Chapter 105
Chapter 105
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 105
Chapter Title: Primordial Forge
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* * *
“We’ve arrived!”
Hearing Eizel’s lively shout, Cheon-ho opened his eyes and huddled against the blast of cold air.
He had prepared himself for the snowy 10th floor from the start, but the chill was on another level.
“Uwaa! It’s cold! Living heater! Living heater!”
Lucille made a huge fuss as she clung to Silikiel.
Cheon-ho first took in their surroundings. The magic circle was indoors, but a massive hole gaped in the cavern’s ceiling, letting the frigid air pour in unchecked.
“The heroes and angels who arrived first should be here.”
Saschiell said.
The elite mid-layer group handpicked by the Goddess of Healing to find the Primordial Forge.
What kind of people were they?
How strong were they?
Cheon-ho’s heart raced. Strictly speaking, this would be his second time meeting heroes summoned from other worlds, but Lucille had to be counted as an exception. She had been far too young.
But this time was different.
These were the elites selected by the Goddess of Healing, so both the heroes and angels would be seasoned veterans brimming with experience.
“Ah! They’re coming!”
Eizel shouted again, and Cheon-ho and the others turned toward where she pointed.
“Aaah! Aaaah!”
At what looked like the cavern’s entrance, a figure draped haphazardly in animal hides—impossible to tell if man or woman—let out a loud cry.
Hearing the voice, more figures clad just as haphazardly in beast pelts emerged one after another.
They soon spotted Cheon-ho’s group and rushed over without a moment’s hesitation.
They all cried out desperately in unison.
“F-Food!”
“Something to drink!”
“Anything to eat?!”
“E-Even bread crumbs!”
Their faces, caked in grime from lack of washing, clearly belonged to people who hadn’t eaten in days.
Men, women, angels—no distinction—reeking to high heaven.
It was only natural, really.
To avoid monsters’ eyes, they had stuck to remote backwaters even monsters shunned. And camping out every night without fail would turn even the most seasoned traveler into a beggar.
Cheon-ho’s group, bathing in warm water daily, doing laundry, sleeping in beds while traveling—that was the abnormality.
“Hmm.”
Facing these pitiful souls who couldn’t even greet him before begging for food, Cheon-ho calmed his pounding heart for the moment.
Connected as they were, Mitra noticed his shift first and chuckled.
[My liege, expectations only breed disappointment.]
“Indeed.”
Cheon-ho gave a wry smile and raised both hands.
“Understood. But first, let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Cleaned up?”
“Bathe?”
As the pitiful ones looked baffled, Cheon-ho gave a glance, and Lucille smiled as she pulled out bathtubs.
Several desk-sized tubs.
The pitiful ones’ eyes went wide. But the surprises were far from over.
“Now, Mitra!”
[Hoh, leave it to me.]
Mitra had adapted fully to Cheon-ho by now.
Cheon-ho hoisted Mitra high, and she gushed forth holy, warm water in a torrent.
Steam rising languidly from the tubs.
The angels swiftly erecting privacy screens with practiced hands.
“Bathe. We’ll prepare food while you do.”
Cheon-ho said, and the pitiful ones were moved. Some even teared up.
When was the last time they’d had a bath?
A bath, no less—in this freezing place—with warm water.
Their ordeals must have been severe, as even angels among them broke down weeping.
And as everyone watched warmly, Eizel wore a slightly uneasy expression.
“Um… were we like that too?”
When they first met Cheon-ho.
When they reunited with him at the midpoint between lower and middle layers.
Aurael gave an awkward smile at Eizel’s question, while Raguel said coolly,
“Worse.”
Much worse.
Everyone filed into the bathhouse, and Cheon-ho personally started grilling meat on the hot plate.
And about an hour later.
Raguel had to take back her words.
Because the earlier arrivals reacted even more intensely than Eizel had.
“Gulp♥”
It was a combination beyond imagination.
* * *
[You have become Angel Trainer Lv3.]
[Ally of Angels Lv6 experience gained.]
Chapter 12? Primordial Forge
Long, long ago.
Back when the history of the Labyrinth World had only just begun.
