Chapter 59
Chapter 59
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: A Bit of Rest (4)
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I have a favorite movie.
Avengers: Infinity War. It's about protecting Earth from that crazy purple rock monster.
I really love the scene where the blond cosmic punk forges a weapon of universal destruction for revenge.
The immense energy pouring down, the blond cosmic punk enduring it, and finally, the completed axe.
'This feels oddly similar.'
Wuuuuuung—
The massive furnace roared to life, unleashing tremendous noise and heat.
I wonder if staring at a reactor core feels like this.
Even from a distance, that overwhelming energy hit me directly.
"Today's the day~ We're making an exciting~ axe~!"
Zirnier endured the massive heat and energy with a completely nonchalant expression.
Is forging an axe really that thrilling?
She seemed in such high spirits that she hummed a tune, staggering to the anvil like she was drunk out of her mind.
Plop plop plop.
Number 1 placed a hammer on its hand and offered it to Zirnier. She naturally gripped it.
"Hoo..."
As she exhaled softly, her drunken, limp body gradually straightened.
The woman who used to complain about hating to make sword hilts in this forge, drowning herself in booze, was gone.
Now, there was only the continent's sole relic-grade artifact smith—the blacksmith beyond all others that every smith admired and gazed up at endlessly.
"Well then. Shall we begin?"
Only Zirnier Besil remained.
The steel, which had been emitting brilliant light, emerged red-hot from the furnace.
Number 1 grabbed it without a hint of hesitation at the heat.
The steel that wouldn't melt even in that immense energy, and Number 1 handling it so casually—it was all astonishing.
Number 1 placed the crimson steel on the anvil and secured it. And then.
Claaaaang!
Zirnier swung the hammer.
Sparks flew as hammer met steel.
Brilliant multicolored sparks scattered into the air like a meteor shower lighting up the dark underground forge.
Claaaaang!
I stared blankly at Zirnier swinging the hammer with a smile, against the backdrop of sparks bursting like shooting stars.
I couldn't see her face through the mask, but in that moment, I knew she was smiling genuinely.
Each strike of the hammer echoed through the underground forge, bursting dazzling light from the steel.
It seemed reckless at first glance, but every blow contained countless deliberations, hesitations, and an overwhelming self-assurance that surpassed them all.
Claaaaang!
With each swing, the steel's shape transformed. It gradually took on the form of an axe blade.
The blinding light began to condense, settling into the blade.
A slight curiosity bubbled up.
"What's with that light?"
I asked the other mechanical arms watching me—Numbers 2 and 3.
Number 2 answered immediately.
Like a kid doodling letters in a sandbox, it wrote on the floor with its body.
I read the letters naturally.
"I... don't... know... pfft..."
I don't know, pfft.
This thing?
Number 3 smacked Number 2's body and wrote on the floor.
"Relic alloy..."
Relic alloy. Special steel made by melting down relics.
No wonder the price was astronomical, given the rarity of those relics.
'I heard even top mid-tier explorers can barely afford to use it.'
Plus, refining it was so difficult that few smiths could handle it, and even then, it didn't guarantee a relic-grade item.
A finicky material whose results depended entirely on the smith's skill.
I touched the Great Helm I was wearing. It emitted a similar glow.
'Zirnier's first creation... yeah.'
It made sense she was called a relic-grade artifact smith.
Her artifacts, made by human hands, were incredibly close to Labyrinth relics.
Thinking about the Great Helm she made, the relic-infused leather armor Diana gifted me, the relic alloy...
I'd never clearly seen a real relic before, so I couldn't be sure.
'Maybe my eyes can appraise relics?'
Relics or relic-infused items glow, while normal ones look plain.
Hmm. Not a bad theory.
Claaaaang!
"Hoo."
I perked up at the distant exhale. Zirnier, drenched in sweat, stroked the blade with a satisfied look.
"Yes! This is what I've wanted to make, damn it!"
It was still quite rough, but she seemed to love it even more that way.
I'd suspected as much when she displayed a double-edged axe my height in the weapon shop's front window, the one everyone saw first. Her tastes were set in stone.
The work seemed mostly done, so I approached her.
"Is this pretty much finished?"
"Nah. I've just roughed out the shape. Refining and all that... sniff. Lately, there haven't been any decent soul stones on the market, so it might take longer."
Soul stone? Aren't those needed for artifacts?
"...I thought you were just making me a regular weapon?"
I asked, flustered, and she shot back like I was spouting nonsense.
