Lines and Circles
Shiron could proudly claim he had thrown himself into Reincarnation Sword God more passionately—obsessively, even—than anyone else alive, yet he was not so far gone a maniac that he knew the secret lore tangled around every single piece of gear.
That was why he had never understood why Atmos carried the moniker of the blacksmith who hammered the stars.
Until he burned the forging process into his own eyes, he had never grasped why the Holy Swords, Sirius among them, bore the grandiose epithet of blades that forged stars.
Who would have guessed they called them Holy Swords because they were made from meteorites.
Far from the forge, out in the desert, Shiron stared hard at the chunk of rock in his hand. Unlike ordinary stone, the meteorite was smooth and glassy, as if it had once melted and then hardened again. It was a byproduct of Dolby's Meteor magic.
Having stuffed the hundreds of rock fragments into his person, Shiron turned and headed back toward the forge.
"What kind of magic tool is that, anyway?"
"Magic tool?"
"Huge rock chunks just kept vanishing into your clothes."
Dolby, perched on Shiron's shoulder, spoke with eyes bright with curiosity. Even though successive castings of ninth-circle magic had left her without the strength to flap her wings, she was still a mage, and she found Shiron's actions intensely interesting.
Shiron, however, could not relate to why her curiosity had flared at all.
Neither Lucia nor Siriel—not even Berta—had ever commented when he tucked things away or pulled them out again. Storage magic tools were uncommon in this world, but they existed, so the reaction that rose in him was closer to what now?
Revealing the Storage ability, though, was another matter entirely. Finding explanations bothersome, Shiron simply tugged open the front of his clerical robe and showed her the inside.
"This is a rosary enchanted with Storage magic. An extremely expensive magic tool—hard to come by even in Lucerne."
"...Really?"
"Yeah."
Shiron nodded at the fairy whose eyes sparkled like a child's. The words that followed, however, held nothing childlike.
"Liar."
The one-eyed fairy snorted. A strange light gathered in her remaining eye.
"I don't feel a thing from it. No mana circuits engraved, no magic stone embedded to serve as a power core. It's just an ordinary rosary."
"..."
"Why lie? Is there some reason you can't reveal it? Or did you simply think I'd fall for it."
Interesting human.
"Haah..."
Shiron let out a hollow laugh, utterly dumbfounded—not because he had been caught off guard, but because her manner was so completely unreserved.
What the hell? Just out of nowhere?
Narrowing his eyes, he glared at Dolby.
They had not even exchanged names a full week ago, yet she was already measuring him against some private yardstick and looking down on him. The sheer cheek of it left him feeling something uncomfortably close to flustered.
So he simply grabbed the fairy off his shoulder and flung her down. He threw her hard enough that Dolby's head buried itself in a sand pit. Shiron paused to admire the upturned backside for a moment, then set off again at a brisk pace.
"W-wait! Don't leave me behind!"
Tch, fucking brat—acting all high and mighty when she'll fold the second things get rough. Shiron dusted off the shoulder where she had been sitting. Whining buzzed behind him, but he had no intention of lending his shoulder to a fairy who knew nothing of manners.
Dolby scrambled after Shiron's receding back.
The height difference between fairy and human was roughly tenfold. On top of that Shiron had long legs; even without running, the gap between them widened with every easy stride.
"I was wrong! I'm sorry...! I won't pry!"
An apology and a promise. At that Shiron stopped and looked back. From a distance he watched the smile of pure relief bloom across her pale face.
"A-aah!"
Poof—
Right then the running Dolby toppled. Was it the mana exhaustion? Her eyes rolled up white the instant she went down.
"She never quits, does she."
Shiron gave a dry laugh at the sitcom-perfect scene, then walked over and scooped her up by the scruff of the neck.
"What are you doing?"
"......C-carsick."
Dolby dry-heaved, eyes still spinning. Shiron held her at arm's length and waited until she settled.
When he judged she had waited long enough, his mouth twisted into a crooked smile.
"Hey."
"......W-what?"
Dolby answered sheepishly toward the smiling face that had come right up to her nose. The throw had clearly worked; her attitude was far more subdued than before he had put her in her place.
"Are we close?"
"...No?"
"Then why keep poking into other people's business? And that way you've been subtly looking down on me since earlier, too."
"Y-you. You lied to me? And I'm hundreds of years older than you..."
"I wasn't asking."
"..."
Dolby clapped both hands over her mouth. Shiron simply stared at her in silence. For a moment the image of a mage who refused to act her age overlapped with the tiny fairy.
What. Creatures that live for centuries... ahh, forget it.
All sorts of remarks he wanted to make rose in a rush, yet he could hardly spew such nonsense at the one who would forge him a Holy Sword.
Shiron swallowed the words.
That did not mean, however, that he said nothing at all.
Maybe...
Is this brat a fated encounter?
He lifted Dolby up to eye level.
"From the way you talk, it seems you can see mana circuits or whatever. Right?"
"...Right."
"Then take a look at my body too."
Setting her down, Shiron stripped off his top.
