Chapter 18: It's an Unwritten Rule That Transfer Students Are Singularities (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 18: It's an Unwritten Rule That Transfer Students Are Singularities (6)
“In a kitchen, there exists a presence higher than the head chef, and its name is 'ingredients.'” That was the Boss’s favorite saying.
And That Person was an unyielding old boomer who upheld his philosophy no matter what happened.
Thus, he stubbornly dragged his disciple—who flatly refused to go along—all the way to the waters off Tongyeong.
“Let’s just go to Oido! Oido!”
“You brat. Are the West Sea and the South Sea the same?”
“It’s all just the ocean anyway!”
“I’d like to deny it, but you hit right on what I wanted to teach you today, so I’ve got nothing to say. Anyway, let’s go. Morning on the sea comes far earlier than on land.”
The Boss added with a mere look in his eyes:
—You’ve been kidnapped.
—...!
And so, a few hours later, a salty south wind welcomed me.
As soon as we arrived in Tongyeong, the Boss bluntly approached a fisherman preparing to set sail.
“Could we catch a ride on your boat?”
“...So suddenly...?”
“I’ll pay you properly.”
Holding a loose net, the boat’s owner pondered for a long while before finally agreeing. Though I couldn’t say for sure, it was likely due to the imposing aura emanating from the Boss.
“You didn’t bring a drum barrel with you, did you?”
“Of course not. My companion here is my disciple.”
“...They all say that before getting on.”
The stern of the boat pleasantly cut through the glittering waves. My stomach, on the other hand, was turning inside out. On my very first boat ride ever, I had to throw up everything I’d eaten the day before.
“Do you know where this seawater comes from?”
Regardless of whether his disciple was hovering between life and death, the Boss abruptly popped the question.
Getting dragged to the ocean out of nowhere was unfair enough as it was.
“Urgh!”
At the sign of another bullshit philosophy session starting, my stomach churned even worse. Cold-hearted man. Contrary to the generous evaluation of future generations, the Hero of the Origin was the type of person who wouldn’t bleed a single drop if you stabbed him.
“I don’t know where it came from, but I certainly know some of it just came out of my stomach.”
“...”
I acquired a bump (+1) near the crown of my head. Only after his disciple was properly prepared to listen seriously did the Boss continue.
“Rivers, streams, valleys, water pipes, and even the sky. All water flows and flows until it reaches this sea.”
“Master, have you suddenly gone senile? I told you to cut back on the booze, you should have listened to me then. Your faithful disciple is so worried about you that the ocean breeze blurs his eyes.”
In the very next instant, he gifted his beloved disciple a lump even bigger than the courtesy one. The disciple was so deeply moved he almost died. Over the Boss’s shoulder, the captain was in a panic, frantically searching for where the drum barrels were...
The Hero of the Origin waved a hand to reassure the panicking captain that everything was fine.
“Manryu-gwijong—the convergence of all streams.”
He said, exuding the vibe of a Taoist master as he threw in Hanja idioms.
“In the end, all things meet at one place in the finish. You need to realize that.”
Back then, I just thought the Boss was striking a pose to show off his wisdom.
“Are you telling me to sign up for a funeral plan?”
“...”
With a heavy thud, the ship rocked, and seagulls scattered in shock.
Anyway.
Only now does this foolish disciple realize that those words weren’t spoken merely to put on airs.
He was the Infinite Regressor, and the knowledge accumulated through countless experiences must have reached an approximation of the ultimate truth.
—...The convergence of all streams.
On the threshold of the Apocalypse.
I, Kang Geomma, chew on those words.
* * *
“I keep taking these half-baked naps at the strangest times.”
Those were the words I spat out the moment I woke up.
“Should I change the bed...?”
Just because it was top-of-the-line didn’t mean it suited my body. Even less so for someone like me, who had lived a bargain-bin life for his entire existence.
While I was happy to meet the Boss even if only in a dream, the way the dream ended felt strange.
—...The convergence of all streams.
I voiced it aloud.
But the sound came out raspy and metallic, as if I had swallowed sand.
Pressing down on my throbbing temples, I got out of bed.
