The Blacksmith and the Fond Bond of Master and Disciple (1)
I couldn't sleep properly that night, but Sierra seemed to have regained some of her vitality since then.
*[“Is there truly a blacksmith who knows how to craft a Demon Blade in such an ordinary village?”]* asked Sierra, who was floating in circles around me.
"For someone living in an ordinary village, getting to him is quite tricky... but I've come prepared. I'll have to do my best," I said, lightly tapping my bulging backpack.
We had traveled to a village near the Academy to meet the blacksmith who would craft the Demon Blade. Stepping off the carriage and entering the village, I made my way toward where the blacksmith was supposed to be. Perhaps because it was late at night and a small village, there weren't many people wandering the streets.
*[“I wonder what manner of fellow this blacksmith who can craft a Demon Blade is... A dwarf? No, there is no way a dwarf would be living in a place like this.”]*
Questions poured from Sierra, who was highly curious about the blacksmith's identity.
"I don't know what he looks like either. But the moment you meet him, you'll be able to tell right away." I responded to her questions with a smile.
At my reply, Sierra tilted her head, still seemingly unable to grasp what I meant.
As I walked along the village path, a house that stood subtly apart from the others came into view. It was a fairly large mansion for a house in a small village.
"This must be the place," I murmured, stopping in front of the mansion.
The moment I approached the mansion to knock on the door, I felt a sensation sweep over my body.
*[“It seems a barrier has been erected...”]*
"It's likely a simple barrier meant to check who is entering. He dislikes being disturbed, you see." Approaching the door of the mansion, I knocked politely.
Knock, knock.
"..."
Despite knocking, I couldn't sense any presence inside the mansion.
He shouldn't be out...
Since he was living in hiding, I had to be cautious in my approach, but I possessed a gift that would easily smooth over any perceived rudeness.
Creeeak.
Just as I raised my hand to knock once more, the door swung open.
"What brings you here? If you are looking for the village chief, you have come to the right place, but..."
The man who opened the door and introduced himself as the village chief was a clean-cut young man—quite unexpected for a blacksmith capable of crafting a Demon Blade. His exceptionally bright blonde hair stood out.
He was indeed the blacksmith I was looking for. Though I suppose you could call it a side job...
*[“He looks like nothing more than an ordinary human at a glance. Is he truly the blacksmith?”]*
Sierra, floating beside me, threw out a question that would receive no answer from him.
However, I clearly perceived the young chief's gaze subtly shifting toward Sierra, who was floating in midair.
"My... I am not quite sure what to call you. Should I address you as the Village Chief... or as 'Lord Deidros'? Have I found the right person?"
The moment I uttered the name Deidros, the chief's eyes turned incredibly serious. Deidros was his name as a blacksmith of Demon Blades.
"...Let us speak inside. Come in."
The young chief's tone and demeanor shifted instantly. He threw the door wide open and ushered us into his mansion.
The interior of the mansion we entered was incredibly luxurious. Every single item decorating the place looked exorbitantly expensive. The works of art scattered here and there fully put his artistic temperament on display. Sierra, too, flew around the mansion, marveling at the opulence so unfitting for a mere village chief.
Following him, we arrived in a spacious room with sofas arranged around a table. The young chief sank into one of the sofas. He then patted the sofa next to him, inviting me to sit.
"I was worried it might be rude to visit so late at night... Thank you for letting me in," I said as I sat down on the sofa.
"Even putting aside a blind man finding his way here, emitting such a powerful demonic energy makes it obvious what you came for."
The young chief glared at me briefly before pouring himself a glass of alcohol from a bottle on the table. Though he didn't show it openly, he seemed rather displeased.
Seeing this, I pulled a bottle of alcohol from my backpack. I had brought out the perfect item to improve our relations.
"Seeing as the scent of alcohol is already in the air... I brought something to give you, but perhaps you won't be needing this."
His gaze locked onto the bottle I had produced.
"Hold on... Hand that bottle over to me."
I obediently handed the bottle to him. Taking the bottle, he slowly read the label before looking up to ask me.
"Where... did you get this?"
The alcohol he held was an item labeled as 'Very Old Alcohol' in the game. Normally, wine increases in value and flavor the longer it is aged, but this drink was closer to a cheap distilled spirit. Thus, it wasn't an item of particularly high value in the game.
However, this alcohol was a specific item that boosted the affinity of the man before me, Deidros. It was a drink he had enjoyed in the past, now discontinued and nearly impossible to find. It was a beverage steeped in his personal nostalgia.
"On my way here, I helped an old man organize his warehouse. He gave me this as a token of appreciation. Since I do not drink..."
The game's design wasn't overly complex. If there was a specific character to meet, it was common to obtain items related to them along the way.
"On the way to the village... Hahaha! Truly, it is darkest under the lamp... To think it was so close... This alcohol holds many memories for me. Whether you intended it or not, this is a deeply meaningful item to me."
Staring wistfully at the bottle, he traced the label with his finger. Judging by his reaction, the intended effect had been achieved perfectly.
*[“This man... Despite his youthful countenance, I can feel that the years he has lived are by no means light.”]*
Sierra seemed to have grasped his true nature to some extent.
"Deidros... It is quite an unfamiliar name now. I am not curious about how you found me... but at least you came knowing who I am, yes?"
I nodded at him.
Deidros. He was a dragon who had lived on this land for hundreds of years. Currently, he was polymorphed into a human form. It was commonly said in fantasy that dragons' personalities and traits differed based on their scale color. However, even in the game, he had never been shown transforming into his dragon form, so there was no precise information. But judging by his blonde hair in human form, one could infer he was a Gold Dragon.
