Chapter 38
“Explain yourselves.”
Clad Steelbern.
Isirel Volkov.
Their common thread was that they were both superhumans bearing the title of Swordmaster among Masters.
And…
“Including the fact that one electric driver went missing.”
“Th-that’s…”
“I can explain it all! Everything!”
Honestly, for a total hack like Akion—who wasn’t even at the entry-level Sword User stage among swordsmen—he had these two on their knees before him.
Akion had assumed they’d just caused some minor mishap and told them to explain, but…
“Ahem! Workshop head, do you remember? The day I brought the electric driver, when I talked about manifesting an electric drill aura.”
“Yes.”
What massive blunder had they committed this time? These Swordmasters had knelt on their own.
Akion prayed it wasn’t anything like the previous boiler explosion fiasco.
“When I tried recreating it, I realized the electric driver’s form wasn’t ideal. A spear would be better. So…”
“S-Sir Clad disassembled the body of the electric driver, made an iron casing from it, and…”
“Plugged it onto a spear shaft, and attached a spiral blade to the motor shaft?”
Thankfully, it wasn’t a major disaster.
While Akion was in the capital, the blast furnace had finally been completed, pouring out high-quality steel in droves…
“And you wasted a precious electric driver on that?”
“Ahem. A necessary sacrifice.”
With ample materials on hand, Clad had gone ahead and built the spiral spear he’d always wanted to make.
The issue was that he’d dismantled his share of the electric drivers—workshop assets, not personal property—and fitted it to an iron spear shaft…
“And Sis Isirel said she liked it, wrapped it in aura, and tested it? On thick iron plates?”
“A-As a warrior, how could I not be interested in a new weapon…”
For some reason, Isirel had come down from the north.
She’d seen it, thought nice, and stepped up to test it herself just moments ago.
Listening closely, it was far safer, quieter, and tamer than the old boiler explosion.
“Is that something to brag about, you two?”
“Guhk!”
“Hng…”
Still, what was he supposed to do when they’d modded workshop equipment into combat gear without permission?
Sure, on the front lines, they’d cobble together mods from twigs and scraps, but this wasn’t the front lines.
Combat use, huh…
More than anything, Akion didn’t want his magitech inventions turned into killing tools. That’s why he’d steered his research toward everyday applications as much as possible.
For humans, at least.
Demons, devils, monsters—if you didn’t kill them, humanity died. That’s why he’d collaborated on the Saintess’s holy light detection device.
—Fidget, fidget.
But he couldn’t just keep watching as 31-year-old big sis Isirel knelt before him, peeking at his reaction and twiddling her fingers after getting an earful.
Nor could he leave old man Clad, who seemed hesitant about copying her, hanging.
“Haa. The motor didn’t break, right?”
“Absolutely not! Wrapping it in aura makes its properties rock-solid!”
“Y-Yeah! It becomes super tough to break!”
These guys weren’t the type to use it on people anyway… Akion decided to let it slide.
More than that, Isirel’s words stuck with him.
“Ahh… With this Spiral Spear, I could shred all those metal-block ice beasts up north!”
Makes my resolve waver.
This Swordmaster who patrolled the Volkov Line front lines wasn’t talking about monster-slaying for fun.
Akion’s heart stirred at how she saw the new weapon as a breakthrough for crises.
“Sis Isirel, how far do you want to take this thing?”
“M-Me?!”
So he asked her once more.
Where did she plan to use the finished product?
Akion meant to gauge her limits, but she missed the intent… and after hemming and hawing, she spoke honestly.
“On the walls and base of the Volkov Line… countless soldiers die every week.”
Extreme weather.
Monsters attacking at random.
And when a commander-class mid-to-large beast showed up… entire platoons got wiped.
“If they’d had this spear, even if they could only handle a bit of mana or aura, they might’ve survived.”
“So you won’t use it to kill people?”
“If they attack our territory, sure. But neither I, Father, nor our soldiers plan to invade others—and no other lord has reason to invade us.”
