"Mr. Tantun..."
"Mr. Tantun..."
"Yes."
"We agreed it'd just be the two of us going to the blacksmith, right...?"
"That's right."
Mu Yeon grumbled as she pointed a finger at the figure standing next to me.
"So why is this one here?!"
Even as Mu Yeon openly mocked her, Asti just gave her a blank glance, her expression utterly emotionless, like she had no idea what was going on.
Hmm. What could I say?
She's actually an assassin maid, but she doesn't really want to kill me—though if I leave her alone, she might change her mind.
I couldn't exactly say that out loud, so I just forced a smile.
Seeing my reaction, Mu Yeon let out a sigh and turned her gaze forward again.
She probably couldn't bring herself to tell me to leave Asti—who'd been illegally kidnapped and raised solely as a slave—by herself. Sorry, Mu Yeon! I'll buy you a meal next time.
And just like that, with no further conversation, we arrived at the blacksmith under Mu Yeon's guidance.
Unlike the other modern-style buildings, this one had a distinctly different design. Its walls were made of rough cement and gravel stones. A flat roof extended all the way to the front entrance, as if rain was the least of its concerns. Nearly rectangular in shape. Everything about it screamed "blacksmith" with its rugged, no-nonsense vibe.
One thought crossed my mind as I took it in.
...It's smaller than I expected.
Vice Captain and Mu Yeon had hyped it up so much that I'd imagined something grand, but it felt more like a hole-in-the-wall shop run by a grandpa as a hobby in some rural backwater.
"It's a bit small since the artisan works alone. But for a one-man operation, it's actually on the larger side."
Mu Yeon must have read my expression, because she explained it away like a spokesperson.
Fair enough. In a world where people set up shop with just an anvil on the street and call themselves blacksmiths, this wasn't weird at all. And usually, the shabbier the exterior, the more legit the place.
Mu Yeon approached the blacksmith first and knocked lightly on the door.
"Uncle, you there?"
Uncle? Was she close with the blacksmith here?
Her voice echoed, and after a long silence, the faint sound of shuffling footsteps came from inside—like someone dragging their feet.
The door swung open without a word.
Beyond it stood an old man, hunched over, his head covered by a hood that hid most of his face.
One thing was clear: his twisted smirk screamed dissatisfaction.
His eyes from under the hood fixed on me. That piercing gaze—even I, who never flinched at Outer Gods (mostly because they all looked like cute girls to me)—couldn't help but tense up.
His scrutinizing stare lingered for a moment before he looked away.
"...Where'd you drag in another scrawny weakling from?"
"Hehe, he wants to get a weapon made here."
"A weapon? Hah."
His voice was gravelly and worn. He clicked his tongue in disbelief and turned his back on us.
"I told you I don't make weapons for talentless braggarts full of hot air."
His venomous jab hit me out of nowhere, and my eyes went wide.
Ugh. He was already giving off that vibe of the stubborn old artisan from a dark fantasy world— the kind of character added to make the setting feel fresh and gritty.
"No, he's not like that! Mr. Tantun... he took down two Greater Outer Gods."
"That spindly little twerp?"
The old man spat his insult casually, still looking displeased, but he glanced at Mu Yeon and gestured us inside, apparently deciding to let it slide for now.
"Get in here first."
As I moved to enter the blacksmith, Mu Yeon came close.
"Don't take it personally, Mr. Tantun. Uncle Simtol's disappointed a lot because knights don't use the weapons he makes properly."
...Knights who don't use weapons properly.
Suddenly, I remembered the day we went after the Gardener—the Hunter going rogue, Agartha fleeing, and the knights who died because of it.
Yeah, if he'd made weapons for guys like that, it'd be weird if he didn't feel empty about it.
Empathizing with the blacksmith's plight, I stepped inside.
The moment we stepped inside, a acrid stench assaulted my nose, making my face scrunch up involuntarily.
