Chapter 111
Chapter 111
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: Precious Items Have Their Owners (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Drant bellowed at the top of his lungs.
"Now!!"
Rumble-
Smack-
The orcs' brawl erupted into chaos.
Gullak began taking a beating.
It was a stupefying sight.
Even the old masters, who had witnessed countless crafts, gaped at the scene.
"Is that really how you make it?"
"Dead certain. This ain't no gem or jewel."
Drant, shaking the blue gem in the sacred flames.
Here's what had happened.
While examining the gem, Drant had suddenly started hopping around excitedly.
Claiming it could be smelted like metal.
And ever since, he'd spent the whole day tinkering with it, muttering about what to forge.
"No, anyone can see it's a big gemstone."
"Hmph, you know nothing. Listen up."
Drant raised his hammer high toward the sky.
Isn't that the same hammer old man Parmon used for carving?
And then.
Clang-
"...?"
What? Why does a gem make a metallic ring?
Gems don't sound like that when you hit them, right?
"Hear that?"
"I heard it, but..."
"It won't melt even in that bastard Closel's fire. Means only these flames can do it."
It was an incredibly peculiar phenomenon.
Since it was born from these flames, only they could melt it?
"The problem is, it shows no sign of melting yet."
"So what do we do?"
This was Drant, the dwarf hailed as the greatest blacksmith.
He seemed to have a way.
And that method was.
"Hey, you orcs!"
"Chwik?"
"The winner gets a whole barrel of beer!"
"Chwiiiik!!!"
The mayhem reached its peak.
Punching, throwing, twisting.
"...Is this right?"
"Dead certain. Look at that."
As Drant said, the gem was changing.
Its once transparent core was gradually clouding over.
"Hey, human. No, Chris! Grab that."
"It's on fire."
"Not hot, so try it."
True to Drant's word, it wasn't hot at all.
If anything, it felt soothing.
"Chris, feel anything? Sense it closely."
"Hmm..."
"You'll definitely feel something."
I closed my eyes and calmed my mind.
A vivid blue sensation washed over me.
The touch in my hand resembled the rattle, yet distinctly different.
Fitting for an object born from a soul, it brimmed with lingering essence.
Drant's excited voice rang out.
"That's the feeling! Do what it wants, quick!"
What the gem desired.
"..."
I slowly channeled my spiritual energy toward it.
Born from a soul, it should harmonize perfectly with my soul's power—spiritual energy.
The thought struck me suddenly.
And in that instant.
Crack-
"...!!"
The gem split cleanly in two.
Drant shouted at the sight.
"Left or right!"
Now that he mentioned it, one side pulled at me.
"Left...?"
"Amazing. Never thought I'd have an experience like this again."
Shouldn't he explain what was going on?
Drant, who'd been geeking out alone until now, stared at me and smirked.
"Long ago, I forged a sword for that guy."
"Old man Parmon?"
"Yeah. Though he up and handed it straight to the royals."
Old man Parmon chuckled sheepishly.
Drant didn't seem pleased about that either.
"Anyway, when forging legendary blades or masterpieces that endure through ages, wondrous things happen."
Wondrous things?
"The raw ore, not yet a sword, starts to sing. Like it resonates with the knight."
"...?"
"You'll see."
Drant began hammering the gem.
Clang-
Clang-
"This one's especially sensitive."
Clang-
The form slowly shifted under the hammer blows.
Dents formed here and there, following the strikes.
Suddenly, the hammering stopped.
"Flip it over."
Why make me do it instead of flipping it himself?
Don't artisans hate others touching their work?
Drant answered immediately.
"It hates my hands touching it."
"Pardon?"
People always made that face when I talked about souls.
Utterly baffled expressions.
"Anyway, flip it quick. That's what it wants."
I turned the gem over, and the work resumed.
Clang-
Clang-
"Now turn it sideways."
More instructions followed.
As the process continued, my own feelings grew stranger.
Was this the sensation Drant mentioned?
"...You might want to go easy there?"
Saying that to a normal artisan would get you kicked out on the spot.
But Drant readily agreed.
"Explain in more detail."
His eyes turned deadly serious.
Eyes as unyielding as his hammer.
The pure passion of a craftsman ablaze.
"It needs to be thinner there."
"Like a longsword? More like a dagger, then."
The moment Drant swung, my mood soured sharply.
More precisely, the essence emanating from the gem twisted discordantly.
"No! Not sharper—more blunt...?"
"The hammering?"
"Yes, rounder."
It sounded insane even as I said it.
How do you hammer roundly?
