Chapter 106
Chapter 106
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 106
Chapter Title: Duel with the Automaton
-----------------------------------------------------------------
‘Someday, I’d like to check it out.’
There were other worlds besides Phaien and Earth.
Someday—far in the future, that is—if he succeeded in saving the Labyrinth World, he wanted to travel to those other worlds too.
‘I wonder if Mitra and Lucille will come along then?’
The others might not, but those two probably would.
They were his holy sword and his angel, after all.
[My liege, what are you thinking about? It feels like something naughty.]
“No, it’s not? It’s a pure and innocent thought.”
Muttering very quietly, Cheon-ho refocused on grilling the meat.
And another hour or so passed.
Finally, the stuffed heroes and angels sprawled out with happy looks on their faces.
“Hmm, should I just put them to sleep?”
[Well, that’s not a bad idea, but shouldn’t we hear them out first?]
They’d taken the portal and it had been about two hours since arriving, but even the prince of the Primordial Forge hadn’t shown up.
Mitra had a point—they really ought to hear the story first.
Cheon-ho glanced over at the heroes and angels.
There were seven in total.
Three heroes and four angels.
Breaking it down by gender: two male heroes, one female hero, three male angels, and one female angel.
As elites who’d been active deep in the mid-layers, they were all pretty strong.
According to the list from the Goddess of Healing, the heroes’ average level was in the low 70s—higher than Rusilia’s 69—and the angels were all seasoned 5th Rank Combat Angels.
[Come to think of it, what’s your level?]
“79.”
He’d been 45 when entering the mid-layers, but he’d taken down some heavy hitters in the meantime, plus plenty of trash mobs, so he’d skyrocketed—pure power-leveling.
[Hmm, then you’re the strongest here.]
Mitra’s voice brimmed with pride. She sounded like she was grinning ear to ear, just like every time he learned a hero skill.
[Hehe, hehehe.]
Is it that great?
She hadn’t been like this when traveling with Leon.
Cheon-ho was a little worried about Mitra, but she was still cute, so he let it slide.
“Lucille, can you talk to one of them?”
“Yes, Hero. I’ll fetch Liliel.”
She was listed as the angels’ leader.
Lucille approached the one female angel among those rolling on the ground—the one with long brown hair—and spoke to her gently.
[Hmm, it’s like a junior waking up a senior in the army.]
“Then she won’t get up?”
[Possible.]
But this wasn’t a human army.
Liliel sat up right away and fluttered her four wings like Lucille.
“C-Could you help me up?”
“Yes, Senior.”
She’d eaten too much to move on her own.
Cheon-ho pretended not to notice and waited. Soon, Liliel—supported by Lucille—took a seat in front of him.
“Sorry for the late greeting. I’m Liliel, a 5th Rank Combat Angel serving Aiter. It’s an honor to meet you, Hero.”
Liliel bowed deeply with a bright smile.
She was a cute woman, blending purity and liveliness.
Her eyes on Cheon-ho were full of affection.
To her, the man who’d provided a hot bath and a feast was practically a god.
Plus, he had the titles of angels’ ally and trainer.
Like Silikiel before her, any ordinary angel couldn’t help but feel drawn to him just by looking.
Angel-exclusive pheromones, maybe.
“I’m Park Cheon-ho.”
[My liege, your mouth’s about to split.]
Mitra huffed, but no. With his leveled-up Poker Face, Cheon-ho’s expression control was near perfect.
“Liliel, can you tell me about the Primordial Forge and its guardian?”
“Of course, Hero.”
As Liliel spoke again, Lucille flinched for a moment and shifted closer to Cheon-ho, as if staking her claim.
“Hmm.”
[My liege, this time your mouth really is about to split.]
But not quite. Cheon-ho kept a calm expression.
“Please.”
“Yes, Hero.”
Liliel replied cutely, took a breath, and composed her face a bit more seriously.
“As you probably know, the forge’s guardian is blocking entry.”
“Is the guardian that strong?”
It was a bit of a foolishly obvious question, but necessary for the conversation flow.
Liliel nodded.
“Very. But it’s not just because the guardian’s strong that entry’s tough. He’s strong, sure—but he’s only one.”
The heroes and angels who’d set out to scout the Primordial Forge weren’t incompetent. They were the aces of the mid-layers’ depths.
Seven of them couldn’t handle one guardian because the fight with him was special.
“To be precise, it’s more like a trial.”
