Chapter 34
Chapter 34
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: 8. The Discarded People (3)
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Blood Demon Art.
Ever since manifesting this demonic martial art, Kang San had felt his mind gradually being gnawed away.
Clang-!
The hammer unleashed a fierce impact.
The rebound force transmitted through his body dredged up 'unwanted memories' that his current life, not his past one, had endured.
'Why can't even a normal life be allowed to me?'
From a childhood he could barely remember.
His parents had died to monsters.
That much was a common tale in this world of the strong devouring the weak, but the real problem was his relatives, left alone with him in the world, who gobbled up the inheritance and abandoned him like trash. It was a life no ordinary person could imagine. He'd rummaged through trash cans for food, and one day, overcome by dizziness as the world spun, he'd passed out on the street. When he looked back as an adult, a seething murderous intent toward those so-called relatives boiled within him.
'Should I just kill them? I have the power now.'
Clang-!
His eyes turned red.
This wasn't unjust.
It was murder with justification.
His relatives hadn't killed him directly, but hadn't they pushed him to the brink of death?
He still remembered it vividly.
Desperate to live, he'd fled the house.
But unable to endure the hunger, as he sneaked back toward his relatives' home, he spotted them returning in high spirits. There was no guilt over his disappearance, no sense of responsibility to search for him. They were people reveling in sudden wealth, viewing Kang San as a virus in their lives, their faces relieved as if freed from an illness now gone.
'Fucking trash.'
He wanted to kill them.
Thinking of the suffering he'd endured, he felt he could proudly explain himself even if caught for murder.
'Azmun and Luca Bellino are the same. So I was the Blood Demon in my past life? So what? What the hell am I supposed to do about it? I've never been allowed a moment of happiness in this life, so why do I have to bear the karma of some damned past life too? Should I just kill them all? The relatives who stole the inheritance, Azmun, Luca Bellino. There's no reason not to.'
Grind.
He ground his teeth.
His increasingly heated mind reached the inevitable conclusion: kill without question.
He didn't even notice anything wrong with himself.
The surge of emotions felt natural.
But then.
"……!"
His eyes snapped wide open.
The blood-red tint rapidly faded from his eyes back to whites, and Kang San stared at the sword he was hammering with a bewildered expression.
'What the...'
An F-Rank sword.
The worn-out thing had sharpened to a point fit for killing people.
Goosebumps erupted all over him.
Only then did he realize it.
That he'd been consumed by the Blood Demon Art and overtaken by murderous impulse.
If Guardian's Will hadn't existed, he might have grabbed the sword and gone straight to his relatives. The thought made his heart pound. The old man's words were right. If he couldn't properly control the Blood Demon Art, he'd lose control, go mad, and end up stabbing his own heart.
'Calm down. The Blood Demon Art is a controllable martial art. As long as it doesn't control me, there's definitely a way to overcome it.'
"Hoo."
He steadied his breathing.
He couldn't give up.
There was no time to wait for Guardian's Will cooldown either.
Clang-!
He resumed the work.
Now self-aware of the encroachment, he desperately clung to his own will this time.
'I'm innocent. No matter what justification the Blood Demon has, I existed as a human even in desperation.'
Clang.
Clang, clang!
He thrashed about.
Just as he'd survived rock bottom, Kang San relentlessly recalled his past amid the blazing heat to avoid wavering. No matter the failures, no matter the despair. The days he'd stubbornly risen and challenged again. Not empty resolve, but real experiences he'd overcome himself—they melded into his will.
Azmun had said it.
Trials and tribulations were always given at a surmountable level.
The mental pressure assaulting him now was just one hurdle Kang San, the man, could endure.
Was that why?
'......Huh?'
Something started to become visible.
A rippling red aura.
The special points it seeped into.
Targeting those points and striking with the hammer, a cool breeze suddenly blew through his mind.
Whoosh-!
It was an odd sensation.
The murderous intent vanishing in an instant.
His mind clearing and sharpening.
Kang San felt certain.
This was it.
These strike points, and the flow of the red aura.
This was the starting point to overcome the Blood Demon Art's murderous impulse.
From then on.
Kang San hammered the sword in the workshop without sleeping, without eating.
The sun rose.
The sun set.
He lost track of time.
And when the week Azmun had warned of finally passed.
Fsssh.
"......It's done."
He finally extinguished the forge fire.
Kang San's face was haggard.
Unwashed and unkempt, exhaustion plain from lack of sleep, but his gaze never left the sword before him.
"......We did it."
