzo cannot survive without the glory of nobility! We will not survive…!
Why can't you understand that?"
The bloodline had lost its noble status, its pride. The moment the family was
exiled, it would lose the only way that Wil knew how to live and would die out
before long.
The only way to save their family was with magic swords.
Wil insisted that the power lurking in their blood, the magic swords it could
produce, was the only path to their salvation. His powerless punches barely
connected, but his voice was still as passionate as ever.
"You're alive, aren't you? Your hands can still swing a hammer, grasp
metal!"
"…!"
Welf grabbed his father's collar and pulled him in close.
He glared directly into the older man's eyes, his throat trembling as he
shouted:
"A hammer, metal, and a burning desire! With those, you can forge a weapon
anywhere! Nobility, kingdom—they don't mean shit!"
Wil bore the brunt of his son's rage as Welf tried desperately to make his
father see the truth that was in plain sight.
Hephaistos watched as Welf repeated the words that were on the verge of
being forgotten.
"—'Listen to the metal's words, lend your ears to its echoes, put your heart
into your hammer'! You and Granddad taught me that, didn't you?"
A smelly workshop covered in soot.
His youth, when he worked alongside his father and grandfather, putting
hammer to metal.
A time before the latent abilities in his blood awakened, when the disgraced
family was determined to make a new name for itself without magic swords. A
time when three generations of smiths came together to make that a reality.
Days that had once existed in their past.
Welf awakened those memories in his father. Wil's eyes quivered.
Flexing the powerful muscles in his arms and tightening his grip on his
father's collar, Welf was nearing tears as his voice exploded once again.
"Where did that pride go?"
Those words hung in the air, echoing throughout the warehouse.
They lingered in the ears of Rakia's soldiers, the High Smiths, and Bell. No
one moved.
His breathing ragged, Welf kept his grip on his father's cloak and broke off
eye contact by looking at the floor.
Wil's face was an absolute mess. The older man's eyes widened, and he let
his arms drop.
All focused on the two smiths. A thick stillness descended on the warehouse.
"Enough."
An old man's voice broke the heavy silence.
One figure stepped forward from the group of Rakian soldiers and pulled
back his hood.
Welf's shoulders trembled the moment he saw the man's eagle-like eyes
between his white hair and white beard.
"Granddad…?!"
"Father…!"
Welf continued to stare at his grandfather as Wil turned to face him.
Garon Crozzo.
Quite muscular despite his advanced age, the man stepped into the moonlight
with his spine straight and head held high. He was even taller than Welf, over
170 celch. The former head of the Crozzo family, he and his son Wil were the
ones who had given Welf his foundation as a smith.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that Welf had learned what a smith
should be by watching this man shape metal to his will.
The red-haired young man did his best to hide the shock of learning his
grandfather had come to Orario as well.
"…Granddad, you came here for the same reason as…"
"I did. I, too, was called upon to ensure your return."
Welf stepped away from Wil, gaining some distance before turning to face his
grandfather with his fists ready.
The eldest Crozzo, however, cast his gaze on Wil, who'd fallen to his knees.
"But, enough."
"…!"
"Your will is too strong, much like tempered steel."
The corners of Garon's lips curved upward, sending a jolt along Welf's spine.
Never once in all his life had Welf seen his grandfather smile.
"Back when you were still a youngster, I was never sure if forcing you to
make magic swords was the right decision…Looking at you now, it's my
greatest regret."
There was a great deal of remorse in his low voice.
When his talent was discovered seven years ago, and Wil was dead set on
forcing him to forge one Crozzo Magic Sword after another, Welf had looked to
him for help. Instead, the elder Crozzo had stared down at his grandson with an
emotionless face and said, "Do it," in no uncertain terms.
For Welf at the time, Garon himself was the very essence of a smith.
Receiving that direct order was an incredible shock and pushed him to the brink
of despair. That event had become the main reason Welf ran away from home,
from the Kingdom of Rakia, to start a new life.
Hearing his grandfather's true feelings caught Welf by surprise. But there was
an edge to Garon's expression.
"However, the blood in your veins will never disappear. The curse of Crozzo
will hound you for the rest of your days, endlessly drawing you back to the path
of magic swords," Garon continued, eyes burning with a passion that time hadn't
taken away. "Despite this fate, are you certain your will won't bend?"
His words had a great deal in common with Tsubaki's; their content was
almost identical.
They both pointed to the makings of the blacksmith and whether or not he
would access the power hidden in his blood.
He hadn't been able to say anything to Tsubaki. At that time, a feeling of
powerlessness had shaken his will.