I wasn't the only one—Asti, following behind, was outright pinching her nose shut.
Maybe I should play it cool and not show it... But that seemed to irk Simtol, who shot Asti a dirty look.
"And who's that?"
"...I am the m..."
I clamped my hand over Asti's mouth before she could spout her usual nonsense.
You lunatic! Saying that here would get us excommunicated on the spot!
"Sh-she's a lost kid I'm looking after."
"...Fine, whatever. Can't help it if it's a child."
With my quick cover for Asti, I watched Simtol's expression soften unexpectedly.
More generous to kids than I thought. He didn't seem like a total hardass deep down.
The inside of the blacksmith was surprisingly simple, unlike the rugged exterior. A single anvil, a roaring forge belching flames, tools for weapon-making hanging everywhere, and a haphazard display of weapons that barely qualified as an "exhibit."
It was all set up for pure efficiency—just what he needed and nothing more. The vibe of a seasoned pro was already wafting off it.
"Um, Uncle. Could you maybe make a weapon for me?"
"Make what? Just grab any one of these."
Simtol gestured dismissively at the weapons strewn about.
They all looked usable, but at a glance, they were in rough shape—way different from Mu Yeon's pristine armor, and not in a good way.
"Uncle..."
"What do I got to go on to make a weapon for some nobody I don't trust?"
"You made one for me."
"That was 'cause you remind me of your old man."
I worried his bluntness might hurt Mu Yeon, but she just stuck to him like it was routine.
"Come on, Uncle. Just this once."
"Hey now, what's with the stubbornness today, girl?"
I couldn't just stand there watching Mu Yeon beg for me like that. To show I wasn't like those other knights, I steeled my gaze and approached Simtol.
Due to his hunched back, he had to crane his neck way up to look at me.
"What? Gonna threaten me now?"
"...I need your weapons. To save more people—no, this whole empire."
Simtol's face went slack with disbelief.
Time to push a step further.
"My goal is to bring down the Frost Giant of the Snow Mountains."
"...?"
I caught a flicker in Simtol's eyes.
This was my one shot to convince him.
"The Frost Giant is incredibly strong. Even beating a Common Outer God would be impossible for fake knights play-acting. That's why I'm asking you to make me a weapon. I'm still sorely lacking now, but I came here seeking a weapon that will grow with me."
With that, I dropped to one knee before Simtol.
Mu Yeon panicked, waving her hands as if to say it wasn't necessary, but I didn't stop.
I had to get stronger from here on out. Relying solely on the Party Flute had its limits. It was best saved for decisive moments to overpower foes. In the end, I needed proper martial skills—and for that, a better weapon.
"If you make me a weapon, I'll treasure it. I won't let your effort go to waste."
That was my final plea.
If this didn't work, we were done here.
Simtol just stared at me blankly.
How much time passed?
A deep sigh echoed, and Simtol shuffled off somewhere.
Guess it didn't work.
Feeling disappointed as I watched him go, he suddenly turned back, frowning.
"What're you standing around for? Follow me."
He grumbled curtly and kept walking.
...Don't be shy about it, old man.
A bit embarrassed, I twisted my lips and trailed after him.
Simtol led us to the basement beneath the blacksmith.
As we descended the stairs, the heat grew more intense for some reason.
We reached the bottom and opened the door—and I froze at the sight.
Something resembling Ria in appearance, but unlike her, its body was made of fire, shooting flames upward.
High chance it was Outer God-related.
"The forge fire upstairs comes from this little guy too."
Simtol smirked as he said it.
That explained the steady, unwavering flames.
But why the hell was this here?
"Lesser Outer Gods can pop up anywhere. In your knights' terms, they're like fragments broken off from Greater Outer Gods. No idea how it happened, but it showed up underground back when I was in my prime, and I've been raising it since."
Wasn't this treason-level stuff? Execution waiting to happen?
