029. Trap
A black silhouette approached Bin from the shadows.
Thud. Thump...
Uneven footsteps. Bin's eyes flashed at the sound as he spoke.
"Lord Ront, you've arrived."
There wasn't a hint of uncertainty in his tone. He was utterly convinced.
As expected, Ront emerged from the darkness, tilting his head.
"How'd you know it was me? You're a sharp-eared little devil, aren't you?"
Bin replied casually to the puzzled dwarf.
"I could tell just from the footsteps. They're unmistakably yours, Lord Ront."
"Hah! Makes me feel like I'm dancing in the palm of your hand every time..."
It was an answer anyone could figure out with a moment's thought. But considering Bin was just a teenager, it felt strangely out of place. And it was the same now.
Ront's eyes widened at the greatsword on the anvil.
"...!"
This was no amateur work from a couple of swings. Staring intently at the longsword, Ront thought to himself.
'It wouldn't pale against a dwarf's work. No, it might even surpass most dwarves...'
There was no one around but Bin, yet Ront could hardly believe it.
"...D-Did you make this yourself?"
Bin calmly lifted the hammer from his hand.
"Does this answer your question?"
Ront felt like he'd been hammered in the back of the head at the confident response.
'What the hell is this kid...? What's his deal...?'
Even a master blacksmith needed ample time for such a piece. Talent alone had its limits. Yet the sword Bin had forged—still unfinished—rivaled superior weapons.
'If he finishes it right here, it might match a superior weapon. Hell, it could even stand against ten Absolute Weapons...'
Absolute Weapons. Among the pinnacle of superior arms, they were the most revered. Possessing even one could sway an entire noble house. The Bascon family head, Moden, wielded one such blade: Tombstone.
Ront furrowed his brow, muttering inwardly at the unbelievable sight.
'Forging isn't child's play...'
Forging demanded endless trial and error, built on countless experiences. Only after myriad failures could one earn the title of artisan. Yet Bin had brazenly shattered that notion.
'A teenager made this sword...? How is that even possible...!'
Ront couldn't believe his eyes. No, he refused to—a lifetime of his own efforts seemed denied. The blade's thick, straight edge, flawless guard and hilt. Even as a blacksmith, Ront found no fault.
Brimming with questions, Ront asked Bin.
"Have you ever studied forging before?"
A smile tugged at Bin's lips.
"Of course. From a very famous dwarf."
Bin chuckled at Ront's growing seriousness. The dwarf pressed urgently.
"A dwarf? Then I might know him. Who was it that taught you?"
Excitement bubbled—who could have raised such a disciple? Bin smirked and pointed at Ront himself.
The dwarf bristled at the gesture.
"How long are you gonna keep toying with me?!"
Ront lived by his pride. Bin was his benefactor, sure, but this kid was mocking him like they'd known each other forever. His face flushed, but Bin's gaze remained steady and earnest. What was worse, the forging techniques matched his own. And that sword before him, Luminare, looked eerily like one from his own designs. Ront was on the verge of madness.
"I swear I haven't touched a drop today..."
Even if Bin revealed his regression, Ront wouldn't believe it. Besides, Bin found the dwarf's frustrated chest-thumping adorable and kept going.
Finally shaking his head, Ront blurted to Bin, shifting to the real issue.
"Anyway, the Red Death Squad's closing in."
"Just as expected."
"The problem is their numbers. If we stay here..."
He trailed off, then added hastily.
"Not that I'm asking for ideas or anything. Just curious about yours."
Ront sought Bin's help but backpedaled—his pride wouldn't allow begging a teen. As one of the continent's top blacksmiths, it chafed. Bin stifled a laugh.
'Still as prideful as ever...'
"Perfect timing. I've got a plan."
"What kind of plan against those numbers?"
Bin met Ront's question with eyes full of certainty.
* * *
Royal Tomb, Sector A.
A chilling atmosphere hung over countless graves—the site of Bin's earlier clash with Grust. Now, hordes of monsters and Red Death Squad members swarmed in. At their center loomed a massive beast: twin horns sprouting from its head, red mane flowing, brass bands curving over its body. It was the starfish monster from Shobe Cave.
