Chapter 001
Chapter 001
"Hey, have you heard that rumor?"
"Which one? The one about Hanna the baker having an affair with the Baron's wife?"
"Ah. That's fucking hot... No, not that one!"
A corner of a tavern where alcohol and shouting flowed.
Two men, tipsy and drunk, were chatting away.
"They say that crazy dragon appeared again!"
"You mean that crazy Blue Dragon that keeps ramming into carriages? I saw it myself, it really did ram into a carriage."
"What kind of crazy talk is that! Not that perverted dragon!"
The voice of the heavily drunk man grew louder.
"You know, the dragon that picks out artists and makes them commit suicide!"
"Ah. The crazy Red Dragon with 'artistic disease'? I know him."
"Tsk. That's one nasty lizard."
The man shook his head.
Even in a tavern where all sorts of stories were exchanged, stories about dragons were particularly interesting material.
"Hey there, friends. Could you tell me a bit more about that story?"
A very short stranger, wearing a deep-hooded robe, interrupted the men's table.
The men looked at the stranger with wary eyes.
"Huh? Who are you? I haven't seen you before."
"I happened to hear you talking while passing by, and I couldn't just walk away."
The stranger was short. He barely reached the waist of an average human male.
"It's a dwarf, isn't it?"
"Is that important right now?"
The dwarf shouted heartily.
"Innkeeper! Two beers and two grilled sausages for my friends here! I'll pay."
If you buy them drinks and feed them meat, even a demon is a friend.
The corners of the men's eyes curved softly like half-moons.
"Hahaha! Sorry for being rude to such a kind friend. Sit down, quick."
"So, what were you curious about? Ah, that crazy dragon with the artistic disease?"
"Yeah, that's right. Could you tell me more about that dragon?"
The men were happy to unpack their story.
"That crazy dragon is really nasty. He deliberately appears before artists, shows off his superior skills, and makes an incredible masterpiece."
"Then he smashes it in an instant. Lamenting that it's not even a mediocre work, but a piece of trash!"
"He repeats that every single day, so how could humans, who are arrogant and live for their own self-importance, endure it? And then──"
Sseuk.
The man made a gesture of slitting his own throat.
"They commit suicide."
"Hoo. That's a completely crazy bastard. What's the standard for an artist according to that Red Dragon? Music or painting?"
"That's the weird part. That lizard appears regardless of the genre as long as he thinks it's art. Poets, actors, potters, blacksmiths, novelists... He's just showing off his own skills."
"I see..."
The dwarf nodded.
He downed his beer in one go.
The dwarf's hand was revealed from between the robe's hem. Rough fingers, thick calluses, and distinct burn marks were visible.
Traces that only a being who has hammered in front of a furnace for a long time could possess.
Perhaps that was why.
The empty space on the dwarf's hand felt particularly large. He was missing his thumb and index finger.
"Now, enough with the gloomy stories, tell us more about that Hanna and the Baron's wife!"
"Ah! This dwarf friend knows what's hot!"
The dwarf and the drunks drank all night long.
The end for those who drank with the dwarf was always the same.
"That was fun, friends. Have a good night."
"Ugh... hiccup. Gooodbyeee... hiccup."
The dwarf left the drunks behind and quickly departed the tavern.
How far had he walked through the dark alley, smelling of tipsy beer?
Sseuk──
"Huh?"
A figure appeared from the shadows and blocked the dwarf's path.
"Who are you?"
It was an old human man.
He was hunched and aged, but his rhombus-shaped pupils glistened.
"The moon is beautiful. Isn't it?"
"......"
"Ah, you don't have to answer. Actually, I was just trying to set the mood."
The old man brushed off his hands and transformed into a young man.
"Greetings. I am a being who loves and worships art. Feel free to call me Ivan."
He changed from a young man to a woman, then to a girl, then to a boy.
The dwarf instinctively realized what the being standing before him was.
"A dragon?"
"Correct! You're sharp."
It was the crazy Red Dragon they had been talking about in the tavern just moments ago.
The hazy alcohol-induced stupor vanished instantly.
"Nice to meet you."
"......I am Barkan."
"I know. Actually, I've been waiting for quite a while."
Ivan, having returned to the form of an old man, bowed deeply and looked down at Barkan.
"You. That hand."
Ivan's pupils thinned like needles.
Barkan hid his hand inside his robe.
It was a hand with only three fingers left.
"Beautiful! The hand of one forged by fire and hammer. But why hide it? It's a hand to be proud of."
"Not interested. It's been a long time since I put down the hammer. I'm a has-been."
"Liar."
A faint smile spread across Ivan's lips.
"A legendary dwarf blacksmith. The father of all arms, the Great Rock Hand! Aren't those all titles praising you?"
"What do you want?"
Ivan smiled broadly with the old man's face.
"Let me make a proposal. Shall we have a duel?"
"The duel from the rumors?"
"Yes. A duel of craftsman versus craftsman. You and I will each make a sword."
Barkan's eyes narrowed.
"Just like the rumors say. A high-and-mighty dragon playing blacksmith?"
"I love all art. 'Playing blacksmith' is a bit of a hurtful expression, but whatever."
Ivan flicked his fingers.
"I will be the judge, but I swear on my heart that I will judge fairly. If you can't believe that, then so be it."
"What happens if I refuse?"
"We just go our separate ways. Forcing people isn't my style."
Barkan was silent for a moment.
"If I win, that's the end of it. If you win, I will grant you one wish."
"......"
At the word 'wish', Barkan's hand twitched.
Ivan waited without rushing him.
He pretended to wait, but stood there as if he already knew the answer.
