Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: Masterpiece (4)
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What does it feel like to be grabbed by the collar and sent flying through the air?
"...Finally, I can see the end in sight. I'll wrap this up as quickly as possible, so get ready to head out, everyone."
I don't know for sure, but it has to be exhausting...
Anyone would agree, seeing Michelan's utterly drained expression, like his soul had up and left his body.
When we first met, he had that signature dwarven sturdiness about him. How did it come to this?
...Well, considering he'd been tossed around and worked half to death, maybe it's not that surprising.
"Ahem! Um, Michelan? You can't just rush it and do a sloppy job."
"...We'll provide whatever support you need. So please, put everything you've got into it."
"......"
On top of that, Lea and Estelle had been prodding him relentlessly, layering on the subtle pressure.
Now he wasn't just exhausted—he looked on the verge of tears. It was easy to see why.
...Especially Lea's vibe. It was downright terrifying.
She was beaming with that cheerful smile, but it still sent chills straight down your spine.
"Grr... Fine, you lot. That was my plan anyway."
Anyway, after staring blankly and lamenting his fate, Michelan let out a defeated sigh and trudged over toward me.
Before I could even feel sorry for his pitiful state,
I lost myself in thoughts of what was coming next.
'A sword... That would be perfect.'
Michelan's masterpiece.
I'd received gear countless times before, but this would be the last.
This equipment was something I could rely on straight through to the finale.
And with the sword's importance skyrocketing now that I'd passed on a demonic blade rivaling the holy sword,
securing a masterpiece to replace it was the optimal move.
Sure, in the late game, top-tier gear starts pouring out in droves.
But this moment was still a pivotal crossroads, one that would shape my path forward.
"Hmm. Your stance screams knight, and that calm presence... You're a swordsman, alright."
Just like that, Michelan was right in front of me, eyeing me up and down before speaking up.
As before, no trace of emotion—just the pure aura of a master craftsman.
His words carried only cold facts, no praise or criticism mixed in.
'I'm way more nervous than I thought...'
Maybe because it was my first time here in Rowen's body.
Even though I'd figured there'd be zero tension,
that faint tremble was apparently unavoidable.
"Still, you've clearly put in the work. Reaching that level at your age? No small feat."
Thankfully, Michelan let out a hearty laugh and gave me his praise.
Praise makes even whales dance, they say.
And this sweet validation of my efforts? It hit even better than I'd imagined.
"Alright, then. Let's get started."
Either way, I couldn't just stand there gawking forever.
Michelan extended his hand as he spoke,
and I clasped that thick, callused palm brimming with untold stories.
"..."
How much time passed as Michelan closed his eyes and focused?
He grimaced and groaned the whole while before finally speaking.
"Quite... remarkable."
For some reason, his gaze held an inexplicable quiver.
'...Remarkable?'
What exactly was so remarkable?
His bewildered look didn't jibe with idle chatter.
As I puzzled over his odd reaction,
Michelan stroked his beard thoughtfully, then continued in a voice laced with astonishment.
"How you're already reaching for a realm you haven't earned. I've crossed paths with geniuses galore in my day, but this? First time."
An unpermitted realm...
To advance realms, you needed at least the bare minimum qualifications.
Insights beyond your capacity could shackle you instead.
Of course, attaining those insights took grueling effort and time to begin with,
so it was mostly theoretical boilerplate without much practical weight.
But for me—having witnessed Serin's exquisite strike firsthand—it was different.
A clear goal for the next realm, with the first threads of understanding in view.
"You know it too, Rowen. Push like this, and your body won't hold out."
"..."
"You've swung it a couple times, looks like. Staying intact this long? Pure luck."
That strike against Darian to slip the crisis.
And the all-out blow against the demon of deception to wipe it from existence.
Like Michelan said, without the saintess's heavenly fortune, I'd be reeling from backlash right now.
"Of course, pulling that off means you were backed into a real corner."
True enough—no arguing a point that nailed it so squarely...
I felt it deep in my bones myself.