I'd only ever watched blacksmiths briefly—I wasn't qualified to advise.
"Got it."
Without hesitation, Drant adjusted his swing.
"...!"
Is this the world of true artisans?
The strike was similar, yet unmistakably round in feel.
Clear enough for anyone to sense.
Even the brawling orcs paused, mesmerized by the hammering.
And at the same moment, Drant and I spoke.
"Flip it the..."
"Needs flipping."
Incredible.
Unlike my spiritual communion, Drant was communing through his craft.
Is this what it means to be an artisan?
Clang-
Clang-
Flawless motions.
Hammer strikes that excised all excess, leaving only the essential.
And the result?
No need to check—the outcome of each blow resonated clearly.
Clang-
No one dared interrupt his work.
Drant glanced at me slyly.
"Grab it. That's the hilt."
"...Hilt?"
I couldn't tell what was forming.
Couldn't even recognize it as a hilt.
It hadn't been refined from the split pieces, let alone shaped.
But.
"...!!!"
Grabbing it left me stunned.
It fit my hand perfectly.
Despite the odd shape, it felt comfortable.
Drant let out a chuckle.
"I'm shaping it, but it's shaping itself first."
"..."
"Looks like something impossible is being born."
He said that, but I knew.
Without his skill, this couldn't have happened.
"Fire's dying! Orcs, fight!"
"Chwiik!"
"Attack Gullak!"
The brawl reignited alongside the roaring flames.
Few strikes in, yet sweat beaded on Drant's brow.
He was pouring his all into it.
"Listen up, Chris."
"..."
"Precious items have their owners."
Words Drant had once told me.
"I don't know what you'll use it for..."
Drant flashed a bright smile.
A purely genuine one.
"Only becomes precious if you use it well."
I had no answer.
His words encapsulated a lifetime of craftsmanship.
"Even a mere stone's value depends on its owner's heart."
"..."
"A work's completion lies in its owner's soul."
Clang-
Clang-
The hammer rang out for a long while.
***
Tip-toe.
The dead of night, everyone asleep.
Luna checked on Chris before quietly slipping away.
Serena watched her go.
A tiny finger pressed to her lips.
"Sis! Wuna go pway!"
Grin-
A secret just between Luna and Serena.
Sneaking snacks or playtime now and then.
Toddle toddle-
The little body crossed the grass, heading somewhere.
And arrived at.
"Chwik, Baby Saint! Back again?"
"Uncwe Guwwak!"
"It's Gullak, not Guwwak."
Gullak grinned, flashing white teeth.
He'd grown fond of the little human who visited every night.
"Uncwe! Wuna wanna eat meat!"
"Chwik! Different meat today!"
"Diffewent meat?"
Luna tilted her head at the bonfire.
Crackle-
Sizzle-
Fish roasting to juicy perfection.
A small smile lit the scene even brighter.
"Fishy!"
"Chwik! Smart Baby Saint. How'd you know it's from the water?"
"Daddy teached me."
Gullak had been awaiting Luna's visit.
She was his only guest in the dead of night.
Luna plopped down beside him.
Poof-!
"Uncwe, when fishy done?"
"Gotta wait a bit. Too hot for Baby Saint still."
"Otay."
Gullak gazed down at Luna with a peculiar look.
Even now, it struck him as odd.
Humans feared or despised orcs, after all...
"Baby Saint, am I scary?"
"Hm? Uncwe not scawy."
"I'm an orc."
Luna just cocked her head at Gullak's words.
"Orcs look scary. Humans all hate orcs."
The little face studied Gullak.
Luna's reply caught him off guard.
"Wuna can't see with eyes."
"...Chwik?"
"See with wight instead. Uncwe's wight not dwirty."
"..."
Gullak flipped through his tattered book, eyeing Luna and the pages in turn.
Then, as if realizing something, he nodded gravely.
His face turned serious.
"Baby Saint, time to eat."
"Fishy?"
"Yep."
He handed over the stick-speared fish, earnestly instructing her.
"Listen well, Baby Saint."
"Hm?"
"Eat evewything to grow stwong."
"Stwong?"
Gullak thumped his chest.
"Secret is not being picky with food."
"Wuna eats evewything good."
"Eat bones too, no weftovers. That's how you get stwong."
Tiny mouth chomping the fish.
Gullak grunted happily.
"Chwiik!"
Luna laughed and mimicked him.
"Chiiik!"
"Baby Saint, not quite! Louder. Like this: Chwiik!"
"Chiiiik!"
"Baby Saint, you'll grow stwong!"