Chapter 51
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Ruin
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Luon silently gazed at the searing inscription branded into his very being.
[Duermyure's Blessing]
Just reading it didn't reveal what abilities it held, but it was clear that a blessing bearing the name of a proud celestial god would be anything but ordinary.
Turning his head toward the hammer blazing atop the forge, he murmured softly.
"I'll consider it the price of admission."
Just then, Retol, who had been fidgeting anxiously while rubbing his sweaty, bald head with his palm, spoke up.
"I-In all my years as a priest, I never dreamed I'd see a Warrior of the Forge."
At that moment, the rest of the party rushed toward Luon from behind. Kyle and Igor seemed relieved that Luon was safe, but Garan and Strabo, who knew what the Trial of the Forge entailed, looked visibly astonished.
Garan, in particular, had his mouth agape so wide that one might worry about his jaw. Luon addressed the old dwarf, who was unable to contain his amazement.
"It's a bit baffling to see you so surprised when you're the one who told me to do it."
Snapping back to his senses at those words, Garan shouted loudly.
"I knew my eyes didn't deceive me! That ego sword didn't just go haywire trying to imitate its master for no reason!"
Luon ignored Garan's hearty laughter and turned his head, only for the others to each add their own comments.
"What's with that tattoo? It's bright red and looks damn cool."
"You must not forget, even after receiving Duermyure's acknowledgment. The one who always smiles most warmly upon you, Sir Luon, is none other than the Mother..."
"Oh, Luon. Could it be that the real reason I ran away from home was to meet you?"
*I'm starting to miss Volkan's headbutts.*
His head spinning from the jumble of voices, Luon let out a deep sigh and shook his head.
***
An impromptu festival had begun in Roverduke.
The temple, which had long been regarded as barely maintaining its existence, had widely proclaimed the emergence of a warrior who had passed the Trial of the Forge.
The dwarves were in an uproar.
The Trial of the Forge?
Wasn't it a truly insane challenge, facing an avatar sculpted by Duermyure himself within the soul-searing 'Primordial Forge'?
One only had to recall that the last warrior to pass the trial was Ungrim, known as the 'Giantslayer', over a hundred years ago, to understand the magnitude of the achievement.
Therefore, it was only natural for the entire city to erupt in celebration.
For this one day, the dwarves abandoned their work and rushed to the taverns. And they raised a toast. For a warrior whose name and face they did not know.
"To the Warrior of the Forge!"
But not everyone was the same.
Somehow, a sizable crowd of dwarves had gathered in front of Garan's smithy, pounding vigorously on the firmly shut door.
"Hey, Garan! Open the door!"
"We heard everything from Retol. They say the Warrior of the Forge is here? Is it true he's a human?"
"It'll only take a moment! We just want to see his build. Just his build!"
Peeking outside through a gap in the curtains, Kyle was so intimidated by the swarming dwarves that he quickly recoiled.
"What's all this commotion about?"
Garan snorted and replied.
"What do you think? They're all riled up because they want this guy to try on the gear they've made."
He pointed an index finger at Luon as if in warning and said.
"I've said it before, but I'm the best blacksmith in Roverduke! Don't even think about mingling with those clumsy fools. Once you start, there's no end to it."
Luon chuckled and nodded.
"Alright, I won't."
Only then did Garan, satisfied, stroke his coarse beard and say.
"You can trust me with the sword's repairs. I swear it on the name of Volund."
Hearing such a pledge from the mouth of a proud artisan, Luon knew there was no need for further words and immediately drew his holy sword.
Placing the sword on the workbench, he said.
"I'm counting on you."
"Of course. It's you asking, after all."
Seemingly choked up by the sight of Luon entrusting him with a weapon that was like an extension of himself, Garan cleared his throat repeatedly before turning to look at Strabo.
"You damn brat. I still haven't forgiven you. And I have no intention of doing so! But... I'll admit you have an eye for other things. You've found yourself a proper companion."
Strabo's face filled with emotion as he moved his lips to speak.
"Ah, Father, you've finally come to understand romance..."
"Shut up!"
"Ugh!"
