Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Devil Squad
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"Here it is."
Andrew guided Arthur to the village blacksmith.
Arthur dismounted and looked around.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Even in the early dawn, the sound of hammers striking iron rang out, along with waves of intense heat.
"I'll go in alone, so wait here."
"Just in case, sir... his temperament is a bit... rough. You'll have to understand."
"Got it."
Arthur nodded and stepped inside.
The blacksmith shop was shrouded in steam, visibility near zero.
He moved toward the source of the hammering sounds.
The deeper he went, the fiercer the heat grew, accompanied by heavy breathing.
"Huff, huff, huff."
Sizzle—
The sound of heated iron being quenched in water echoed.
Followed by a gravelly voice.
"Who's there?"
"Came to see Ban."
"Wait a moment."
After a short while.
As the steam gradually cleared, a massive man appeared before him.
His sweat-drenched body was a mass of bulging muscles.
Even standing still, the veins and sinews stood out, muscles twitching like living things.
His build rivaled even Helot's.
Ban scowled at the sight of Arthur.
"What brings you here?"
"Seems you know me."
"Who wouldn't know Grada's celebrity?"
Ban replied curtly, then opened the door of a large rectangular object leaning against the wall.
A rush of cool air poured out.
Arthur's eyes widened at the sight.
"What is this?"
"You know what it is?"
"How..."
Arthur approached with a stunned expression. It looked just like a refrigerator.
"Who made it?"
"My grandfather's heirloom. Only two like it in the entire empire: one in the imperial palace, one here. But you look like you've seen it before."
A puzzled look crossed Ban's face.
"Something I see all the time."
Arthur grinned at Ban.
Ban stared at him like he was a madman, then pulled a water bottle from inside and chugged it down.
He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and asked,
"Coming to see me at this ungodly hour—must be something important?"
"Need you to make something for me."
"Go home. Not leisurely enough to craft toys for prodigals."
As Ban waved him off and turned back to his workbench, Arthur spoke up.
"Wesley told me: if I need someone's help, go to Ban."
"Young master did?"
Ban’s eyes flashed.
Arthur smirked at the complete change in demeanor.
"Why so surprised?"
"Hmm."
Ban eyed Arthur thoughtfully for a moment before speaking.
"Whatever the young master had in mind, still no."
"Wonder why not."
"You really asking because you don't know?"
In an instant, Ban's gaze and tone shifted.
His eyes burned with hostility, his speech turning blunt and sharp.
"What if I'm not the old me?"
"Don't make me laugh. People don't change that easily."
"Maybe pounding iron all day has dulled your eye for people."
"What did you say?"
Ban furrowed his brow and glared.
For a moment.
'Huh?'
At a glance earlier, he hadn't noticed, but now it was clear: something had changed.
His once scrawny frame was now wrapped in muscle, but more than that, his eyes were different.
No longer the glassy, drunken haze—they burned with the fierce intensity of a predator eyeing prey.
And an extraordinary presence to boot.
"What happened to you?"
"You must know the territory's situation."
"Didn't you always say you didn't care?"
"Can't just sit by when it affects my cushy life."
"……!"
"You know what kind of guy I am. Anyone who messes with me or tries to take what's mine? I don't forgive."
"So, you're going to hunt monsters now?"
"Have to. Territory needs peace if I'm to play the wastrel in style."
"Not wrong, but it pisses me off anyway."
"Heard you can make anything. Want a weapon for me."
"Told you no."
Ban scowled again, but Arthur continued gravely.
"Monsters hit a village at dawn today. It's a smoking ruin now."
"……!"
"Let this go on, and territory folk keep dying. That's not what you want, right?"
"Hmm."
Ban pondered briefly, then spoke with reluctance.
"This once only."
Ban handed Arthur a notebook and pen from the workbench.
"Draw what you want."
"Talking like you'll make anything I sketch."
"That's how it's always been."
"So confident. What if you can't? Total humiliation."
"Wanna bet?"
Ban flashed a meaningful smile.
"Tell me what you want."
"If you make it, punch me once."
He thrust his pot-lid fist toward Arthur's face.
Arthur replied with an odd smile.
"If not, you become my servant."
"Do what you want. Won't happen anyway."
Ban pointed his chin at the notebook smugly.
