The Magic Crystal and the Demon's Grimoire

My next destination was the blacksmiths' quarter.

The street packed with forges rang with the raw clang of hammers. The bitter winter wind had lost much of its edge, softened by the heat rising from the open flames.

I stepped into the largest smithy. The moment I crossed the threshold, the hammering grew louder and a wave of warm air washed over me.

"Welcome!"

The man who greeted me was a mountain of muscle. Fresh from the forge, his skin still glowed red with heat.

"Could you set this magic crystal into a sword for me?"

"A magic crystal… into a sword?"

I nodded and fished the crystal from my pack. It was the size of my fist, drinking in the surrounding light and glimmering with a pale blue sheen.

"Just checking—are you a mage?"

"Who else would be walking around with a magic crystal?"

I answered while channeling mana into the stone. The crystal drank my power greedily, then began to scatter tiny starlight sparks and stir a cool breeze. Casting through it was faster than bare-handed magic, and the mana cost dropped sharply. That was exactly why I wanted it bound to a blade.

"Odd choice… forcing a crystal onto a sword."

"I'll use the sword like a staff. And if things get ugly, I'll still need a real edge."

"Hmm… fair enough. It's not impossible. Hand me the sword."

I unslung the blade from my back and passed it over. The smith turned it in his hands, admiring the workmanship.

"Ho… made from monster bone or horn, by the look of it."

He gave it a few experimental swings, then shook his head.

"Can't mount the crystal on this one. Drill a hole for the stone and the balance will be ruined."

"So I need a new sword?"

"That would be best."

I looked at the Ice Horn blade. It seemed our partnership had reached its end. I took it back with a nod.

"All right. Let's make a new one."

"Wise choice."

He headed deeper into the shop for ingots. I followed.

"Do you have any special metals?"

"Special metals?"

"Yes… how should I put it…"

"Ah. That sort of thing."

Understanding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dawned on his face. He vanished into the storeroom and returned with a palm-sized ingot that glowed with a soft, shifting light—its color changing depending on the angle.

"This what you mean? It's called Crodiom. Tough and light. Whether it qualifies as the special metal you're after, I can't say—but it's the rarest thing in my shop."

"Expensive, I take it?"

"I've heard mages never worry about money…"

While I studied the Crodiom, he launched into its virtues.

"Harder than steel, lighter than any ore under the sun. What's there to hesitate about?"

"You're not lying, are you?"

"Lie to a mage? Ha…"

He chuckled and set the ingot in my palm. It settled with a soft tap—astonishingly light.

"If you still doubt me, take it to another smithy and ask around."

I looked up and shook my head. Confidence like that didn't smell of deceit. I handed the ingot back.

"How much?"

"Forty gold a kilo. Crafting fee's another twenty."

I rummaged through my pouch. The coin from selling the carriage and horses left me solvent, but a purchase this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠large would empty my purse completely.

"Could you shave the price a little?"

"Hmm… tell you what. That sword you're carrying."

"This?"

"If you're short on coin, sell it to me. I'll give you a fair price."

"How much?"

"Ten gold."

"That's generous of you."

"Ever seen a merchant overpay?"

"Well…"

I ran my fingers along the Ice Horn blade—the first sword that had truly been mine in this world. The hesitation didn't last. A better weapon was within reach; I couldn't walk away.

"Deal. I can hand the sword over when the new one's finished, right?"

"That works."

The Crodiom needed for my sword weighed roughly one kilo. I paid for the metal on the spot; the crafting fee and the old blade would change hands on delivery day.

"Lend me the crystal a moment."

He took the magic crystal, pressed clay around it to make a mold, then returned the stone once the clay set.

"Come back in a week."

Business at the forge was finished. I bought chicken skewers and a bottle of wine from a street vendor and returned to the inn. The room was quiet—good soundproofing, as expected of a high-end place. Chewing on a skewer, I pulled out the book I had stuffed into my bag. I had been too focused on the crystal to examine it properly.

"Hmm…"

Sturdy iron chains and a cover that looked brand-new. Inside a dungeon thick with the weight of ages, only this book—and that mysterious skull—had seemed freshly made.

Clink-clank—

I gave the chains a hopeful shake. They ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠held fast. Only one solution left. I drew my sword and wrapped its edge in starlight mana. The thin blade of light could shear ordinary iron with ease. I brought it down on the chain nearest the book's edge.

Klang!

Sparks flew on impact. An instant later the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chains rattled free and the book rose into the air with them.

"Hah…!"

I stumbled back in shock. Freed of its bindings, the book flipped open of its own accord and began turning pages in a frantic blur.

Flutter-flutter-flutter—

After a long moment it wheeled toward me, drifting closer on a tide of ominous mana.

"This…"

It approached but made no further move—almost as if it were responding to my mana alone. I caught the floating volume and scanned its pages.

"Hmm…"

The script looked like wriggling worms, yet somehow I could read it. Characters I had never seen before felt as familiar as if I had studied them for years.

"S… Scathia…?"

The moment I whispered the small word written on the page, the violet mana swirling above the book began to spin. It coalesced into a strange shape in midair—something half-formed, vaguely human yet bestial.

"Who are you…?"

I slammed the book shut in alarm. The sinister mana swirling above it scattered and vanished along with the half-formed beast. I clutched my pounding chest. Years of wandering countless worlds and hoarding knowledge let me grasp, at least roughly, what this meant.

The book was a grimoire bound to something wicked, and the word I had spoken was that entity's name. A volume pulled from a dark warlock's dungeon could hardly be anything else.

I snatched up the fallen chains and wrapped the ominous grimoire tight once more.

Back at the Magic Tower, Isolin submitted the recovered dungeon core and drafted her report.

After finishing the report, Isolin prepared a gift for Ceris and waited. A full week passed before someone finally came looking for her—someone who was not Ceris.

"I read the report you wrote."

"Y-yes, sir…!"

Leoniss, a mage of the Terra faction, regarded Isolin. He had sought her out because of the unknown mage named Ceris. As an Imperial-rank battle mage, Leoniss spent his days hunting impostors who posed as mages and tracking those who had fallen into dark magic. The irregularities in Isolin's report had set him in motion.

"Your report mentions a mage called Ceris. I'm afraid no such person exists in our faction."

"I was told she was on a secret mission. Ceris is probably an alias."

"You're certain?"

"Absolutely. She used Mana Bolt—the signature spell of a battle mage."

Leoniss rubbed his forehead and pulled out a notebook.

"Describe this Ceris."

"She's a small girl. But… am I allowed to say this?"

"A small girl… If she truly is on a classified assignment, the investigation will end here."

He noted every detail Isolin provided.

Alias: Ceris. Approximately 140 cm tall. Green eyes, light-brown hair. Unusually, she carries a sword instead of a staff or wand. Last sighted in the capital of the Karuma Empire.

"Appreciate the cooperation."

Leoniss slipped the notebook into his pocket and rose from his seat.