Chapter 29
Chapter 29
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: Gran Cappadocia (2)
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The group huddled closely around Didikan. Didikan groped along the wall of the brazier before pressing firmly on a specific spot. The building vibrated faintly, and then the floor beneath the four of them began to sink slowly.
"Wh-what's this?!"
"Gek."
Marya, startled, clung to Asel. Creaking sounds echoed from all directions.
-Rumble rumble rumble...
The floor descended slowly before being completely swallowed by the walls enclosing it on all sides. Seeing their panicked expressions, Didikan burst into laughter.
"It's an elevator made with mana stones and pulleys. The fastest passage connecting to the underground forge."
"There must be other passages too, right?"
"Of course. Their locations are a secret, but there are at least dozens of them. Our biggest client is Grancia, but we get tons of requests from other customers too."
The elevator plunged deep into a pitch-black vertical shaft. Looking up, the entrance had already shrunk to the size of the moon. Only Sita's eyes glimmered like red jewels.
Clang... clang... Somewhere, the sound of metal clashing rang out.
Soon, their view opened up. A cool breeze rushed in.
"Welcome to the capital's largest forge."
Leaving the rocky passage, the elevator now descended along steel supports. The three humans' eyes widened in unison. An unimaginable sight unfolded before them.
"What... is all this...?"
It looked like a massive cavern had been hollowed out. House-sized stalactites and stalagmites protruded here and there. Glowing moss covering the cavern walls served as the light source.
Scattered throughout the cavern were five or six stone buildings sprouting like mushrooms. It felt less like a forge and more like a village.
Stocky dwarves bustled between the buildings. The underground craftsmen, dwarves. Didikan said proudly,
"Gran Cappadocia. This whole place is the forge. Most of the members are dwarves, but there are other races like me too."
In one corner of the village, bubbling lava pooled like a lake. Dwarves scooped it up in specially treated buckets.
Thud. The elevator soon stopped. Didikan looked down at the three and said,
"Alright, follow me. I'll take you to the best blacksmith. But has that old timer ended his vacation?"
Didikan perked up his ears and scanned the surroundings. He shouted toward a dwarf carrying lava in the distance.
"Hey! Is Master Doron here today?"
"Didikan, you damn thief! Was it you who stole the invisibility enchantment scroll? You're not up to some nonsense with invisible armor again, are you?!"
The dwarf snapped immediately. The three turned to stare at Didikan simultaneously. Didikan held up a finger to his lips for a moment before shouting again.
"No way! Is Master Doron here or not?!"
"How should I know! His vacation's over, so he's probably parked at his usual spot!"
The dwarf stormed off, huffing. The lava buckets in his hands sloshed precariously. Didikan grinned and turned back.
"See? His vacation's over."
"You think differently from the other blacksmiths, huh?"
"Obviously. I don't deny our old folks are legendary masters, but still water stagnates. We have to strive to develop better techniques."
Didikan nodded with a resolute expression. Ronan was starting to like this furry guy. Following Didikan, the group stopped in front of a massive cubic building.
"This is... quite an odd shape."
Ronan shook his head. The stone cube's surface was so smooth not even a fly could land on it.
He couldn't even guess how it had been made. A long chimney stretched from the top to the ceiling. Didikan boasted,
"Genius, right? Master Doron made it when he was young. About four hundred years ago, I think."
Asel gasped.
"F-four hundred years?"
"Yeah. Probably the oldest dwarf living in the capital."
Considering dwarves' average lifespan of around three hundred years, it was truly astonishing.
The cube had no windows, just a large front door. The moment Didikan opened it, a wave of red light poured out toward the four.
"Argh! My eyes!"
"H-hot!"
"Eek!"
Ronan covered his eyes with his hand. The light was hot enough to scorch faces.
Nothing was visible in the red glow. Didikan took a deep breath and shouted toward the light's source.
"Master Doron!! We have customers!!"
The light and heat faded. Ronan lowered his hand. A chaotic yet bizarre scene came into view.
"What is all this?"
The forge looked like a nest woven from weapons instead of branches. Spears, swords, daggers, polearms... weapons of every type filled the rectangular space.
At the center of the steel nest sat a large, pure white anvil. In front of it stood a round, rice-ball-like figure holding a hammer.
"Customers?"
The rice ball looked up. An extremely small dwarf. His curly white beard covered everything but his eyes.
The dwarf called Doron spoke.
"Must be some promising customers, Didikan, for you to bring them straight to me."
"Yeah, if it weren't for this kid's armor, I'd be crippled. It was a sword unlike any I've ever seen."
Didikan pointed at Ronan with a grin. Doron limped toward him.
"Let me see it."
Doron silently snatched Ronan's black iron sword. Seeing the half-broken blade, he sighed.
"Didikan. Is this kid really my customer?"
"Huh?"
"What is this... carrying trash around calling it a sword."
Doron tossed the black iron sword over his shoulder without a word. It melted into black slag in the massive brazier.
"Master. What the hell..."
"You too. Hand yours over."
"Eek?!"
Doron inspected Marya and Asel's weapons in turn. Sighing repeatedly, he threw them into the brazier. Watching their two swords and staff melt, Asel and Marya screamed.
"M-my, my staff!"
"What are you doing?!"
Ronan let out a hollow laugh. Spotting a short sword on the floor, he picked it up.
"Looks like four hundred years in a tunnel made mold grow in your brain."
Ronan strode toward Doron. The black iron sword was ruined anyway, but the others had been perfectly fine. Doron spoke.