Since Ryozo was sleeping soundly beside me, I got dressed as quietly as possible and slipped out of the bedroom.
Today was the weekend.
Joaquin Academy, usually teeming with Homo sapiens, had a day off today.
It was vastly different from how weekends were back in my cadet days. Back in my day, school rules prohibited us from stepping outside the grounds even on weekends.
Ryozo was the one who overturned that unreasonable rule.
Why?
I don't know either.
I could only guess it stemmed from Ryozo's past. She had spent her childhood like a princess locked in a castle tower under the coercion of the Archery Saint, Saki Kojima.
'Ryozo must have hated that.'
That was likely why she granted freedom to the cadets.
If I were to compare Ryozo to a season, it would be April. Though cold on the outside like the breeze blowing this April, she was a warm-hearted woman underneath.
I strolled aimlessly through the Academy grounds.
Whenever female cadets bumped into me along the way, they squealed upon spotting me. When I gave them a polite wave out of courtesy, their eyes rolled back as they fainted in delight.
'I wasn't popular at all during my cadet days.'
Truly, status makes the man.
With a bitter smile, I left the female cadets behind and continued on my way.
“March went by in a flash.”
The air was quite chilly, as the bitter scent of winter hadn't fully washed away.
Even so, I could subtly feel that the vernal equinox had passed.
Walking while admiring the still bare, gaunt tree branches, I suddenly pulled out Ten-Thousand-Year Frost from inside my coat.
Sshring.
I unsheathed the blade by about three inches. It slid out all too easily. That was because the blade had grown thin.
It made sense, considering I had rubbed it against a whetstone whenever I had free time. Ten-Thousand-Year Frost wasn't born an armament. It was originally just an expensive sashimi knife.
'I kept using it because there was meaning in receiving it as a gift. Besides, given my personality, I don't easily throw away something I've grown attached to.'
It seemed time to let it go. It would be out of courtesy to Ten-Thousand-Year Frost, which had served me so well all this time.
“Still, using only Murasame feels like I'm somehow neglecting my left hand.”
Dual blades were my trademark.
It had turned out that way unintentionally. If the Boss saw this, he would have blown a fuse, telling me not to mess around with swords... but oh well.
Since I had been wielding dual blades ever since the class assignment exam, my body had become incapable of being satisfied with just one.
'What to do?'
Ten-Thousand-Year Frost had grown gaunt from enduring the soul wave. All because it met an inadequate master.
Finding a sword to replace it wasn't difficult. I was a Seven Stars hero. I could buy an S-rank Armament with a single custom order.
“I just don't feel like doing that.”
Just as I used the bed as an example earlier, just because an item is good for others doesn't mean it's necessarily good for me.
Furthermore, I value the time spent together over sheer performance.
Whether it was an S-rank Armament or an A-rank Armament, they were all much the same—though B-rank was crossing the line.
In truth, it was absurd for me to fuss over the rank of an armament in the first place. After all, I was the God of Sword.
In my hands, even a Daixo sashimi knife transforms into an EX-rank Armament.
This was purely greed. A petty greed to possess a blade that could replace Ten-Thousand-Year Frost.
And I happened to have a connection with someone to whom I could candidly confide this desire and place an order.
“Guess I ought to go hear that greeting again after so long.”
The corners of my mouth curled up on their own.
I turned around and changed my destination.
* * *
Wieland the Blacksmith.
A love-hate figure for users of Miracle Blessing M.
However, at least for me, the scales leaned heavily toward 'love' rather than 'hate.' I couldn't say the hate was completely non-existent, though. The lingering grudge over how he had once turned Murasame's rank into a ragged mess was still there.
He seemed to think he had settled the debt by helping me out a lot since then.
But for a Korean, taking something away after giving it was a sure way to earn resentment for generations to come, if nothing else.
Clang! Clang!
Powerful metallic strikes resounded.
Even before stepping inside, I could see the debris on the floor vibrating. The old man possessed quite the strength for someone past seventy.
“Anyone here, old man?”
Wieland froze, his hammer raised high. His eyes narrowed.