"...I accept."
"Good!"
Ivan clapped his hands.
"Then I'll prepare the location. Just a moment."
When he snapped his fingers, the surrounding air churned.
Before long, two furnaces, materials, and tools appeared out of thin air in the middle of the alley.
Barkan looked at him as if he were absurd.
"......Are we doing this here, in the alley?"
"Is the location important? Do you have a complaint?"
"Tsk. Fine. Let's start."
"Ah, can I sing while I work? My hands won't loosen up otherwise."
"......Do whatever you want."
Ivan was quite skilled, already wearing an apron and rolling up his sleeves.
Barkan grabbed the tongs with slightly trembling hands.
It was a familiar weight.
Kkang!
The sound of hammering lasted through the night.
Barkan said nothing, and Ivan hummed.
He muttered, and laughed while singing.
As time passed, Barkan's breathing became labored.
His body, having left the furnace for so long, had rusted. The old dwarf's stamina was rapidly depleting.
Kkang... Kkang──!
Every time that happened, Barkan gripped the hammer even more firmly.
Dawn came.
"It's complete."
"Finished."
Ivan and Barkan stood in silence, looking at the two swords.
Barkan's sword.
It was straight and solid. The balance was perfect, and the blade was sharply alive.
It was a faithful and honest sword.
"Incredible. The rumors about the legendary dwarf blacksmith weren't empty talk."
"It's just an old shell."
"Don't be humble. You must have put down the hammer for so long, and with such an uncomfortable body, to create a masterpiece like this. You deserve praise."
Ivan ran his finger along the edge of Barkan's sword.
Kkigigik...
The blade, pressed by the dragon's tough flesh, was crushed in vain.
Barkan silently looked at Ivan's sword.
It was flamboyant.
The grain of the blade was like a surging sea. The patterns on the hilt didn't look engraved, but as if they had bloomed on their own.
"I will judge. I swear on my heart that this duel──"
"You don't have to say it."
Barkan cut him off in a low voice.
Because he already knew.
"I lost."
Ivan clapped his hands.
"Your discernment is excellent too! If this level of skill had been enough, I would have enjoyed it even if I had lost."
"Is there really nothing you want?"
"There is nothing I want. I just wanted to discuss art with you, and that is enough."
"Let's do it one more time."
At Barkan's words, Ivan blinked.
"Huh? You lost, though?"
"I said let's do it one more time."
"......Are you the type who really hates losing?"
"Are you scared?"
"Alright, alright."
Barkan lost the second time as well.
And the third.
Barkan silently swung the hammer, and Ivan forged his sword while using different techniques each time.
When the fourth duel ended, Barkan looked down at his sword.
It was better than the second, and better than the third. Still, he lost.
Conversely, Barkan's body was rapidly failing.
His stamina was bottomed out, and his head was dizzy from thirst and fatigue. He forced his eyelids up to endure.
Ivan stood beside him and lifted Barkan's sword.
"The sword is getting better."
Barkan did not reply.
Instead, he asked an unrelated question.
"Why do you go around looking for them?"
"Hmm?"
"Artists. Why do you go around looking for them?"
Ivan stared at Barkan for a moment.
"I'm just curious. Whether those who gave up have truly given up, or not."
"......"
Barkan kept his mouth shut. His stamina was gone.
His vision was dizzy, and the world was spinning.
The Ivan in front of him overlapped into two, three, five people, then merged back into one.
"You're reaching your limit, Barkan. Not only have you put down the hammer for too long, but if you push yourself any further, your body will break."
Ivan's voice sounded distant.
"Will you give up?"
"......No."
Barkan grabbed the hammer and tongs again.
"If I lose to a mere lizard... wouldn't that bring shame to the name of Dwarf?"
"Don't call me a lizard."
Ivan grumbled.
And—
Around the time the sun hung high in the sky, past dawn, the sixth duel ended.
Ivan was silent.
He held Barkan's sword in his hand and examined it for a long time. He moved his finger slowly along the edge of the sword.
Tuk.
Red blood welled up from the tip of his finger.
It had cut the dragon's tough flesh.
A mere dwarf's sword had cut a dragon.
It was an achievement no Swordmaster had ever accomplished.
"Excellent."
Ivan whispered quietly. His eyes held a light of awe that he had never shown before.
"You won, Barkan. State your wish."
Ivan said, looking at the floor.
Barkan, having poured out all his energy, had already collapsed next to the anvil.
His breathing was labored and his hands were trembling. His vision kept blurring, and he felt like he would fall asleep forever just like this.
'...Did I push myself, too hard.'
Barkan stared intently at his three fingers. The place where the two fingers he had cut off himself used to be.
"To me──"
Barkan slowly opened his mouth.
"Can you give me one more chance?"
Ivan looked down at Barkan for a moment.
"Unfortunately, I cannot turn back time. That would go against the laws of the world."
"......I suppose so."
Instead──
"A light trick, however, is possible."
Barkan could no longer hear Ivan's voice.
His eyes closed slowly. He was certain this was the end.
But... if this is the end, it might not be so bad. Because he had held the hammer to his heart's content one last time.
"Then farewell, Barkan. You are the greatest blacksmith I have ever seen."
As Ivan waved his finger, the night air churned.
Barkan's vision was flooded with pure white light.
The last thing he saw was the furnace.
The furnace that was still burning hot.
Hwareuk-
He had the illusion that the strange heat was being transmitted to his heart through the fingers that had been cut off.
"—This is my small gift to you."
It seemed as if Ivan's voice could be heard faintly—
Hook, a massive breath containing flames covered his vision.
And Kang-hyun opened his eyes.