The Blacksmith's City
They arrived in Mullae-dong a little after two in the afternoon.
As Riel's car merged onto the main road, the first sound that reached them was the rhythmic hammering of iron. Clang. Clang. Clang.
It wasn't just one or two places; dozens of hammers struck in different rhythms, overlapping with the sound of sparks and the vibration of heavy machinery.
Sihyuk looked out the window.
In the old brick building on the first floor, there was a sign for a metalworking shop.
Inside the half-open shutter, a sweat-soaked blacksmith was hammering a red-hot blade.
Right next to it stood a ten-story building covered in black glass. On the screens filling the outer wall, swords wrapped in blue flames slowly rotated.
Cheonghwa Magic Smelting Workshop
Custom weapons of grade B and above
Across the street was a large store displaying shields and armor, and behind it a huge workshop with several chimneys rising.
In the alleys, small blacksmiths jammed together without even proper signs.
Some specialized in handle replacement and sharpening.
Others processed monster bones and leather.
There were engraving workshops for adding magic to weapons and high-end stores that only handled completed equipment.
Hunters carrying large weapon bags constantly walked back and forth on the road. Trucks loaded with monster horns and scales lined up and passed by.
It wasn't just a few small workshops. It was a city spanning over ten blocks with old blacksmiths, giant smelters, shops, and warehouses.
Without the walls, it was no different from a city.
The difference wasn't just in size.
On one side, dozens of employees hammered out swords in the same standard without a break.
On the opposite side, a white-haired old man held an axe and sharpened its blade.
Between buildings with guild emblems, an old wooden door suddenly appeared for reserved guests only.
From places mass-producing cheap and sturdy weapons to a single master blacksmith forging just one sword for months, all methods of making weapons were gathered here.
Serca couldn't take her eyes off the view outside the window.
"Is all the blacksmithing in this place gathered in one place?"
"Not all. But in Korea, anyone dealing with weapons has probably passed through Mullae at some point."
Riel answered, skillfully changing lanes.
"At first, it was just a few existing metalworking shops that repaired hunter weapons. Once it became profitable, returning blacksmiths came in, and guilds and companies built workshops too."
"This scale is impressive."
"Every time you catch a monster, your sword breaks and armor tears. The weapon-making side has grown enormously."
Serca sighed softly.
There was a city in the Demon Realm where blacksmiths gathered.
But even there, it took a long time to complete one weapon.
Here, raw materials and monster byproducts flowed in and out of huge buildings without rest, and finished weapons poured out the other side.
The speed was more unfamiliar than the scale.
Riel's car passed through the bustling main road and went deeper inside.
The buildings' exteriors became more ornate.
It was the area with large workshops and guild-affiliated stores of famous masters. Behind the glass display cases, weapons had price tags as expensive as gold ingots, which Sihyuk had sold before.
"Why is a sword so expensive?"
"Because good weapons are worth a hunter's life."
"My sword was free."
"Don't compare it to that."
Riel muttered in disbelief and drove further in.
Bran's workshop stood out even in this area.
An eight-story standalone building finished with gray stone and dark glass.
Instead of flashy ads, the front had only a golden pattern of anvil and hammer overlapping, with a short name engraved below.
Bran
"Nice place."
Sihyuk looked up and said.
"This building is the workshop and store. You live elsewhere."
"All of it?"
"Yeah. When I first came to Earth, I rented a basement workshop. Now I'm the master blacksmith ranked high in Korea."
After parking the car in the basement, Riel entered the automatic door first.
The first floor was closer to a high-end showroom than a blacksmith shop.
Swords, spears, bows were displayed with wide spacing. Small panels with material, manufacturing method, and maker's name were placed in front of the weapons.
One wall had floor guides.
Second and third floors: sales and consultation rooms for completed weapons.
From fourth to sixth: manufacturing workshops, above that: material storage and performance testing grounds.
"Bran doesn't make all this himself, does he?"
"He has many disciples and employees. Normal weapons are made by disciples, and Bran only takes high-end requests himself."
"A blacksmith lives like a king."
"Don't say that in front of him. He really gets angry."
The employees' attire was far from blacksmiths.
A staff member in a black suit approached the three, recognized Riel, and bowed.
"Mr. Riel Hunter. Do you have a reservation?"
"I'm here to see Bran."
"Master is currently working. If you tell me the purpose of your visit, I can check the schedule."
"I just need to see one sword."
The employee's expression became troubled.
"Sorry, but we don't accept same-day appraisals. Reservations are booked up to six months from now—"
"Just tell him I came."
The employee hesitated briefly and contacted someone on the earpiece.
After a few words, the employee's expression became even more difficult.
"Master said... he doesn't want to see an elf's face."
Riel's eyebrows twitched.
"There, you see? His personality is dirty."
Serca asked coldly.
"Does breaking the sword bring results?"
The interpreter translated accurately.
The employee stepped back.
"Don't do that."
Sihyuk stopped Serca and put his hand in the Bigo.
"If I show you the sword, you might change your mind."
When he took out the cracked iron sword, the employee's gaze landed on the rusty blade.
The face was completely different from what he expected.
It was too worn and unremarkable to place in the middle of the high-end showroom.
Riel told the employee.
"Take a photo and send it. If it doesn't come down, I'll just leave."
The employee carefully took a photo of the sword and sent it upstairs.
The reply didn't take long.
Bang!
The sound of a door slamming hard from the inner stairs.
A moment later, short legs quickly descended the stairs.
His height didn't reach Sihyuk's chest.
But his shoulders were twice as wide as a normal adult man's. His ash-gray hair and beard reaching his chest were braided into several strands, with small metal rings at the ends.
A dwarf in a clean white shirt and dark leather apron strode straight to Sihyuk.
He didn't even glance at Riel.