"Whoa..."
An abrupt physique showcase in the middle of the desert. Dolby's eyes went wide at the lean, solidly muscled frame free of every ounce of excess fat.
A moment later those eyes narrowed, as if they had caught something.
"Child of Prien."
"What."
"Have you ever made an enemy of someone?"
"Enemy?"
When Shiron echoed the word, Dolby put on a deliberately grave expression and spoke as if truly worried.
"I mean, have you been cursed? Or had your body modified while you slept or something."
"...What exactly are you seeing that makes you say that."
"The meridians that should stretch out long like threads into the limbs are centered on the heart, drawing a single circle and spinning round and round the same place..."
Dolby shifted her gaze from his solar plexus up to his face. Her small mouth worked as if she wanted to ask something more.
"...Can I ask just one thing?"
"Sure."
Shiron nodded. The earlier ruckus had successfully drilled into Dolby the etiquette of seeking permission before prying.
"You... can't use magic... mana at all?"
"Yeah."
A short answer. Dolby's eyes widened all over again. How could he even think of fighting Apostles with a body that could not use a single scrap of mana? No matter how thoroughly the people of Prien had been designed for formidable martial power, the fundamental frame was still human.
"Can I ask one thing too?"
Shiron gathered his clothes and pulled them back on, then closed his hand around Dolby.
"I want to use some mana. Is there no way to fix this?"
"...Do you know about a Dragon's Heart?"
"I do. That's material for elixirs, right? If I take an elixir made from a Dragon's Heart, will it heal?"
"No."
Dolby swallowed hard. The hand gripping her body was trembling; she could feel throughout her whole tiny frame just how desperately he hung on the answer.
"Mana-core transplant. Making a Dragon's Heart beat in place of your own heart."
"...What a headache."
Dolby nodded as she watched Shiron stroke his chin. She understood his feelings well enough. In the present situation, never mind finding someone capable of performing the transplant surgery—he could not even obtain a Dragon's Heart.
If he's going to go through with it, would he have to revive a dragon corpse?
As far as she knew, dragons had gone extinct five hundred years ago.
The Giant's Forge.
"I'm telling you now—metallurgy magic is not some cheap technique you can pick up just by watching it once or twice."
"Yeah, I know that too."
Shiron dumped the pile of meteorites into a corner of the forge.
Begin.
The moment Atmos's telepathic signal arrived, Yuma poured a torrent of searing flame over the meteorite heap. To shorten the time required to forge the Holy Swords, Yuma had stepped in for the completely drained Dolby.
As the fierce fire washed over the stones, they began to shine in every color imaginable.
Among the rocks that flashed randomly through the rainbow spectrum, Atmos used his tongs to pick out the ones that glowed an especially pure white.
From that point on the process was one Shiron already knew well.
The rock chunks went into the crusher; the powderized stone was shoveled into a giant furnace. Mana was channeled through the blast furnace to separate the impurities, after which tens of thousands of hammerings and heat treatments produced the finished Holy Swords.
It's lacking in fantasy elements.
Taking the completed Holy Sword in hand, Shiron clicked his tongue in mild disappointment. He had half expected magic to capture the mysteries of the cosmos and draw the blade straight out from beyond dimensions. That, it seemed, would have to remain pure imagination.
Still, the sword's appearance itself was thoroughly unreal.
The Holy Sword Spica was clear and transparent, as if it had been carved from a single perfect crystal.
Ting—
Even when flicked with a fingernail, Spica rang with a pure, refreshing note, as though asserting its identity as metal.
Siriel's sword is done.
Shiron turned his head to look at the other side of the forge. There Lucia stood staring fixedly at Sirius, eyes sparkling.
"Do you like it?"
"Yeah... I like it a lot..."
Lucia wiped the drool that had escaped her open mouth.
So this was what it meant to forge a star. In her hand rested a brilliance every bit the equal of the white blade Shiron held.
Maybe as much as a true Holy Sword.
The Holy Sword Yura had once offered to Kyle—the one that, after taking the Evil God's head, had become useless and been driven into a volcano—the weapon in her grip left her with no impression but pure, overwhelming awe.
It was more than aesthetics. Lucia felt mana being drawn into her palm of its own accord. The radiant blade drank mana without any conscious effort and wrapped itself in sword aura.
She urgently wanted to test its performance.
"Shiron. Can I try just one thing?"
"What are you planning."
"Hold out that white sword you use. Let me strike it once."
"...Are you crazy?"
"Whyyy? You've broken two of my swords already, haven't you?"
"How are those cheap blades the same as a Holy Sword?"
"...Looking at it, that doesn't seem like a Holy Sword though."
"What do you mean it isn't. No matter what you say, it is a Holy Sword."
With that, Shiron turned his back and put distance between himself and Lucia. Then he began wrapping a broad leather strap around the crystal blade as carefully as if he were wrapping gift paper around a present box.
I hope Siriel likes it too.
Only after prettily tying a ribbon for decoration did Shiron finally store Spica away.