Chapter 16
Chapter 16
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 016
Chapter Title: Borfeo's Greatest Forge
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“This is where Borfeo’s greatest blacksmith lives.”
Hans spoke proudly, as if revealing some grand secret.
The price for that was paid immediately.
Thwack!
Hans got smacked on the back of his head.
“B-Boss! My last remaining eye will get gouged out! Why?!”
Sein had done exactly what he wanted—what was the problem?
“You forget continental tongue or something?”
“Huh?”
“I never said take me to Borfeo’s greatest blacksmith.”
“I clearly...”
Hans tried to protest but shut his mouth at the sight of Sein’s twisted expression.
“I said take me to Borfeo’s greatest forge.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Hah.”
Who was to blame?
It was his own fault for asking Hans, who couldn’t even give proper directions.
“Well, whatever. Close enough.”
If it was the forge of the greatest blacksmith, there had to be fine tools or ores inside.
The problem was...
“This really the place?”
The building in front of them looked like it would collapse any second.
“Is there some amazing setup inside? Or maybe it’s disguised to hide a legendary blacksmith?”
“Nothing like that...”
That was when it happened.
Creak.
The quiet sound of a door opening.
Clang!
Sein immediately swatted away something flying at him.
It was clearly a bolt from a crossbow.
“Get lost!”
Something glinted through the gap in the open window.
‘A repeating crossbow.’
The tip of a crossbow that could fire multiple shots poked out from between the window slats.
“That was dangerous.”
It hadn’t aimed for a vital spot, but it was definitely shot at his body.
“You old geezer! Have you lost your mind?!”
Hans yelled in shock.
“I told you never to come back! All I’ve got for scum like you is this arrow!”
Twang!
Another shot flew past Sein’s head, straight toward Hans.
Hans twisted away in panic, but it still grazed his arm.
“What a foul-tempered old man.”
Sein spoke in disbelief.
“I told you to scram! Consider this a warning...!”
In that instant.
Flash!
Something gleamed from Sein’s hand.
Boom!
An explosion rang out at the same time.
He had hurled a dagger infused with aura, smashing the craftsman’s crossbow.
“Wh-what?!”
The craftsman panicked briefly, but Sein strode forward without a care, stopping right in front of the forge’s door.
Crash!
He kicked it, and the door shattered with a thunderous boom.
Sein entered the forge casually.
He turned his head, scanning the surroundings.
The dimly lit interior, starved of light, flickered with eerie gleams here and there.
“So the back alleys have a new boss! And it’s some lunatic!”
From one corner of the forge, the slumped craftsman shouted.
“Don’t move. Take one step and...”
Shing.
The forge was filled with weapons.
Spears, swords, arrows—all woven into traps.
“Pretty impressive.”
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“Old man.”
At Sein’s low voice, the shouting craftsman fell silent.
A chill ran through him, one his aged body could scarcely endure.
‘What the hell...’
The craftsman had faced down the killing intent of plenty of lunatics while handling weapons.
But what he felt from Sein was something entirely different—like fear from another realm altogether.
“Don’t worry. I’m not asking you to make any weapons.”
Sein took a quiet step forward.
“N-no!”
The moment the craftsman cried out.
Boom boom boom!
The traps he had set erupted in flames in an instant.
*
*
*
“What...”
The craftsman couldn’t close his gaping mouth, as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Looks like ‘Borfeo’s greatest forge’ isn’t just talk after all.”
Sein casually looked around the forge.
He had dodged the craftsman’s traps with ease.
His movements were godlike, beyond anything seen in Borfeo—profound and wondrous.
“There’s even a bit of moonlight stone.”
But that wasn’t what truly shocked the craftsman.
The traps weren’t even meant to kill intruders, just scare them off.
What truly shocked him was...
“Hey, old man. Got any mithril stashed away?”
Sein had dismantled the traps.
With godlike movements, he had nudged the intricate mechanisms he’d built himself.
Just a light tap.
And every mechanism ground to a halt.
“How... how did you do that...”
The craftsman asked, wide-eyed like he’d seen a ghost.
“Huh? The traps?”
Sein, who had been inspecting an ore, turned to look at him.
“Simple. I just shook up the core a bit. Seemed like you put real effort into them, so smashing them outright felt wrong.”
“...!”
Easier said than done.
What Sein described was grasping the internal circuitry of his self-designed machines with just one glance in this dark space.
And halting them perfectly with freakish skill by tampering with the safely guarded core.