Only for defense, huh…
Akion mulled it over internally before handing back the confiscated prototype.
“Here.”
Isirel clutched the returned Spiral Spear.
Clad, tense and staring at the workshop head’s mouth, waited for orders to disassemble it.
“Make it properly.”
“Huh?”
“Huh?”
They looked up in shock at Akion’s approval.
“Why? You said it’s for monster-slaying. And for smashing any invading bad guys.”
“I-It’s okay? To use it like that?”
“From what I’ve seen of the workshop head’s research goals, I thought violent uses like this weren’t favored…”
Akion’s true aim was indeed securing a peaceful, prosperous daily life.
“If monsters or enemy forces invade, there’s no peaceful daily life anyway.”
But this world had real devils, black mages as their minions, and overflowing monster byproducts.
The Volkov Line up north was proof, and the empire buzzed with black mage and devil minion chaos everywhere.
“Since we’re at it, let’s make it properly and supply Volkov—on the condition you promise not to use it against humans except in defense.”
“Really?!”
“A splendid decision, workshop head!!”
What could he do?
If they were gonna do it, do it right. Guide it toward good use.
Don’t cannibalize finished electric drivers—build dedicated motors from scratch.
“Ahem, as Isirel of Volkov, I offer my thanks. I’ll chalk this up as a debt.”
“Being honest to the end is how feelings get across, Lady Isirel.”
“Old man, please…!”
“What’re you hiding?”
No idea what they’d talked about. Anyway.
Akion officially promoted the tentative “Spiral Spear” to a full project.
The next thing to check was,
“But why’d you come down here, Sis?”
Not the bathhouse, not the textile machine—straight to confirming Isirel’s reason for visiting!!
Akion found it suspicious that Isirel, absent from the capital banquet hall, had suddenly popped up in Energies territory.
“Mm. Father dispatched me for cooperation with Energies. A few days ago…”
“The Duke of Volkov?”
As expected, sent by the Duke of Volkov.
But Volkov Duchy and Energies were quite a distance apart.
Even at top speed, she’d have left before the banquet started, timing-wise…
“By carriage?”
“Huh? Why take that slow thing? Running’s over ten times faster.”
She’d covered it with a Swordmaster’s superhuman physique.
Akion couldn’t believe it. If so, why hadn’t she run last time? He wanted to argue.
“Mm. Guess I never showed you properly. Hold on—”
Misreading his disbelief, she demonstrated.
—Tadadadang!!!
—Whoooosh!!
Right before Akion, she zipped back and forth at ultra-high speed.
About 10 seconds. To Akion, she looked like six people.
“It’s taxing if I keep it up, but this much is easy. Hehe. Pure running, and I can go days without sleep.”
“……Y-Yes. Got it.”
That’s why she had the Master title.
And why she could zip from Volkov in a flash with those absurd specs.
Volkov… too OP!!
“So, what’s the reason? Isn’t holding the Line tough enough?”
“It’s in a lull now, so one less like me is fine. And…”
Anyway, Isirel had come to Energies on dispatch orders.
She’d come alone, so would she stay as Energies’ guest?
“Father said to make you my husband.”
“……”
But the goal was too blatant.
Akion vowed to give the Duke of Volkov an earful next time they met.
He figured saying something to Isirel would clear the air too.
“Sis, you just follow the Duke’s opinion blindly?”
“As Volkov’s heir, I’m qualified to continue the line. My opinion’s included too. Of course, no personal feelings at all! Don’t misunderstand.”
The “absolutely” made it absolutely true.
In other words, the Lady of Volkov’s opinion, not just the Duke’s.
—Bam!
“Akion?! Akion?! You’re not banning me from the workshop forever, right? I need to help with the Spiral Spear…! Aakiooon! I’m sorryyy—!”
That day, Akion banned Isirel from the workshop.
It was autumn.
As autumn ended and winter approached,
“Careful! More to the left!”
Akion’s first major project of his dreams.
—Clunk!
—Vrrr! Click!
“It’s done, young master!”
The project’s final step unfolded before him.
“Light it up.”
