Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: The Master Blacksmith's Armaments
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“Releasing the blood seal will cause you considerable pain. For the time being, you won't be able to move anything above your neck on your own.”
So Gun-ak said this as he undid the seal.
Jake's arms and legs were now free, but he couldn't move a single muscle in his face.
“If you endure it like that for a week, you'll be able to keep that face from now on. Is that what you want?”
At So Gun-ak's question, Jake hurriedly nodded.
His stiff neck moved to show his agreement. His original face hadn't been particularly handsome anyway, so Jake actually quite liked the change.
It was the Bone-Shrinking Shadow Division Divine Art, one of the highest-grade disguise techniques.
“Good. Bear with it for a few days, even if it's uncomfortable.”
Hearing this, Jake reevaluated So Gun-ak.
'He's no villain.'
This might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It seemed he'd gained a Black Knight of tremendous ability as his master.
Jake followed behind So Gun-ak as he descended.
As they entered Todun City, Jake, who had been shrinking back, regained his full confidence when even the passing soldiers failed to recognize him. This was after they'd held up a wanted portrait of a criminal—clearly featuring his face—and compared it to him before leaving with an apology.
So Gun-ak went to the inn where they'd stayed, settled Jake's bill, and took a room.
He had no intention of returning to the abandoned mine.
With just a few days left until the weapons were completed, he planned to hole up in the inn.
By now, through unexpected battles, he'd grown fully accustomed to Jamie's body. It felt just like his own original one.
A week later, the internal energy So Gun-ak had used to fix Jake's altered face dispersed, allowing it to solidify in place.
But a week was too short for the changed face to fully set, so the pain had been intense, and the bones were still weak.
He needed to fill a prescription from So Gun-ak at the apothecary and take the medicine. Jake treated So Gun-ak like a loyal dog serving its master.
He answered when asked and waited silently otherwise.
After a few days like this, Jake adapted to So Gun-ak. As the son of a merchant, he was quick on the uptake and now anticipated his master's intentions, acting on them preemptively.
With his entire focus on observing So Gun-ak all day, it wasn't hard.
“Let's go down and eat today.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Jake was four years older than So Gun-ak.
Given his appearance, treating him like a squire would draw unwanted attention. After the incident with Jamie, So Gun-ak wanted to avoid needless hassle.
So he had Jake call him “Captain,” like a knight addressing his leader.
Understanding this, Jake offered some advice.
He suggested registering as official mercenaries at the mercenary guild.
Todun City was a safe zone, but in conflict areas, border regions, or a great lord's direct territories, they checked identities rigorously before entry. For So Gun-ak, who preferred to keep a low profile and avoid trouble, it would be a nightmare.
But joining the guild and completing a few requests built a reputation as a mercenary. From then on, a mercenary tag became the perfect proof of identity.
Thus, a two-man mercenary band was formed, with So Gun-ak as captain.
After eating at a restaurant, they headed out. At the smithy where they'd commissioned work two months prior, a “closed” sign hung, yet the sound of hammering never ceased despite no business.
As So Gun-ak opened the door and entered, the smith's son replied without looking back.
“Ah, we're not open, who...”
Only then did he glance at So Gun-ak's face, squinting as he scanned him up and down, searching his memory.
His distinctive attire made him hard to forget.
“You've come? The cursed weapon's just finishing today. Wait a moment.”
His tone was gruff.
Anyway, So Gun-ak followed the son inside.
The smith poured all his focus into crafting the weapon.
To avoid disturbing him, So Gun-ak sat quietly. The wait, starting in the morning, stretched past lunch until sunset, when the hammering finally stopped.
Then came sounds of handling tools, followed by the smith's weary voice.
“Come in.”
So Gun-ak entered the forge to a haggard-looking smith who greeted him warmly. His gaunt face was pitiable, but his eyes shone brighter than before.
“You timed it perfectly. Sourcing the materials took forever.”
So Gun-ak nodded. He'd anticipated this when the ten-day job ballooned to two months.
“After finishing your commission, I doubt I'll swing a hammer again.”
Not from exhaustion. He'd poured his life's passion into it and lacked confidence for another masterpiece.
“Thank you.”
So Gun-ak offered a sincere clasped-hands bow, the proper respect for such dedication.
The smith awkwardly nodded at the unfamiliar gesture but smiled kindly, clearly touched.
“Try it on.”
With the smith's help, So Gun-ak donned the breastplate. Measured precisely for the commission, it fit perfectly. The black plate was thick armor protecting chest and back, fitted with rings and hooks.
So Gun-ak sheathed his greatsword on his back. Holding the spear diagonally across his body with the greatsword, it looked every bit a cavalry lance over four meters long.
Clank.