Arthur sat in a nearby chair.
He pondered briefly, then began sketching seriously on the paper.
Ban leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
Expecting a quick doodle, but Arthur sketched for over an hour.
Impatient, Ban grumbled,
"What the hell are you drawing?"
"Almost done."
Ten minutes later.
"Whew—."
Arthur sighed, stood, and handed the notebook to Ban.
"Took time to make it clear."
"What do you want me to make?"
Ban grumbled as he flipped it open.
The first page showed something sword-like.
A kukri, used by Gurkha mercenaries.
But Ban, never having seen one, found it unfamiliar.
Too short for a 'bastard sword,' too big for a 'dagger.'
"Odd shape. What do you call it?"
"Kukri."
"Kukri, huh..."
Ban turned the page with an intrigued look.
"……?"
Something completely new.
One end slender and long, like a 'lance,' but the other broad and thick.
No blade anywhere.
"What's this?"
"Keep going."
"Hmm."
Ban glared at Arthur once, then turned the page.
"……!"
His eyes widened as he flipped through frantically.
Things he'd never seen before filled the pages.
Not simple swords—complex machine blueprints.
"Didn't you say weapon? Not a sword?"
"It's my weapon. Last page has a bead-like part. Kills enemies with it. Question is, can you make it?"
"Uhmm..."
Ban turned deadly serious.
Arthur's second sketch was his alter ego, the 'Cheytac M200'—stripped to basic firearm functions, no special features.
He explained gunpowder explosion power and requested substitutes or devices.
Arthur wondered if Ban could pull it off.
He waited silently for Ban to speak.
Minutes passed.
Ban finally spoke heavily.
"Get the principle. But steel won't handle internal pressure."
"Tell me what you need."
"Oriharukon perfect, but impossible to get. Mithril at least."
"That all?"
"I can source the rest."
"Got it. Back tomorrow."
As Arthur turned to leave, he added,
"No pressure. Not expecting you to succeed."
"What?"
Ban scowled.
"Still, your grit to try earns you the mithril."
"I'll make it and shove my fist in that mouth."
"You know what if you don't."
Arthur grinned and exited.
Ban huffed, sat, and pored over the notebook, planning.
"This part like so, and here..."
***
Back at the castle, Arthur sought Millerph.
Andrew said he'd taken all the mithril months ago.
Entering the room, Millerph smiled from his book.
"Met Ban?"
"Needs mithril. Can you spare?"
"Have leftovers. I'll give to him."
"Thanks."
Arthur smiled.
"Wonder what you asked for."
"Ask him."
"Will do."
"And tell him: one week deadline. Can't make it? Pack up and come to the castle."
"What do you..."
"Something like that."
Arthur smiled meaningfully and left.
Entering the training ground, Skevin and Helot were sparring.
They stopped at Arthur's arrival, bowing deeply.
"Good trip to the village?"
Arthur nodded and asked.
"Where's everyone?"
Helot beamed.
"Can't hide their joy at the unbelievable gains. Twenty jumped from junior to mid Sword Expert."
"Expected. They pushed limits every time. Injured?"
"Resting after treatment."
"Full rest today. Imprint on them: these gains are from their blood and sweat."
"Yes, sir!"
Helot replied vigorously.
Arthur turned to Skevin, who asked cautiously,
"Young master... may I ask how far training goes?"
"Why curious suddenly?"
"Wondering my limit."
Skevin gazed earnestly.
Arthur chuckled at his reaction.
"Got ambition now."
"Feels like cracks in my long-stuck wall."
"C-Captain..."
Helot's eyes bulged.
Skevin's level: peak Sword Expert.
The wall? Sword Master threshold.
Sword Master!
Realm only the divinely chosen reach.
Knew Skevin talented, but...
His presence loomed like a mountain.
Arthur sensed Skevin at a crucial juncture.
"How strong if awakened?"
"Beyond imagination. At least tenfold current strength."
"Hard to grasp."
"Could solo that orc horde alone."
"That useful? Keep him close then."
"Pardon? What..."
Helot gaped—not at Sword Master power, but Arthur acknowledging Skevin.
Skevin beamed.
"Not a burden."
"Good. Wait a bit. If he makes that thing..."
Arthur's eyes gleamed fiercely.
"I'll awaken you."