Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: Master of the Furnace
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"So, who are you and why were you hiding here?"
Swish.
Arien had already put some distance between himself and Michelan, his hand gripping the hilt of the holy sword.
As expected of the protagonist.
He was prepared to draw his sword at any moment, just in case.
Even so, he was slowly stepping forward to shield the fallen Lea.
"Why are you kids these days so rude? If you're going to ask stupid questions like that, you shouldn't have reached for your sword."
Of course, Michelan didn't look pleased either. He had pulled out the massive hammer strapped to his back.
"I get that you're strong, kid. But you still need to know your place before acting tough."
Thud!
The hammer was so heavy that just setting it lightly on the floor created a huge crack.
Yet Michelan handled the weapon as if it were a feather hammer.
"Nothing fixes bad manners like a hammer, from time immemorial. Don't worry. I'll go easy on you."
"...Hah, says the one who should be saying that."
Arien radiating a murderous aura, and Michelan looking at him dismissively.
The clash of their presences alone made the air in the room tremble.
◆ Stats
◆ Traits
[Magical Engineering Lv. 8]
◆ Skills
[A : Refining]
◆ Unique Trait
A status window that proved he was the greatest blacksmith.
Going against someone like this could only be called insane...
Shing!
"...First things first, I'll shave off that obnoxious beard of yours."
Even as Arien drew his holy sword toward Michelan.
I watched the scene without feeling any real sense of crisis.
'Because there's no need to fight...'
The greatest blacksmith in history.
This meant not only that he had the best skills...
But above all, that he had an obsessive passion for superior equipment.
"H-Huh...!?"
Thud!
Michelan dropped the hammer he had gripped as if ready to swing it at any moment.
His face lit up in ecstasy, as if beholding a divine sight.
"What the...? Why are you suddenly like this?!"
Arien, flustered by his reaction, scowled and took a step back.
Soon realizing there was no hostility, he withdrew his aura.
'That's why I brought Arien.'
Michelan was generally friendly to everyone, but...
To get his help, you had to go through tedious processes.
Bringing rare ores or jewels, or precious artifacts.
To pique his interest, you had to endure all sorts of hassles.
"Oh man! My bad, my bad! Show me a bit more!"
But there was one way to instantly capture Michelan's interest.
"Ro-Rowen! Do something about this guy!"
"Ahaha..."
No need for complicated schemes—just draw the holy sword.
'Though the artwork is a bit off...'
Arien trying to sheathe the holy sword.
And Michelan clutching at his pant leg.
It was a pitiful sight, utterly at odds with his grand epithet of Master of the Furnace.
"That chilling hilt and pristine blade...! The engraving is so beautiful it brings tears to my eyes—'perfect' doesn't even begin to cover it!"
Even for him, who churned out artifacts like the emperor's sword or the archmage's staff—items that would unleash rivers of blood if released into the world...
There was one weapon he could never even imitate.
"So you're the hero of this generation! Perfect, just perfect!"
The blade forged by the Heavenly God himself.
The holy sword, Lumiere.
"Ah...! Get lost for real!"
"Hahaha! To think I'd see a holy sword in my lifetime! Good thing I came down with that beer! Otherwise, I never would've met you!"
...It's veering into some weird conclusion.
Arien fleeing in horror from his half-mad state.
Michelan charging toward the holy sword on his stubby legs.
It was a hilarious scene, somewhat—no, very much so.
Still, it seemed resolved peacefully, which brought a sense of relief.
After a lengthy chase of pursuit and evasion.
Michelan, unable to overcome his physical limits, sat on the floor bursting into hearty laughter.
"Hahaha! That guy's fast on his feet too!"
"...Crazy bastard."
Arien spat curses at Michelan, who gazed at the holy sword with eyes dripping reluctance.
But he paid no mind, stealthily inching toward it.
...Is it really that great?
A legendary figure who received top-tier treatment wherever he went, reduced to groveling over a single sword.
Foolish, innocent, yet brimming with pure passion.
Perhaps that was the driving force that made Michelan the greatest blacksmith.
"Haa... So, what the hell are you, anyway?"
Arien asked Michelan with a fed-up expression.
Only then did he seem to snap out of it, looking up to introduce himself.
"Huh? Can't you tell? I'm a dwarf."
"...I can see that."
"Oh, right. Hmm... How should I introduce myself?"
Stroking his bushy beard in thought, he soon resolved himself, speaking with a serious gaze.
"Michelan. Michelan Byullant. I think humans call me the Master of the Furnace or something. Who knows."
"...What?"
"Looks like you've heard of me. Yeah, I was kinda famous back then. Embarrassing to think about now, though."
Finishing his words, Michelan stood, picked up a nearby pot,
and with a gurgle, gurgle,
instantly melted it with mana, kneading the molten mass with his thick hands.
Squish, squish...
The red lump stretched and shaped into a sword form.
And in no time, the forging was complete.
Shing!
In just minutes, a credible iron sword had been crafted.
...No, not just any ordinary iron sword.
Slash!
A casual swing left a massive gash in the wall.
It rivaled the might of famed named swords.
"Compared to that holy sword, it's nothing much. But it'll serve its purpose."
Crunch!
He crumpled the sword like trash in dissatisfaction.
I struggled to hold back my tears.
'Th-this is bad...!'
Making the sword was fine, crushing it was fine, but...
What about slicing up the restaurant...?
Do all who reach the pinnacle in their field have a screw loose somewhere?
I started fearing I'd end up like that someday.
"With skills like that... Why the hell were you hiding in a place like this?"
Arien spoke, his face a mix of astonishment and confusion.
And rightly so—the dwarf before them was a legendary figure from tales.
As they awaited Michelan's answer,
Estelle, who had been listening quietly, began to speak in a calm voice.
"...Michelan. I've heard of him. The blacksmith with the greatest skill who vanished in an instant."
She wore a subtly puzzled expression as she said it.
"Rumors said he left on a journey to craft a masterpiece rivaling the holy sword... I didn't think it was true."
Wealth, fame, power.
Temptations anyone might succumb to.
Yet Michelan had vanished, driven solely by his resolve to forge the world's finest sword, forsaking all else.
No wonder Estelle was amazed.
"Yeah, that's right. If you're born a dwarf, don't you have to craft a masterpiece at least once in your life?"
"..."
"That's why I came here. To Avillon Island, richest in mana and ores."
Michelan continued bitterly, gazing at the holy sword.
His voice sank, unlike moments before.
"But seeing the holy sword up close, I realize how foolish that was. How could anyone replicate something like that?"
"...That's."
"Hey now, don't make that guilty face. I'm satisfied just beholding its beauty."
Arien cautiously offered her holy sword, but
sizzle!
it repelled his hand with pure white holy power, as if denying anyone but its owner.
"Hahaha! Feisty one. Only for your master, eh? Got it, kiddo!"
Of course, this only delighted him more, drawing another hearty laugh.
"From the start, trying to imitate it was wrong. Doesn't that mean I'm inferior to the Heavenly God?"
Michelan casually committing blasphemy.
...Yep, pinnacle masters always have a loose screw.
After staring longingly at the holy sword, he shook it off with a confident grin.
"Well, since gracious guests have come, it's only right to offer something."
With that, Michelan picked up his hammer from the floor and headed for the door.
"I invite you to my forge."
A legendary blacksmith known only in whispers, Michelan.
They now had a priceless chance to enter his forge.