Chapter 418 - The Famous Iron and Gold
Krais walked up to Enkrid and knelt on one knee. From this position, he raised one arm and bowed his head in a gesture of profound solemnity. His demeanor was nothing short of dignified and reverent.
It was as if he were pledging his loyalty as a knight. His words confirmed this impression.
"I pledge my allegiance with all my heart."
Enkrid stared at Krais. He knew a fair bit about the man before him.
Was this gesture because of something he had done?
Ending the civil war? Had Krais been moved by that and now sought to swear his loyalty anew?
Not a chance.
Krang had given him the rank of general, substituting it for a noble title, along with control over all the surrounding territories.
"Even though Border Guard isn't exactly small."
Managing and ruling the entire region would allow Krais to fill his coffers endlessly.
Krais, still kneeling, stared at the dirt beneath him. In his eyes, the dirt particles looked like grains of gold.
This wasn't a dirt floor; it was a floor of pure gold.
"A grand territory. How many opportunities to mint krona lie hidden here?"
There was no need to raise taxes. If he connected all the trade routes in the cities under his jurisdiction and took commissions from the merchant guilds?
There'd be no need for bribes, either.
By establishing a large-scale trading network and investing in prominent guilds like the Rockfreed guild or other emerging ones, he could gain shares in their profits.
If he could amass wealth on that scale, what then?
The answer was clear.
Krais had already mapped out the stages of his dream. The first step was a small salon. After that, he planned to build a street of salons. Ultimately—
"A city of indulgence."
A place dedicated solely to enjoyment.
A city where eating, drinking, and dressing were entirely handled by merchants, leaving nothing but pleasure for the inhabitants to enjoy.
A city to be known as Krais's Salon City.
Krais's ambition rivaled even Enkrid's.
To build an entire city for leisure was no small dream.
And he didn't think it was without merit.
Even though constructing such a city would require an astronomical amount of money, the investment wouldn't just be a sunk cost. He expected profits far exceeding the initial expenditure.
After all, who in the world didn't like to enjoy themselves?
Especially if the city attracted wealthy elites like aristocrats and merchant lords, providing a place where they could indulge without the pretense of nobility or formal gatherings.
If Krais's Salon City could offer what was once only available at grand noble banquets, making it accessible anytime?
"This will work."
The key was capital—kronas, gold coins.
While his initial plan was to scrape together enough to open a small salon in the capital, he now aimed higher. If he could amass even more, he'd skip the initial step and directly construct a fortress and establish an entire city.
"...Hey, Big Eyes."
Lost in his grandiose dreams, Krais belatedly heard someone calling him. He lifted his head.
Enkrid was staring at him, locking eyes with his enormous gaze. Within those wide eyes, Enkrid saw an inferno of ambition burning like the flames of hell.
"...Yes, give it your all."
There was no point in trying to dissuade him.
Enkrid realized once more that among the madmen in this unit, he alone retained some semblance of sanity.
"I've brought a gift from His Highness," Krais said, quickly regaining his composure and rising to his feet.
"Two sets of Drake scale armor, one sword's worth of Lewis steel and black gold, and lastly, an exceptional blade called Aker. Perhaps you'd like to have it appraised."
The "His Highness" in question was Krang.
Even when plundering the treasury, Krang had ensured that Enkrid received the best of everything.
"Is this even allowed?"
The thought briefly crossed Enkrid's mind as he examined the high-value items.
But for Krang, it was only natural.
"Looking after my own is the most basic thing, and it's not even excessive."
Drake scale armor was renowned for its flexibility while being sturdier than conventional plate armor.
Lewis steel was even rarer than Valerian steel.
It was extraordinarily lightweight and as durable as Valeri steel, making it highly prized.
Black gold, on the other hand, was so rare that its weight could fetch five times its equivalent in pure gold.
Its nickname was "The Trial of the Gods."
While it was five times heavier than regular steel, it combined all the best traits—strength, flexibility, and durability.
Black gold was often called a divine gift, though its weight made it challenging to use. Without skilled forging, it was almost useless, so it was typically reserved for engraved weapons or specialized knight armaments.
And lastly, there was Aker.
"Wasn't that a royal treasure?"
Even Enkrid had heard of it.
Indeed, Aker was the name of a legendary sword wielded by a knight of the previous generation.
There was even a famous story about it slicing through a boulder gate made by giants with a mere flick of its blade. The tale had become so popular it was turned into a children's fable.
"I almost wondered if they emptied the royal treasury for this," Krais remarked.
The gifts were that impressive.