“Yes, sir!”
—Clunk, zzzt!
The massive sign in imperial script lit up,
brightening the street at dusk.
Energies Public Bathhouse - Ridaside Parish Branch
“Hah, hahaha. In just a few months…”
“Did we really build this with our own hands?”
The workshop artisans and carpenters who’d commanded laborers under Akion, handling plumbing, boilers, floor insulation, and more.
And the workers below who’d bled internally, never dreaming of early quits.
All stared, mesmerized, at the soccer-field-sized two-story concrete building.
Even pouring in manpower and capital, it didn’t feel real that they’d completed it.
“Everyone, great job. Take a look around before entering.”
At Akion’s permission, they swarmed the exterior.
—Swish, stroke.
Limestone-finished pillars and terracotta tiles fired from clay.
Glazed tiles with pre-engraved mythic murals joined to tell stories wall-to-wall.
And more.
“That empty space behind…”
“Traps heat loss, huh. Amazing.”
A palm-width gap behind the walls, air acting as insulation.
Young master Akion said ideally a finger-width, but current tech had errors, so a full palm it was.
“It’s obvious for the young master! Remember the rebar concrete with embedded pipes?”
“When he designed maintenance spaces for pipe repairs, I was floored by his precision.”
Rebar concrete.
Precisely embedded plumbing accounting for tolerances.
Even maintenance access.
During construction, they’d been stunned daily by the innovations.
“Everyone seen enough?”
Now, the bathhouse interior tour they’d awaited.
Akion’s gift to his hardworking crew.
“Use it freely with family for three days. And leave reviews.”
“Woooah—!!”
“Long live young master!! Long live Energies—!!”
Three-day free pass to Energies Public Bathhouse.
Plus massive discounts at the special in-house shops!
“Alright, let’s go in!”
“Heh, son. See this pillar? Your dad poured the concrete himself!”
Workers entered with families.
At the entrance counter, they got locker keys and split by gender.
“Daddy, it’s cold…”
“Heh, but the floor’s warm, right? Hang in there.”
Artisans with kids giggled at their awkward naked sons in the lounge.
“That’s the bath?”
“Yeah. Once inside…”
As they opened the bath door after undressing,
—Whoosh—!
“Hoooahhh.”
“Whoaaa… It’s like the emperor’s grand bath…!”
Immense steam billowed.
A massive hot-water bath, a medieval emperor’s luxury, sprawled before them.
“Haha! In we go!!”
Excitement surged.
But as they lunged—
—Smack!
—Whap!!
“Ack!”
“Eek!!”
A figure in orange blocked them with back smacks.
They stood fuming, splatted on the tiles, but—
“Who dares hit an artisan of Akion’s workshop—?! Gahk, Sir Clad?!”
“Why’s Sir Clad in staff uniform…?!”
The culprit: muscle-bound blacksmith Swordmaster, Clad Steelbern.
“Just as Akion workshop head said…! Forgot his warning, did you?!”
In orange short-sleeve and black shorts, he glared at the bath entrance.
“Bathe after washing!”
Pointing at the hanging rules sign.
───────
Bathhouse Bathing Rules
1. Wash body thoroughly with soap before entering.
2. Do not steal toothbrush salt.
3. No running.
4. One towel per person.
5. Caught stealing bathhouse items or others’ belongings: 2 months in reformatory.
───────
Akion’s seal stamped firmly.
Incidentally, 4 and 5 were bolded.
Rumors said the women’s side even had underlines.
“……”
But smacking backs to enforce? Too much—workers thought.
As sore-backed staff glared grumpily at Clad,
—Groooowl…!
“Think my words are a joke…?”
“Gahk.”
Clad’s mana surged with a threat.
They’d forgotten: this nice guy was a Swordmaster!
“I’ve been kind per Akion workshop head’s will… but discipline’s needed. Break some legs to drive it home?”
“Nooo!!”
“S-Son! Let’s go wash!”
No one wanted to be legless customers.
Clutching public soap like treasure, they bolted to the showers.