Chapter 24
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Master Craftsman - 4
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ever since discovering Harman's dark side, I had been visiting the forge far more frequently.
The village blacksmith rarely showed his face to the residents.
The only visitors were Tiana, who came once a month to replenish training swords, and the occasional shop owner stopping by to purchase goods needed around the village.
I even volunteered to pick up swords for Tiana, coming up with all sorts of excuses just to familiarize myself with him.
There were many reasons for it.
I worried about young Sylvia living alone with an unstable old man, and since Harman was my neighbor, I hoped he would be happy rather than suffer.
It was something I could afford now that I had the leisure to look after others.
As someone who had once been an adventurer barely surviving in excruciating agony, it was proof that I had found stability thanks to life on the first floor.
"If you have no business, get lost."
Of course, Harman reacted sharply to me.
He hated interruptions during work more than anything, and he couldn't understand why I kept showing up without any real purpose.
"I do have business. I'm here to buy a sword."
"Then go to the shop. It's full of my wares."
"Factory-made stuff is cheapest if you buy direct."
"What nonsense."
He eyed me suspiciously, as if I were some weirdo.
"Stop coming already. Don't you get sick of it?"
"What's wrong with an adventurer buying from a blacksmith?"
"...If you're gonna lie, make it believable. Who buys a sword every single day? And all the exact same ones, no less."
As this repeated, Harman's reactions began to change slightly.
Unlike his indifferent exterior, he now grumbled but would set out a few snacks on the desk by the time I arrived.
They were originally bought for Sylvia's treats, but his granddaughter not only didn't complain—she actually welcomed my visits.
She was only allowed one snack a day, so I always snuck her the extras behind Harman's back.
"Make 'em sturdy. They keep breaking, don't they?"
"I hate to say it, but no sword of mine breaks in a single day. At that rate, I'd have been making toys, not swords."
It might not just be about the snacks.
While Harman was lost in hammering away in the workshop, Sylvia had to spend her time alone.
At her young age, she couldn't wander outside by herself easily.
Time with a visitor to alleviate her boredom was precious, so the child had no reason to shun guests at the forge.
"Then make me a sturdy toy."
"If you're that frustrated, make it yourself."
The incident started with Harman's playful taunt.
Without a moment's hesitation, I took the bait.
"Sure, why not. Let's give it a shot."
Opportunities to enter the blacksmith's workshop were rare.
Once a month, sweeping up crude swords on Tiana's errand—and even then, only for a few minutes.
"You serious?"
"Who knows? Maybe a masterpiece will come from these hands."
"What can I expect from a total newbie? It'll be a miracle if the sword's even holdable."
Ignoring Harman's look as if I were insane, I opened the workshop door on my own.
"Can't you clean up a bit?"
"You'll just stuff it all into that subspace or whatever of yours anyway. Cleaning's a waste of my time."
"There's such a thing as courtesy between us."
"Never thought I'd hear that word from you. You do know you just barged into my workshop without permission, right?"
I picked up the hammer resting on the anvil.
It had been gripped so often that the handle bore deep finger marks.
"So, how do you do this?"
"Ha, masterpiece my ass... Put that hammer down first."
"Isn't this the one?"
"There's nothing to hammer yet. What are you gonna do, just hold it?"
Harman pulled an ingot from a wooden box.
He placed it in my hand where I'd set the hammer down.
"Melt the iron bar first."
"Use that furnace?"
"I'll toss in some charcoal chunks. Light the fire yourself."
Flint and tinder.
Sparks flew as stone met steel.
"Not working."
"How long have you even been at it? Keep trying."
The embers caught on the logs and charcoal in the furnace.
Next, I had to pump the bellows hard.
It was a leather bag with a foot pedal attached.
There were hand-pumped ones too, apparently, but he said foot-operated was easier for beginners and brought it to the furnace.
Each stomp fed air in, reviving the dying flames.
"Just add charcoal whenever it looks like it's dying."
"Heat it up now?"
"Yeah."
The metal glowed redder by the minute.
"When it's hot enough, it'll glow faintly reddish."
"It's glowing now."
"Ugh, why can't you have any patience? Just watch—it'll make sense."
The scorching heat prickled my wrists and cheeks, but as he said, I watched quietly.
It seemed to keep brightening, but I had no sense of when to pull it out.
...Now?
"Heh, too late."
"Huh?"
"Should've pulled it just now. Tough luck."
"You should've timed it! And it's only a few seconds anyway!"
The old man's childishness knew no bounds.
Well, my physical age was younger anyway.
"Those few seconds determine the weapon's quality—! Ugh..."
"Harman?"
The blacksmith clutched his head.