Garan, after kicking Strabo squarely in the chest, waved his hand irritably.
"Now get out. You're distracting me from my work."
Despite the sudden dismissal, the party got up to leave without a word of complaint. In the short time they'd known him, they had all come to understand just how cantankerous Garan was.
Just then, Luon asked.
"Will you be alright? It's difficult to even touch it without repercussions."
"Don't worry. Back then, my eagerness got the better of me, and I touched it without a plan. It's different now."
Luon didn't bother asking how that was possible.
*If he says it's possible, then it must be.*
He gave a slight nod and followed Strabo's lead up the stairs to the upper floor.
Strabo carefully opened the old wooden door and muttered under his breath.
"...The old man at least kept my room."
"Looks like he did more than just keep it."
Just as Kyle said, the modestly sized room was quite tidy, as if it had been consistently maintained.
The party entered the room, which was packed with books about adventuring, and settled down on the floor.
Strabo, who had been cautiously observing the others for a while, slowly began to speak.
"...Aren't you all going to ask?"
When no one responded, he, uncomfortable with the silence, quickly added.
"About why my father hates me so much."
Kyle picked at his ear and retorted.
"You didn't want to inherit the family business, you wanted to go on an adventure, so you bolted. Is there more to it than that?"
Strabo, who flinched as if the words had hit their mark, scratched his cheek.
"If you add in the part where I swiped a family heirloom, then you'd be spot on..."
Luon quickly scanned the dwarf, who wore an embarrassed expression. It went without saying, but there was nothing particularly special to see about him now.
He asked.
"I take it you traded the heirloom to become a druid?"
At the probing question, Strabo's eyes widened as if they would tear.
"H-How did you..."
"It was just a guess, so let's not make a fuss."
"Oh, right."
Strabo, calming his startled heart, hesitantly continued the story.
"A long time ago, an elf came to the smithy. He was an old man named Felix, and he asked my father for something but was coldly rejected."
It was a story out of the blue, but the party listened quietly.
"When he couldn't get through to my father, Felix started to tempt me. He told me that if I stole a certain ring for him, he would teach me his secret arts. Then he suddenly turned into an eagle and started flying through the sky... it was so magnificent..."
Igor asked.
"So, did you steal it?"
Strabo nodded.
"Back then, my mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of escaping this dreadful smithy... I seized the opportunity, rummaged through my father's workshop, found the ring Felix mentioned, and gave it to him right away. It wasn't even that difficult."
The rest of the story was simple.
The two of them left Roverduke immediately.
Although Felix had encouraged theft, he wasn't such scum as to break his promise. He taught Strabo how to wield the power of nature, and thanks to that, Strabo was able to become a druid, albeit a half-baked one.
Filled with a sense of accomplishment and nostalgia, Strabo went straight back to Garan. And then he heard the shocking news: the ring he had given to Felix was, in fact, his family's heirloom.
When the story reached that point, Kyle frowned and asked.
"Does it make sense that you didn't know?"
Strabo sniffled and protested, as if wronged.
"I really didn't know! I'm not so shameless a dwarf as to steal it knowing what it was!"
He added.
"...I was beaten half to death that day. I think it was about ten years ago that he threw me out and told me never to show my face again. Well, that's the story."
Having finished his tale, Strabo let out a sigh of relief.
Then, Luon asked a question. He had something else he was truly curious about.
"So what did the ring do?"
Kyle and Igor, apparently just as curious, stared intently at Strabo's face.
Strabo answered haltingly.
"They said it had a special power that would hide the wearer's form if you turned the gem on the ring to face your palm... I never actually wore it, so I don't really know."
"The One Ring?"
Luon muttered it unconsciously, and Igor tilted his head.
"Is that a known artifact?"
Luon, briefly recalling the immensely popular movie, shook his head.
The ring from the movie and the one Strabo had traded away couldn't possibly be the same.
"No."
"Aww, what a letdown..."
Kyle, trailing off in disappointment, clapped his hands as if to change the mood. Then, he looked at Luon with a mischievous expression.
"You know, even when we're sitting together like this, it feels like you're from another world."