Then, recognizing me, he welcomed me with open arms.
“What brings such a busy man to a humble place like this?”
“Yeah, yeah. A precious guest has graced your humble establishment.”
“Honestly, your disrespect is the same now as it was in your teens.”
“You're the same as back then too, old man. I hope you're still the same twenty, thirty years from now.”
He chuckled as he wiped away the charcoal soot. His arms were muscular beyond belief for an old man, glistening with sweat.
For some reason, that pleased me. Watching a close acquaintance grow old brings a lump to one's throat.
Even while knowing it was childish, I wished Shineland would stay by my side for a long, long time.
I pulled up a chair and sat down. Since I had paid an unannounced visit right in the middle of his forging work, Wieland kept hammering.
Watching raw iron transform into pig iron, I spoke.
“By the way, how long are you going to keep working on the floor? The Wieland Workshop is booming. For someone who used to obsess over money, here you are, still swinging a hammer.”
I said it out of concern.
Due to the nature of his profession as a blacksmith who had to stare into the fire constantly, Wieland's eyesight was worsening by the day. That was why he hadn't recognized my face immediately.
“Just a few years ago, you were wearing suits and getting called 'Chairman.' What's gotten into you that you're back here pounding iron?”
“I realized after trying it out. Suits don't fit my body type.”
Wieland plunged the iron into the water. Tempering. Steam condensed into water droplets between his aged wrinkles.
“Then at least take in an apprentice. An old man past seventy using his body so harshly is asking for trouble.”
“If you came here to make an old man feel uneasy, turn right around and walk back out, Sir Heavenly Sword. Once you get old, you don't have time to waste.”
“I'm saying this because I'm worried about you.”
“Instead of worrying about me, worry about the world. You're in a position to do so, Heavenly Sword.”
Every single word from the master artisan exuded an aura of experience that was difficult to approach. The Boss had been like that, and so was Shineland.
“A busy guy like you wouldn't visit for no reason. What did you come for? Don't try to steal seconds from the rest of my life with lies like 'I just stopped by.'”
“...You're quick on the uptake.”
I had no choice but to bring up my business. The fact that Ten-Thousand-Year Frost had reached the end of its lifespan, and that I needed a new armament.
Wieland reacted coldly to trivial chatter, but his eyes blazed when the talk turned to metal.
A blacksmith's heart never cools.
“Crafting an armament isn't difficult. With my skill, making an S-rank isn't hard either.”
Wieland's hammer didn't rest.
“The important thing is the materials. You said you worked part-time at a Japanese restaurant before, right? What did the owner say there? Didn't he say the exact same thing I'm saying?”
“Precisely.”
At my response, Wieland nodded.
“The ingredients must be good. People lump them all together as S-rank, but quality varies within that rank depending on the materials used.”
“What kind of material is best suited for an armament?”
“It's too broad to give a definitive answer, but based on my experience, there are two main criteria. First, it must be rare in this world. Second, it must have a close connection to life itself. It comes down to those two.”
To add an explanation as an outsider:
Rarity was necessary because the world of Miracle Blessing M was fundamentally a game—a mass-produced mobile gacha game, to be exact.
Naturally, materials that were difficult to obtain would boost an armament's performance far more than common ones.
Wieland added technical lore, but I reinterpreted it through my working knowledge as a gamer.
Wieland explained the second criterion as well.
“An armament isn't merely a piece of edged metal.”
So to speak, it was closer to an organism that resonated with the Blessing held by each hero. Therefore, the closer a material was to the attribute of life, the broader the range of communion between the armament and the hero became.
The rarer the treasure in the world, and the closer it was to the attribute of life, the more suitable it was as a material for an armament.
“Finding a material that fits both conditions is ridiculously hard. You get stuck on the first one alone. Dragon scales were only rare in the old days; ever since relations between the Human Realm and the Demon Realm softened up, they've been coming in regularly. Word is there's even smuggling going on.”
The true identity that allowed an armament to be an armament was mystery. If it could be explained by science or easily caught the eye, it lost its mystery. Even if the properties were identical, the effects plummeted.
