Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 015
Chapter Title: Borfeo's Finest Blacksmith
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Sein came to three days later.
“Gah! F…fuck. Thought I was a goner.”
It felt like his life had flashed before his eyes.
If it had happened during a level-up, maybe he could’ve brushed it off, but seeing his life flash without even leveling up? That was straight-up terrifying.
The one greeting him as he woke was the Cyclops.
“Boss! You’re awake?”
Middle-aged guy. One eye lost to an ogre, complete with an eyepatch. Sharp as hell when it came to spotting things.
“Where are we?”
“My hideout.”
Seemed he’d judged it a decent spot to guard Sein while he was out cold and defenseless.
“Surprising, though?”
“What do you mean?”
“While I was asleep, you could’ve just slit my throat and taken over the Borfeo back alleys.”
Sein mimed slicing his own neck.
“Gah! What kinda talk is that!”
The Cyclops shouted.
“I’m Hans! I know a good turn when I see one.”
“Hans?”
“You didn’t know? That’s my name.”
Voice like a few screws were loose somewhere.
“Well…”
Heh.
Gotta give credit where it’s due.
“Good job.”
Of course, the Cyclops—no, Hans—probably wouldn’t have gone for him while he was vulnerable.
If there’d been even a shred of doubt, Derren wouldn’t have let it slide.
“Too bad. If you’d tried to take me out…”
The smile on Sein’s lips deepened.
“Boom! I could’ve watched your body explode.”
“Y-you’re serious?”
“Curious? Go ahead and try.”
Sein sat up.
“…Damn.”
His condition was predictably abysmal.
The reason was simple.
‘Pushed too hard in that ogre fight.’
The Dragon Heart’s mana was vast and brutal.
His current body wasn’t anywhere near ready to handle that violent power.
‘Should’ve hit level 10 to wield it properly from the start.’
Or neutralized the backlash with some other perk.
But he’d maxed out the Dragon Heart’s power without safeguards, even layering on Iron Skin to boot.
Before realizing his name was Demorus, he’d already tested it once.
Replicating skills from his past lives using mana.
Figured even a crappy core like his could mimic a few.
“Lasted seven days that time. Passed out cold.”
Since he hadn’t learned them as proper skills, it didn’t just guzzle mana—it wrecked his body, leaving him bedridden for a week.
Only tried again because of the Dragon Heart. Shouldn’t have taken it lightly.
‘And…’
One more thing.
“How many days was I out?”
“Three days, boss!”
Three days.
“Four left, then.”
His heart had stopped right now.
Arin’s emergency fix to halt the curse called a “blessing” and the Dragon Heart’s backlash.
A body with a stopped heart working at all was the weird part.
Breathing and talking like this? Only possible because Arin was one hell of a necromancer.
“Four days should be enough.”
Sein left Hans’s hideout.
*
*
*
“P-please, spare me!”
Short bob covering one ear.
Late twenties, maybe. A seductress if there ever was one.
“She’s the fox, right.”
One of the bosses who’d carved up the Borfeo back alleys: Fox.
“Ogre only took one ear. Could’ve done worse.”
Sein was genuinely impressed.
No comparing to Arin, but Fox was a knockout in her own right.
“City girls really are on another level.”
“Th-thank you.”
“Not a compliment.”
“S-sorry!”
Terrified out of her mind, Fox was kowtowing on the floor, shaking like a leaf.
Simple reason.
‘Dumped the ogre’s corpse in the back alleys.’
Derren’s doing, naturally.
After Sein collapsed, Derren hauled the body and left it on display for a day.
A warning for everyone in the back alleys to see what happened to Sein’s enemies.
And on top of that.
“Derren, you go easy on her hands? They look fine.”
“Didn’t want to tank her value. Took care.”
“Getting better.”
“Eek!”
While Sein slept, Derren had broken her in good.
“Well done.”
No visible marks, but Fox’s last three days must’ve been a nightmare.
Even for a seasoned back-alley queen.
“Heard you’ve got a pile of cash.”
“Gave it all to Sir Derren!”
“Got a knack for flipping money?”
“Bet on it!”
She stood rigid like a fresh recruit.
“Anything you need, just say the word!”
“Hmm.”
As Sein pondered, Fox looked desperate and lifted her head.
