Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: 8. The Weeded-Out People (2)
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His heart sank.
Kang San couldn't take the failure lightly.
"Hup."
He swallowed hard.
His eyes widened, but he couldn't utter a word, merely rolling his gaze around to survey his surroundings.
Fortunately, nothing happened.
The ominous thoughts spreading through Kang San's mind had reached the point of wondering if this failure might directly lead to mission failure. Thankfully, it didn't seem so. Azmun had said the demonic sword's creation period was within a week, and success in forging it by then would likely mean mission success.
His mouth went dry.
Perhaps from the sudden tension, he massaged his stiff neck while checking the shattered sword fragments.
"......This one's no good. What a waste."
A D-rank longsword.
Some might call it just that, but items were so rare that even a D-rank fetched at least ten million won. It was the item Kang San had gritted his teeth and bought to survive. He'd decided not to invest more in items once he saved up for expensive skills later, but seeing his longsword—the one that had been everything to him—shattered like this still stung.
Spilled water was spilled.
He averted his gaze and scanned the surroundings.
Forging a perfect sword like the Blood Demon from his past life was impossible, so Kang San needed a base sword.
'The old man's conditions for a demonic sword aren't just any good blade. It seemed to mention channeling killing intent through the sword for special training. So I didn't strictly need to ruin my own sword...... but what's done is done. For now, all I can do is procure a new one and keep working.'
One week.
A long time if long, short if short.
With no clear process, he had no time to slack off.
Fortunately, this was a smithy.
The perfect place to buy swords.
Kang San found another blacksmith and bought F-rank swords in bulk, preparing for failures.
[Worn Longsword]
[F-Rank]
[Attack Power +3]
Twenty in total.
Preparations complete.
Kang San lit the furnace again.
Whoosh.
The method was the same.
Memories from his past life.
Kang San tried to replicate the man's hammering stance as closely as possible.
Clang!
Clang, clang!
The work progressed smoothly.
The sword seemed to take mana as if it was working, but just as expectations swelled, the same result repeated.
Crack.
Crumble.
'Failed again.'
Already the sixth.
After breaking the D-rank longsword, he'd shattered five more in a row.
It was practically just destroying swords, but Kang San mechanically fetched new ones. The mission allowed no alternatives to forging the demonic sword. It meant he had to make it no matter what, so he pressed on despite failures.
But.
Clang!
Crack.
Clang, clang!
Crack, crack!
Crumble.
The results didn't change.
No progress.
Just like the initial anomaly, it reacted as if something was there but showed no improvement. After breaking all twenty swords, Kang San—who'd worked through the entire day and night—knew this method led nowhere.
'There must be a clue in the past life's memories.'
If impossible,
it wouldn't have been given as a mission.
Azmun had started this absurd relationship for redemption, so he wouldn't assign an unwinnable trial. A light whim would mean instant death from the start. It could be hope torture, but past patterns didn't match that.
A mission that could be succeeded.
He combed through his memories.
If not just mimicking actions, there must be something else in the past life's memories.
'The Blood Demon gets consumed by killing intent because of the Blood Demon Art. Its evil energy dominates the mind, constantly stimulating murderous urges. So during martial arts training and sword-making, repeatedly imagining killing was part of Blood Demon Art cultivation. To avoid madness, he had to solve the control issue.'
He thought differently.
The sword-forging process.
The red energy constantly surging meant he was channeling Blood Demon Art even in hammering.
In other words,
there was room to interpret it as needing to manifest Blood Demon Art.
'The problem is how?'
Blood Demon Art was a passive skill.
Not an active skill used at specific timings, but one that applied naturally just by possession. This world had become like a game system. There was no concept of operating passive skills, so Kang San hit a wall from the start.
'I need to change my mindset. Even obtained through Azmun, Blood Demon Art was a real martial art used in his past life. Not an illusion, but tangible. So I must break free from the 'passive' label. Believe that beyond its inherent effects, passive skills hold new possibilities.'
He focused his mind.
Picked up an extra purchased sword.
Gripping it lightly and imagining slashing someone, a faint red energy swirled on the blade's surface.
If this was Blood Demon Art's energy,
it was the key to the demonic sword.
The Blood Demon surely controlled and refined this energy.
'This is it. Controlling this visible red energy is how to tame the killing intent.'
Clang!
He hammered down.
Even knowing the method,
no luck followed.