That was then—this was now.
Standing before his father and grandfather—his link to the Crozzo family—
reminded him of a conviction he couldn't afford to bend.
"No way in hell!"
Welf responded to Garon without missing a beat.
He let his level of devotion be known, especially to Tsubaki, who was
standing not too far away.
"I'll forge a weapon that puts magic swords to shame! Our bloodline means
nothing, and I'll prove it! I'm not just a Crozzo—I'm my own man!"
He would make a weapon his way, something that wasn't a Crozzo Magic
Sword.
He put words to the ambition that drove him to create something godlike.
"…Cheeky young'un."
Garon narrowed his eyes after Welf made his case.
Almost as if he was happy to see how much his grandson had grown.
"We won't pursue you any further."
"But, Father! If we don't…our place in the kingdom, it's as good as gone…!"
Wil looked up from his crouched position, voicing his objection to Garon's
decision.
Every muscle in his wizened face strained under his bloody skin as he
pleaded to the elder Crozzo. The old man responded calmly.
"We will start over. Not as blacksmith nobility but as smiths."
Wil couldn't say anything back. His gaze slowly dropped to the ground as he
clenched his trembling hands into fists.
Then Garon made eye contact with his grandson.
"'With a hammer, metal, and a burning passion, a weapon can be forged
anywhere'…was it? You couldn't be more correct."
Garon looked away from Welf and over to the goddess who had taught him
this valuable lesson.
He narrowed his eyes down to a sliver, as if trying to peer straight through
her, before going into a deep bow.
"We surrender, oh Goddess. The responsibility is mine and mine alone.
Please have mercy on my companions."
"…Fine, then. I shall."
Hephaistos slowly nodded, accepting his declaration of defeat.
No one among the Rakian soldiers voiced any objection. Their defeat had
been a foregone conclusion the moment that Wil's Crozzo Magic Sword
shattered. Completely surrounded by High Smiths, they knew they were in no
position to resist. Dropping to their knees and discarding their weapons, they
held out their hands for the members of Hephaistos Familia to tie them up.
"Idiot."
"…"
Tsubaki busied herself with restraining the soldiers but still found time to get
in a verbal jab even without looking at him.
Welf could hear the disappointment in her voice as she led the prisoners
away, but he said nothing.
He stood in the center of the charred warehouse, battered and bruised as he
watched Rakia's soldiers be escorted out the exit and toward Guild
Headquarters.
His father, Wil, and grandfather, Garon, hands tied behind their backs, were
among them.
At the last possible moment before leaving through the open doorway, Garon
flashed him one more grin. Welf burned that image into his memory.
Even once his family members were gone, Welf continued to stare at the
open door like a statue.
"Welf…"
Bell and Hephaistos had stayed behind.
They looked at the red-haired man, standing alone in the moonlight shining
in from overhead.
The light of magic-stone lamps started to fade from the streets of Orario as night
came to an end. The moon overhead became faint as the eastern sky took on a
lighter hue.
Welf sat cross-legged beneath the last of the night sky as it steadily became
brighter all around him.
He was on the roof of the warehouse. High above the ground and doing his
best impression of a stone statue, he kept to himself without saying a word.
"…"
Bell stood a little ways behind him, unsure what to do.
The clash with the Crozzo family behind him, Welf wanted to be alone. So he
had climbed up to the roof, taken a seat near the edge, and hadn't moved since.
Bell understood the young man wanted some space and kept his distance.
He'd been outside in the chilly night air for several hours now and was very
cold. However, the white-haired boy couldn't just leave the young man behind.
Unable to find the right words, he settled for staring at the man's back the
whole time.
"So, the two of you were up here."
"Lady Hephaistos…"
The clanging of the goddess's boots against the steel roof announced the
arrival of Hephaistos. Bell turned to face her as she walked up behind him.
She came to a stop shoulder to shoulder with the boy, squinting her left eye as
she observed the young man beneath the sky that grew brighter by the moment.
"Bell Cranell. Can you leave this to me?" The deity asked if she could be
alone with the smith.
Bell stood wide-eyed for a moment but responded with a short nod. He made
a quick bow and left the situation to the goddess before climbing down off the
roof.
Hephaistos walked up to the young man as the boy's footsteps grew fainter in
the distance.
"The Rakian soldiers are now in Guild custody."
"…"
"Their path of entry has also been revealed. An informant let them inside on
the promise that they would start a war. Their main objective was to acquire you,
though whether or not there were others remains to be seen…"
Welf remained sitting with his legs crossed even as Hephaistos gave him a
factual update on the current situation.
