Chapter 111
Chapter 111
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: Rhythm Game
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Black Cloud's Instant Kill or Dark Cloud's Harvest.
Both were powers that didn't exist in the original story, manifesting only within my unique trait of turn-based combat.
So why had I assumed this mysterious power applied exclusively to battles?
Now there was no room for doubt. This power had been granted solely because I needed it.
Perhaps White Paper and Holy Radiance—even Luna's Star Fate—had been unlocked in the same way.
"The anvil's right there, and iron's scattered everywhere. Well then, shall we watch the genius swordsman's hammering skills?"
Eneedor said mockingly, arms crossed.
Instead of replying, I pulled out a random piece of metal tonged haphazardly from the forge.
I gripped the hammer confidently, but...
'What the hell do I even do?'
Truth be told, I knew next to nothing about metallurgy. Swinging a sword was intuitive enough, but a hammer? I had no clue where to start, so I stood there blankly staring at the anvil, hammer in hand.
That's when my vision rippled, and red heat haze rose over the metal's surface.
At the same time, blue haze shimmered on the hammerhead.
'...No way?'
I swung the hammer down toward the red haze.
Clang!
The hammer bounced back with a pathetic ring, denting one corner of the metal.
[Weak!]
A weak point burst.
'Crazy...'
I realized it instantly.
I was in combat with the metal right now.
Hammer strikes were my turns. The recoil vibrating up my arm when the hammer hit was the metal's turn—the enemy's counterattack.
That last strike had been abysmal.
But I had definitely hit the weak point.
What happened in battle when you struck a weak point?
'An extra turn triggers.'
Eneedor wore a see-for-yourself expression, but I ignored him and raised the hammer again.
My turn once more.
This time, I held back my strength.
I timed the rippling blue haze to plunge into the weak point I'd lodged in the previous turn.
Kaaang!
[Weak!]
A clear, crisp ring unlike before echoed as the hammer sank deep into the metal.
The shock that should have traveled up my arm vanished again, instead channeling all that force into deforming the metal.
"......!"
Eneedor's eyebrows twitched, his arms still crossed.
Meanwhile, the red haze on the metal shifted positions. The weak point had moved.
'Right. If it's an enemy, of course it'd maneuver.'
Unless I distributed my striking force evenly, no proper item would result.
My turn.
Kaaang!
[Weak!]
Kaaang!
[Weak!]
'Is this the feeling? Not bad.'
Rhythmically hammering down felt just like playing a rhythm game.
The opponent wasn't a beast but an inanimate object. Sure, there was a counter, but no damage came my way.
Thanks to that, I could unilaterally pummel the metal, chaining my turns endlessly.
How much time passed?
The metal's original shape vanished, revealing something vaguely sword-like, hammered to a sharp edge.
Not quite a sword, but satisfying enough for a first try.
Just as Eneedor said, a vague premonition hit me mid-hammering.
'I'll have to craft my ultimate weapon myself.'
No idea what materials or when, but a hazy sense that I absolutely had to.
I held the metal out to Eneedor.
"Can this pass for now?"
Eneedor took it and stayed silent for a while.
A moment later.
"Elieor."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
"Close the workshop."
Deep creases formed at Eneedor's mouth.
"From today, you're not leaving this place."
⁎⁎⁎
Showing off my hammering in front of Eneedor had been a mistake.
I realized it less than ten minutes after finishing my first piece.
I'd thought turn-based combat would make smithing a breeze, but unfortunately, no.
The first one must've been luck, because the haze vanished the instant I botched the force distribution.
Sweat poured in the forge's heat, and the unfamiliar tools strained my muscles quickly.
My hammer strikes on the metal started missing more as time dragged on.
But the biggest problem was...
"Again!"
Was Eneedor secretly an instructor in a past life?
He treated me like some prodigy blacksmith he'd discovered, working me mercilessly without rest.
Scraps from ruined forgings got collected by Eneedor and tossed back in the forge.
Moments later, fresh metal popped onto the anvil like infinite refills.
Fuck, for real.
Around the time terror crept in that I might job-change from swordsman to artisan...
'Yawn.'
The middle-aged man's yawn signaled the end of my unwanted smithing boot camp.
'That's it for today. Workshop at 7 a.m. tomorrow.'
'......'
Obviously, I wasn't going.
By the time I slipped out, night had fully fallen over the city.
Still, the cool summer breeze as I exited soothed my overheated body.
Two figures waited at the entrance.
"Good work."
"See? I knew strutting around like a genius would lead to trouble sooner or later."
I never called myself a genius.
I shut my mouth before grumbling.
Seeing them wait outside softened me up somehow.
Remembering I'd skipped dinner soured my mood again, but luckily, they'd bought me snacks.
As I headed out lightheartedly, I spotted a shadowy figure stirring in a side room of the workshop.
"That's..."
"Oh. Elieor Work's lab, apparently. He calls it a training room, though."
I'd seen Elieor sneak out during my special training.
Still, a greeting was in order.
"Come in."
The moment I opened the lab door, a starkly different atmosphere unfolded from the workshop.
Faint oil scent permeated the space, mingled with acrid gunpowder notes here and there.
Workbenches held neatly arranged ore samples and metal parts resembling gun barrels.
This felt less like metalworking and more like crafting modern machinery.
Beside Elieor, grunting at the bench, lay his signature weapon: the mana gun.
The shards slotted into it were all level 3 or higher—who knew where he'd gotten them.
'No wonder he calls it a training room.'