“I-I’ve got lots of talents!”
She’d sliced apart wolves, frogs, and ogres.
The name “Chichiron’s Mad Dog” was spreading through Borfeo’s back alleys like a plague of fear.
“Even at night…”
Fox reached for her clothes as she said it.
“Save the bedroom pitch. You’re good at making money, right?”
“I guarantee it.”
Cyclops Hans stepped up to vouch for her too.
“Foxy bitch, but capable. Hasn’t crossed any lines, either.”
Word on Fox was she was pretty decent with people.
She’d kept Hans afloat in the back alleys after he lost his crew and men.
“Alright. You’re family now.”
“Thank you!”
With Fox’s status settled, Sein stood once more.
Still plenty of time left.
Outside the building, well-dressed merchants awaited Sein.
“We greet Borfeo’s hero.”
They bowed low, like welcoming a legend.
Made sense—back alleys were tied tight to merchants.
“Eh, enough with the greetings.”
Sein waved them off lazily.
“I know the back-alley war cost you big.”
The merchants perked up at his words.
Rumors painted Sein as an ogre-level tyrant, but he seemed flexible.
“Gotta get used to the beatings. From now on, keep losses to that level.”
“…Pardon?”
“Pay up proper.”
“…!”
That’s when they realized their mistake.
“And Derren here, my right hand, will list specific items. Spot any, bring ’em to me first. I’ll cover cost.”
The guy before them was scarier than the tyrant ogre.
‘Chichiron’s Mad Dog.’
Borfeo’s back alleys now run by a literal mad dog.
“Understood.”
Then a young merchant stepped forward.
“If you’d share your wants with us first, we’ll hunt them down for Borfeo’s hero.”
Sein eyed the young merchant.
“Name and outfit?”
“Aia. Run a small outfit, the Glass Merchant Company.”
“You’re in.”
Sein stepped up to Aia.
“Special treatment for you.”
*
*
*
‘Aia, was it.’
Not bad.
Back-alley merchants were basically thugs.
Bloodsuckers, same as the alley scum.
Pushing junk, usury, that crowd.
‘How they scrape by ain’t my problem.’
Borfeo was his turf now.
No room for that kind of irredeemable trash.
But Aia was different.
‘Got it, huh.’
He’d grasped the meaning.
Show your stuff.
Can you deliver the goods?
Can you spot value?
Only one here worthy of “merchant.”
“This way.”
Sein walked with Hans and a few of his men.
“…Gasp!”
“S-sorry!”
Locals they passed flinched, fled, or bowed in apology.
“Overkill. Haven’t done shit.”
“Ogre’s fault.”
Ogre hadn’t seemed half bad.
“Demanded tribute in people.”
Kidnapping back-alley residents, no discrimination.
Kids, elders, men, women.
‘Had his reasons.’
That explained it.
‘Knows how to upgrade to Blood Iron Skin, too.’
Iron Skin, and Blood Iron Skin.
To advance that power.
Iron Skin infused iron’s mana, turning the body iron-like.
But to reach Blood Iron Skin? One indispensable element.
‘Blood.’
That red wasn’t any gemstone.
The deep crimson of human blood.
Some player discovered it, shattering Sanctuary’s common wisdom.
They’d thought hunting monsters naturally led there.
Revolutionary in a world of infinite freedom where anything went.
Blood was the key to Blood Iron Skin.
“Barbbik. That woman too, probably.”
“B-Barbbik?”
Hans shuddered as he spoke.
“Yeah?”
“The Warrior of Massacre Barbbik… that’s who you mean, right?”
Warrior of Massacre.
“Same deal over there, huh.”
Hans either missed Sein’s mutter or kept trembling, babbling on.
How terrifying Barbbik was, how many she’d killed, etc.
“Shut it.”
One word from Sein, and Hans clammed up.
Borfeo’s back alleys were vast, fitting for a city.
World same size as Earth, they said.
Once dreamed of touring Sanctuary slow, but never did.
“Here.”
Lost in thought, they’d reached the spot.
Rundown shack on its last legs.
Could collapse any second. More haunted house than home.
“Ghost house?”
Easier to believe ghosts lived there.
“This is it.”
But it was the destination.
“Borfeo’s best blacksmith lives here.”