The creature glanced around and bellowed.
"Groooarrr!"
Gangble Grander rode its back.
"Search everywhere. Report any sign of the kids immediately."
"Yes, Boss."
The surrounding monsters nodded in affirmation. These beasts, plucked from murals in Shobe Cave, obeyed Gangble's weapon.
Watching them from hiding was Codic—reduced to a lone skull for scouting, his arms detached. Peering from behind a tombstone, he thought.
'That starfish bastard again... And he's brought a whole army of trash mobs.'
Codic's task was simple: relay what he saw to Bin. Eager, he rolled away.
Roll roll roll.
Then, he locked eyes with a Red Death Squad member.
"..."
"O-Over there... The skull moved!"
All heads turned. But Codic froze in place, indistinguishable from a mere bone on the ground.
"..."
Embarrassed chuckles erupted.
"Scared of graves, huh?"
"Pussy—go de-nut yourself!"
The man gaped at the mockery.
"It definitely moved..."
Before he could dwell, another shouted.
"Small footprints here!"
Eyes converged. Gangble dismounted the starfish and inspected them—small prints stretching straight ahead. Water dripped from the ceiling before him.
Drip. Drip.
Gangble smirked wickedly.
"Kekeke. What fools."
The fresh tracks screamed kids. He barked at his squad.
"They're here for sure. Follow the footprints."
* * *
Royal Tomb, Sector B.
A blue glow permeated the eerie chill, raising goosebumps. Rectangular marble tiles lined the floor and walls. The squad arrived following the prints.
Gangble mused.
'They came this way... But I heard there's an obstacle here...'
Then he spotted crumbled dirt on the marble—traces of the kids and Ront passing.
"Kekeke, they're practically begging to be sold."
He shouted to the squad.
"Obstacle ahead! Stick to the dirt-fallen wall tiles only! Move!"
"Yes, Boss!"
They stepped only on marked marble. Nothing happened.
Thud. Thud.
The rest followed. Larger monsters hesitated—their bulk couldn't fit a single tile.
Gangble drew a deck of black-suited cards—27 of the 54.
Black vortices swirled from the raised deck, sucking in monsters one per card.
"Twenty-seven's the limit."
Gangble trailed his forces. Midway through.
Thud. Thud.
A good premonition shattered as the floor marble sank.
Clunk!
"The floor dropped!"
Gangble yelled.
"What?!"
Walls slid open, unleashing a barrage of arrows.
Swish swish swish—
Arrows sliced air, piercing the knights in the passage.
Thunk! Thunk thunk! Thunk...
No ordinary arrows—these struck like spears. Indiscriminate fire felled soldiers one by one.
Thud. Thud.
Limb hits were merciful; headshots convulsed victims to the ground in droves.
"Aaaargh!!"
Screech!!
Monsters and men screamed amid the bloodbath. Then, amid the chaos, Bin appeared.
He held a foot-shaped stone shard in one hand.
"Dragging all these troops to catch some kids? Kinda unfair, don't you think?"
It was all Bin's trap. He'd carved the stone to mimic kids' prints.
Realization dawned; Gangble threw his head back in disbelief.
"Kekeke. Bascon's pup can't tell gold from gravel. You have no idea what you've stirred."
Bin smirked boldly.
"Oh, I do. War. Let's have at it."
Gangble frowned at the declaration.
"...!"
Cold, calculating eyes—not a reckless teen's. It all felt premeditated. And that brazen trap... This was no ordinary foe.
As Gangble faltered, Bin added.
"Though you'll die by my hand first."
"...!"
The squad froze at Bin's conviction. No one had ever dared such words to Gangble, pureblood of the three great battle houses. Not even Bascon rivals. Gangble was beyond 3rd class, "Black Foot" who forged ties continent-wide, vital to Grander's coffers—even Helden Grander treaded lightly.
Gangble threw his head back, laughing maniacally.
"Kekekeke. Naive brat. Fine, let's settle it—our houses' honor on the line."
"Sure. If you survive that long."
Bin tossed the foot shard toward the squad.
Thud.
The floor sank. The area quaked as massive boulders plummeted from the ceiling.
Rumble. Rumble.