Chapter 110: Old Days, Now.
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 110: Old Days, Now.
“Hmm.”
I felt a bit sluggish, likely because I’d spent yesterday sparring with Delbaheim. Physical fatigue wasn't much of an issue since I could just swap out my muscles, but the mental strain was real. I’d spent hours with my nerves on edge, never letting my guard down to keep up with Delbaheim’s lightning-fast attacks.
It had been a while since I’d felt this much mental exhaustion. I’d gone to bed early, which meant I woke up early too. It was only about 6:30 AM, and the sun hadn't even fully risen. I got dressed, headed into the hallway with a lantern, and went down to the first floor. I opened the door and hung the lantern outside, marking the start of my day.
“Is this what they call a ‘Miracle Morning’?”
Back in my old world, I knew the concept existed, but I’d never actually put it into practice. My mind felt clear and refreshed, giving me the feeling that today was going to be a good day.
“Where are you off to so early?”
“Oh, Auntie. You’re up?”
“I am.”
For some reason, Auntie was up early today. Ever since Sera returned and Tresha started working at the inn, I’d rarely seen Auntie up at this hour.
Seeing her awake this early brought back memories of the old days. Well, ‘old days’ meant three months ago, but so much had happened since then that it felt like a lifetime.
“Auntie, I’m heading to the Labyrinth for a bit. I’ll be back early.”
“Are you taking food with you?”
“Haha… Honestly, I’m fine without it these days.”
“Wait a moment.”
Auntie ignored me and went into the kitchen. After rummaging through the pantry, she handed me something wrapped in a white cloth.
“This is…”
“Eat it when you get there.”
“Oh, thank you. I appreciate you looking out for me.”
“…Be careful.”
“Yes, I will.”
After a quick stretch, I headed toward the blacksmith’s forge before the rest of the inn had even stirred. I still had the Excalibur Unit 2 I’d used before, so I was set for a sword, but I couldn't for the life of me remember where I’d lost my shield—probably somewhere in the Labyrinth.
I’d heard that the Dwarf Craftsman didn't sleep much, and sure enough, even though it was barely 7:00 AM, smoke was already rising from the forge’s chimney.
“Old man.”
“What are you doing here this early?”
“I came to see you, of course.”
“Disgusting. You break all your gear, lose it, and then have the gall to show your face here?”
The weather had turned brisk, so the forge, which used to feel cozy, was starting to feel a bit too hot. But since it was still morning, it was cool enough to be bearable.
“Isn't it good for business that I buy from you so often? Why the attitude?”
“Listen here, kid. Does a potter like it when people keep breaking his bowls just so they can buy more?”
“When you put it that way, I guess it does sound bad.”
The Dwarf Craftsman’s brow seemed permanently furrowed now, his eyebrows practically knit together. He’d always been a hairy fellow, but the hair on his left forearm was all patchy and uneven.
That was because every time he finished a weapon, be it a sword or an axe, he’d shave the hair on his arm to test the edge. When I first came here, I was so impressed by him slicing through his arm hair that I bought my gear on the spot.
“I’m here for a shield today.”
“You had one last time.”
“Lost it in the Labyrinth. Besides, you didn't make that one.”
This man took immense pride in his work. He clearly had the skill, but I never understood why he insisted on only working with ordinary iron. He made decent money; surely he’d thought about working with rare metals?
“Regardless of who made it, a warrior should treasure his equipment. If you’re so quick to toss aside someone else’s shield, why should I think you’ll treat mine any better?”
“I told you, I’ll be careful.”
“Fine, fine. There’s a pile over there. Take a look.”
The Dwarf waved me off dismissively and pointed toward a lidded wooden crate against the left wall. I walked over and opened it to find a stack of shields I’d never seen before.
They were covered in a thick layer of white dust. I couldn't tell if they hadn't sold for a long time or if he’d been hiding them away.
“When did you make these?”
“A long time ago.”
“How long is ‘a long time’? Back before you grew hair?”
“Listen, kid. I had a full coat of arm hair even when I was a babe.”
“Whoa.”
Well… he probably didn't make them in the womb. He explained that these were shields he’d made back when he first started crafting weapons and armor. I didn't know his exact age, but that meant these were at least several decades old.
“There’s no rust.”
“Because I maintain them.”
The dust was thin considering they were decades old. The leather finishes and handles had been well-oiled to prevent cracking. The craftsmanship was solid, though the designs had an experimental flair, likely from his younger days.
“Why aren't you selling these? They’re unique, but they look well-made.”
Judging by how they were tucked away in a crate with the lid tightly shut, he’d been intentionally hiding this stock.
“I was saving them to foist off on someone I didn't like. Why?”
“Really? Wow, I guess I’ve really made it onto your bad side.”
He was joking, of course. His name was cleanly engraved into the metal, a mark of his youthful ambition. When I touched one, I realized it wasn't ordinary iron.
“This is rare metal. Just a bit of an alloy, but still.”
“…You can tell?”
“I can just, you know, feel it.”
Perhaps because they’d been sitting for so long, but when I looked at the shields containing rare metals through the eyes of the Direwolf Alpha, the mana density was quite high. My eyes settled on a large, heavy one at the very bottom.
“This one is…”
“Ahem.”
It was a rectangular shield. It wasn't wood or leather reinforced with metal plates; it was a solid, powerful slab of metal forged into shape. It had a high concentration of rare metals, and perhaps because it had aged for so long, the mana purity was exceptional.
“That one was a mistake.”
“Why?”
“A foolish idea from my youth.”
He explained that he’d wondered why people bothered with wood and leather when a shield made entirely of metal would be the strongest. So, he’d made this.