She wasn't looking at him, though. Instead, her eye was focused on the open
skyline as she continued her report.
"The Guild will negotiate with Rakia to pay for their release. Even if talks
fall through, they'll be released outside the city once things die down."
"…I see," whispered Welf after hearing the fate of his father and grandfather.
Daybreak had arrived. The two were side by side, watching the sunrise.
"…Am I out of my mind?"
Welf finally said something as sunbeams reached out to them from the
eastern sky.
His decision to leave the blood in his veins in the past and find a different
route to a higher realm occupied his thoughts.
The young man's gaze didn't leave his lap as he spoke to the goddess.
"Maybe. Who knows?"
"…"
"Tsubaki is not wrong. Children like yourself are only allotted a brief window
of time. In order to reach where we deities stand, you must commit everything
you are toward accomplishing that goal." Hephaistos laid everything out plainly.
"But," continued the goddess as Welf pushed his lips together, "you've made a
commitment, have you not, Welf?"
"…I have."
"Then never doubt yourself. There's nothing more fragile than hollow steel."
Then the Goddess of the Forge turned to Welf and smiled.
"If there's one thing that we look for in children, it's a will powerful enough
to make the impossible possible. We want to witness that moment when the
children called heroes overcome incredible odds and fight when all hope is lost."
All deities wanted to look upon "children" who defied logic and reason. The
goddess said in a soft, gentle voice that she knew of the potential those like Welf
possessed.
"…I will catch up to you—my way."
Climbing to his feet, Welf reaffirmed his ambitions to the goddess.
There was no uncertainty left in his voice. He squared his shoulders and
looked directly into Hephaistos's eye.
"Is only catching up enough?"
"…I'll surpass you."
The eye next to the black bandage squinted, as if the goddess was enjoying
the moment. Welf also cracked a grin.
Hephaistos's expression was something similar to a mother taking pride in
her child's growth. Then she reached out with her right hand.
She started to run her fingers through his hair, gently patting him on the head.
"—Wh-what do you think you're doing?!" Welf tensed, blushing bright pink
as he swatted the goddess's hand away.
"Oh, you don't like this?"
"I-I'm not a kid anymore! Do that to someone Bell's age!"
"Hee-hee. It's really cute how you try to act like a big brother. I like that
about you, actually."
"!!!!!!!!!!!"
Hephaistos enjoyed a lighthearted giggle as Welf's ears burned bright red.
Indeed, he put on the air of the eldest brother around his new familia, but he
couldn't maintain it in front of this deity.
"Dammit," he swore under his breath, and hid part of his blushing face with
his forearm. For a moment, seeing that smile from the fiery-colored deity nearly
made him fall for her. He scolded himself for it.
But more than that, the fact that he couldn't say anything back reaffirmed the
feelings that he had for her. It was just as Tsubaki had said: He admired
Hephaistos as a goddess, as a smith—and as a woman.
It had started as an ambition to make something equal to or greater than the
Goddess of the Forge. His goal was to show her that he could create something
in her league or even something beyond it.
But that ambition changed little by little each time he stood in her presence.
He was the same as Bell, plain and simple. An immense respect and
admiration had quickly become a longing for his idol. The weapons she created
were what caught his attention, but he soon fell for the goddess who forged
them.
He wasn't naive enough to call it infatuation, nor was he formal enough to
call it love.
I'd prefer to call it…an occupational hazard.
He continued to look at the side of the goddess's face, with his smile and
blushing cheek hidden by the palm of his hand.
"…Or so you say. But is it true?"
"?"
The sun had almost completely emerged on the eastern horizon. Welf, who'd
been getting teased this entire time, folded his arms across his chest and said that
something didn't add up. "I heard from that woman…from Tsubaki that you've
been lonely since I left."
A blank look took over Hephaistos's face.
"Haaa…" A long sigh soon followed. "…My word, that child cannot keep a
thing to herself."
She was neither flustered nor angry. She was just complaining about this
slipup by one of her familia's most well-known members.
With Hephaistos admitting the truth right away, Welf had lost his only way to
retaliate. But at the same time he was also a little sad…Finding out that she
didn't see him that way sent a twinge of pain through his heart.
What's more, realizing that Tsubaki's choice of words had given him hope in
the first place now made him want to curl up in a little hole and die.
"Well, yes, it's been much too quiet without you around. 'Haaa, another one
of my children has left the nest.' That kind of empty feeling."
"Okay then…"
Welf was too embarrassed to make eye contact despite her gentle tone.