Enkrid nodded in agreement. The kingdom was still recovering from the financial strain of the civil war, and the treasury was being stretched thin.
The items were exceptional, but since they were offered, there was no reason to refuse. Enkrid accepted them with a calm nod.
"There's much to discuss. A lot, indeed."
Luagarne approached, her gaze burning just as intensely as Krais's.
Why wouldn't it?
She had a weakness for the unknown.
"How is this even possible?"
She couldn't believe what she was seeing. No genius could achieve such progress.
Even with her extraordinary ability to discern talent, Enkrid's potential seemed mediocre.
It had improved slightly, but not by much. Luagarne had never voiced it, but her Frogkin gift for assessing talent was considered extraordinary—even bordering on divine.
This allowed her to glimpse not only what had been achieved but also what lay ahead.
Enkrid always seemed to push just beyond his limits, as though perpetually a half-step ahead.
He had surpassed the bounds of his talent and risen to the pinnacle of semi-knight-level skill.
"How is this possible?"
Luagarne felt an unprecedented surge of primal curiosity. The unknown was alive and moving before her.
Enkrid was unfazed by her gaze. Just as he had ignored despair when Rievart spoke of it, he now dismissed her curiosity without a thought. Instead, he asked how she had arrived.
"My pact was with the Queen. That's over now."
Normally, she would have sought another unknown to pursue, but the greatest mystery stood right before her—an enigma she could neither believe nor comprehend.
Her presence here felt inevitable, even fated. Luagarne believed it wholeheartedly.
"Why? Should I form a pact?"
Luagarne was willing to commit herself to the man before her for a lifetime, even if it meant binding herself with a spiritual vow. She'd accept his terms, even if they required devotion.
"No need."
Enkrid saw no necessity for that. His mind was already occupied with other thoughts.
"Upset I arrived first?"
At Commander Shinar's question, Enkrid turned to her.
"Did it go well?"
Shinar offered a rare smile in response. Her smiles were so unusual that those familiar with her found it startling, though Enkrid remained indifferent.
"Worried about me?"
"I'm glad it went well."
And that was the end of it. Shinar returned to her usual cold and detached demeanor, proving her otherworldly nature, while Luagarne silently followed behind Enkrid.
As they walked in, Enkrid appeared lost in deep thought. Rem nudged his shoulder and asked, "What are you thinking about?"
With a furrowed brow, Enkrid finally spoke. "If I pause during a diagonal slash and then accelerate into a thrust, what would happen?"
The shift in speed from a brief stop would likely confuse the opponent's eyes. The sudden change in rhythm from slow to fast would make it feel even faster, making it harder to block.
"...Have you been thinking about that this whole time?" Rem asked.
"What else?"
Enkrid's gaze silently asked if there was anything more pressing.
"No wonder they call us the Madmen Unit."
To Rem, the biggest madman was standing right before him. Enkrid, on the other hand, wondered why Rem was bringing this up now. It felt like spitting straight into his own face.
"If you try that, your tendons will snap, or your muscles will tear," Rem said flatly.
Using Will essentially meant pushing one's body to its limits.
Stopping mid-slash only to thrust at high speed wasn't just overexertion—it was tantamount to asking your body to die.
"Take it easy, will you? Just nod if you understand. Take it easy, easy."
Rem repeated the phrase like a mantra.
Audin, who had been listening, chuckled and added, "A special training session might be in order, Brother General."
No one adjusted titles faster than Audin. He casually threw in the term General without hesitation.
"Special training?" Enkrid's interest was piqued, which delighted Audin. It was rare for someone to willingly follow his training regimens.
Audin's mind wandered to the past, recalling his former trainees:
"Please, spare me."
"Is today the day I finally meet the Father Above?"
"...Are you serious? You're increasing the intensity again? Let's fight instead!"
Remembering those times, he looked at Enkrid now—someone who showed not just interest but enthusiasm.
Audin couldn't deny feeling satisfaction. Enkrid was someone who moved forward with unwavering determination.
During the recent civil war, when Audin heard of Enkrid's feats, he'd been overwhelmed with awe.
"Father Above, I must ask," Audin thought, is this man your vessel, sent to purge the land of its poverty and malice?
Enkrid's deeds had been that remarkable.
When he advanced instead of retreating during the last wave of the Spectral Tide, Audin had nearly shed tears.
Especially since the enemy at the time had been a servant enthralled by a demon.
Surely, this had to be divine providence.
Clearing his thoughts, Audin said, "Physical training has no end. You've done the striking technique to harden your body like steel, right? Now, we'll focus on control."
