Chapter 40 Omen of the Storm
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”Since you showed up so early without notice, you’ll have to make do with tea,” I said, setting cups down in front of the mayor and her companions.
The three of them drank quickly.
Judging by the pace, they had probably skipped breakfast to come here. Not that I had any sweets stocked for guests.
”So then—what’s the reason you came here fully armed?” I asked once their drinking slowed.
The mayor fixed me with a serious look. No teasing, no humor—this was an emergency.
”First, let me confirm something. Your junior at the academy really did learn your ‘Appraisal’ skill, correct?”
So that’s the opening question. I supposed it was big news within the city.
”Yes, it’s true. The accuracy’s still low, but she could definitely use it,” I answered.
At my words, the mayor’s expression brightened faintly. After all, this was the first step in spreading my theory—transforming what had been an unrepeatable special ability into something reproducible, a skill anyone could learn.
”The only problem,” I added, “is that her personality isn’t well-suited for refining Demonsteel.”
”…Forgive my ignorance, but what does personality have to do with making Demonsteel?” Rogas—the old man—raised his hand to ask.
”It matters quite a bit,” I explained. “Refining Demonsteel requires delicate mana control. You have to keep a steady flow without breaking concentration. Without patience, you’ll lose focus and fail. In fact, before she succeeded once, she burned through eighteen iron ingots and eighteen mana stones. Depending on perspective, that’s either a lot or a little—but it’s definitely a loss.”
”…Tatara, you’ve never failed at it, have you?” the mayor asked.
”Well, I’ve failed in unexpected ways. But when I set out to make Demonsteel specifically? No, never,” I said.
”I’m sure you realize this, but in battle there’s always the chance someone grabs or snags you. Considering that, this design is better,” I explained.
”…You’re not just making it to stare at Tatia’s body, are you?” Rogas asked suspiciously.
”I’m only interested in Ethelena,” I shot back.
”Heh. Young love,” he murmured with a faint, almost nostalgic gentleness. Rogas had known my parents, so maybe in me he saw a reflection of my father. Back then, even as a kid, I could tell my parents were a loving couple.
”Boy, you once said you’d make something that proved Tatia’s wings were real,” Rogas reminded me.
”Yeah. And this is the best solution I could think of.”
”I’ll admit the technology behind this armor is impressive. Still, it’s not enough,” Rogas said firmly.
”You mean the reason why people would believe wings sprouted from Tatia while she was wearing this armor?”
”Exactly. A suit of arcane armor granting its wearer wings has no precedent. Most people would assume she was born with them. How do you intend to answer that?”
I let out a long breath. Of course that was the sticking point.
”To be honest, I haven’t solved that problem yet.”
”…So I thought,” Rogas muttered.
”If I had an Angel acquaintance who could vouch for her, we could pass it off as Tatia being blessed as a hero by the Angels. But…” I trailed off.
”But you don’t have such connections outside the city,” Rogas said. “Torakuma-jou hasn’t returned to her homeland either, so we can’t claim foreign magic.”
”Right. That’s why I wanted to bring it up with the mayor and Calmys,” I admitted.
The two exchanged thoughtful glances. The mayor raised her hand first.
”What about saying you were blessed by the Angels, Tatara?”
”I don’t even know any Angels personally. And even if I did, would anyone believe an Angel’s blessing could make wings grow on someone else? No chance.”
Well—there was one person I could think of.
But she despised favoritism of any kind, both giving and receiving. She might have worked alongside me like a personal crafter, but I doubted she’d ever intervene in my life like that.
Then Calmys spoke up. “Could we request the Church of the War God to send an Angel and conduct a baptism?”
”Sorry, but no. Tatia can’t be tied to religion. Her bloodline won’t allow it.”
I wasn’t sure which royal family her blood came from, but it likely belonged to a kingdom without a state religion. If even a bastard child acknowledged faith, it could spark a political disaster.
”Rogas, you don’t happen to know any Angels, do you?” I asked.
”I do, but not one with the authority to bestow blessings.”
”What, eighth rank?”
”Tenth. She can only fly, nothing more.”
”Ouch…”
I buried my face in my hands. Losing that lead was painful.
”Well, what about Tatia’s parents? No, wait—that’s impossible,” I said quickly.
”Why do you think it’s impossible?” Rogas asked, narrowing his eyes.
”If they knew about Tatia, they’d be by her side. But they’ve never even set foot in Whirlwind town. We don’t even know their rank.”