“Who the hell are you...”
The craftsman, Aaron, laughed hollowly.
He’d seen countless people in Borfeo’s back alleys over the years, but never anyone like Sein.
“Th-that doesn’t matter!”
Aaron snapped back to his senses.
“I don’t make weapons for back-alley trash!”
That was the vow of Borfeo’s blacksmith, Aaron.
‘Never again.’
He’d sworn never to hand his weapons to the back alleys again.
That was why Aaron, once hailed as Borfeo’s greatest, had quit blacksmithing and holed up in this rundown workshop.
But...
“This yours, old timer?”
Sein ignored him.
A dagger in Sein’s hand.
“D-didn’t you hear me?”
“Pretty well-made. Great joints, good tempering.”
“...!”
“But it’s a failure.”
“H-how did you...!”
Aaron was shocked once more.
Even the back-alley thugs, not to mention the successful merchants, had praised this dagger highly.
“I get what you were going for, but the method’s all wrong.”
Aaron felt possessed by a spirit.
“And old timer.”
Sein had picked up a hammer before he knew it.
As he shoveled coal into the furnace, he said...
“Who asked you to make weapons?”
“Th-then what?”
“Lend me the forge.”
Whoosh!
Flames began to roar in the long-dormant forge.
“You seem like a decent smith, so I’ll let it slide.”
Clang!
Sparks flew.
*
*
*
“Ah...”
Aaron watched it all.
“Ah...!”
And all he could utter was one thing.
“Ah...!!”
Exclamations of awe.
The young man, not even twenty, looked noble enough, but that raw edge was pure back-alley.
But...
Clang!
In Aaron’s eyes now, none of that mattered.
Not that he was a noble-looking youth.
Not that he was Chichiron’s mad dog.
Not even that he was the new boss of Borfeo’s back alleys.
“Aaah!”
Just a blacksmith.
A supremely great, awe-inspiring blacksmith.
Sweat dripping as he swung the hammer.
The whole process was like art.
It might look the same to the untrained eye, but to one who’d devoted his life to the flames...
Cllaang!
He could tell how exceptional Sein was.
“Everything’s well-maintained.”
Aaron had forgotten he’d tried to chase Sein away—he just stared.
“Old timer. Grab that thing over there.”
When he came to...
“Y-yeah.”
He realized he was assisting Sein like an apprentice.
He’d been blacksmithing for over fifty years.
Many had praised his skill, and countless had spilled blood coveting his talent.
For him to become someone’s assistant was unthinkable.
“Help me with this.”
“H-how?”
“You can’t even do that?”
Right now, Aaron felt no shame.
No.
‘It’s like I was born for this moment.’
A work of art.
And what would be born from it...
“Look forward to it. This’ll be the best thing I’ve made in my life.”
Would be another masterpiece.
At first, Aaron had aimed a crossbow at him.
At first, Sein had kicked in the door.
Now the two...
“Not bad.”
“Thanks.”
Were like a cheeky grandson and his exasperated grandpa.
“Won’t finish by tonight. Let’s eat. You hungry?”
Come to think of it...
Grrrowl.
Aaron finally noticed he hadn’t eaten a thing.
“I’ll whip something up quick.”
Aaron brought back a meager meal to the messy workshop.
“What’s with this food?”
Aaron hadn’t done much smithing in ages.
He’d buried his old earnings in the past, scraping by on occasional odd jobs.
“I’ll tell the kids, so eat properly.”
He’d vowed never to make weapons for the back alleys.
But Aaron knew.
“What are you, exactly?”
Sein was special.
You can tell a person’s life from how they wield the hammer.
Something great, beyond what a geezer like him could presume to speak of.
“What else? Mad dog.”
“Hah.”
“I get why you won’t make weapons for the back alleys.”
Sein said, spooning soup.
“That’s your call. But remember this.”
His face betrayed no emotion.
“Weapons are just weapons.”
“...!”
“How they’re used is on the wielders.”
Aaron was starving, yet hadn’t touched a bite.
“If you were worried about that, you shouldn’t have become a smith. If you’re a true craftsman...”
Thud!
Sein set down his empty soup bowl.
“Go mad. True artisans are lunatics, in my book.”
For the next two days, the flames in Aaron’s forge never died.
Even after Sein left, and beyond.
Roar!
Aaron’s furnace belched crimson flames.
Clang!
The return of Borfeo’s greatest blacksmith.