“A trial?”
“Yes, a trial.”
Liliel furrowed her brow as she continued.
* * *
The Primordial Forge lay deep underground.
There was only one passage connecting it to the surface, guarded by the protector.
The area was all snowfields, but not the forge’s entrance.
In the middle of the snowfield, like a hole punched through, snow didn’t pile up at the entrance.
Dozens of weapons were stabbed into the black ground.
Swords and spears, of course, but also axes and hammers.
In the forest of weapons stood the forge’s guardian.
The masterpiece of the Primordial Blacksmith.
The automaton Makina.
He lifted his head amid his brethren—the blacksmith’s armaments.
Counting those approaching.
“Thirteen thousand six hundred twelve…”
The number of suns risen since the Primordial Blacksmith failed to return.
Cheon-ho faced the forge’s guardian.
The Primordial Forge’s guardian was undoubtedly strong.
But not strong enough to single-handedly overpower seven foes—angels and mid-layer deep elites at that.
“We could’ve beaten him if we’d rushed together. But we couldn’t. The trial conditions wouldn’t allow it.”
Trial.
The Primordial Blacksmith was a weapon-maker.
He wished his creations to be wielded by those worthy.
Makina wasn’t just a gatekeeper. He was also a tester of qualifications.
“Defeat Makina in one-on-one combat. Using only pure weapon techniques.”
The Primordial Blacksmith was artisan and warrior both. He’d delved deeper into his weapons than anyone, gaining weapon skills rivaling his smithing.
Makina had inherited all those techniques. A notch below the blacksmith himself, but master-level or better with every weapon in that forest.
“What if we refused?”
The Primordial Blacksmith was dead.
If he were alive, defying the rules would be impossible. Even beating Makina wouldn’t matter if he refused to open the door or meet them over the violation.
But circumstances had changed. No blacksmith, and their goal was just entry—not claiming a weapon.
Liliel shook her head at Cheon-ho’s question.
“Break the rules, and the entrance seals immediately. It explodes the entrance and passage, blocking everyone out.”
Overwhelm Makina with a group assault.
Or cheat the trial somehow.
[…Fitting for the Primordial Blacksmith.]
Mitra murmured softly, recalling his stubborn, fierce side.
“Did he explain the conditions?”
“Makina did. But it doesn’t seem like a lie. There’s a matching bronze plaque at the entrance.”
Of course, both were just claims. No real proof it’d happen.
But it wasn’t a “nice if true” situation.
With the risk of sealing very real, better to take the trial.
“Embarrassing to say, but… we all failed. We could try as many times as we wanted, but it looked hopeless, so we called for reinforcements.”
Returning was tough too. They’d come to this remote spot, supplies including food running dry.
10th floor’s far east end—a backwater’s backwater. Nothing but snow. No beasts for hunting.
The empire installed a portal only because of the forge; otherwise, a barren wasteland unworthy.
“You’re our only hope, Hero.”
Liliel clasped her hands tightly, eyes pleading.
“Hmm.”
[You’re too weak to that. Heroic, though.]
Mitra grumbled softly, and Lucille unnecessarily hugged Cheon-ho’s arm.
Cheon-ho nodded.
“Let’s give it a shot.”
The duel with the automaton Makina.
Liliel’s face lit up.
* * *
Makina looked like a man.
Just shy of two meters tall. Long limbs, clad in dark blue clothes that seemed easy to move in.
Visually indistinguishable from a human. His pale face was handsome enough, with long black hair tied back in one ponytail.
Makina eyed Cheon-ho with red eyes.
Cheon-ho took a deep breath and drew Mitra.
[My liege, be careful.]
Mitra spoke lowly, activating ability share.
Cheon-ho stepped forward. Makina pulled a longsword from the many stabbed in the ground.
Cheon-ho exhaled long again. He closed his eyes slowly, steeling himself.
“Let’s go, Mitra.”
“Let us go, my liege.”
They exchanged quiet words, then kicked off the ground. Charging at Makina.
Swords clashed. One exchange led to a second, dazzling offense and defense unfolding.
“Go Hero, fighting!”
From afar, Eizel bounced and cheered. The other angels and heroes raised their voices in support.
And much farther away, others watched Cheon-ho and Makina’s duel.
* * *
The Primordial Forge was a place any weapon-user dreamed of visiting.
A treasury of armaments.
The Primordial Blacksmith’s creations—each legendary.