Instead, he stretched out his shoulder and squeezed the muscles with his other
hand.
"I would never say this to any of my followers…but you're no longer in my
familia, so yes, I'll say it. I had my eye on you and couldn't wait to see what you
would become."
Hearing his goddess's true thoughts once again threw Welf's feelings into
chaos.
That was most likely the highest compliment she could give him as the
Goddess of the Forge. As a smith, there was no greater honor. It made his body
tremble.
Whether or not Hephaistos knew what was going through Welf 's mind, she
turned to face him with a twinkle in her eye and an evil grin on her lips.
"And I was going to reward you if you ever forged something that satisfied
me…Too bad."
She glanced at him out of the corner of her left eye, obviously teasing. At the
same time, a switch flicked on inside Welf 's head as he looked at the crimson-
haired, crimson-eyed goddess.
"Is that still on the table?"
"Is what still on the table?"
"If I bring you a weapon that makes your jaw drop, will you still reward
me?"
Hephaistos, caught off guard for once, stuttered, "Y-yes. Yes, if you can," to
the young man whose cheeks were now as red as his hair.
His rash attempt to secure a promise from another familia's goddess a
success, Welf took it a step further by harnessing the passion once again burning
within him.
"If I do…if I make a weapon that satisfies you, then I want you to be mine!"
He said it.
Welf overcame his reservations, as well as the roaring of his heart thumping
in his ears, and watched Hephaistos carefully.
After hearing his once-in-a-lifetime confession, the stunned goddess…tried
to hide a giggle behind her fingertips.
"I-I'm putting my neck out there and you…!"
"Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee…! S-sorry, but I just…can't help it…!"
With her free hand on her stomach, the goddess's body swayed as she
laughed. In fact, her lungs were in pain because she couldn't breathe.
Finally calming down enough to wipe the tears flowing out of her left eye,
Hephaistos smiled at him. "It's been so long since I've had those words said to
me."
"Huh?" Welf froze on the spot. Hephaistos continued.
"Several of my followers a long time ago…Smiths confessed their love for
me, just like you did."
Welf had become nothing more than a breathing statue. The Goddess of the
Forge smiled at him with her left eye. "You're being outdone by your
predecessors."
Now he really wanted to die.
This time, death sounded really, really good.
An urge to jump off the roof shot through his body.
Why are we all like this…?!
Stubborn to a fault, it seemed smiths could confess their feelings only to
someone far superior. Welf grabbed his beet-red head and cursed every smith
who ever lived, including himself.
Hephaistos continued to giggle to herself as the mortal experienced even
more agony. However, her expression quickly became subdued.
"However, not a single one succeeded."
Welf's ears perked up. He raised his head from his hands.
There was a grin on the goddess's lips, the grin of someone issuing a
challenge.
"Will you be the first?"
Welf forgot to breathe. He couldn't even blink as the crimson-haired goddess
looked right through him. A confident smile appeared on his face a few
heartbeats later. He looked her square in the eye. "You bet I will."
He would make a weapon that surpassed magic swords, belonged in the
higher realm, and exceeded this goddess's expectations.
Now he had more goals to achieve.
The morning sun warming the side of his face, he exchanged glances with the
goddess.
"Still…all this talk about me being yours aside, it's about time for you to find
a partner of your own."
She must have been satisfied with Welf's mental recovery because she
changed the subject as she stretched her arms in the early morning light.
At the same time…"Huh?" Welf tensed again, blindsided by her words.
"You're pretty stubborn, but I'm sure you can find yourself a great girl."
"H-hang on a sec! I'm not fooling around here…!"
"Welf, there's nothing to gain by pursuing an immortal like myself. A family
will never happen."
Hephaistos forced a smile to try and stave off Welf's latest advance.
"Not to mention I don't meet the standards of a true woman."
There was no sense of belittlement or self-scorn in her voice. The words
naturally came out of her mouth as she reached for her right eye—and ran her
fingers down the black bandage.
"There's a face under here that's so hideous it'll make you cringe."
"…!"
"Strange, isn't it? A goddess like me. I've never been able to figure it out, no
matter how much thought I put into it. I was ridiculed by the other deities in
Tenkai, constantly laughed at."
Her fingers softly ran down the bandage as she did her best to smile.
The Goddess of the Forge, Hephaistos.
The one with power over fire and metalwork possessed a "hideous" face
unbecoming of a deity.
Gods and goddesses were supposed to be the living embodiment of
perfection. And yet, even with her divine powers of Arcanum, Hephaistos had
been unable to do anything about the true face that made her the Goddess of the
Forge.