"What? You think I'm crazy enough to hide it? I reported it to the knights, of course. Princess said to keep it if I could use it for blacksmith tools, so here it is."
Simtol snapped back irritably.
No wonder Vice Captain recommended this place.
Why'd she allow it, though? Some affinity since she's fire-related too?
...Knowing the Princess's personality, yeah, that tracked.
"So why bring us here...?"
"If you really took down Greater Outer Gods, a puny thing like that shouldn't scare you."
Simtol pointed at the flame Lesser Outer God.
"Feeding time's just about now. If you can feed it yourself by hand, I'll take your request."
He said it like it was some impossible task.
Other knights would've been thunderstruck.
But my reaction?
...Too easy?
For him to cave after all that stubbornness over this?
Felt a bit like getting it handed to me, but since it was his test, I'd just do it quietly.
"...Don't push yourself. Even a knight who'd beaten a Common Outer God trembled just facing it...?"
Simtol grumbled gruffly, but his words trailed off.
Because I'd strode right up, grabbed a handful of what looked like charcoal chunks—its food—and approached without hesitation.
The flame Lesser Outer God, which had been idly spewing fire, lowered its stance warily as I got close.
"Huh? Stranger."
"Hey, wanna eat this?"
"Go away...!"
It said no, but didn't attack right away. Guess it wasn't a bad Outer God.
Outer Gods raised by humans might hesitate to bite the hand that feeds.
"Wanna go then?"
"...Huh? You understand me?"
"Yep. Here to play with you."
Recalling my chats with Lesser Outer Gods in the underground prison, I kept the conversation gentle.
Realizing we could communicate, the flame one's face lit up.
"First human who gets me!"
"Yeah, yeah. Eat this?"
"Yeah!"
Just that, and it warmed right up. How much did these things want to talk to humans?
I fed it a charcoal lump, and it chewed happily, eyes crinkling in delight.
So cute I patted its head—didn't burn unless it attacked, just a bit warmer than human body heat.
"Hee hee!"
It made adorable noises, clearly loving the attention, munching away.
If Ria was cat-like, this one started wary then melted—total puppy vibes.
I fed it chunk by chunk until it was gone, and the little guy patted its belly contentedly, leaning against the wall with a blissful look.
Everything it did was so cute; if it didn't have an owner, I'd have taken it home.
"...Ugh, my back. Elder, all done now...?"
I stretched, rubbing my back, and turned—only to find both staring oddly.
Mu Yeon looked awestruck; Simtol's expression was unreadable.
But not negative, that much was clear.
Back upstairs in the blacksmith, Mu Yeon and I stood side by side, waiting silently for Simtol's verdict.
He reverted to his stern face and headed to the anvil without a word.
Made me think maybe he'd just said it to get rid of us—time to scout other smiths?
"...A sword, then."
"...!"
The answer finally came.
I nearly jumped with excitement, but Simtol waved me off.
"Don't get cocky. The better you feel, the calmer you act—that's how you get liked anywhere."
"...Thank you!"
"Come back in a week. No charge, special."
Even free? Mu Yeon gawked at him too, but Simtol was already gathering materials.
"I keep promises. No more nosy questions—go do what you need to."
His gruff voice had never sounded so warm.
"Yes, sir."
Weapon acquisition: success.
Hit the market for info next, and today's to-do list was done.
Things were going smoother than expected—nice.
Then, a sharp metallic shing caught my ear. I glanced at Asti.
...She'd pocketed it quick, but I'd seen the knife in her hand.
"What was that."
"If that blacksmith kept stonewalling, I'd show him a lesson... Mmph."
...Tch. No, you don't.
Before Simtol noticed, I clamped Asti's mouth shut with one hand, hoisted her up, and bolted outside.
"Thanks, Uncle!"
"Told you not to get cocky."
Mu Yeon called her thanks and hurried after me.
So they didn't hear it.
"...Feels like seeing that Martial God rascal again."
Simtol's mutter.