The World's Greatest Blacksmith
Two days had passed since we took up residence in the Monarch's Castle.
Seina and I had finished preparing for our outing before the sun was even fully up.
"You've got everything packed?"
"Of course!"
Both of Seina's hands were weighed down with bundles wrapped in cloth.
Every single one of them was a lunch box.
"Well, no danger of starving to death with these."
She looked thoroughly pleased with herself and darted off to load everything into the carriage.
"...Right. Good work."
If anyone in this world simply couldn't die anywhere, it would be Seina.
Ah, wait. She's not technically a person.
"How long do you intend to be away, my lord?"
Dermian asked politely from beside me.
"It won't take long. I'm leaving the castle in your hands while I'm gone."
"I swear it on Dermian's very name. Simply entrust it to me."
Good lad. Reliable as ever.
I regarded him with a satisfied look.
Beyond his role as chief aide, he carried out the duties of a regent, handling the Monarch's affairs in my stead.
Even if I were gone for an extended period, there would be no problem.
I gave a single nod and climbed into the carriage.
At the same moment, the hundreds of soldiers lined up before the castle gates raised their swords in perfect unison.
—Shing!
Not a single blade angle was out of place.
They radiated enough dignity to march straight into a war at a moment's notice.
And all of that... is mine.
It was reassuring, yet in another way, it filled me with unease.
In the end, I would have to turn my back on them.
Killing the Archlord and reclaiming the world of humans.
That was the condition for seeing Death Knight's true ending.
Clashing with them was simply inevitable.
"Move out."
Today's trip outside the castle was the first step toward that very goal.
Against monsters like the other Monarchs and their armies, defense alone wouldn't even get me in the door.
I need to get stronger.
Insanely, unfathomably stronger.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
—Clang! Clang!
The irregular rhythm of iron striking stone rang out again and again through the dark.
This was the La-Vanaut Mine.
The place they called the Graveyard of the Living.
It was a mine of notorious infamy — those who entered alive were fated to leave dead.
Not a single miner had ever worked here for more than three years.
The trace amounts of mana stone dust and iron filings suspended in the air accumulated in the lungs with every hour of labor, slowly poisoning the body.
And in a place like this, the blacksmith Taliesin swung his pickaxe, drenched in sweat.
"Hey, Eshin. Why don't you take a breather?"
"Just one more swing and I'll stop!"
"We're only filling the demons' bellies either way. Why work yourself to the bone? You know as well as I do — the harder you work down here, the more you feed those cursed demons."
"If we don't meet our quota—"
—Clang!
"—then another poor bastard gets dragged down here, doesn't he!"
—Clang!
Taliesin said his piece and swung all the harder.
"Tsk. Who'd have thought the man who once forged heroes' weapons would end up like this? Well — just don't overdo it, you hear?"
The miner watched his back with a look of quiet pity.
Taliesin had once been a blacksmith of world-renowned fame.
His masterwork blades alone numbered in the dozens.
Of course, every last one of them now rested in the hands of the demons.
"The world has fallen to the demons. What business does a human have forging weapons? We keep our heads down and survive — that's all there is!"
Humanity had lost its war against the demons.
Ever since, whatever skills a man possessed or whatever work he did, slavery was simply accepted as the natural lot of most humans.
Wretched little humanity wasn't even permitted to make weapons.
"And yet — shouldn't we still hold on to hope? I believe it, without a shred of doubt. Someday, humanity will take back this land!"
At the man's words, a faint smile crossed Taliesin's face.
In a situation this hopeless, surrender would have been understandable — yet this man never lost hope, always lifting his companions' spirits.
The situation is what it is. But even so... I'm glad to be among people like these.
So thinking, he turned around and called back.
"Enough with the idle talk. Get back to work yourself. If the overseers come while we're—"
At that moment, Taliesin's face went rigid.
"Revan—!"
The companion who had been chatting with him just moments ago had suddenly collapsed to the ground.
It happened from time to time.
No — down here, it happened all the time.
A person simply dropping dead, without any warning at all.
"Hang in there! Stay with me!"
Taliesin hurled his pickaxe to the ground and sprinted over in a frenzy, lifting his companion's body into his arms.
...He's still breathing.
He pressed his ear close and confirmed the faint breaths.
By a miracle, Revan still lived.
"Just hold on... just a little longer...! I'll get you fresh air soon, I swear it!"
He had to get him out of the iron mine, and fast.
Once outside, there might yet be a way to save him.
Taliesin heaved the man up over his shoulders and began running toward the surface like a madman.
The mine entrance was roughly ten minutes away.
If his companion could just hold on until then, he would live.
"Hold on! You're not going to die! You have to keep hoping, like you always do!"
He ran, and ran, and ran.
Even as fine dust flooded into his bronchial tubes in thick mouthfuls.
Even as his fellow miners shook their heads, telling him it was hopeless.
He ran with a single thought burning in his chest: save him.
How long had he been running?
Sweat-soaked and half-blind, his eyes caught a pure white light glowing in the distance.
They were almost there.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, his face loosening with relief.
Just a little farther. Just reach that light.
"Halt. Where do you think you're going?"
A guard stepped out and blocked Taliesin's path.
"My companion is dying...! It'll only take a moment — please, just let him get a breath of fresh air!"
The guard looked Taliesin up and down with utter disbelief.
"Do you think this is your playground? Leaving your post because you want to breathe fresh air."
The guard jabbed a finger against Taliesin's cheek, mockingly.
"Just a moment, that's all! I'll double my quota — I'm begging you, look the other way just this once!"
"No. Go back. You know leaving your post is a capital offense, don't you? Return now, and I'll let it slide."