"Perfect timing. Since you've got a sword, swing it."
"What?"
"You young ones going deaf already? Swing it at the air if you want."
Doron clicked his tongue impatiently. Ronan glared at Didikan with killing intent.
Didikan waved his hands frantically, signaling no malice. Calming his anger, Ronan sighed.
"Ha... fine."
"Good, now..."
Before Doron finished, Ronan's hand vanished from sight. It was the first form of Imperial swordsmanship from his first lesson.
The blade stopped vertically right before Doron's eye. Whoosh! The delayed air-splitting sound echoed. Asel and Marya covered their mouths.
"Kyaa!"
"Ro-Ronan! What!"
It was close enough that the cornea could have been sliced by the wind pressure. If Doron had leaned forward even a hair, he'd be blind. But Doron's expression didn't change a bit.
"This is..."
"How's that?"
Ronan was the flustered one now. He glanced rapidly between Doron and the sword he'd just swung. Doron placed hands on his hips.
"That's what a sword is."
Ronan was speechless. It was on another level from anything he'd swung before. The trajectory was stable beyond words, like drawing with a ruler, and the balance perfect.
And this was just something picked up at random. Hundreds, thousands of such masterpieces lay scattered. Ronan gently set the short sword down.
"...I have to admit it."
"Same here."
"What?"
"Didikan. Where'd you find this monster? Definitely my customer!"
Doron shouted excitedly. Didikan, watching their reactions, sighed in relief.
"I told you. The real deal."
"One more time? Here, with this."
Doron handed Ronan a longsword. Without protest, Ronan demonstrated a second strike.
This time, Naviroje's spinning sword. Slash! The trajectory sliced the air incomparably smoother than usual. Doron tilted his head.
"Hmm? Familiar swordsmanship... friend of that Naviroje girl?"
"Friend? You know Instructor Naviroje?"
"Of course. Instructor, though? Have my old ears finally given out?"
"No, she's an instructor at Phileon Academy."
Doron's eyes widened. Stroking his beard several times, he chuckled lowly.
"Heh heh, stuck in this tunnel for centuries, my sense of time's dulled. Feels like yesterday I made her sword."
"That greatsword? The ridiculously wide and long one."
"Yes. Flying Sword Urusa. One of the masterpieces in my top ten lifetime works."
Doron recounted making Naviroje's greatsword. He said he'd only accepted after checking all her swordsmanship and even her aura.
"Not just Urusa. Grancia Duke's sword Pale Lord, former Imperial Knight Commander Aston's spear Escamone—I made those too. Ah, my brain's finally turning again."
"So you make weapons tailored to each individual?"
"Exactly. Every warrior fights differently, so naturally handles weapons differently. Girl, you try swinging one."
"Me?"
Marya pointed at herself. She shrugged once, then picked up two short swords similar to her old ones.
"...Alright, here goes?"
Doron nodded silently. Slash! Her signature whirlwind sword evoked a gust, carving the air. After about twenty swings, Marya's eyes widened.
"Wow... what are these swords? Seriously, no really good."
Her reaction mirrored Ronan's earlier. Never had she held weapons so light yet perfectly balanced. Doron eyed her arms with interest.
"Much stronger than she looks."
"Th-thank you... by any chance, planning to sell these scattered weapons? Our merchant group could..."
"Girl. Short swords aren't for you."
"Huh?"
Doron shook his head. Digging through the pile, he pulled out a greatsword. Smaller than what 2nd-year Braum used, but hefty enough.
"Th-this? For me?"
"Yes. Give it a swing."
Marya gripped the hilt with a dazed look. Unfamiliar with greatswords, she struggled.
"Hng...!"
Finally in position, she swung. Whoosh! The crisp slash tore the air. Ronan whistled, impressed.
"Oho. Definitely."
"Get it now?"
Ronan nodded. Her form was awkward without proper training, but the speed and stability outclassed dual swords by miles.
Marya was stunned too. Just a bit of practice, and it'd feel like an extension of her limbs. Ronan asked,
"Then what should I swing?"
"Type of weapon isn't your issue."
"Then?"
"Material is. Wonder how many in the world could withstand your swift strikes."
Doron groaned. Ronan's strikes were faster than any swordsman he'd seen. He rummaged through his lifetime of experience.
"Mithril after all...? No, orichalcum might be better. Do I have magnetite alloy left?"
"Price doesn't matter. Not like I'm paying anyway."
"Never cared about price to begin with. If I did, you'd go to those cheap workshops up top. Hmm... what to use. Maybe monster carapace or scales..."
'Scales?'
The word sparked a flash in Ronan's mind. He suddenly shrugged off his cloak and shook it out.
"Ro-Ronan... what are you doing?"
"Hold on. I definitely kept it..."
From the cloak's eight-plus pockets tumbled biscuits half-eaten, crumpled socks, clinking coins... Finally finding it, Ronan grinned.
"Found it."
Ronan approached Doron, clutching his find. Doron was still muttering about materials.
"No, no. Blue wyvern scales are too rubbery. Then what..."
"Master. How about this?"
"Hm?"
Ronan extended his hand. Doron tilted his head.
Thin fragments like shards lay on Ronan's palm, black and beautiful like obsidian.
"What... is this?"
In over four hundred years as a blacksmith, he'd never seen the material. Ronan stroked Sita with a smile.
"Shell from the egg she hatched from."
"Pya."
Sita rubbed her face on Ronan's hand. Doron's eyes widened.
"Eggshell? This?"