In any case, he was currently thoroughly enjoying his 'amusement' as a dragon. A village chief of a small village. To a modern human, it would probably feel akin to playing a town management simulation game.
"...You wish to craft a Demon Blade, correct?"
Placing the bottle on the table with a satisfied curl of his lips, Deidros got straight to the point.
One might wonder why a dragon would act as a blacksmith, but he crafted Demon Blades using his 'Dragon's Breath,' which possessed enough heat to melt blood iron. His purpose in crafting Demon Blades for mere humans was also a form of amusement. Of course, this applied to unsealed Demon Blades; if a user failed to handle the blade properly, they would be consumed by the demonic spirit within. Watching those foolish humans get devoured by the spirits was a delightful source of entertainment for him, which was why he crafted them.
Furthermore, possessing a strong artistic streak—enough to set up an entire workshop—he treated the Demon Blades as his own magnificent works of art. I only hoped his unique artistic sensibilities wouldn't make things too difficult for me.
"Are you confident you won't be swallowed by the power of the Demon Blade...? ...Ah, my apologies. It has been a long time since I spoke as a blacksmith, so my manner of speech is fluctuating."
Deidros pressed a hand to his forehead and shook his head. It seemed to be the side effect of living for so long while transforming into all sorts of different humans.
"It is fine. Would speaking as the village chief be more comfortable for you, then?"
"Yes, that would be splendid... So, have you brought all the materials?"
His voice and tone shifting in an instant was somewhat difficult to adjust to, but what did it matter as long as he crafted a good Demon Blade? Judging by his proactive attitude, the item I brought seemed to have had a significant impact.
I moved to open my backpack for Deidros, who was looking for the materials. However, he stopped my arm and spoke.
"Hmm... Doing it here is a bit inappropriate. Let us head down to the basement."
Saying so, he picked up a nearby candlestick and led the way.
Following him through a secret passage, we began to descend a pitch-black staircase. The spiral stairs led us deep underground.
"You walk remarkably well despite your inconvenience. I have seen someone like you before."
Deidros, relying on the candlelight as he slowly descended the stairs, spoke.
"Someone like me?"
"That fellow also had his eyes covered with bandages, just like you. He walked well... and fought well. Well, he was a martial artist, so he was different from you, a swordsman."
Deidros paused on the stairs to glance back at me as he spoke.
"Though he lived hundreds of years ago and my memory is a bit hazy, I still recall him babbling about 'sound waves' and 'resonance.' At any rate, do you possess a similar kind of technique?"
"Ah... I use something called 'Qi Sensing'... It is likely a similar concept."
Over hundreds of years, it made sense that at least one such person would exist. In fact, to someone like Deidros, my existence might not even seem that bizarre.
"The funniest part was that the ultimate technique he spent his entire life refining was named 'Dragon's Rage.' All while having absolutely no idea that a real dragon was standing right in front of him..."
Deidros stifled a chuckle, ending his idle chatter as he opened the door at the bottom of the stairs.
*[“...So he was a dragon?”]*
Only after listening to our conversation did Sierra finally piece together his true identity.
"Welcome to the 'Workshop of Breath'."
Stepping into the room in accordance with his introduction, a sight that was hard to believe existed underground unfolded before us. It looked like a professional workshop. Though I didn't know all their names, it was filled with tools that looked like they belonged in a game's blacksmith shop.
When I had first entered the Workshop of Breath in the game, it hadn't felt very real, but descending the long staircase in person lent the place a far more mystical atmosphere.
"Though I had quite a bit of trouble connecting it to the chimney... I take pride in this place, even if you might not be able to perceive it well."
Standing in the center of the workshop, Deidros struck a dramatic pose with both arms raised. Judging by the mansion's interior and his current gestures, he seemed to have a personality that thoroughly enjoyed showing off.
"Let us see the materials."
As Deidros strode over to me, I unzipped my backpack and showed him the materials.
"Hmm, the blood iron is of quite high quality... Let's see... These petals... they will certainly be of great help in warding off demonic energy."
Deidros examined the materials I had prepared, turning them over in his hands.
"The other things are sufficient. However, I have been seeing a clump of demonic energy floating around since earlier... Where is the 'object'?"
He was referring to the item containing the soul's memories, which was the most crucial element of a Demon Blade. Given his reaction at the door, it seemed that even if he couldn't see Sierra's full form, he could at least perceive her as a condensed mass of demonic energy.
I pulled Sierra's pendant from my chest pocket and handed it to him.
"It is emitting this much demonic energy, yet you have been carrying it in your breast pocket all this time...?"
Taking the pendant, Deidros's face hardened with gravity as he questioned me.
"...Is there a problem?"
"With this level of demonic energy... it wouldn't be strange if your health had deteriorated. But judging by your reaction, it seems you haven't suffered any ill effects at all."
"..."
In the game, the player had an inventory—a pocket dimension—so there might not have been any mention of this, but hearing his words, it seemed my current situation was indeed highly unusual.
*[“...To treat This Lady as nothing more than a mere curse or a wicked specter! This Lady would never bring harm to her disciple.”]*
Sierra grumbled, pointing an indignant finger at Deidros—who couldn't even hear her—before slipping back inside the pendant.
"By any chance... can you converse with spirits?"
Deidros, who had been watching me closely for a while, spoke in a deeply significant tone, as if addressing a matter of grave importance. Was he able to guess because of his long experience with Demon Blades?
The moment I heard his question, a wave of fluster washed over me.
"...A little?"