Elieor's training was modding the mana gun and crafting ammo.
In the original, Elieor was like the poster child for small hexagon characters.
As the sole gun user, swapping bombs let him fill any party role.
Thus, DPS, heals, even buffer and tank—early game, he was top-tier.
Communities even joked, "1. Just add Elieor."
But veteran players knew what "small hexagon" implied.
'A jack-of-all-trades, master of none.'
Late-game DPS got outshone by most characters, heals by Mine, buffers by Alicia, tanks by Eugene.
Naturally, he got cut from parties—a tragic fate.
Even the devs acknowledged it, yanking him from combat in the finale to make him a weapon-crafting NPC.
His gun use stemmed from his base abilities lagging behind others.
Yet his dungeon-conquering drive outstripped everyone.
His mother had died fighting beasts on the front lines.
Elieor didn't even glance up as we entered.
Not just me—Luna and Adelrin got the cold shoulder too. A far cry from his daytime fidgeting.
"What're you doing?"
"...Gun maintenance. Gotta prep for the next dungeon over break."
Elieor asked,
"So, how was Father's smithing?"
"...Thought I was gonna die."
"Heh. Told ya. He works you brutal—stay sharp. That fist hurts like hell if it lands clean."
He even punches?
My resolve to skip tomorrow solidified.
Still, the Elieor who used to stutter around celebs showed no such tic while tinkering.
He even added,
"Do good. Father's rarely this passionate teaching anyone. Who knows? You might inherit the Work Workshop."
I'd tiptoed around the sensitive topic, but he brought it up himself.
Eneedor didn't seem opposed either.
'I can't inherit the Work Workshop like this!' he'd said.
I had zero interest in becoming an artisan, but Elieor might see it differently.
Might he feel threatened by this random rock rolling in to steal his spot?
"You sure you should say that?"
"Eh. Doesn't matter."
Elieor shrugged it off.
"Our paths diverge, Father's and mine."
He raised his finished mana gun toward the ceiling lamp.
Shards in the barrel cast prismatic lights scattering wildly across the bench.
"Father crafts gear for dungeon divers. Not me."
He peered down the muzzle.
"I'm going in myself to slay the Evil God."
"......"
"I'll sever the Evil God's abyss in my lifetime, whatever it takes."
Shadows darkened Elieor's face.
Artisan pride overshadowed by revenge against the Evil God, resolve to forge his own path apart from his father.
All undermined by pitiful specs.
'I wanted to fight alongside you all... but no choice. I'll pray for your victory from here. Come back anytime for repairs!'
Elieor's lonely smile at the final dungeon's entrance echoed.
Eneedor had said,
'No need to indulge Elieor's whims. Your path and his differ.'
He knew his son's ambitions.
Maybe grinding me hard in front of Elieor was a warning: 'Slacking risks losing even your current seat.'
Unfortunately, Elieor's goal matched mine.
In the epilogue's brief cutscene after the story wrapped, Elieor rose as the next Work Workshop head.
Was that truly his desired ending?
A line reflecting his solitude as peers left to hunt the Evil God?
"Yeah."
Elieor, staring down the barrel forever, suddenly shifted topics as if struck by inspiration.
"You know, I've been meaning to ask you to test something."
"Could've done it at the academy."
"...Ahem... There... it's awkward... with Her Highness around..."
"......"
"Ahem... Get it. But this is my lab—less weird here."
He pulled a round bomb from a box.
"Check this out. New weapon I developed. Think it'll work in the Evil God's Dungeon?"
He set up a dog-shaped reaction doll in the lab's reinforced corner.
Wires patched it to shards and his Abyss Core; on signal, magi swirled around it.
Magi volume like an undead dungeon mob.
"Watch."
Elieor lobbed the bomb at the doll.
KABOOOM!!
It detonated not on impact, but the instant it touched the emanating magi.
"Remote detonation?"
"Nah. Reactive bomb. Explodes on magi contact, damage scaling with emitted magi volume."
Oh.
Magi-proportional damage, basically.
"Prototype, but... you've got the most Evil God's Dungeon experience. Wonder if this power level cuts it."
Hmm.
Dungeons threw endless variables.
Might work here, flop in real combat—or vice versa.
One thing was certain.
If it truly scaled with magi, spec-lacking Elieor could meaningfully dent boss beasts.
Looking back, my fast dungeon clears hastened his expiration date.
"Be brutally honest. This is all a guy like me can do anyway."
Elieor thrashed desperately to delay that date.
"What do you think?"
Commendable guy.
So I gave him the answer he wanted.
"It'll work."
Elieor's face lit up.
"Phew... Good."
Exhaustion hit; he slumped into a chair and passed out.
Adelrin fetched a blanket, draping it over his shoulders.
Steady breathing confirmed he slept. She turned to me.
"So, think it'll really work?"
"Nah, probably not."
Instant reply.
Might've worked so far, but doubtful ahead.
Upcoming beasts would all pack thick magi barriers.
Bomb'd likely neutralize before contact.
Still, magi-scaling damage was a solid idea. Tweaks could yield something.
"Let's head back. It's late."
"Yeah. Busy from morning tomorrow, right?"
Not even close.
As we killed the lab lights and headed out...
'...Explodes on magi contact?'
Lightning struck my mind.
My gaze drifted to Luna.
"Haribal-nim?"
She tilted her head, puzzled.
Self-Magnetism.
Debuff specialist.
Damage over time.
And the original description.
'Pure mana akin to magi.'
Eh?