Chapter 140

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 140

Chapter Title: Shattered Mithril

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"Whoa! My hand..."

'Guess it's got nothing to do with me.'

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about the Earthlings, but I had no intention of reaching out to them myself. With "Earth" right there in their guild's name, and having already crossed paths with two of them, it felt pretty obvious that the Earth Guild was either founded by Earthlings or packed with them anyway...

'As long as I don't get tangled up in it.'

Even I was hiding the fact that I was an Earthling. There wasn't any special reason—just that Earthlings... or rather, otherworlders like us didn't have the best reputation in this world.

I'd mentioned it before, but with so many otherworlders getting skills like [Hypnosis] or [Time Stop] and committing crimes, the image of us had naturally gone down the drain.

....Not that I could judge them too harshly when I wasn't exactly a saint myself, but anyway.

"Let's head in."

"Ah, sure."

As my thoughts wandered back to otherworlders, Miranda's voice snapped me out of it. I'd finished filling out the participant list, so we headed inside. Five master craftsmen were waiting to greet us.

'....Gram?'

They'd said advanced artisans would be judging the gear for the first round, and sure enough, Gram was among them. Miranda's father.

Gram and Miranda locked eyes for a moment but pretended not to know each other. Then she pulled out the ogre armor and salamander greatsword we'd wrapped in cloth beforehand.

"Ho! This is...!"

The craftsmen, who'd been looking bored, suddenly perked up. One tapped the blade with his finger to test the ring, while another drew a small dagger to nick at the armor—checking it out thoroughly.

"The workmanship is excellent... top-notch materials, and they've been handled perfectly to bring out their properties. And this—salamander scales? Doesn't this violate the restrictions?"

"Salamander's exempt. By the rules, its byproducts count as 'ores.' Ores from floor 21 are allowed too... Hmm..."

Back when I'd used my [Mining] skill, it had registered salamanders as 'veins.' Apparently, the ones living in lava had unique traits compared to normal creatures, and their scales were treated more like ore than monster byproducts.

That let us skirt the rule limiting monster materials to those from floor 20 and below. It sounded ridiculous as a bystander, but they said overly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠strict rules would limit materials too much—no helping it.

Honestly, it worked out great for me.

"So, how does it measure up to regs?"

"According to the temple's standards, the scales are within limits. Hah, no one's ever used them before... How the hell did you get your hands on this? The Magic Tower snaps it all up the second it hits the market..."

"Forget the sword—this armor's insane too. Says here it's ogre hide from floor 20... This from that incident recently? It's a floor 20 monster, at least..."

The excited dwarves chattered among themselves as they appraised the gear. Once we'd handed it over and stepped aside, the dwarves who'd finished judging the other participants approached Miranda and declared:

"Outstanding materials! The ability to procure them! Skill in handling them, plus ingenuity in design... Congratulations. You've been selected for the first round."

Miranda nodded like it was a given rather than celebrating, then headed to the waiting area for those who'd passed.

"...You...?"

Inside, Antony—who'd passed ahead of us—stared at her with wide eyes.

"....A half-dwarf making it through? No way the judge was biased 'cause it's his kid...?"

"Antony. Quiet down."

"Urk...."

Antony tried picking a fight again, but an elderly dwarf in the fiery temple's priest robes scolded him. Wait, those robes look just like forge work clothes?

He backed off sullenly, then glared at Miranda. I'd thought it before, but scowling made him look even uglier.

'Is that guy Vulcan?'

'No, he's just a cleric. But he oversees participants, so he can boot anyone causing trouble.'

'Ah.'

As I whispered to Miranda about the guy who'd reined in Antony, more dwarves trickled into the waiting room, clutching their gear. Once everyone who'd brought an escort had gathered, the cleric in the center spoke in a deep voice:

"Bring out the gear you've prepared."

At his words, Antony—who'd been slinking in the corner—stepped up first, flashing a smug grin as he unveiled his creation.

'A dagger?'

Just a single silver dagger. For something he was so cocky about, it seemed surprisingly plain...

'....What the? That edge... Feels off somehow.'

"...Good lord. Mithril? They gave mithril to a mid-tier artisan?"

The other participants gasped in unison. Antony's grin widened at their shock.

"That's right! The whole blade's solid mithril!"

He boasted about the material shamelessly. And honestly, even setting that aside, the dagger's craftsmanship was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠impressive. The other artisans, intimidated, hesitantly revealed their own pieces.

"Miranda? What's wrong? Too shabby to show off?"

"Antony! Final warning. Keep stirring trouble, and you're disqualified."

"...Tch..."

Miranda had looked startled at first when Antony showed his mithril dagger, but unlike the others, she didn't shrink back. She took a small breath and brought out her sword and armor.

"Hm... Sword and armor? No limit on quantity, but piling it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on like this isn't smart..."

"....Look at that blade. What even is it made of? Never seen the material... Red means firestone? Kinda different though..."

"Salamander? No way they got salamander scales? How? Magic Tower hoards that stuff."

"And ogre hide...? Why's it black?"

A murmur rippled through the room, rivaling the reaction to Antony's piece. Antony, who'd been watching Miranda like he was about to sneer, went bug-eyed.

"Y-You... How did you get that?!"

"What? Cooler than your little dagger, right?"

Miranda teased him lightly, and Antony started to retort but glanced at the cleric and shut his mouth.

I felt a petty satisfaction and looked away, my gaze drifting behind Antony.

'.....Huh?'

For some reason, the man standing behind Antony stared gravely at Miranda's gear, then moved his lips like he was talking to someone.

'....Variable.....Guild Master...permission.....What the hell?'

I couldn't lip-read properly, so no clue what he said. It was nagging at me though. Talking to a ghost? No comms magic tool in sight either.