The striking technique involved pounding one's body as if with a steel hammer. While Enkrid had been diligently practicing it, the results hadn't been overwhelmingly apparent yet.
Not that it bothered him. For Enkrid, striving daily and repeating endlessly, even without immediate results, was a way of life.
"Control?" Enkrid echoed.
He already felt adept at moving his body—spinning mid-air while wielding a sword was no small feat.
As a Semi-Knight, his skills weren't trivial. Most martial arts masters would bow their heads before him.
"If you can't command every fiber of your muscles at will, how can you call your body your own?" Audin said.
Fel, listening nearby, blinked a few times.
"Is this kind of training even necessary?"
As a natural genius, Fel found it odd. Such skills typically came naturally with practice, not through explicit training.
However, Rem and Ragna had no doubts. Their commander's eccentricities were numerous, after all.
Even the trick Enkrid had mentioned earlier—pausing mid-slash and then thrusting—was something Rem could already do.
But not Enkrid.
Audin, observing Enkrid's body and movements, knew exactly what the man needed. With greater precision in his swordsmanship, Enkrid's abilities could transcend trickery and reach the level of divine skill.
What was essential now was ensuring his body could endure it—so that executing movements envisioned in his mind would feel effortless.
While natural for those hailed as geniuses, such things didn't come easily to Enkrid.
"Fine," Enkrid said.
Of course, he didn't care about any of that. All he cared about was having something new to train.
That evening, back at Border Guard, Enkrid began his training.
Two days later, a blacksmith arrived from the capital.
The blacksmith wasn't just anyone. Known as "Iron and Gold," he was second to none in his guild.
"Not just anyone can handle Black Gold Steel," he said.
Though sent at the king's behest, the task of crafting a weapon for a hero who saved the kingdom had taken precedence over all else.
Enkrid had allowed anyone to take whatever gift they wanted, keeping only a legendary sword for himself.
The moment he gripped the famed blade, Aker, Enkrid knew: This is my sword.
When he voiced his rare sentiment, Rem quipped, "That's how it always feels when you grab something expensive and good."
He wasn't wrong. Whether it was a Silversteel blade or one forged from Valerian Steel, they always felt like they belonged to him.
In any case, Aker was an enchanted weapon once wielded by a knight of legend. Its name was derived from that knight, making it all the more satisfying.
"I'll take the Lewian Steel Ingot," Rem said, eyeing the material greedily.
Ragna claimed the Black Gold Steel without hesitation. "I'll take this."
"Go ahead," Enkrid said. He had no reason to object.
"You're not planning to sell it, are you?" Krais asked, watching the exchange.
Everyone ignored him.
Why would they sell it?
This was a group that didn't concern itself with coins.
Krais felt a pang of regret.
While selling Aker wasn't an option, the Lewisian Steel Ingot or Black Gold Steel could easily fund the establishment of a high-end salon in the capital.
"No, I could get even more if I sold it myself."
Despite his frustration, he couldn't complain.
This was their rightful reward for their deeds.
As for the blacksmith, he now had to deal with Rem and Ragna.
"Lewisian Steel can be used to craft spear shafts reinforced with Ironwood. With a proper spearhead, it would make a peerless weapon."
"Make it an axe," Rem said.
"But axes have a heavier head than shaft, so if it's too light—"
"Make it solid. About this long," Rem said, spreading his arms. "And make two of them."
The blacksmith studied him. Looking into Rem's eyes, he saw the playful face of a savage.
He didn't seem stubborn but looked like someone who would lash out if crossed.
Deciding to set Rem aside, the blacksmith turned to Ragna.
"Black Gold Steel is best used for daggers or as an alloy for blade tips. A single ingot could make twenty daggers or over thirty spear heads."
"A greatsword," Ragna said. "About this big."
He showed no interest in compromise.
"I'll wrap the handle with this Manticore hide," he added.
The blacksmith met Ragna's gaze and saw a man entirely unwilling to listen.
"This guy's not normal either," he thought.
His apprentice, watching from the side, grew concerned.
The blacksmith, notorious for his fiery temper, had always demanded respect for his advice.
But now, he relented. "Fine."
"Master?" the apprentice asked in shock.
"Stoke the fire."
The apprentice obeyed, pumping the borrowed forge's bellows.
The blacksmith quietly stared at the flames. While his ideas had been dismissed, this was still a challenge worth his full effort.
Crafting a Black Gold greatsword and a solid Lewian Steel axe wasn't easy—it required everything he had.
When else would he get such an opportunity?
And so, he poured his heart and soul into his work.
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