Cold sweat poured down as he gritted his teeth.
"You okay?"
"...It's cooling. Hurry and move it."
Next came forging.
I gripped the hammer again.
Placed the heated metal on the anvil and struck down!
- Kaang! Klang!
"Hey, not like that...!"
"Isn't this right?"
"You trying to break the anvil too? Ease up and hammer."
The metal stretched longer.
Its thickness flattened, shaping into a blade.
"I've heard complaints about lack of power before, but you're the first to be told to hold back. Scrawny as you look, where's all that strength from?"
"Scrawny? Where?"
Compared to my climbing days, my current body specs had deteriorated badly, but it was still honed through training without rewards.
- Klang! Kaang!
"Focus. No daydreaming."
"I am focused."
"Thinner toward the tip, thicker toward the base... Ngh, adjust it."
Distractions inevitably hampered the hammering.
Harman's condition was worsening.
His brief interjections—simple as they seemed—couldn't be missed.
Each time he voiced advice, his headache intensified, his mind growing dizzy.
"Hoo... Once it's spread enough, fold it over and hammer again."
"Why fold what I just flattened?"
"...Beats me. Ugh, that's how I've always done it."
- Kaang!
"No, folding and rehitting increases strength. That's called folding..."
"If it's hard, you don't have to explain. Just the method is fine."
He'd just claimed ignorance, yet now professional terms slipped out.
As he tried to show off knowledge, sweat beaded more on his brow, forcing me to minimize his help.
He taught 10, I learned 1.
To teach 10, he had to comprehend 100.
To teach others, one must know far more than what's spoken.
The tower permitted nothing beyond 10 for him.
If he were the blacksmith from beyond the 20th floor, maybe.
Even just assisting me pushed Harman's knowledge past the tower's limit.
"Kuh... Can't understand even if you hear it...?"
"My head's not the greatest."
"Yeah, figured..."
Sharpen the blade tip, shape the tang for the hilt.
Dunk the sword in a basket of cold water.
It hissed and cooled.
Reheat slowly at low temperature.
Cool again.
Hone the edge on a whetstone, polish the surface smooth.
Wrap leather around the hilt.
Had to add a guard to protect the hand, so unwrapped the leather since order was wrong.
Once fixed, attach the pommel for balance.
Final polish.
"There. Your first completed sword."
"..."
This won't do.
【Shoddy Sword《COMMON》】
· Attack Power: -6 (1▲)
· Durability: -4 (6▼)
· Special Effects: None
Not even a crude sword—a shoddy one? Compared to Harman's, durability was less than half.
"Not to your liking? Didn't turn out as hoped, huh?"
"Had no expectations."
An obvious result.
The blacksmith helped from the side, but my hand swung the hammer.
I couldn't apply force evenly; the edge was wavy, not flat.
His advice was spot-on.
Even following it precisely, my clumsy hands didn't cooperate.
Oddly, attack power was 1 higher—that was the focus.
This poorly hammered sword with abysmal durability outdid the crude ones Harman mass-produced.
On higher floors, a difference of 1 wouldn't matter, but my sword surpassing his was the issue.
Harman forged swords daily, his hands seasoned to perfection.
He had the knowledge to teach me sword-making.
Above all, he was a master craftsman.
The village's sole blacksmith.
"Tell me that explanation I missed earlier."
"What explanation?"
"Why fold the metal during forging. You called it folding."
"That... well..."
Harman didn't know about folding.
He remembered using the term and that it was a sword-making step, but not its effects or principles.
Other steps like quenching were the same.
He couldn't explain anything.
He'd simply passed on the routine sequence.
Harman looked more at ease than ever.
No clutching his forehead, no cold sweat.
"I've heard complaints about lack of power before, but you're the first to be told to hold back."
Harman's light jab at my inexperience echoed in my mind.
"Do you remember telling me to ease up when hammering?"
"Yeah. You were stronger than you look."
"You also said I'd been called weak before. Have you taught or helped someone else like that?"
"What're you on about? Did I say that much?"
Harman stared, utterly baffled.
Normally, no headaches, perfectly fine.
Pain started once he worked as blacksmith.
He'd seemed to recall something moments ago, but post-forging, it was all gone.
"Must make. Must make. Must make. Must make."
⋮
"Don't disturb Grandpa when he's in the workshop. He hates it."
Harman's voice always droned like a madman's from beyond the workshop door, repeating to himself.
"Harman. Let's make one more."
"What?"
"Got more ingots?"
"Plenty of material. More practice?"
Memories can lodge in the body.
I decided to trust this unverified notion once.
Many headaches would follow, but that meant drawing closer to the tower-blocked recollections.