Rogas’s face hardened in deep thought. No way…
”Rogas, do you know where Tatia’s parents are?” I pressed.
”I do. But…”
The mayor had once warned me about dangerous baggage. Was this one of those?
”If you can’t say, that’s fine. But… her Angel parent, she’s still on the surface, right? And she’s hostile to Whirlwind’s homeland?”
”…”
The silence from all three hit like a weight. My stomach twisted in knots.
”Then why even consider asking her for a blessing?” I demanded.
”Because even if nations are enemies, to an Angel it might not matter. If it’s for her daughter, she wouldn’t hesitate to descend to another country. That’s the kind of woman she is.”
So Tatia’s mother really was an Angel. And her father…
A duke? A reckless fling, then. No wonder Tatia’s early years had been so warped.
”For now, let me handle the Angel issue,” Rogas said quietly.
”…Are you sure? You remember how I rejected her once already.”
”Any parent who couldn’t stand beside her daughter when it mattered has no right to be trusted. If she’s only judging after seeing the armor’s quality, that’s shameful. But… I am her father,” Rogas admitted.
”…Alright. I’ll leave it to you. And for what it’s worth, Tatia’s grown into a fine knight.”
”That’s thanks to the dungeon attacks with you lot,” Rogas said.
”Maybe, but the foundation that let her grow that way—you built it. You should be proud.”
”…Is that so,” he murmured, letting out a long breath heavy with years of childrearing.
”Anyway, this leads us to the real problem…” I started.
”Julon,” Rogas interrupted, “we already know.”
”The homeland mustn’t hear the truth. If they find out, it’s the gallows, isn’t it?” the mayor said bitterly.
”For you, rebellion charges at the very least,” Rogas added. “That’s the best-case scenario.”
The problem was massive. The mayor had been my strongest supporter—maybe we’d have to rethink everything.
”Still, that’s only if we have nothing to show for it,” the mayor countered.
”…What do you mean?” I asked.
She alternated between me and the schematics in her hand, then continued.
”You’ve already deciphered multiple spell formulas that no one else outside the city has cracked. You’ve created crafts others would doubt were even possible. If the armor tied to all that progress involves new technology, then the homeland will overlook the fact that the recipient is a troublesome half-blood. They’d rather secure the genius responsible—even if they had to send you marriage candidates. After all, there’s already talk of naming you Chief Crafter.”
”I’ve told you already—I only want to spend my life with Ethelena,” I protested.
”Yes, yes, we know. But the higher-ups won’t care about your personal feelings,” she replied flatly.
”In that case, maybe I’ll just hide out at Torakuma’s family estate…”
”Don’t even think about it,” the mayor warned. “I’ll drag you back myself with Calmys at my side.”
”…I really don’t have an escape route, do I?” I groaned, clutching my head.
A comforting hand touched my back. Rogas.
”Boy…”
”Save me, old man,” I begged.
”Stand firm. It’s your life—you have to face it,” he said gravely.
”Great. A dead end,” I muttered.
Two of the city’s strongest already lined up against me. All I wanted was a quiet life with Ethelena, but the world had other plans.
Then again… the moment they offered me Chief Crafter, I should’ve known.
”And now,” the mayor said, her tone cutting like steel, “we come to our true purpose here—Tatara Julon, Chief Crafter.”
The air in the room tightened instantly. She was treating me as though I’d already assumed the title, and the weight of it made my skin prickle.
”…What’s happening in Whirlwind, Mayor?” I asked.
My mouth was dry. I sipped my tea, but it had long since gone cold.
”You remember Rogas’s report about the homeland sending an inspection delegation, don’t you?”
”Of course. That’s why Tatia’s armor was commissioned in the first place.”
”And the date?”
”I haven’t heard a thing.”
”Well, it’s been decided. The delegation will arrive at the start of the month after next.”
”…So, in about one month. What are we expecting to happen?”
The fact that all three had come here in full equipment meant one thing: they either expected trouble on the way, or they were preparing for it on the way back. Rogas always wore his armor, of course, but seeing Calmys in full plate was unusual.
Normally, he’d slip through attacks, avoiding strikes by a centimeter—or even a millimeter. I couldn’t imagine him ever being hit.
If someone like him wore armor, it meant he was ready to take hits for the mayor.
”…We expect unrest from the knight school Tatia attends,” Rogas said at last, his voice heavy.
More than unrest. In this case, there was a more fitting word.
”You’re predicting terrorism by the students?” I asked.
”There are rumors royalty will be among the inspection delegation. Their likely goal is to capture one of them and use it as leverage in negotiations.”