[Worn but Sharp Longsword]
[E-Rank]
[Attack Power +6]
[Special Effect: Bleeding]
-Targets wounded by this weapon suffer fixed damage from bleeding and have recovery effects reduced.
It was an astonishing result.
Merely an F-Rank sword.
One that only boosted attack by 3, yet now it had doubled, and gained the special effect Bleeding. An item enhanced by human hands. Kang San knew this could revolutionize the world. He'd heard mages' enchantments added special effects too, but they were more complex than his work and less dramatically effective.
The anticipated voice rang out repeatedly.
[Crafting]
1. Grants proficiency to crafting tasks.
2. Enhances analysis of crafting raw materials.
3. Enables linked skill: Transfer.
Transfer: Assists in conveying abstract concepts through shared senses.
It was just as foretold.
Mental Power stat created and set to 10, and a passive skill Crafting born without grade advancement. Per the description, it seemed to aid crafting going forward, but the additional Transfer ability was unique. Conveying abstract concepts. Instinctively, Kang San knew this Crafting skill wasn't limited to a mere skill form.
Though based on the Blood Demon Art.
In the end, he'd evolved the item's power solely with his own strength, not magic.
The Crafting skill signified a new realm, its potential beyond current imagination.
That was when.
Creeak.
The door opened.
Turning his head, a familiar face stared at Kang San in a daze.
"......What the hell did you make?"
The man's identity.
He was Yoo Jung-young.
At first, it was curiosity.
Through the window.
At regular intervals, a steady rhythm.
He'd been impressed by Kang San's skilled work.
He'd thought the guy was a total novice at this, but watching him work made that impossible to believe. If it were just that, he'd have opened the door. He had mountains of work today; he couldn't afford to space out watching forever.
But.
'What the hell is he making......'
In the flames.
He witnessed the burning ambition in Kang San's eyes.
That sight of pursuing something with fierce intent poked at something deep in Yoo Jung-young's chest.
When had it started?
Yoo Jung-young had lost passion for his work.
The fancy title of blacksmith aside, restoring durability was simple enough for a beginner to master in a month. Melt mana stones and materials, pour them in, hammer repeatedly to infuse. A rote task. Eventually, he'd become a mere accessory at Iron Forge. Like a cogwheel, finishing assigned quotas and clocking out day after day.
Was that strange?
No.
If effort yielded the same results anyway, pushing harder was just stubborn folly.
He hadn't told colleagues, but his parents had been generational blacksmiths. Souls melted in the forge's embrace. Before the world changed, people called them artisans, paying premiums for their rare works. Life's irony. In an era craving steel weapons, artisans who made them should have thrived—yet the item system scorned them instead.
So his will broke.
The skills from his father, the desperate efforts.
Once deemed meaningless, he accepted life as a part.
But what.
What was that man trying to create?
No matter the outcome, it'd be trivial in this world, so why struggle so desperately?
He was curious.
So he couldn't open the door.
He wanted to see the result born of that passion.
The embers he'd thought extinguished roared back to life, and Yoo Jung-young turned to his tasks.
Every day after work.
He visited Kang San's workshop.
Watched endlessly before heading home, then repeated the next day.
He spaced out.
He was captivated.
In the roaring flames lay something special he'd devoted his life to.
And when the work finally ended.
Yoo Jung-young unwittingly flung the door open.
"......What the hell did you make?"
The words tumbled out.
An instinctive reaction, not intentional.
Embarrassment clouded Yoo Jung-young's face.
Having opened the door and asked first, he belatedly realized it was rude.
"Ah, I mean, sorry. Not trying to pry or anything, but your work was so captivating I couldn't look away."
He started to back off.
Then hesitated.
If he didn't resolve his inner question, he wouldn't sleep.
"......Truth is, before being a technician at Iron Forge, I learned the craft from my blacksmith father. So I know better than anyone that what you just did isn't simple. Without understanding steel and the process, you couldn't control the flames like that and keep going. If it's not too rude, could I... examine that sword myself?"
A cautious request.
Fearful of offending, his tone brimmed with care.
Kang San was still burning hot.
His intense work had him seething with fervor; satisfaction outweighed surprise at the intrusion.
So perhaps.
He stared straight at Yoo Jung-young.
Curious.
How this professional would appraise his sword.
And now with the Crafting skill, was this connection to a forge lineage mere coincidence?
He didn't know the sword's original stats anyway.
That it went from F-Rank to E-Rank was Kang San's secret.
Thus.
If something special was found, it'd be from Yoo Jung-young's experience, not data.
Kang San handed over the sword.
"Sure, take a look."