Thus, even before the divine artifact hunt began, the good gods led by the Goddess of Healing had sought it.
The Great Labyrinth’s evil gods wanted it too.
Just the same.
* * *
Before the duel, Cheon-ho met Mitra in the mental world.
Partly to check changes from awakening as the Solar Hero, but mostly to prepare for Makina.
Mitra hadn’t fully grown yet.
Still a girl in her early to mid-teens. Emitting sword aura like the golden-eyed woman was impossible.
But she was still Mitra.
The purest embodiment of the hero’s sword—primal, if you will—the only one who could wield it.
Mitra danced her sword dance.
Beautiful, breathtakingly so, etched in his mind.
And now, he reproduced it.
The duel with Makina differed from the Winter King’s.
No brute-force clashes, no霸道 exchanges like then. This was fluid, graceful.
Not soft, though.
Amid flowing strikes, sharp thrusts pierced through. No room for carelessness.
In the breathless exchanges, Cheon-ho recalled Leon’s words.
You’ve learned too much.
Each masterful, but no core. Scattered every which way.
Not just qi, mana, divinity.
Makina thrust.
Cheon-ho deflected with Dal Senyo Kingdom Swordsmanship, specialized in defense.
But Makina spun his body wide. Using the deflection’s momentum, a swift slash followed. Normally, the big motion would expose a gap, but terrifying speed nullified it.
Cheon-ho unleashed Imperial Swordsmanship learned from Mitra. Based on Leon’s, it was forceful from start to finish. He stood like a pillar, blocking the slash head-on.
The swords rang.
Mitra’s blade hummed violently. The brutish clash’s shock rippled to the wielders.
Mitra had said:
This duel might be an opportunity for Cheon-ho too.
Now Cheon-ho attacked. A thrust infused with Empire Spear Technique’s essence—pure offense. Gliding forward, it pierced the air. Makina dodged instead of blocking.
He’d learned from the Winter King fight.
A superhuman’s sword for a superhuman body.
Swordsmanship beyond human limits, defying common sense.
Cheon-ho sped up a fraction. Attacks sharpened.
Makina abandoned offense, turning defensive.
Eizel and Rusilia gripped hands tightly, cheering Cheon-ho. Most angels, led by Lucille, clasped hands in prayer. Mid-layer heroes bellowed encouragement.
Amid the clamor, Cheon-ho heard past voices.
Focusing on Leon’s tale.
Find your center.
Grasp your core.
Solar mana became the core. Unifying qi, divinity, hero’s power.
His sword needed it too.
A central sword.
One to link Four Guardian Kings Martial Arts, Dal Senyo Kingdom Swordsmanship, Leon’s Imperial Swordsmanship—all his techniques.
Swords crossed.
The Primordial Blacksmith’s blade sheared a few strands of Cheon-ho’s hair. Tip missed, but sharp ki grazed his forehead, drawing blood. Cheon-ho’s sword rent Makina’s clothes. Worn dark blue fabric split open.
What now?
Faster?
Stronger?
Swords locked, immovable. Cheon-ho met Makina’s gaze. Red eyes stared back.
They shoved apart. Clashed again.
Cheon-ho saw Leon.
Wielding Mitra transformed into a massive greatsword—pillar-like—his swordsmanship pure霸道.
The golden-eyed woman—Mitra—appeared. Swinging a blade far longer than her height.
Fluid, sharp, beautiful.
An unknown man.
Not Leon’s bulk, but huge, wielding the empire’s top spear art: Empire Spear Technique.
Then a woman.
Dal Senyo Kingdom Swordsmanship’s founder. Red-haired, her style defense and offense as one. Razor counterthrusts hid in her blade.
The Winter King.
His variant Imperial Swordsmanship, differing from Leon’s.
Cheon-ho had learned it in their duel. Echoes remained in his sword.
Cheon-ho’s sword kept changing. Like seasons turning, flowers blooming and wilting.
The golden-eyed woman faded; teen-form Mitra emerged.
He followed her sword path, clashing with Makina again. Endless collisions and separations.
But not identical. It couldn’t be.
Cheon-ho saw his father.
Unleashing Four Guardian Kings Martial Arts.
Vaiśravaṇa’s Palm, a realm beyond him. Techniques he hadn’t learned.
But that wasn’t the point.
He saw them all.
The swords he held.
Every technique he could wield.
And thus, now he saw it.
The central sword.
The one to unify them all.