"What are you talking about? You think I'd make something ordinary when I could do better? My pride wouldn't allow it."
Good lord. The pride of a master craftsman, huh?
Suited me just fine. An artifact? How incredible would the weapon be?
I swallowed hard. Already looking forward to it.
"No matter how skilled the artisan, garbage materials make garbage. Better stuff raises the ceiling. And I can't put my name on junk, so it'll take a bit..."
From what she said, there weren't any good soul stones hitting the market lately.
Soul stones weren't something you could just buy on demand. Even with hordes of explorers delving into the Labyrinth weekly, supply was low.
Of course, Zirnier could get them anytime, but this time, nothing caught her eye.
'I could just take whatever, but a good soul stone would improve quality and speed things up.'
Felt a bit guilty just receiving without giving. It was my weapon—I should invest a little.
"How about this one? Think it's usable?"
I pulled out the item from my belt.
The greater minotaur's soul stone.
Not sure if it'd impress a smith of Zirnier's caliber, but for me, it was a miracle acquisition.
"What? A minotaur soul stone? Nah, no need for something like..."
Predictably, she smirked and waved it off the moment she saw it.
"...Hold on."
...Then her dismissive waving hand suddenly grabbed my arm.
"This isn't just any minotaur soul stone, is it?"
"Yeah. It was a special specimen."
"Knew it."
Zirnier peered at the soul stone intently.
The complete opposite of her earlier mocking chuckle—dead serious now.
"A monster seed born from a 13th-floor explorer's essence. This'll do nicely."
"...You can tell that much?"
"Gotta be able to for them to call you a craftsman. But seriously, you sure I can use this? Feels like stealing candy from a kid."
"Of course. You're making a weapon for me."
Especially from one of the Labyrinth city's top artisans—I should be begging on my knees.
"Heh. Fair point."
Zirnier smirked at my response and pocketed the soul stone.
"I boasted I'd make something great, so taking materials feels off. Got anything else that needs fixing? I'll patch it up."
See? Good deeds pay off. Little acts of kindness come back around.
"Then, could you take a look at this helm?"
"What? You trying to say the first piece I poured sleepless nights into is so ugly and crude that even a rundown shop rotting for decades wouldn't touch it—you calling it worthless trash?!?"
"...Huh? What the hell are you on about...?"
I just wanted a small notch for easier eating.
Zirnier suddenly flew into a rage, as if recalling heading to fly-infested shops for over a decade, wondering if someone might finally buy her helm.
It took quite a while to explain and calm her down.
"Ugh... s-sorry. Bad memories hit me out of nowhere..."
"No, it's fine."
Zirnier rubbed her forehead, clearly tormented by those days.
Makes sense—with pride that high, watching her maiden work rot in a stinky shop must've scarred her ego deep.
"So, widen the field of view a bit and add a flap for easy eating?"
"Yes."
The Great Helm, with only tiny slits for eyes and breathing, was seriously stuffy.
'Wearing it all day taxes the brain subtly.'
Pure defense-wise, this was better, but for daily life in a helm, it had too many inconveniences.
Zirnier, hearing my requests, asked with a baffled look.
"But why eat with the helm on in the first place?"
"......"
Think she'll believe "I've almost been raped too many times"?
"Never mind, don't say it. You've got your reasons. I'm the same, wearing this thing. I get not wanting to show your face."
She tapped her own mask.
Did Zirnier have some reason she couldn't show her face? Or personal trauma like me?
Either way, that mask. I coveted it hard.
Perfectly concealed the face, allowed free eating, wiping sweat—some effect on cognition, probably.
With that mask, life would be so much richer.
"Speaking of, could you add functions like your mask to the helm?"
"This? Nah, tough. Looks plain, but it's a 22nd-floor relic."
"Holy shit."
22nd floor?
22nd floor?
No way in hell.
"Dunno if you can snag one, but if you bring something similar someday, I'll add the features."
"Thanks."
"No biggie."
I nodded. She spoke casually too.
"Alright. Turn around and take it off."
...Her blunt words blanked my mind for a sec.
But it was obvious.
To repair the helm, I had to remove it.
"Best to check field of view face-to-face, but no way right now, so I'll feel around the eye and mouth spots."
She declared she'd touch my face. Her expression was utterly indifferent—no interest at all.
Aside from her passion for weapons, did she even have feelings?
"Don't worry. I'll be gentle."
I pondered her words.
'...What do I do?'
After agonizing, I placed my hand on the helm.