She had avoided interacting with her own kind, been called "grotesque," and
been laughed at throughout her entire existence.
"To this day, there's only been one goddess who didn't laugh or jeer at me
after seeing my true face—Hestia."
Hephaistos's cheeks relaxed as she explained why there was a strong
connection between her and the young goddess. Why Hestia was her one and
only friend.
"Even the ones who sought me out on Gekai became afraid. So please, don't
pursue this any further."
She flashed a meek grin before turning away from Welf.
The young man watched her take a few steps, her back getting smaller.
Welf stayed rooted to the spot for a moment before his eyes opened wide and
he caught up with her in a few long strides.
Although he knew it was on the verge of blasphemy for him to do so, Welf
reached out and grabbed Hephaistos's shoulder. Then he pulled her around to
face him once again.
Face-to-face with the shocked goddess, he reached out toward the black
bandage with his left hand.
"Wh-what are you doing?!"
Ignoring her startled voice, Welf pulled the bandage off her face, his fingers
gliding against the fringe of the deity's crimson hair.
Hephaistos didn't budge. This was the first time for the young man to see
both her eyes.
The true face of the Goddess of the Forge was revealed.
Standing slightly shorter than he, Hephaistos only stared up at him, crimson
pupils trembling. As for Welf—his expression didn't change in the slightest.
"Meh," he said with a shrug.
The corners of his lips pulled back into a grin. "Come on, Lady Hephaistos,
that's nothing. Did you think I'd give up on you for something like this?"
He gently placed the bandage in the goddess's hands and gave her a resolute
grin. "This is nowhere near enough to quell the fires you stoked in my heart."
The deity looked up at him for a few moments before slowly reattaching the
black bandage that served as an eye patch.
With almost half her face now covered, she lightly shook her head, crimson
hair waving in the morning light as she looked at her former follower.
"You certainly talk the talk."
"Now we're even."
"Haaah! Smiths. Every single one of them stubborn and hating to lose."
Hephaistos returned his grin and added her own verbal jab.
Welf knew he had finally taken a point back from the goddess. One look at
her clear expression brought a shadow of pride to his face.
The two stood beneath the sunrise. Surrounded by cool morning air, the
young man and the goddess exchanged smiles.
Later that day.
Only those directly involved with the small-scale Rakian invasion knew what
had occurred. Even most Guild employees were kept in the dark.
Guild higher-ups thought that informing the public would do more harm than
good, so they dealt with everything themselves. The captured enemy soldiers
were held in chambers deep in the Pantheon, far out of sight.
Life in Orario continued as normal, the citizens unaware of what might have
happened had events turned out differently.
Amid all that…
"And then Welf—you know what Welf did?"
In an office of the workshop, the voice of an exceptionally chipper goddess
echoed off the walls.
"You've told me seven times, Ladyship…"
Hephaistos sat in a chair, cheeks in her hands and elbows on her desk.
Tsubaki held a large stack of paperwork in her arms as she gave her goddess an
annoyed glare.
Ever since their conversation, Hephaistos had been going on and on about the
moment that Welf captured her heart. Plain and simple, she sounded like a
teenager with a crush. Of course when she was in front of him, and in front of
her followers, she maintained the dignified air of a goddess. However, that was
not the case in her private quarters.
Softly blushing, Hephaistos began to recount her story with a giddy grin on
her face. Tsubaki let out a long sigh and braced herself for the eighth time.
"Sure took you long enough to find your feminine side…" muttered Tsubaki
through gritted teeth.
She was clearly frustrated that her high-spirited goddess hadn't done any
work all day. "Now you've done it…" she whispered out the window at the
smith who had finally found a way to get back at her.
Even later that day.
As with Tsubaki, Hephaistos was unable to keep her story secret and spread
the news even further. Other gods and goddesses knew every detail about her
interaction with the man before nightfall. The line that had stolen her heart
became a punch line. """"Lame—!"""" Everyone had the same reaction, and the
entertainment-starved deities had something to provide them with laughs for a
long time to come.
The naming ceremony of Denatus was scheduled for the next day. With this
story fresh in their minds, they decided the young man's title quickly and
decisively.
Henceforth, Welf Crozzo would bear the title of…Ignis, the Ever-Burning.
And so it was that the young man was forced to endure a giggling Lilly and
Hestia, a moved and inspired Mikoto and Haruhime, and Bell's forced smile
whenever the origin of his title was mentioned.
He had to hide his blushing cheeks every single time.