As Luon wore a strange expression at the phrase "another world," Kyle held up his palm and began to fold his fingers one by one.
"Troll Slayer, Tivela's Champion, Warrior of the Forge, the one who killed the Great Demon's apostle... In Relizan, they even called you the Butcher. Remember?"
Strabo suddenly interjected.
"You have to include strangling the goat-headed monster and taming a Nightmare!"
Even Igor chimed in.
"You all don't know the story of how Sir Luon saved a woman named Becky, do you? It was a display worthy of being recorded in the scriptures of mercy."
*Have they all gone mad?*
Luon furrowed his brow as his companions suddenly started singing his praises.
"What are you trying to say?"
Kyle offered a faint smile.
"What kind of madman would trail after a mercenary who claims he's going to kill a Great Demon?"
The madman continued.
"But strangely, I keep thinking that if it's Luon, it just might be possible. It's weird, I know."
Strabo pounded his chest and said.
"There's so much romance in Luon's journey. How could I not follow?"
As Igor opened his mouth as if to add his own piece, Luon quickly held up a hand.
"That's enough."
Seeing Igor's crestfallen face, as if he had a mountain of things to say, Kyle and Strabo clapped their hands and snickered.
Outside the window, the dwarves' clamor was still deafening, but ignoring it, the party exchanged idle chatter.
The long day began to draw to a close.
***
The repairs on the holy sword took longer than expected, so the party members spent some time on their own for a change.
Igor prayed to Tivela every day with clasped hands to recover his severely depleted divine power, while Strabo roamed the streets of his long-missed hometown, meddling in various affairs.
Kyle, never seeming to tire despite getting knocked down every day, challenged Luon to a spar.
A week passed like that.
"It's done."
As Luon lightly dodged Kyle's thrust and kicked his ankle, a weary voice sounded from behind him.
A dwarf who looked as if he had aged twenty years stood there with a haggard face.
"Garan."
Luon approached Garan, who looked ready to collapse at any moment. Garan himself, however, seemed to have no interest in his own condition, instead thrusting forward the longsword in his hand and saying.
"I've repaired it perfectly."
The longsword in his proud hands showed no major changes on the surface, but Luon simply gripped the hilt without a word.
*Fwoosh—*
Faint red runes then flared to life like flames along the smooth blade.
"What's this?"
As Luon stared down at the holy sword in surprise, Garan replied in an exhausted voice.
"Even if I'd restored it to its original state, I judged there was a chance the sword, already greatly influenced by you, would become corrupted again by trying to forcefully amplify its power. So, I melted down the goddess's power and the demon's power together to expand the vessel of the sword itself. Duermyure's grace played a significant part in that process as well."
"Retol worked just as hard as I did," he muttered, then continued his explanation.
"That sword is no longer a holy sword or a demonic sword. It's your own ego sword, one with boundless potential. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Luon nodded and spun the sword around. Garan, watching the red afterimage created by the sword as if mesmerized, spoke.
"Don't worry. The abilities the sword had should still be effective."
Luon responded not with words, but with action.
Instantly creating a pale golden barrier, he tilted his head at the strange sensation coming from the sword.
"It feels strangely mischievous."
Garan quickly cleared his throat.
"Ahem, well, with three completely different powers mixed together, it was bound to become a bit unruly. At least it's not cursing your parents anymore, right?"
*That's true.*
A small smile on his face, Luon swung his arm this way and that to get used to the slightly heavier sword.
Just then, Garan said.
"What are you going to name it?"
"A name?"
"Are you going to keep calling it 'sword, sword' forever? It's an ego sword with its own consciousness. It deserves a proper name!"
Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Luon looked down at the sword. Even though he wasn't doing anything, the red runes on the blade flickered on and off, making it seem as if it were playing around.
Seeing Luon hesitate to choose a name, Kyle sidled up to him and said.
"Shouldn't it be something meaningful? Something related to you, Luon."
Luon thought for a moment and suddenly recalled the username that had been the origin of his own name: 'Ruin On'.
Not wanting to overthink it, he said.
"I'll call it Ruin."
As if delighted by its first name, the red runes on Ruin's blade flared and blazed.