“That sounds tough—finding something rarer than dragon scales. It's hard enough to describe, but even harder to imagine.”
“Indeed.”
Wieland finally set down his hammer. He sat next to me, wetting his throat with rice wine to catch his breath.
“Still, there's nothing quite like a dragon's scale. So just bring me one of those. I hear you've got an acquaintance with the Dragon Lord. Try asking him to pluck off a scale for you.”
“...If someone asked you to give them a pair of your underwear, what would you do...?”
“I'd smash their head with a hammer.”
“Then a dragon would breathe fire.”
“It's not like a dragon's breath is much of a threat to you anyway.”
“Just when relations between the Human Realm and the Demon Realm finally improved, I'd end up ruining everything.”
Wieland joked offhandedly.
“I really wanted to forge an armament out of an elder dragon's scale.”
“You almost put the Human Realm in danger just now because of your own greed.”
“Danger? What danger? We have you.”
That offhanded, nonchalant remark struck a chord deep within me.
A world where people who weren't heroes could sleep peacefully with their legs stretched out. That was the kind of world I was working so hard for.
Crossing between the Human Realm and the Demon Realm...
'...Wait a minute.'
I immediately translated the sudden spark of inspiration into words.
“Could an egg be used as a material, by any chance?”
“As long as it fits the conditions I mentioned, sure. Heck, even dog dung could technically be used as an armament, but...”
I tuned out the rest of his words.
I immediately called Weapon.
The guy was currently dispatched to Gehenna representing the Hero Association. Simply put, he'd been stuck with grunt work. And I was planning to dump even more grunt work on him.
* * *
After hanging up the phone, Weapon stood there looking bewildered, prompting Deputy Kim from the exploration team to tap his shoulder.
“Who was that on the phone, Manager?”
“Ah, ah. Director... no, Geomma.”
“Gasp!”
Weapon had blurted it out without much thought, but Deputy Kim covered her mouth with both hands.
“I-I'm a fan!”
“Why bring that up all of a sudden?”
“No, not of you, Manager. I'm a fan of Sir Heavenly Sword!”
“I hope you don't forget that I'm the one conducting your performance review, Deputy Kim.”
Weapon's sigh flattened the underbrush on the ground. Everything in Gehenna was like this. Even the wild grass was so feeble that a human sigh could knock it over.
“What did Sir Heavenly Sword say?”
“He asked me to bring him something.”
Weapon said only that much.
“Let's hurry and prepare.”
“Yes...”
Deputy Kim didn't press for details. Hesitating for a moment, she soon took the hint and went off to help the rest of the team.
Weapon looked around.
The exploration team led by him was busily preparing camp. It wasn't the old-fashioned way of pitching tents; pre-established camps were scattered all across the Demon Realm.
“If we want to lighten the Director's workload even a little, our Hero Association needs to work harder.”
It was as Weapon was muttering absently to himself.
A black speck appeared on the distant horizon. It was approaching slowly but surely in their direction.
By the time the silhouette grew distinct, Weapon gasped in surprise. The team members showed no sign of noticing the intruder's approach.
He thought it was a Majin, but seeing it up close, it wasn't. The black speck was a human girl. An Elf would have pointed ears, and a Vampire would have a pale complexion.
Weapon was a healer. He possessed a discerning eye as a Blessing that allowed him to distinguish whether an enemy was human or Majin. Extending his Blessing to that distance, the sensory feedback confirmed beyond doubt that the opponent was human.
Weapon took the first step forward.
Approaching the girl at a rapid pace, he spoke.
“A-Are you alright? No, more importantly, why are you here?”
The human girl was wearing mismatched clothing thrown together haphazardly. She tried to pass by Weapon, but at his persistent questioning, she finally raised her eyes.
The moment their eyes met, Weapon's eyes widened. Never mind that she was an extraordinarily beautiful girl.
It was because the girl's eyes looked strikingly like 'someone' he had just spoken to on the phone.
'D-D-Director, don't tell me!!'
Was this why he kept coming and going to the Demon Realm all the time?
While Weapon wore the most flabbergasted expression he could muster, the girl's shapely lips parted slightly.