Test Cut (1)
Knock knock.
I gave the forge door two light raps before pushing it open, and the rusty hinges let out a shrill screech that grated on my ears.
The inside was thick with dust, like some long-abandoned ruin, and the eerie atmosphere made me wonder if I'd come to the right place.
"Anyone here?"
I called out to whoever might be lurking deeper inside, but just like with the knock, there was no response from within the building.
With no choice, I ventured further in, where weapons and armor hung on display much like in any other smithy.
I couldn't hide my amazement at the swords and suits of armor arranged there, almost like decorations.
'Not a sword—an artwork.'
I picked up one of the hanging swords to gauge its sharpness, momentarily forgetting my purpose as I stared at it in a daze.
It was a tragic blade that hadn't been born a katana, but its edge was sharper than anything I'd ever seen.
Given the forge's shabby exterior, I half-wondered if this wasn't a secret hideout stashing weapons pilfered from the royal palace.
"How long are you gonna gawk?!"
About thirty seconds of real time had passed while I admired the sword when a voice barked from behind, making me turn.
There stood an elderly man who had to be at least seventy.
He wasn't short, and with his bushy beard reaching down to his chest, he looked like one of those rare dwarves you don't see often around here.
"Ah, sorry. I couldn't help it—the craftsmanship was just that mesmerizing…."
"Hmph!"
Dismissing my words as obvious flattery, the old man snorted.
"Spare me the bootlicking and tell me about this sword you want me to make—quickly."
"…Actually, I came to commission a special katana…."
Having just seen the sharpness of that sword, I'd realized my budget made it a pipe dream.
"Looking at your work, I don't think I have nearly enough. I'll earn more coin and come back later."
"……."
As I turned to leave with a clean surrender and plan my return, the old man's words stopped me in my tracks.
"How much gold you got?"
"Y-Yes! Um, 180 gold coins."
Sensing a faint miracle might be possible, I answered in a trembling voice. The old man nodded thoughtfully for a moment before speaking.
"That 'special katana' bit sticks in my craw. Tell me what kind you're after, first."
I barely suppressed a grin as I replied to the old man.
"Yes. I want to commission one with no edge on the blade side."
"No edge? For sparring? Any smithy'll do that for ya."
He was right—up to that point, every forge and armorer I'd visited had boasted they could handle it.
But they all gave me awkward looks and turned me away at the next part.
'Incompetent fools….'
If they'd just sent me packing, I wouldn't have thought that.
But the contemptuous stares, treating me like some freak—I couldn't stomach it.
It wasn't a weird request at all. They just lacked the skill to make the sword I wanted.
'But this old man might be able to.'
That sword from earlier, and the armor around it—his skill was clearly top-tier.
Convinced he could pull it off, I told him.
"Make the spine sharp, unlike the blade side!"
"What?"
The old man's face twisted.
In my seventy years as a smith, I'd taken on countless unreasonable commissions.
Requests for blades thin enough to see through, or massive swords over five meters long—I'd done 'em all.
Lots of outlandish demands, and at first, I couldn't grasp why anyone would want such a thing.
But that passed quickly.
As I forged the blades and chatted with the swordsmen, I came to understand their thinking and the purpose behind those swords.
But this time? No clue.
"Lemme ask first—why make a sword like that?"
"Yes, to use it without killing people…."
"Then why edge the spine? Makes no sense for non-lethal."
For sparring, or even mercy kills—why sharpen the back?
As if to answer, the kid flushed red, stroking the katana at his hip.
"I wasn't gonna brag, but I'm actually an iaijutsu swordsman."
"Right. And?"
"Pardon?"
After decades smithing, you pick up swordplay knowledge naturally.
Iaijutsu—quick-draw surprise attack, yeah?
What did that have to do with this freakish sword?
Seeing the kid tilt his head like I was the confused one made my fist clench on instinct.
"Er… maybe you're out of touch with worldly affairs, old-timer, but iaijutsu users go with the reverse blade for non-lethal. It's the meta."
"Reverse blade? Meta?"
Reverse blade must be what he wants. But meta? What the hell….
Talking to this kid felt like dealing with a foreigner who didn't speak the language—my head throbbed.
Shoulda let him leave earlier.
"First, clarify this reverse blade. You want the edge on the spine instead of the blade, right?"
"Yes! Exactly!"
"Then… why? It'll just disadvantage you."
Flipping edge and spine? Easy enough to forge—no issue there.
Other smiths might fret over durability, but not me.
Problem was pride.
Swords I make can't be botched abominations that get their user killed.
"With an edged spine, you can't press for leverage, and if things go south, you'll slice yourself."
"Just cover it with skill so it doesn't."
"Big talk…. So why take the risk with a reverse blade?"
"…A sword hero I admire used it."
From what the kid said, this reverse blade was what a sword hero—who'd slain countless for his country—wielded at the end.
Country or no, the blood on his hands was real.
To atone, he'd taken up a non-lethal reverse blade and journeyed to protect the weak.
"The edged spine? So he'd never forget his sins and atone for life."
"Hm… fine tale. What's this sword hero's name?"
"…Himura."
Himura, huh? Knew it from the katana mention—eastern sword hero, not local.
Still, a man worth respecting.
"So you gonna swear off killing like him?"
"Huh? No way—why quit something so fun?"
"What? Then why…."
"I respect him, but I don't wanna live like that. Reason for the reverse blade? His ultimate technique was iaijutsu. I'll use it just for spars."
"Haha… I see."
I stood, pointing at the door.
"Get outta my forge—now."
"Pardon?"
"No warnings—outta my forge, you style-over-substance brat! How dare you make such insolent demands?!"
If a real swordsman with skill had asked, I might've swallowed my pride.
For those who live by combat, swearing off killing ain't simple.
But this punk? Just 'cause his hero's finisher was iaijutsu? Absurd.
It mocked me and that Himura's life's work.
Surprisingly, the kid headed for the door without protest.
Right before stepping out, he turned.
"Haa… You're just like the other smiths, old man."
"What? Like how?"
"Can't admit your limits, so you nitpick and kick me out."
By the time I snapped to, my hand gripped a nearby sword.
"…What'd you just say?"
"Did I lie? You're saying that 'cause you can't make it!!"
"Shut it!! Ain't about can't—don't wanna make a reverse blade for a talentless whelp like you!!"
"Talentless? You seen me swing a sword?"
"Obvious you're some academy freshman. Might fly in your backwater village, but here?!"
"Ha!"
Snorting at my words like they were hilarious, the kid smirked.
"Wasn't gonna say it, but my skill's already at Sword Master level."
"Sword Master?!"
I was so flabbergasted I couldn't speak.
Sword Master ain't a title any fool claims.
It's earned after decades of training, even for the gifted.
Only history's peerless geniuses claimed it young.
And this brat mouths it easy?
"That confident? Prove it!!"