"Mithril was unexpected, but... our work holds up. We can win this!"

Miranda was psyching herself up beside me, but I kept watching the guy muttering behind Antony.

"Ian?"

"........."

'Damn it. Where'd that come from....'

'Fergus'—the Earth Guild member accompanying Antony under an alias—sensed the plan going sideways.

'We even prepared mithril!'

Mithril, no less. What lunatic hands mithril to a mere mid-tier artisan? It's used in advanced adventurers' gear. Wasting it on him was absurd.

Yet the Earth Guild had supplied it to him for their goals. The pinnacle material usable in the Festival of Fire.

'But what's that?! Salamander? The hell?'

From the reactions, it seemed not inferior to mithril. And the maker wasn't in their intel—a skilled nobody popping out of nowhere.

'....We blocked material gathering for any real threats... Damn it. Half-dwarf, so she slipped the list? Why's a half even competing...'

Sensing a wrinkle in the plan, Fergus contacted the guild master via their linked skill connection.

He was a bit rattled but prepared for variables—that's why he'd tagged along.

"Antony. Remember our deal?"

"......Ahem."

As Fergus leaned in and mentioned the 'deal,' Antony coughed uncomfortably. But he didn't protest further and stepped aside quietly.

"...Using that method just makes my piece better than hers, right?"

"You've seen it yourself. My 'skill' is reliable."

".....Fine then."

A typical dwarf with artisan pride would've refused such a deal. But Antony prioritized 'results' over skill, so the Earth Guild had scouted him specifically.

Antony stepped back, and Fergus excused himself to give the dagger a final polish, taking it again.

He placed it on his palm and activated his skill.

'This is why I came to the "Festival of Fire" myself.'

The skill he'd gained upon arriving in this world: [Reinforcement]. Applied to gear, it always improved performance.

'High-end reinforced gear is OP, after all.'

When he'd gotten [Reinforcement] after crossing over, he'd recalled his Earth games—Lost Ark, Normalization Story, Dungeon & Agari Fighter, you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠name it...

Every game had reinforcement systems, and ultimately, it defined your character's power. Gear performance skyrocketed.

'Let's see... Can't break it, so keep it moderate. Roughly matches their stuff... +3 should do it.'

Activating the skill, 'circuits' invisible to others traced over the mithril dagger. Channel mana along them to reinforce.

'Way more generous than Earth's systems.'

Skill-based, not luck. He'd ground it out endlessly, and higher levels simplified circuits. +3 was easy.

'Alright... Here goes.'

'....What the hell's that guy doing?'

I eyed the man who'd claimed to polish the sword but instead cradled it, mana flaring from his hands.

As Antony and the man started 'polishing,' the other participants—including Miranda—hurriedly pulled out cloths and oil to tend their gear. But I couldn't look away from him.

And then.

-Flash!

'....What?'

Watching curiously, I sensed something odd. I wasn't a sword expert, but as a swordsman with Lv.6 [Swordsmanship] and [Beast Sense], I picked up on the unnatural shift in that blade.

Sensing something fishy, I triggered my skills. My senses sharpened, picking up the man's mana in fine detail—and the sword's state too.

He was hyper-focused, oblivious to me probing his mana nearby.

-Flash!

'Holy shit!'

This time I saw it clearly! Whatever he did, the sword got sharper—edge keener, sturdier, conductivity subtly up!

Chilling part: I'd spotted it because I saw the process, but the blade itself showed no trace of tampering.

"Miranda. Over there...."

I tried alerting her urgently, but she was lost in polishing her gear with cloth and oil. Dwarves go all-in on work, huh!

Used to make fun moments before, but not now!

'The cleric?'

The festival overseer had stepped out to fetch Vulcan. Antony smirked bitterly at Miranda, sword left with the human. Not just her—the other dwarves were zoned out too. Their escorts were dwarves except for us, same issue.

'Is that dwarf for real? Letting someone else touch his work?'

I inwardly cursed Antony, but he stood there brazenly, no guilt.

-Sss...

Not done yet—more mana welled from the man. One more boost like that... and we're toast. Even now, that dagger might clinch it.

Others too distracted to notice. But leaving it... no evidence left...

'....Not like I have to win this.'

My goal was solid gear. Festival win or not, mine was done—didn't matter anymore. But...

'....Pisses me off.'

This bastard cheating so openly? In front of everyone? Additional processing on passed items? Rule break. And it's supposed to be their crafted work—outsider meddling?

Plus, flaunting mana like that in public...

Sensory Block says, 'Gotcha, punk!'

'Mithril gear, huh?'

Fergus wiped sweat after drawing the complex circuit for just +2.

The rarer and stronger the target, the harder the reinforcement—but the gains scaled accordingly.

'Stop at +2?'

He considered it but pushed for +3 to squash the variable. Fittingly tough for mithril, but doable.

'Plus, after this, the gear's mine... Heh...'

Imagining the mithril dagger and his powered-up self, he traced the circuit. Post-festival deal sealed it—+3 was safe.

'Almost... Just one more stroke...!'

One stroke from +3 completion...

-Whoosh.

".....?!?!?!"

'Wh-What?! Why's the circuit...?'

The mana circuit—visible only to him during skill use, the 'reinforcement circuit'—vanished like smoke. Even the mana gathered at his fingertips felt suddenly empty.

'What? Mana depletion? No way? I had plenty!'

He scrambled to diagnose, but no time. [Reinforcement] was mid-process, his panicked hand shaking,

Unseen mana disrupted, a horrific system message blotting his vision. Worse followed.

-Low chance: Target destroyed!

"What?! Nooooo!"

Fergus's sudden yell drew every eye in the room,

-Crack-crack-CRASH!!

and they witnessed the gleaming silver dagger shatter to pieces.