Twisting the reinforced metal joint in the spear's shaft split it with a metallic clang into a spear just over two meters and a staff roughly the greatsword's length.
Spear arts were one of So Gun-ak's specialties. He used it joined as a cavalry lance in charges but preferred it split for long-staff techniques in daily use.
The separated staff was a fine weapon in its own right.
He crossed it with the greatsword and hooked both to the backplate. The greatsword's hilt protruded over his right shoulder, the staff's end over his left.
So Gun-ak draped a black cloak over the pauldrons to fully conceal his back, then slotted seven throwing knives around the breastplate's chest edge.
He buckled on the Magic Suit's belt, its crest erased and painted black. Even without the suit, the belt alone was exceptional.
On his right waist, a short sword suited for close-quarters thrusting; on the left, a longsword. He didn't favor longswords normally, but as the world's most common weapon, he wanted to familiarize himself to find counters and exploits.
While proficient in spear, his swordsmanship was first-rate. The Divine Cult had supreme sword arts, several of which he'd mastered.
Click.
On his left wrist, a small round shield about three fists wide. In cavalry, one hand held reins, the other the lance—both needed free. Thus, the Black Dragon Corps' shields were compact arm-guards.
The only remaining arms were four throwing axes, to be mounted on a saddle.
Fully equipped, Jake's jaw dropped.
Would even a knight here—or a general or soldier marching to war—hang so many weapons on themselves?
Yet So Gun-ak's look suited him perfectly. Glancing in the nearby mirror, he looked satisfied.
“Excellent. The craftsman's skill is remarkable.”
Every weapon felt right. Not perfectly familiar like his old ones, but superior in quality.
“Heh heh, I spent every coin you paid on materials. The masterpiece of my life.”
The smith's son pouted. Two months with the shop closed making just this.
A fortune in gems received, but the smith's stubbornness meant scant profit. Considering lost business, it was a loss.
Reading this, So Gun-ak offered,
“If more payment is needed, I'll provide it.”
The son brightened, but the smith silenced him.
“Heh, no need. I'll take compensation another way.”
Curious, So Gun-ak tilted his head.
“May I name the weapons?”
“Of course.”
So Gun-ak nodded readily. The smith, moved, took the spear and caressed its blade.
“Heh heh, I presumed you'd allow it and engraved them already. This spear is Kataras's Spear.”
At “Kataras,” Jake's eyes widened.
“Kataras—the Zenic Kingdom's greatest master smith?”
“The young one knows his stuff. Embarrassing, but yes, my name.”
Jake was stunned; the son pouted. Fleeing Zenic for seclusion in quiet Rosco Kingdom was all due to his father's stubbornness.
Realizing the smith was a famed master, a thought struck So Gun-ak. He pulled a small crystal from his pouch.
“Do you know what this is?”
Politely asked, the smith examined it—holding to light, tapping with hammer—then shook his head.
“Strange thing. Not a mineral, not diamond... If processable, it'd make fine material.”
Hiding disappointment, So Gun-ak pressed.
Kataras sighed. “I haven't a clue. But perhaps dwarves would.”
“Thank you.”
Kataras laughed heartily at the bow.
“In my old age, crafting such wonders brought joy. I staked my name on them. Cherish them.”
So Gun-ak nodded.
“I've gained fine companions.”
Kataras beamed at the reply.
Kataras's Spear, Kataras's Greatsword, Kataras's Shield...
Every weapon bore his name.
“Heh, you'd faint knowing the materials.”
The son grumbled at the unprofitable job but softened seeing his father's happiness.
“Rakoum. Twenty kilos. Other rarities too, but Rakoum alone... Whew.”
At “Rakoum,” Jake eyed So Gun-ak's gear anew. A branch of dragonkind, cousin to drakes—the monster Rakolata was known to eat minerals occasionally.
Thus, dissecting dead ones yielded trace Rakoum. But so rare and hard-won, it traded dearer than mithril.
Knowing So Gun-ak paid in full highlighted not just his might but vast wealth. His refined bearing hinted noble blood, though Jake dared not ask.
Ignorant of Rakoum's value, So Gun-ak just noted the precious metal. Bidding farewell, Kataras smiled wistfully, like sending off a beloved child.
“Now Kataras's name will echo across the continent.”
His son startled. A weapon's worth hinged not just on the maker but the wielder.
In rich hands, mere decoration; in a warrior's, fame.
Depending on who, infamy or renown.
“Is he that great?”
Tsking at his dull son, Kataras said,
“Tch tch, does hammering metal make the smith? It's the user—judge the man.”
The son blankly watched the departing Black Knight and his servant.
“Oh, we never got his name.”
“His name will ring across the continent with mine soon enough.”
Kataras laughed heartily.