No matter my rapid growth or vast knowledge,
if I kept tumbling like this, my body would give out first.
Even holing up in the infirmary to grind training nonstop? Same logic.
Just desperate thrashing to postpone the inevitable breakdown.
"Hmm. Best fix would be tempering your flesh to bear the insight..."
"That's..."
"Yeah, not your cup of tea. No guarantee it'll stick forever, and you'd sacrifice way too much."
The textbook path. The safe one.
But with the Demon King reviving in three years, I couldn't afford to dawdle.
Not to mention fending off the academy invasion at year-end trials.
Before freshman year wrapped, I'd claw to Swordmaster by hook or crook.
I knew it was pure selfish greed, but I couldn't let this golden insight slip away.
"So, could you forge me a sword?"
I knew artifacts were the urgent fix to navigate this mess right now.
Michelan's skills could whip up one to ease the strike's burden, no sweat.
But towers built on sand eventually crumble.
Artifacts had to stay in the support lane.
Especially if they tipped into dependency territory—they'd turn venomous fast.
I wanted to prioritize long-term growth over quick fixes.
And against demons, a razor-sharp blade trumped artifacts anyway.
A new sword might lack stability, but it'd propel the road ahead far better.
"You grasp what you're asking?"
"...Yes."
"You want me shoving a cliff-walker off the edge."
"..."
Michelan intoned the words gravely, his voice low and face stern.
...He had a point, of course.
Facing trials ahead meant even more strain,
and failing to process the insight would spell disaster.
I'd framed it optimistically... but it was reckless bravado bordering on folly.
Asking for a sword was like handing a lit fuse to a ticking bomb.
When I should drop mine and grind training instead.
From his view, turning me down was only fair.
As Michelan brooded long and his answer hung on the tip of his tongue,
"I'll walk it with you. So Rowen doesn't push solo... I'll stand watch by your side."
Lea's voice cut in—resolute with resolve,
yet laced with tender affection.
Click, clack.
"...Even then."
"I believe it. That Rowen can pull it off. You're always the fool hurting for everyone else... But starting now, I'll protect you."
Swish.
Lea sidled up beside me in an instant, slipping her arm through mine naturally.
Squeeze...!
Locking our arms tight—no escape now.
"And Rowen...! Your body can't take it? You never told me!"
"Ah, that's..."
"You're gonna get it! Something that big, you should've come to me!"
She kept up the smile as she pressed on...
But the iron grip on my arm betrayed her deep fluster.
Her voice quivered in a hushed whisper.
After this wrapped, Lea would grill me nonstop for sure.
As a strange cocktail of touched and worried feelings swirled,
"...I believe in Rowen too."
Estelle's voice followed—blunt and cool, yet warm at the core.
"...If you ever lose the path, I'll light the way. Keep you from the dark, remind you you're not alone."
Squeeze...
Her hand took mine gently,
radiating a quiet, profound love unlike Lea's.
"And... Rowen did this to me, so you take responsibility."
Estelle's faint smile and ticklish whispers,
her gaze alight with an oddly elated glow—
it felt undeserved... yet swelled my heart with joy, tangled emotions and all.
"Haa... Same here. Rowen, you're a flirt, a playboy, bullheaded meddler... But still my friend."
Gruff words tumbling out in that prickly tone,
"So I'll thrash the bad habits out of you. It'll be a hassle... but I can manage that much."
Even as Arien scowled and spat his barbed support.
It drove home how precious I'd become to them all.
"Urgh... If you're all set on it, guess I don't need to butt in."
"Exactly~ A pint-sized intruder like you in this cozy scene? Total mood-killer~"
"So, like you asked... I'll forge the sword?"
A familiar voice piped up from somewhere—I turned,
and there
"...If you're gonna wreck the place, at least clean up after...?"
Stood the headmaster, face twisted in murderous fury. A minor hiccup,
"Gyaack! Quit it, you witch!"
"Ahaha~ Having a blast. Been too long~"
But hey, minus one, and everyone's thrilled. Good enough, right...?
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