A 200,000 Gold Commission
"200,000 gold? The kid's got no shortage of big talk. Coming from the desert, huh... You rob someone on the way or what?"
"As if. Folks who live in the desert might crave monster hides, but we don't covet what belongs to others."
"Hmph. And yet your kind dares steal the Red Dragon tribe's sacred treasure?"
Despite his words, Crul looked a bit surprised at the sight of Adel blocking his hammer.
"That was before I was even born. If anything, shouldn't you be thanking me?"
"What?"
"I brought back the Red Dragon tribe's treasure that was on the verge of being lost forever. If I'd stolen it, would I have come looking for you?"
Crack...!
Clang!!!
Adel lightly spun Nazas, deflecting Crul's hammer. A crisp sound rang out, and each swing of the wind sword stirred a breeze.
'That sword...'
Crul seemed slightly startled as he eyed Adel's decidedly unordinary blade.
"Master blacksmith Crul's hammer is a tool steeped in years of use, regardless of its materials. I wouldn't want to damage it carelessly."
"Hmph... Sounds like you're saying you could smash it if you felt like it."
"I won't smash it."
Adel met his gaze and said, "I'll just slice it in half."
Shiiiing...!!!
In that instant, a vortex swirled along Nazas's blade.
"A spirit sword..?"
As a sub-dragonkin inheriting dragon blood, he could sense the spirit energy rising amid the winds from the blade.
"Hear me out first. You won't lose out on the deal. And if it doesn't sit right with you, feel free to refuse."
"......"
"Though you don't exactly seem in a position to turn down hot or cold rice."
Adel glanced at the crumbling forge as he spoke.
"Even in a mercenary kingdom that doesn't care about status, it's tough for Red Dragonkin to set down roots. Zen Kingdom's cozy with the White Fangs, who carry White Dragon blood."
"Don't you dare speak those filthy bastards' names. Just hearing them brings their ugly mugs to mind."
"Yelling at me won't change a thing. It's a fact that the Red Dragons lost the Dragonkin War."
"Then what's your excuse for coming here and stoking my fire? That's reason enough to rip into you."
"We're strangers, aren't we? That means no grudges between us. Just like I said—I came to commission you."
Adel held up two fingers.
"A 200,000-gold commission."
"......"
Crul didn't reply, but unlike his earlier rampage, his silence signaled interest.
"What's the job?"
"Kasan's Trap."
Crul's eyes flickered faintly at that.
"How does a brat like you know the name of the Red Dragon tribe's giant hunter?"
"A brat like me brought back the chieftain's gauntlets that no one's managed to retrieve till now."
"Khmm......"
Crul. I get why you're hesitating, but take the boy's commission if you can. I can vouch that what he wants won't harm the Red Dragon tribe.
It was then.
Garon appeared before the hesitating Crul.
"L-Lord of Flames......"
Whoosh---!!
Crul grimaced slightly at the sight, then hurriedly bowed his head.
"I suspected from seeing Lundel's Gauntlets... but you're here too."
[So it seems.]
Garon flicked his hand lightly, and Crul's scales trembled, emitting a sudden glow. In that moment, the energy emanating from Crul intensified.
It was the God's Blessing of flames.
'I can use Garon's blessing too, but it never had an effect like that... Is it a Red Dragonkin trait?'
Adel felt a spark of curiosity at the unfamiliar sight. It wasn't just Crul's scales shining—vitality surged in his eyes, as if he'd been infused with life itself.
"......"
Adel watched Crul.
And rightly so. In his previous life, Garon had vanished, and Garuda—the high god of flames—had been branded an evil deity not just by humans but by all near-human races as a predator. So it wasn't an exaggeration to say the Red Dragons had no ties to the Lord of Flames.
'The other two tribes weren't on good terms with humans either... The only memories I have of sub-dragons are from the battlefield.'
The sole sub-dragonkin he'd had any real connection with was the Crul standing before him now.
Adel felt a strange sensation watching Crul brim with newfound vigor, a side he'd never seen before. They'd shared much in his past life, but only he remembered it.
'The past life is just that—the past. Things are completely different now.'
There was a twinge of regret, but no matter how he weighed it, Crul being alive—and thriving under Garon's blessing—mattered far more than any old memories. This was the fruit of the future he had changed.
"......Thank you for sharing your blessing."
[Your flesh is frail. The Red Dragons are supposed to be the most exceptional among sub-dragons... Aftermath of the war?]
"Yes. The war's consequence. A brand."
