Chapter 52
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Gifts of the Forge
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Staring down at the sword—no, at Ruin—as it playfully shifted the color of its blade, Luon let out a faint sigh.
It’s come to this... talking to a sword.
Though Luon had shed many of his modern sensibilities while struggling to survive in this world, he just couldn't bring himself to chatter away at a blade. He promptly sheathed the sword.
“Where are the prayer boy and that good-for-nothing?”
Luon shrugged in response to Garan's question.
“Igor is resting. As for your son, I'm not sure. He tends to wander off.”
Muttering, “That airhead,” Garan spoke.
“I'm going to get some shut-eye. Come find me when everyone's here. I have something to show you.”
Watching Garan's staggering figure recede into the distance, Kyle muttered worriedly.
“The old man who looked like he could piledrive a monster with his bare hands has gotten so gaunt.”
He, who had been thrown to the ground dozens of times again today, dusted off his back and asked.
“So, how's the new sword?”
“Not bad. Aside from its frivolousness.”
Kyle snickered, noticing a red glow leaking intermittently from the gap between the top of the scabbard and the crossguard.
“Ruin, was it? Nice to meet you. Wanna be friends with my shield?”
Without a hint of embarrassment, he chattered on, and Luon swung his palm toward his chest.
With a loud smack, Kyle was sent flying and let out a series of dry coughs.
“...At this rate, I'm really going to die.”
Even so, he wordlessly picked up his fallen sword and shield and got back on his feet, looking accustomed to this kind of situation.
Luon said to him.
“Today, we go until Strabo gets here.”
***
A very drunk Strabo returned to the smithy around dawn the next day.
Thanks to that, Kyle, who had been beaten by Luon all night, rashly attacked the dead-drunk dwarf, causing a huge commotion. But thanks to Igor's desperate intervention, things were somehow settled.
“Pathetic fools...”
Garan frowned, looking back and forth between the bruised faces of Kyle and Strabo.
As Garan clicked his tongue with a displeased expression, Luon asked.
“So, what was it you wanted to show us?”
Hearing this, Garan silently reached out. He grasped the thick cloth covering the workbench and asked.
“I had a hunch when I heard the story about the sword, but are you lot chasing a Great Demon? Retol, who saw the power in the sword, said it was Belducias...”
Igor nodded and affirmed.
“You saw correctly.”
“Is it common to handle such a thing with just four people? I thought it was usually paladins and priests who charged in as a group.”
“In a normal case, that would be true.”
Seeing Igor's gaze rest on Luon as he answered, Garan chuckled.
“If you succeed in killing the Great Demon, the name that comes to mind for Warrior of the Forge might be Luon instead of Ungrim.”
With a satisfied smile, he pulled back the hand holding the cloth.
Kyle's jaw dropped at the items revealed on the workbench.
“What is all this?”
“I promised I would help with all my strength.”
Garan shrugged with a solemn expression and continued.
“Of course, that promise only applied to him, the one who passed the trial of the forge. But for those who aim to achieve the great feat of slaying a Great Demon together, I can offer this much help.”
He offered a neatly placed one-handed sword of moderate length to Kyle.
“Take it.”
Garan said to Kyle, who accepted the sword with a bewildered expression.
“A weapon engraved with spells would be worthless because of that shield of yours, so I just prepared a sturdy one. It was forged from iron blessed by Duermyure, however faintly, so its strength is guaranteed.”
As if he hadn't heard the explanation, Kyle asked back with a blank look.
“You knew about my shield?”
Garan snorted in response.
“I never forget a piece of equipment I've seen once. In this field, I'm a true prodigy.”
After boasting so casually, he continued with a strange expression, as if searching his memories.
“This was long ago, before I even grew a beard. A mage suddenly appeared in Robaduk and requested an item engraved with 'magic' that disrupts magical wavelengths. It was a ridiculous request, but it was enough to stir the competitive spirit of the artisans, so the whole city was buzzing.”
Having said that much, Garan pointed to the shield.
“That shield is the result of that mage and the artisans of Robaduk putting their heads together. It's a thing called the Paradox Shield, or sometimes the Spellbreaker.”
Kyle, who had suddenly learned the history of his shield, blinked and looked at Luon.
“Do you think that mage was the one who hid the shield in the village's stone monument?”
Luon, who knew no more than he did, gave a short reply.
“Who knows.”
Then Garan replied bluntly.
“I don't care how it ended up in your hands. It wasn't made by my clan anyway. Anyway, next!”
This time, he offered a bracelet to Igor.
“You frail-looking fellow. It's fine to offer prayers to your goddess, but take care of your own body first. That thing will protect you at least once.”
Igor looked down at the bracelet, which was engraved with an unknown pattern, and bowed his head.
“Thank you for your consideration.”
Proving his skills weren't limited to metallurgy, Garan handed Luon a well-tanned leather armor, then yawned languidly and said.
“Now, be on your way. I need to catch up on some much-needed sleep.”
As Garan waved his hand dismissively, as if exhausted, Strabo hesitated, his lips parting.
“Father, what about me... *Ugh!*”
As if he had been waiting for those words, Garan clenched his fist and struck Strabo hard on the jaw.
Before Strabo, his jaw snapped to the side, could even turn his head, the old dwarf's fists rained down on him relentlessly.
This time, too, Luon did not stop Garan.
To him, the brutal beating felt like a ritual of sorts, melting away the last vestiges of resentment between the two.
As proof, the eyes of both Garan, the one hitting, and Strabo, the one being hit, were red and welling up.
“The only gift I have for you is my fists, you stupid brat.”
Garan, panting heavily, continued speaking to Strabo, who lay on the floor.
“I'm tired of hitting you now! So get lost! I don't have a clue what this 'romance' you speak of is, but I suppose you can make a name for yourself by tagging along with the Warrior of the Forge.”
