Gifts Are Always Great (4): An Artisan Never Blames His Tools
An artisan never blames his tools.
If you grabbed a passing adventurer and tried to share that age-old wisdom, nine times out of ten you'd get spit in the face.
Of course, leaning too hard on your gear is a classic rookie mistake. But not caring about equipment at all?
You'd be better off hanging yourself quietly at home—it would hurt less. In the Tower, gear isn't optional. It's essential.
A single cheap antidote stashed in the corner of your bag can decide whether you live or die.
And if you're a proper mid-tier adventurer, your equipment options essentially boil down to one place: the 17th floor, Eisen-schmiede.
The cost-performance ratio is so good that not only most adventurers but even Rankers operating on the higher floors flock there.
The man's greatsword—his trustworthy comrade that had fought at his side all this time—had been forged there as well.
An Eisen-schmiede greatsword that held its own against a 60th-floor boss monster… shattered in a single blow…!!
But he didn't even have time to mourn his fallen comrade. Death was closing in, and he had to escape it.
The fist of the nun standing before him was far stronger than the full power of the boss monster he had faced on the 60th floor.
Which meant the man was now fighting someone stronger than a 60th-floor boss—and without a weapon, no less.
"Wait! I surrender!"
"Pardon? Surrender?"
"Yes. I'll leave my treatment entirely to you. Just please—spare my life."
He wasn't even in a guild. He had simply taken a commission to earn money and claw his way back to Ranker status.
In other words, he had no loyalty worth dying for. Life would be hard from here on… but far better than death.
The man's sudden surrender left the silver-haired nun, Zion, slightly flustered. A change of heart that fast was almost too fast.
Is this a trap? Waiting for me to drop my guard so he can ambush me…
Having fought him herself, he didn't seem particularly threatening—but there was no reason to take unnecessary risks.
Fortunately, her deliberation didn't last long. Hurried footsteps approached, and a familiar flash of red hair came into view…
An adventurer with flame-like crimson hair and red bikini armor. Ifrit had returned.
"What the hell is going on here?"
"……That is…"
"These people tried to kidnap me first. I had no choice but to fight back in self-defense."
"You fought back? Alone, Zion?"
"Yes. Is there a problem?"
There most certainly was a problem. Because Zion was a healer. Healers were a class that supported allies with powerful auxiliary skills.
Their offense was inevitably weaker. Even the High Ranker Gijeok, a fellow High Ranker, only had attack power on par with an ordinary Ranker.
Yet Ifrit surprisingly accepted Zion's words without question. She already had a rough idea of Zion's true identity.
Well… if she's the great Saintess who defeated the Demon King alongside the Hero, she should at least have enough power to protect herself.
She had been looking up records on her way back, after all. The era when the Demon King reigned had been pure survival of the fittest.
To fight through monsters far stronger than today's and face the Demon King, one would need abilities to match.
The problem was that her misunderstanding was only growing worse because of this… but there was no way Zion could know that.
"Good timing, Wild Flame. I need you to mediate—ugh?!"
"Shut up if you don't want to be burned at the stake."
"……"
"Zion, you're really not hurt anywhere, right?"
"Yes."
"Count yourself lucky. If you'd so much as harmed a single hair on Zion's head, I was going to drag you outside and set you on fire."
At Ifrit's threat, the man could only tremble in silence. This wasn't empty intimidation.
For her, burning someone alive was nothing. There was a reason her alias was Wild Flame.
So the man could only nod meekly. Only then did Ifrit smile in satisfaction.
"Who sent you?"
"……Bing-je."
"……So it was him after all."
"Bing-je? Who is that?"
"A creepy stalker who follows me around. Knowing more will just give you a headache."
How many people in the world could call Bing-je—ruler of the 22nd floor's Land of Mists and a High Ranker—a stalker?
But the man didn't bother adding anything. Bing-je's obsession with Wild Flame was common knowledge throughout the Tower.
Even if it was for money… getting caught between Wild Flame and Bing-je. Regret was only now washing over him.
"……If I'd just been able to scrape together the healing fee, none of this would have happened."
"Healing fee?"
"It's nothing."
"You think you have a choice right now?"
"……To get treated by Gijeok, you need a fortune. So I took Bing-je's commission and came down to the 1st floor."
A common enough story. An adventurer climbing the Tower full of dreams, suffering an unexpected injury, and retiring.
His body was ruined—he couldn't even draw half his original power. Relying on equipment had its limits too.
So he had started saving money out of sheer desperation. But a washed-up adventurer's income was never going to be good.
"Gijeok? Who is that?"
"One of only a hundred High Rankers in the Tower, and currently the best healer active here."
"Rumor has it that if you find him within a day, he can even bring the dead back to life."
"I see."
Zion nodded at the helpful explanation. Of course, she herself had a resurrection skill called Revival…
But its performance wasn't particularly impressive, so rather than casually mentioning it, she chose to stay silent.
In any case, Zion left the man and woman's fate to Ifrit. She would know far better how to handle this than Zion would.
"I've already asked some people to lock them up in prison. I'll try to meet Bing-je later and negotiate over this."
"I'll leave it entirely to you. I trust Ifrit."
"……Thanks. Then shall we get started?"
"Pardon?"
"The church repairs. I said I'd help, remember?"
Ifrit smiled and pulled out a hammer. An unusual black hammer with a hexagram of light engraved on the handle.
Architeon's Hammer. Among construction tools in the Tower, it was on the expensive side… but its performance was rock-solid.
True to its reputation, Ifrit finished the repairs in just one hour. Zion spoke with a dazed expression.
"Th-that's certainly an impressive item."
"Right? Of course, right now I only had wood and stone for materials, so this is the best I could do—but if I get the chance later…"
"It's fine. This is more than enough."
The cracked, creaking chapel door was now crude but solid. The holes in the roof had all vanished, and wooden beams carved from timber firmly supported it. It was no match for a splendid temple…
But it seemed like it would at least make a peaceful sanctuary that sheep seeking shelter from the storm wouldn't flee from at first sight.
"Thank you so much, Ifrit. You saved me."
"Worth the hard work fixing it. More importantly…"
"Yes?"
"Ahem! That… we had something promised, didn't we?"
"Ah, right. I'm sorry—I'd completely forgotten."
Zion hurriedly handed over the old book she'd prepared to Ifrit. Honestly, she even felt a twinge of guilt.
To hand over a worn-out book as payment for perfectly repairing the church… But she didn't let it show.
She just had to treat her well from now on. Unaware of Zion's thoughts, Ifrit simply treasured the book carefully.
"The church's fixed now. What are you planning to do from here?"
"For now, I plan to live by helping people who need it."
"……Are you serious?"
"Yes. Of course, I have to eat too, so I'll accept a little in offerings—bread, cheese, or a bit of money."
Ugh… she's so radiant I can barely look at her straight!
Seeing Zion so naturally intent on helping others, Ifrit actually felt a pang of guilt.
Her own image—repairing the church in hopes of a reward—felt pathetic by comparison. Of course, Zion was accepting payment too…
But unlike herself or other healers, Zion was only taking the bare minimum. That much was only natural.
Just click heal and get money or food… healers really are nobility no matter where they go.
Of course, Zion had no such noble purpose. She was just trying to freeload her way through life as comfortably as possible.
From what she'd heard… there was already a healer who charged for heals. Compared to that, Zion was a latecomer.
For a latecomer to survive in the market, you had to compete on price first. Exactly like Zion was doing now.
But Zion had no idea.
That this choice would one day lead to her being called the Saintess of the Beginning.
And that because of it, she would become the object of obsession for countless Rankers.