"Damn it all! How can you be so heartless! Aren't we both human? Can't you see how gravely he's hurt?! If you have a shred of humanity, get out of the way right now—!"
Hearing this, the guard let out a long sigh.
"Dozens of men dying in the iron mine — is that anything new? Besides, how am I supposed to know you two aren't just trying to slack off?"
"Fine! Then I'll carry him down myself...! You can come out and escort him yourself, how about that!"
"Why should I bother, for a man who's going to die anyway?"
At the guard's flat refusal, Taliesin's eyes wavered violently.
They were both human — undeniably so.
And yet the thing standing before him could only be called a demon wearing human skin.
How could anyone be so callous while a life flickered out right before their eyes?
Perhaps humans, in the end, were worse than demons.
"Ah, to hell with this—! Move!"
That was his conclusion: he would simply force his way through.
But the guard, as if he'd anticipated exactly that, kicked Taliesin's legs out from under him first.
Taliesin crumpled helplessly to the ground.
"You little piece of—!"
—Shrring!
The guard drew his blade.
Taliesin stared past him in despair at the light of the entrance beyond.
Just a little more.
If only he'd made it a few steps farther.
"Die—!"
So thinking, he squeezed his eyes shut.
"Stop."
A voice drifted in from somewhere.
Taliesin slowly opened his eyes.
A young-looking man stood there.
And beside him, a demon was bowing its head so low it seemed to shrink into itself.
...What in the world is this?
It was a sight he had never witnessed before.
A demon groveling before a human?
The guard seemed equally taken aback, and asked in a puzzled voice.
"...And who might you be?"
"You absolute imbecile—!"
The demon seized the guard by the head and slammed him face-first into the ground.
Then it shot a nervous glance at the unidentified man and spoke up in a rush.
"S-sorry about that! They're humans, so they haven't quite learned their manners yet!"
None of it made any sense.
Demons never regarded humans as anything more than insects.
So what was with this flawless, groveling courtesy he had never once seen in his life?
"Are you hurt anywhere?"
The man asked, matter-of-factly.
Only then did Taliesin remember what he'd forgotten.
"I-I'm fine! But my friend here is in far worse shape — if he could just get some fresh air—"
"Heal the man."
At his word, the demon scrambled to fish something out of its coat.
"Th-this is a potion — shall I use it?!"
—Nod.
For a moment, Taliesin thought he'd misheard.
Potions were so rare their price was nothing short of astronomical.
And they were going to use one on iron-mine slaves like them?
What on earth was happening?
—Gulp, gulp.
The demon hastily poured the potion down Revan's throat.
And then—
"Ugh... Taliesin?"
The man's consciousness slowly began to return.
Just as color was flooding back into his face and Revan's eyes found him—
"The urgent business seems handled. Now, I'd like a word."
The unidentified man spoke up.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Finally. I found him.
I studied him with a satisfied expression.
Taliesin.
He was the greatest blacksmith on the continent — the only human capable of crafting Mythic-grade items.
And he was the man who would take my stats to their absolute peak.
There was just one problem: he was an NPC who stubbornly refused to forge you weapons.
Even in the game, getting a weapon from him required an investment of a full three months.
From the quest chain to the affinity grind, you had to pour in an absurd amount of effort before he'd so much as hand you a blade.
"Thank you for saving me and my friend."
Taliesin said plainly.
"Good thing we weren't too late."
"Though I must ask — who are you? I've never once seen demons grovel like that before."
He stared at me, plainly unable to wrap his head around it no matter how he turned it over.
"Does it matter who I am? What matters is why I sought you out."
Remembering how that quest chain had tortured me in the game, I couldn't resist messing with him a little.
I would never, ever reveal my identity.
This man simply couldn't stand not knowing things — it was going to eat him alive.
"...If you'd rather not say, there's nothing to be done. So — what is it you want from me?"
He said this even as he studied my face, visibly hoping I might spill it anyway.
I opened my mouth as if I'd been waiting for exactly that.
"Those hands of yours, digging iron ore. Seems like an awful waste, doesn't it?"
His eyes went round as saucers, and he drew his hands back toward himself.
"...So you do know who I am."
"How could I not?"
Taliesin rose abruptly from his seat.
"I'm sincerely grateful for what you've done. I'd repay this debt with my life if I had to. But forging you a weapon is another matter entirely. I hold to a creed: I forge only for those who have earned the right to wield a weapon made with my very soul poured into it. I'm sorry, but no matter what you do with my life, this I cannot bend on."
The "right" he spoke of had nothing to do with strength.
In a word, it meant: raise my affinity, and put in the effort.
Just as I'd expected. Of course this stubborn old coot wasn't going to make anything easy.
But I knew the way around him.
"Then how about a weapon you've never once forged in your life?"
"Ha! There's no weapon under heaven that Taliesin the Great hasn't forged. I'm grateful for the rescue, but that claim of yours is going a step too far."
I opened my mouth as if I'd been waiting for exactly that.
"Care to wager on it?"
"...A wager?"
"If it's a weapon you've forged even once, I'll tell you who I am."
"......"
A look of contemplation crossed Taliesin's face.
"Not confident?"
At that one extra jab, he started to take the bait.
"I accept. And let me be clear — I'm doing this for a blacksmith's pride, not because I'm curious about who you are."
"Sure you are."
I picked up the pen resting on the table.
Then I sketched out the rough outline of a shape, quick and easy strokes.
The moment he saw it, Taliesin's eyes began to widen.
"!"
And at last, when the drawing stood complete—
"...I concede."
Taliesin clicked his tongue and admitted defeat.