The Hero Commissioned a Weapon
"Well, how about an axe?"
"...What's so hard about making a sword?"
I shot back at the dwarf who was insisting I use an axe no matter what. He'd been introduced to me by the dwarf king after clearing up the misunderstanding about gifting me dwarf-made adult toys.
"Nah, making one's no problem at all."
"Then just make me a sword."
"What's a sword for a real man? A man's gotta have an axe."
But the problem was this damn stubborn blacksmith—who looked like a walking shitstick—was dead set on forcing an axe on me, regardless of what I wanted.
"You get hard looking at axe marks, don't ya?"
"Pardon? Why would I?"
"Then why the hell are you trying to use a sword instead of an axe?"
He was using fairly polite language since the king had introduced us, but he was still a dwarf through and through. I sighed as I watched him steer the conversation toward weird territory the moment I let my guard down.
"I just need a sword, a shield, and some lightweight armor."
"Weapon's an axe. And you're missing a horned helmet! Can't have no style without that."
This time, as he tried shoving a horned helmet on me, bile rose in my throat. Not just figuratively—I nearly spat out a curse.
"Haa, can't you just make what I want?"
"Listen here, hero. I'm a pretty renowned craftsman in this trade. What artisan makes something they don't even want?"
I scowled at the dwarf blacksmith as he puffed on his pipe and spoke. Damn it, his words made a twisted kind of sense again.
'Still, not an axe.'
I scratched the back of my head and grimaced. No matter that I'd been suddenly chosen as a hero by that balance-obsessed goddess one day—I had my own image of what a hero should be. A hero meant sword, no question. The idea of one swinging an axe just felt off.
Clang.
As those thoughts crossed my mind, a metallic clatter echoed from one corner of the forge. I turned to see an unusually small dwarf staring at us—the king-recommended blacksmith and me—with a tense expression.
"S-sorry!"
The petite dwarf bowed hastily toward the blacksmith dwarf and apologized. She looked terrified, but the blacksmith scowled fiercely and barked at her—him? No, her.
"Katrin! You again? I told you not to barge in while I'm talking to a customer!"
"...S-sorry. I just—"
"Tch. Useless girl, what're you even doing snooping around my forge?"
I stared in surprise at the small dwarf named Katrin upon hearing the blacksmith's words. I'd never dreamed of running into her here.
"Her name's Katrin, right?"
"Yeah, so? Why?"
"Never mind the weapon."
"Wh-what? Hold on, why? If that's how it is, how about this? We compromise—a sword with an axe blade on one side..."
"Pass."
I cut off the dwarf blacksmith and approached the terrified Katrin. She looked up at me in shock as I drew near, and I spoke to her carefully.
"If it's okay with you... could you make my weapon?"
"...M-me?"
I nodded slowly at Katrin, who gazed back with wide, astonished eyes.
Katrin Jayhops. In my previous life, I wouldn't hear her name until much later. Even counting my last regression, this was the first time meeting her in person.
But Katrin had a history as unique as her name. She'd forged weapons for Baal, the Demon King, and the entire demon army. To humanity and the other races fighting the demon forces, she was a traitor who'd abandoned the continent—one of the prime culprits who had to die.
And for good reason. Every weapon she'd made for the demon army was exceptionally powerful and unique.
"Wh-why ask me something like that...?"
Katrin had led me to her own forge, her face downcast and timid as she asked. She had the skills, no doubt, but it seemed she hadn't made a name for herself in the dwarf village yet.
I smiled as warmly as I could at her mix of curiosity and anxiety.
"Ah, I just had this gut feeling you'd make me the perfect weapon."
"...Someone as worthless as me?"
I nodded vigorously. But inwardly, I wondered why she seemed so lacking in confidence.
What's up with that? The dwarves acknowledged her weapons in my last life, right?
I tilted my head slightly, watching her shy expression. A blacksmith's skill didn't just sprout overnight.
"Hehe. You're the first person to ask me to make a weapon."
Katrin fidgeted with her fingers, blushing as she spoke. I gave her a puzzled look. The nuance of her words suggested she got plenty of other commissions—just not for weapons.
"What do you usually make, then?"
"Huh? Oh, uh... it's a bit embarrassing to show."
"A blacksmith ashamed of her own work? I don't get it."
At my words, Katrin's face flushed deep red. She took a deep breath, then seemed to steel herself and started pulling out all sorts of odds and ends from one corner of her forge.
"This is something I made recently... the use is—"
"Ah, no explanation needed."
I cut her off quickly upon seeing what she'd pulled out. I'd forgotten one thing: dwarf traits applied to females just as much as males.
I sighed lightly at the metal object shaped exactly like a cock.
Not some old geezer carving sticks—this was a dwarf carving dicks.
I worried that if I left my sword to her, it'd come back phallus-shaped.
"D-did I offend you?"
Katrin looked crestfallen as I sighed, peering up at me.
"Honestly, no one enjoys staring at a stranger's dick replica."
"...I-I knew it. So the sword commission too... should I cancel?"
I pondered briefly, then shook my head. Her weapons' performance had been outstanding in my previous life, and thankfully, none of the demon army's gear resembled cocks.
"No, just don't make the sword look like that."
"Don't worry! I'll make you the coolest sword in the world!"
Katrin bounced in place with excitement, and in the process, the beard covering half her face flopped right off onto the floor.
Her beard fell off?
"Kyaa!"
I stared at her in bewilderment, but she snatched up the fake beard like I'd seen her naked, panicking.
"Y-you saw, didn't you?"
"...Well, it was right there."
Katrin hastily reattached the fake beard, her face crumpling like she might cry. And sure enough, tears were already streaming down.
"Sniff... sorry. For showing you my ugly face."
I could guess why she said that. Dwarves were such a peculiar race—women grew beards too, and the bushier, the more beautiful they were considered.
But Katrin apparently didn't grow one naturally. Recalling her face without the fake beard, I spoke up.
"No, it's not ugly at all. I'm shocked there's a dwarf beauty like you."
It was a bit of flattery since she'd be making my weapon, but it wasn't a lie. Her face was roundish and cute overall. Big eyes, perky nose. And those dainty lips untouched by that damn beard. Among humans, she'd be quite popular. Add her petite build, decently developed breasts, slim waist, and plump hips and ass, and she'd be a top pick for guys with specific tastes.
"L-lies."
"Nope. Humans and dwarves have totally different beauty standards. So I'm not lying."
I explained, and Katrin stared at me in surprise. Hilariously, she had no idea her looks appealed to humans.
As she gawked at me, another question popped into my head.
I wonder if she doesn't grow hair down there either?
Suddenly, it hit me how corrupted I'd become since regressing.