Countless clashes and breaks.
In the fiercely burning flames, Kang San threw everything he had into it.
Days passed.
At the simply named smithy, Iron.
Yu Jeong-young, who worked under Iron, peeled off his sweat-soaked work clothes.
"I'm, uh, heading out."
"Yeah, good work."
The blacksmiths.
They handled their daily quotas.
No special skills required, and hard work didn't change pay. A hamster-wheel life. Having fulfilled his role as Iron's cog, Yu Jeong-young had no desire to stick around longer than needed. Knowing this, those not done with quotas just verbally acknowledged him without a glance.
After changing,
he tossed his clothes in the laundry basket.
Arriving early tomorrow, the laundry auntie would have them clean.
As he was leaving the smithy,
"So you won't do it?"
"Boss, we have our circumstances too. If you slash the price like that......"
"What? Slash? Did you just say slash?"
The man called boss.
The early-30s man's face twisted viciously.
That his interlocutor was the 50s smithy master meant little to him in the superior position.
"Must be living well these days. Everyone knows this is work any dog or pig could do, and you act high and mighty? Lose all customers to competitors? Howling Guild gives you a huge weekly quota— if you pull this, we'll have to switch vendors."
"Gasp! No, anything but that!"
"Then cut the price. 80,000 won each. Accept, and we won't quibble."
A harsh demand.
Base rate was 100,000 won per item.
Once higher, but competition on simple work dropped it to this pitiful level. Factor in half for mana stones, ops, labor—margins were razor-thin. Howling Guild's offer was tough even for high volume.
But
no choice.
As the Howling Guild exec said, smithies were replaceable.
Plus, Howling had the most members in Korea, their orders a big revenue chunk. They had reason to dictate terms.
"......Haa, fine."
In the end,
he nodded.
Only then did the Howling exec smile brightly.
"Smart choice. Looking forward to continued business."
The whole scene
was bitter, but Yu Jeong-young turned away impassively.
He was used to it.
Blacksmiths were like that.
Obsolete in a scientific age, reborn from supply-demand shifts. But not truly valued. Mere item durability repairmen. That was the view, and no one saw sweat-drenched daily quits as noble.
Anyone could do it.
Nothing special.
If talented or hunter-gifted,
no one would choose it.
Weeded-out people had to do something to survive this chaotic world.
Yu Jeong-young was the same.
Once passionate about it.
Proud, but facing public opinion broke his spirit completely.
Did those people remember?
On his way home,
a mother's words to her child.
"Study hard. Fail to become civil servant or awaken as hunter, and you'll live like that uncle."
He walked on.
Went to work today,
so clock out today.
Just another ordinary day for Yu Jeong-young.
The next day.
Yu Jeong-young arrived at the smithy.
Early morning, he changed into work clothes and headed to his workshop.
"Huh?"
In one corner of the workshop,
armor and a shield.
Non-steel items repaired differently, but these he'd finished days ago. Should've been picked up by now. He'd told management to retrieve them, so seeing them still there furrowed his brow.
'Space is tight enough already.'
He went to management.
Explained, and
"Oh, those? Owner's working in a workshop right now. Bear with it a bit. Said he'd pick up within a week, so leave 'em. No space elsewhere."
Suddenly,
he recalled the last encounter.
A mid-20s man had dropped them off, staring blankly at work before suddenly asking to try hammering himself. Unwelcome to Yu Jeong-young. Casual curiosity, but implied looking down on the job.
Think about it.
Trying something never done,
just on a whim—what did that mean?
Without subconsciously thinking it easy, he wouldn't say it while watching.
Lawyers, doctors—
high-bar jobs wouldn't get such remarks.
'Annoying.'
Mood soured from morning.
Yu Jeong-young gathered the items.
Planned to hand directly to owner.
Borrowing workshop anyway, dropping there was fine.
He headed there.
Asked management for location; even before start time, hammering echoed faintly down the hall.
Clang!
Clang, clang!
Regular intervals.
Regular sound.
'Who is it?'
The sound alone screamed expert.
A suspicion arose.
As he neared the source, one hypothesis filled his mind.
He stopped.
Door ahead.
Work or not, he had to tell the rude customer to take his stuff.
But.
Fwoosh.
Whoosh.
Flames roaring beyond the window.
A man engulfed in them.
At the sight drawing in his eyes, Yu Jeong-young froze like a statue on the spot.