Crul showed his wrist. A black seal was etched there, burrowing deep into his skin like it strangled his veins.
"It seals off not just God's Blessings, but our draconic power too."
[Chin up. The Red Dragon may be dead, but all who inherit his blood deserve my blessing.]
"......Lord of Flames."
[If anything, I'm sorry for neglecting you all these years. Gods cannot meddle directly in the world. I had no way to stop the Dragonkin War.]
Crul shook his head toward Garon.
"I see."
[I may not have aided you, but that boy is my contractor. He passed my trial and became the gauntlets' master.]
Garon's flames flickered.
[He more than deserves respect from the Red Dragons.]
Bro, this is too cringey to watch. Garon, what's with the posing? You're just a mid god.
It was then.
Kaldret, lounging nearby, yawned boredly and spoke up.
[Cut the dramatics.]
......Shut it. That's how gods are. You wouldn't know, buried in the desert.
As if. Wannabe high gods just show off.
Ignore him.
Garon sighed and lightly tapped Kaldret's forehead with his scorching snout.
Sizzle—
[......What the hell? You nuts?]
Kaldret swiped a paw at him.
Who started picking fights?
Adel couldn't help chuckling at Kaldret, who flipped cat-like onto his back, belly up. He nudged the wolf aside with his foot, shoving him into a corner.
"......That war was our choice. Win or lose, no one's to blame. But."
The gods' antics hardly befitted divinities, but unlike their commotion, Crul's voice was calm and steady.
"No one deserves the Red Dragons' respect, Lord of Flames."
Anger laced his tone.
"No one helped us in that brutal war. The gods abandoned us, and humans stole our treasures."
Thud---!!!
Crul slammed his hammer's head into the stone floor.
Crack... Craaack...
The floor cratered and spiderwebbed with fissures.
"So get lost. All of you."
Vroooom---!!!
He swung his hammer with full force, unleashing a blast of wind pressure far fiercer than before.
Now we're talking. Yeah, that's more like it. No way Garon could've handled this right.
Kaldret dodged the hammer with a smirk.
[......Shut up. Damn it, this isn't it.]
Bang---!!!
The forge door slammed shut violently. Then, through a shattered window, Lundel's Gauntlets came flying out, landing at his feet.
"Take that and get out of my sight! Like you said, you recovered the gauntlets, so they're yours now. Take 'em."
Crul's gruff voice echoed from inside the forge.
"But that doesn't mean I'll thank you and take them at face value. We didn't just abandon our chieftain's gauntlets."
"Stubborn as ever......"
Adel gave a wry smile as he listened.
This is all that wolf bastard's fault. Why'd you butt in?
Butt in? I was telling you not to act out of character. Like that Red Dragon smith said—what've you done to earn forgiveness or acknowledgment?
W-Well......
Desert tribe hunters follow and worship you, so you've forgotten the past. Those gauntlets are the Red Dragons' treasure, and as their contractor, you had a duty to protect them.
[......]
But you forgot them.
Go-Gods mustn't interfere in human affairs. It's the rule. The Dragonkin War was the dragons' doing, and not all gods took part.
Garon stammered, as if Kaldret had struck a nerve.
So?
[......What?]
Gods are always at the forefront. Just because others did, you follow? What kind of god is that?
You, sealed away, saying that?
That's why I know.
Kaldret stepped before Garon. The playfulness from moments ago had vanished entirely.
[Being able to but not doing it... is worlds apart from wanting to but being unable.]
Bitter undertones colored his voice.
Damn, why drag it out? He said it himself—the war was their choice.
Garon muttered awkwardly in response to Kaldret.
"Enough. You're both not wrong. What matters is turning his heart and getting him to craft the artifact."
Cheapskate... Even now, all you care about is getting a relic from a survivor of a fallen tribe.
"Fallen? Who said they're fallen?"
[......Huh?]
"Sure, their glory's dimmed, but the Red Dragons are alive and well. Don't talk like he's the last survivor. They're just scattered."
[Why?]
"No focal point. The Red Dragon's dead, and Chieftain Lundel fell in the war. No one left for them to follow."
Adel explained.
Hmm......
"Crul's highly respected among the Red Dragons. Lundel's brother, too. If he steps up, it could rally the scattered remnants."
I see why you came here with the gauntlets. You plan to make him chieftain.
But looks like a bust. He won't covet Lundel's gauntlets with that stubbornness.
"What are you talking about?"
Adel snorted at Garon and Kaldret's exchange.
"Why would I give him the Red Dragon chieftain's seat?"