Of course, a 100% metal shield isn't practical for a human. It’s obscenely heavy, and because it’s a single solid piece of metal, every bit of impact is transmitted directly to the user’s hand and arm.
The traditional wisdom of using a wooden frame reinforced with leather and only adding metal to the center and edges was the result of centuries of experience in shock absorption.
“I like it, though.”
“And that’s exactly why you’re still a novice, kid.”
“Hey, why are you scolding me for complimenting your work?”
It was definitely heavy. However, because of the high rare metal content, it was lighter than its volume suggested. Even so, it felt like it weighed at least 10kg.
“Is this Zephyrite?”
“There’s some Verdantium in there too.”
“Crazy. That stuff is incredibly expensive.”
A rare metal shield made by mixing Zephyrite, an ultra-light metal, with Verdantium, which had self-repairing properties. The base wasn't even steel but titanium, making it a masterpiece that would never rust. If he’d melted these metals down to make a proper weapon, it would have been worth dozens of gold coins.
“Old man, don't you want someone to actually use this?”
“Forget it, kid. Put it back.”
“I’ll buy it.”
“I said forget it. If you carry that white elephant around, you’ll collapse in less than thirty minutes.”
For a normal person, that was probably true. Holding half the weight of a full military pack in one hand was a tall order; thirty minutes was being generous. But I liked this shield.
“Old man. Let’s make a bet.”
“…What kind of bet?”
“I’ll use this for just one month.”
The Dwarf Craftsman was deeply attached to his creations. The reason he hadn't melted this down despite the ‘failed’ design and expensive materials was likely because he hoped someone would eventually use it.
“And I’ll return it to you in a month.”
“What? Then why take it at all?!”
“Because in a month, this shield is going to be covered in scratches.”
I figured he’d be satisfied if he saw that his cherished creation had been put to good use.
“When that happens, you can let this fellow go with a clear conscience.”
“….”
“And then, you can melt it down and make me the best shield you can—a magnificent, massive Tower Shield.”
“Ugh….”
The old man pretended not to hear me, but the hammer that had been pounding on the anvil had long since stopped.
“Just take it.”
“How much?”
“Keep your money. But if you come back in a month saying you lost it or something, I’m stuffing you head-first into that bellows.”
“Haha… Understood.”
* * *
“This brings back memories.”
“Does it?”
It had been a while since I’d entered the Guild with nothing but a sword at my hip. I remembered when I was first picked up by Auntie, half-starved after three days without food. After finishing a meal that felt like rain during a drought, I’d watched the explorers at the other tables, drinking and laughing boisterously.
When I’d asked Auntie who they were, she told me they were explorers. Realizing I wanted to enter the Labyrinth after hearing her explanation, she’d readily handed me an old sword from the storage room.
And just like my first trip into the Labyrinth…
“You came with nothing but a single sword back then, too.”
“It’s a bit embarrassing.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone starts somewhere.”
Dahlia greeted me with the same bright smile she’d given me when I was a rookie. Since today’s plan was just to head down to the 10th floor to test our coordination, I didn't even bring a pouch.
I did have the shield stored inside the ring-type storage artifact on my left middle finger, but there was no need to tell Dahlia that and ruin her trip down memory lane.
“Dahlia, is there a place nearby where I can practice something without being seen?”
“Hmm… Somewhere out of sight….”
It was barely 9:00 AM, so there was still time before Theodora and Rubica were due at the Guild. I wanted to practice my skills, but lately, people tended to freak out whenever they saw me using them.
I wanted to do it somewhere private.
“Oh, I know a good spot.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s out of sight, spacious, and it doesn't cost anything to use.”
“That sounds perfect. Where is it?”
* * *
“I see.”
The 1st floor of the Labyrinth. It was a vast plain, and since it was early, most people who arrived here immediately sprinted for the portal. There was almost no chance of running into other explorers.
—Whoosh.
A cool May breeze blew past. With nothing around, the air felt crisp. Why hadn't I thought of this before?
“Phew. Let’s put in a solid thirty minutes of practice.”
I’d become proficient at manipulating the extra arms I’d created. Last night, I’d poked and prodded Walter’s wings to get a general idea of how the skeletal structure worked.
—Crack.
“Like this?”
Above the shoulder blades on my back, I split the dorsal muscles in half and began constructing a skeletal frame for actual wings. For fluid movement, I fitted joints modeled after the cartilage of giant aerial creatures I’d seen in the Encyclopedia of Monster Anatomy. Then, I extended the bones to create a base for the wing membranes.
Even Walter, who only weighed 7kg, had a wingspan of over two meters to fly. If I weighed ten times that at 70kg, a simple calculation suggested I’d need a wingspan of about twenty meters.
—Snap, crunch.
As I blindly attached tough, powerful tendons and muscle fibers and stretched them out, they looked more like flayed wings than anything else.
“Oh, this might actually work if I do it right.”
I tried a test flap to check the strength.
—Pshhhhh….
“Ah.”
Something hadn't been connected properly. Tendons and muscle bundles snapped, and blood began to spray from various points.
I pulled the wing bones forward to inspect them for reinforcement. They were definitely a mess—thick, clumpy muscle fibers and tendons made them look more grotesque than functional.
I might have made them too large; they were big enough to completely shroud me if I folded them. But I doubted I could fly with anything smaller.
“Tsk. How should I fix this?”
—Clang.
At that moment, I heard something drop onto the grass.
“Huh?”
I turned around to see a party of four explorers trembling in sheer terror. It looked like the one in front had dropped his weapon.
“F-Fuck…! It’s a Flesh Golem!! Everyone, run!!!”
Right. I guess there’s always a bit of a transition period.
“Still, ‘Flesh Golem’ is a bit much, isn't it?”
I had become the Flesh Golem of the Labyrinth City.