"That sword."
His thick, low voice echoed through the showroom.
"Where did you get it?"
"It's mine."
Bran scanned Sihyuk from head to toe.
"Come with me."
He turned without waiting for an answer.
Riel muttered softly.
"I said I don't want to see it."
Bran's workshop was on the fifth floor of the building.
Unlike the first floor, this place was a proper blacksmith shop.
In the furnace on one wall, blue flames were burning.
Dozens of hammers of different sizes and shapes were neatly hung on the wall, and in the center, a huge anvil large enough for a person to lie on.
Bran cleared the workbench and extended his hand.
"Elf."
Only then did Bran glance at Riel.
"Is the bow I fixed last time still okay?"
"It's fine. But you said you didn't want to see my face?"
"I don't like your face, but I'm not uninterested in the condition of the weapon I fixed."
"Yeah. That's what I mean by his dirty personality."
Bran ignored it and gestured to Sihyuk.
"Put it up."
When Sihyuk handed over the sword, Bran received the blade with his thick hand.
The unpleasant expression from earlier had vanished.
He examined the cracked part, then scraped the rust at the tip with his fingernail. He lightly tapped the blade with a small hammer in several places.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The sound didn't resonate in any place.
Yet Bran's eyes gradually sparkled.
"Truly amazing."
"What's amazing?"
"The material is ordinary iron. Not a magical metal, and it wasn't made as a spiritual weapon from the start."
Bran turned the sword and asked.
"Who was the blacksmith who made it originally?"
Sihyuk thought for a moment.
It was long before he became the Demon King.
A small village attacked by monsters.
Between collapsed houses and burning corpses, he had picked up this sword for the first time.
At the time, Sihyuk had no luxury to choose weapons.
To survive, he had to grasp anything.
"I don't know. It's a sword I picked up beside a dead person."
Bran's hand paused for a moment.
"Where?"
"It was a small village attacked by monsters. It's been too long, so I don't remember what it looked like."
Bran stroked his beard unhappily.
"You've met the owner properly."
"Is that so?"
"It's not common for an ordinary iron sword to survive this long."
He pointed his finger at the center of the sword.
"It's not an ordinary iron sword made haphazardly. The weight balance is good, and the iron is evenly folded. If it hadn't been properly made from the beginning, no matter how long it was tempered, it wouldn't have lasted a hundred years."
Bran rubbed the area near the sword's handle with his finger.
Deep inside the blade, there were thin, vein-like red traces embedded.
"However, the accumulated time is different. Something has seeped into the inside of the iron countless times and adhered. This much means the one who swung the sword has been hammering it longer than the blacksmith who made it."
He raised his head.
"Who used it?"
Sihyuk didn't answer immediately.
"Do you need repairs for that too?"
"Of course. It's more difficult to handle the power that has seeped into this sword than the iron itself. If I touch it without knowing who the owner is, it will ruin everything left."
Only then did Sihyuk speak.
"I used it."
"How long?"
"I've used it for a long time."
Bran looked back and forth between Sihyuk and the sword, then stared at the cracked part for a long time.
"It didn't break easily."
Serca answered as if it was natural.
"This sword has been with my lord for hundreds of years. It couldn't break that much."
"So, can it be fixed?"
Bran looked at the sword again with a magnifying glass next to the furnace. After a while, he placed the sword on the workbench.
"Fixing the cracked blade and mending the broken edge is possible."
Serca's hardened face softened a little.
"Then right away—"
"But I can't return it to the way it was before."
"What do you mean?"
Bran tapped the blade with his finger.
A dull sound rang out briefly.
"This sword wasn't made by a blacksmith. It's the one the owner has swung countless times."
His gaze turned to Sihyuk.
"What I can do is reconnect the broken body. Reviving the power accumulated inside is your job."
"How long will the repair take?"
"A week."
Bran pointed to the cracked part.
"If you melt it like a normal sword and reattach it, everything left inside will die. You should avoid touching the existing iron as much as possible and join the cracked parts one by one. It's a tedious job."
Contrary to his words, Bran's eyes looked happy.
"Repair fee?"
"It's not cheap."
"I have money."
"And there's one condition."
Bran looked straight at Sihyuk.
"When the sword awakens again, bring it. I want to confirm with my own eyes how far the dead sword has revived."
Sihyuk nodded as if it was nothing.
"That's easy."
"So, how do you wake it up?"
Bran tapped the blade.
"Use it like before. Feed it your power again and push it until it can endure on its own. If there's no reaction, I don't know either."
Sihyuk looked at the sword on the workbench.
After returning to Earth, he had no intention of fighting anyone again.
"Is there another way?"
"I can't do it with my hands."
"I'm retired."
Bran snorted.
"That's your business."
His thick fingers lightly tapped the seemingly dead blade.
"If you want to save the sword, fight again."
It was a sword they had been together with for a long time.
Now that they could finally rest together.
To properly revive the sword, it seemed they had to fight again.
Sihyuk looked at the sword on the workbench.
"I'll think about it."
Anyway, after leaving the sword with Bran and coming down to the first floor, a familiar voice came from one side of the showroom.
"Kang Sihyuk?"
Sihyuk turned his head.
Do Ha-gyeong with her red hair tied high was talking to the employee.
On the display stand, a pair of red knuckles that Do Ha-gyeong had entrusted were placed.
"Another one here? I was planning to come find you anyway."
Do Ha-gyeong's steps, which had been approaching happily, stopped in front of Serca.
Her pumpkin-colored eyes scanned the black armor and silver hair in turn.
"Wait a minute."
"Could it be the person in the video from yesterday?"
A thick curiosity was in her light voice.
Serca's red eyes narrowed.
Without taking their eyes off each other, Serca asked.
"Who is this human?"