The five goddesses gathered in one place.
Myths are tales of the gods.
Records of the gods.
Thus, they are exaggerated, embellished, beautified, and dramatized as a matter of course.
The myths angels could access were fabricated ones.
The myths humans could access were even more fabricated.
But there were those who could access the complete records.
Not even the five goddesses themselves, but the world itself—the Labyrinth World—remembered their stories.
The five goddesses in the myths were radiant, great, beautiful, and awe-inspiring, as befitted the goddesses who guided the Labyrinth World. But the truth was a bit different.
They were certainly beautiful and great beings, but on that day the Labyrinth World remembered, during that gathering, things weren’t going so well.
The five goddesses faced each other with exhausted, weary expressions.
Even the myths didn’t claim the five were always harmonious. Discord, rivalry, jealousy, hatred—all those emotions mixed among them too.
But they were mostly fleeting, and even hatred was laced with love.
Eons bound the five goddesses. In mortal terms, they were thick as thieves, full of that sour affection.
Like siblings, brothers, lifelong friends—they might fight and resent each other at times, but eternal hatred was impossible.
Of course, time wasn’t the only bond between the five goddesses.
They shared one more thing in common, beyond being goddesses.
The Labyrinth World loved stories. It loved remembering them, but telling them even more.
Thus, its tales were generously full—lavishly meandering, if unkindly put.
So those delving into the world’s memories had to keep their wits about them. Only then could they read the story they sought in full.
That day’s gathering had no formal host. It was simply the periodic meeting day.
Evnail, Goddess of War, furrowed her brow as she spoke of the monsters.
There were too many monsters in the Labyrinth World. But Evnail lacked soldiers, and weapons too.
The real Evnail, unlike her mythic image, was quite talkative.
Like venting, she listed their shortages one by one.
“I’m at the point where I need a weapon for myself right now.”
She glanced at the sword at her waist—the one from her homeland, still her most treasured possession—but it had never been anything special to begin with.
Of course, compared to weapons in the Labyrinth World, it was god-tier without question.
“Sharpen it on a whetstone. Get a good edge, and it’ll do. Want me to do it? I’m surprisingly good at that.”
Teresia, Goddess of Sky, grinned. In myths, she was the benevolent, embracing goddess; in reality, a touch airheaded with an embracingly ample figure.
Evnail knew better than anyone there was no malice, but she scowled anyway.
“If a whetstone could fix it, I wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Tch, Evn’s such a complainer.”
As Teresia pouted, Evnail closed her eyes and growled to vent, while Eos, Goddess of Dawn—seated beside her—placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Be patient, you who are at least a little clever.”
“Wait, ‘a little’?”
“Put your hand on your heart and think.”
“Tch, I’m not that dumb.”
Eos, Evnail, Eos again, Teresia—the banter flew.
Aiter, Goddess of the Sun, sighed at the three. She didn’t hate their chatter, but lately she’d been too worn out.
Aiter twirled a few tousled golden locks, frayed from sleep deprivation, and turned aside.
“What do you think?”
The question was for the goddess who existed only in myths, rarely depicted in action.
In the mythic account of that gathering, the fifth goddess merely kept silent.
But the Labyrinth World’s memory told a slightly different tale.
The fifth goddess turned to Aiter, who swallowed dryly without thinking.
Aiter didn’t dislike the fifth goddess.
Strip away all prejudice and preconceptions, and she actually leaned toward liking her.
But Aiter always found the fifth goddess intimidating.
The fifth goddess gazing at Aiter was beautiful.
Truth be told, all five gathered there were breathtakingly beautiful, as the Labyrinth World remembered, but hers was a different kind.
Chaste.
No, hard to capture in one word.
And Aiter’s intimidation wasn’t just from her beauty.
“Let’s make a forge.”
The fifth goddess said.
It was a gentle voice. No one voiced it, and she showed no sign, but all five knew.
That she was their leader.
That she guided them.
“A forge? Can we even do that?”
Evnail said doubtfully, glancing around.
As if asking if anyone knew forge work.