He let out a rough breath and slowly moved his lips.
“...So go live your life as you see fit.”
After spitting out those rough words, Garan turned and strode away without a backward glance.
“Grab on.”
Strabo took Kyle's outstretched hand, pulled himself up, and gave a hollow smile.
“How embarrassing.”
Muttering awkwardly, he took something shiny from his pocket.
It was the clan ring he had given the gatekeeper to prove his identity on the day he entered Robaduk.
Luon smirked as he watched Strabo put the ring not in his beard, but on his finger.
He said.
“It's a bit early, but it seems there's no reason for us to stay here any longer. We should leave now.”
The party responded with nods.
As they left the smithy, the sun was rising, cutting through the bluish gloom of dawn. It was a fitting scene for embarking on a new journey.
***
The ego sword, now named Ruin instead of Holy Sword, still possessed the functions it had as a holy sword, just as Garan had said.
Fortunately, though faint, it was also able to track the power of Belducias.
The sword, newly forged with the power of a goddess and a Great Demon, conveyed to Luon the faint traces of the ancient evil that had once consumed it.
Each time, seized by an inexplicable sense of déjà vu, he quickened his pace in the direction the sword guided him.
After about six days of this, the party came across a village of considerable size.
Perhaps it was prime land with fertile soil, for a vast field of golden wheat stretched out at the village entrance. The party let out a collective gasp of ‘Whoa’ at the sight of the golden waves undulating with the wind.
Igor clasped his hands and murmured.
“It's truly beautiful.”
Then he frowned and added.
“I hope such a beautiful place has nothing to do with the Great Demon.”
Oh, brother.
Luon scoffed inwardly.
The moment someone uttered such words, something was bound to go wrong.
Hoping nothing was amiss in the quiet village, he started walking toward it. And that hope was splendidly shattered.
“No-o!”
What greeted the party after they left their horses at the stable was a terrible scream. Turning toward the sound, they saw a young man sobbing his heart out.
Several men were blocking his path as he stumbled forward, flailing his arms, and their expressions were grim.
“Philip, I know you're in pain, but you have to let her go now.”
“Yeah, this won't bring the dead back. So just calm down...”
At the men's words, a thick vein bulged on the young man, Philip's, neck.
“No! My wife can't be dead. Sonya! Answer me! This is a joke, right? Huh?”
The men looked helpless at his anguished cries. Just then, an elderly voice was heard.
“Philip, stop it. Sonya is dead.”
Behind the old man who came out opening the door, someone was carried out on a stretcher, covered in a white sheet. At the sight of a gaunt arm falling limply from under the sheet, Philip wailed.
“Sonya!”
The old man approached him and said.
“She suffered from childbed fever for a week; she held on long enough. She's at peace now, albeit belatedly. So let her go.”
At the old man's words, Philip collapsed to the ground as if his body had given out.
“No... no...”
His hollow muttering, as if he had no more tears to shed, was strangely chilling.
Kyle, who had been watching the whole scene, chewed on his lip.
“Things were so nice when we were looking at the wheat fields. It feels awful to see someone die the moment we enter a village.”
Igor also added a word.
“If only we had arrived half a day sooner, I could have at least offered a prayer...”
Luon replied quietly.
“This doesn't seem to be our problem. So let's stop staring blankly and find an inn.”
But even that proved difficult. The door to the small inn was firmly shut.
“Travelers?”
A middle-aged woman with a bucket on her head, seemingly embarrassed by the party's stares, cleared her throat and spoke.
“The young woman who runs the inn is very ill... It'll be hard to find a room there.”
Luon asked.
“Is that woman's name Sonya?”
“How did you know that?”
“I heard on the way into the village. They said she died.”
“What?”
Startled by his words, the woman dropped her bucket. Seeing the water splash out in a fan shape and soak Luon's boots, she covered her mouth with her hand.
“Oh, dear. What have I done.”
Seeing the woman's hand tremble as she took in Luon's large frame and the sword at his hip, Igor quickly stepped forward.
“It's alright, ma'am. He's not the type to get angry over something like this.”
That's news to me.
As Luon wore a faint smile, Strabo nudged his leg with his elbow and said.
“If she feels sorry, how about we ask if she can put us up for the night?”
He hadn't lowered his voice at all, so the woman seemed to have heard him clearly.
After a moment's thought, the woman said.
“Uh, if you'll just pay a fair price, I'll do my best to accommodate you.”
She looked thoroughly intimidated, which Luon didn't like, but given the circumstances, he nodded.
“We'd appreciate it.”
When they arrived at her house, guided by the woman, a man who seemed to be her husband stammered in surprise.
“Who's this?”
The woman rushed to the man's side and whispered something in his ear.
She seemed to be whispering as best she could, but Luon, with his superhuman hearing, could easily make out the words.
-I made a mistake, and I was too scared to just let it go, so I brought them home. But, I think we can get some money for the lodging-
At his wife's words, the man quickly sized up the party, swallowed hard, and muttered.
“Oh, my wife and I will sleep in the storage shed tonight... Please, make yourselves at home and rest comfortably.”
Before the party could say anything, the man bowed deeply, grabbed his wife's wrist, and went outside. Strabo muttered.
“Anyone know what that was all about?”
Night fell. After eating the late dinner the woman had prepared for them, the party had settled down near the hearth and fallen asleep.
I should make sure to pay them generously.
Thinking of the couple who were spending the night in the storage shed out of needless fear, Luon fiddled with the leather pouch inside his coat.
It was then.
He felt a strange sensation traveling up from his fingertips, and he pushed himself up from the floor, slowly raising his upper body.
Right, there was no way it would pass this quietly.
Luon looked down at the floor and gave a faint smile.
Ruin was humming.