Evnail was well-versed in combat to claim the Goddess of War title, but fighting well and smithing were worlds apart.
“I don’t know.”
“No one expects you to.”
“Ugh, Evn’s mean.”
As Teresia puffed her cheeks, Evnail turned to Eos. The scholar frowned.
“I’ve read about it in books, but just read.”
A bookworm through and through.
Evnail looked to Aiter next, who shrugged instead of answering.
The mage had never even entered a forge.
But she agreed a forge was needed.
And she didn’t think the fifth goddess would suggest it without a plan, as always.
The other goddesses thought the same. Four pairs of eyes turned to the fifth.
The fifth goddess smiled gently.
“I don’t know much either. But we can trial and error. No one starts out perfect, right?”
“Right, right.”
Teresia cooed, hugging the fifth goddess like a child. Evnail snorted.
“You mess up even after trying multiple times.”
“No I don’t? Evn always picks on me!”
Teresia stuck out her tongue carelessly, then buried her face in the fifth goddess’s chest.
Just wanting to act spoiled, it seemed.
The fifth goddess stroked Teresia’s head as if soothing a child and continued.
“Let’s borrow the strength of the Labyrinth World’s people too. Surely some have talent for forge work.”
“Well, yeah. Everything we’ve done so far was trial and error anyway.”
Eos shrugged and glanced at Aiter.
A look urging her to decide.
The fifth goddess softly led the five, but outwardly, Aiter was the leader—and always sealed the tales.
Instead of answering right away, Aiter glanced at the fifth. She was gently petting Teresia’s head.
‘Should I say no?’
A fleeting impulse. But she thought better of it. Saying no wouldn’t faze the fifth; it’d just make Aiter seem obstructive.
“Alright, let’s do it.”
Aiter’s agreement made it so, as always.
Evnail grinned like Teresia.
“Heh, a forge.”
Evnail was ex-knight. No forge experience, but endless interest in what came out of one.
Teresia shot her hand up.
“Hey hey, since we’re making one, let’s make it special. Pool our powers!”
Combine the five goddesses’ divinity.
Eos nodded quietly in agreement, while Evnail chided Teresia for stating the obvious.
Aiter looked to the fifth again.
The fifth met her eyes and nodded.
Her gaze chaste and gentle, as ever.
The myth goes on like this afterward.
The five goddesses pooled their power to create the forge.
Teresia, Goddess of Sky and Earth, gathered the finest metals, stone, and wood from the land for materials.
Evnail, Goddess of War, built the forge; Eos, Goddess of Dawn, refined iron with starlight and moonlight to forge the anvil.
Aiter, Goddess of the Sun, finished it. She tore a piece from the sun to kindle the furnace’s eternal flame.
That place became the Primordial Forge.
Where the goddesses’ divine tools—and the Holy Sword Mitra—were born.
* * *
There’s a saying: the original stays unchanged.
Watching angels and heroes wolf down food before him, Cheon-ho recalled it.
Once scrubbed clean, the beggar-like somethings turned into pretty, refined angels.
Likewise, a washed hero regained godlike dignity from a simple bath.
“Cough cough! W-Water!”
“Here you go, hero.”
“Gulp gulp.”
Even if the god choked cramming food, the angel beside mumbled with puffed cheeks, and the nameless hero ignored them to shove in more meat.
Dramatic before-and-after, regardless.
“Hmm, we weren’t that bad, right?”
Eizel looked up anxiously at Cheon-ho, who smiled demurely.
“Worse.”
“Eek, Hero’s too honest.”
Eizel pouted as if to say too much, but facts were facts.
“...It’s weird to say, but it’s kinda nostalgic.”
Lucille murmured softly, and Cheon-ho nodded.
The journey flashed back.
[Hmm, they might lick the grill clean.]
How many days had they fasted?
“Feed them first.”
As Father always said, we eat to live in the end.
Cheon-ho kept grilling steadily, while Lucille—now seated among the angels and heroes instead of their group—chowed down with chopsticks. Her pace rivaled theirs.
‘She’s good with chopsticks.’
Did the demon world, her homeland, have chopstick culture too?