”And do we know what they want to negotiate?” I pressed.
”No. But considering these are the same people who brainwashed Tatia into elitism, it’ll be petty grievances, nothing more,” Rogas spat, his expression dark with fury.
He was livid, that much was clear.
So the knight school really had turned into a nest of poisonous ideology. I’d joked about that before, but apparently I’d been right.
”Can’t you stop it beforehand?” I asked.
”Without hard evidence? Impossible. Arresting them on suspicion alone would open the door to endless false accusations. It has to be caught in the act,” Calmys explained.
He was right.
False reports could ruin innocent lives, and most knight students came from noble families. If they moved rashly, it could spiral into political chaos.
”I do have a request for you, boy,” Rogas said, turning back to me.
”…Don’t tell me—Dalma’s axe?”
”That’s right. I saw the Demonsteel one you made before, but it was too small for him. His old weapon was closer to what he needs, but I hear it was a commission piece. I’d like you to craft him something similar.”
”Did you already prepare the materials?”
”Yes. Nine iron ingots and nine small mana stones, all ready,” Rogas said, pulling them from his inventory.
Then he produced one more pair of ingots.
”…You’re even adding mithril and orichalcum? That’s no small matter.”
”We Explorers aren’t used to fighting other people. If we don’t raise the performance of our gear as much as possible, our lives are on the line,” he said grimly.
”And how does he want them used?”
”Dalma said, ‘Leave it to the boy.’”
I could almost hear the man’s booming laugh in my head. That kind of trust was heavy—but it only made me want to swing my hammer with pride.
”Alright, I’ll do it. But I can’t recreate the exact same axe,” I warned.
”That’s fine… though you could? Really?”
”If I appraise something even once, I can store the structure in my head. And if you bring me a used weapon, I can read its wear and quirks from the damage. If you want it optimized, let me inspect his old gear at least once.”
”…I see now why you’re being named Chief Crafter,” Rogas muttered, rubbing his forehead.
It wasn’t arrogance. In this harsh world, this level of skill was survival.
Rogas knew better than anyone how many workshops filled this city, and how much each one sharpened their specialty just to keep going. If I was to represent them, I couldn’t afford to be any less.
”If we put in the request today, how long will it take?”
”If I start now? An hour,” I replied.
”…Sorry—did you say a week?”
”No. An hour.”
”…”
”Rogas, if Julon says an hour, it’s an hour,” Calmys cut in. “He made my sword in three.”
”That kind of turnaround makes no sense,” Rogas groaned.
”And yet, the work is flawless. That’s why he’s the next Chief Crafter,” Calmys said simply.
”…So he’s not just a disaster of ideas, but a disaster of sheer skill,” Rogas muttered, burying his face in his hand.
”Anyway, when do you need it by?” I asked.
”It’s urgent, but you’re adjusting Tatia’s armor today too. Whenever you have breathing room is fine,” Rogas said.
”Then come pick it up tomorrow morning.”
”…That’s your idea of ‘breathing room’?”
Tatia’s armor was basically done.
All that was left was fine-tuning the spell formula. I’d probably finish by noon anyway.
”Do you want to check in on Tatia? You’re worried, aren’t you?” I offered.
”…I hesitated when it came to helping before. So not yet,” Rogas admitted.
”…I see.”
”I’ll be looking forward to the ceremony. It’ll be Tatia’s moment to shine. Make her a true knight, won’t you?”
”Of course. She’s one of our party’s finest companions—I won’t let her look anything less than her best.”
”…Good. That’s a relief,” he said, smiling softly.
Then—
”Nyyaaaaaa!? Let go, Ete—mffhh!?” came a shriek from Torakuma.
We’d been talking for quite a while, but apparently she’d only just gone to wake Ethelena.
”Yohira-dono! What in… what is that size!?” Tatia’s shocked voice rang out next.
Yeah, no. Going in there now was definitely a mistake.
”What happened!?” Rogas barked.
”Stay put, old man,” I ordered.
”Is this… a diplomatic incident!?”
”Calmys, sit down. Trust me—you don’t want to see this,” I warned.
”…Why are you so calm?” the mayor asked.
”Because I already know exactly what’s happening,” I said flatly.
Most likely, Ethelena had pulled Torakuma into her chest while half-asleep. Tatia must’ve gotten her first real look too, judging by the reaction—exactly the same one Torakuma had yesterday.
Which meant, absolutely no way I could let Rogas walk in on that scene.
And the mayor and Calmys? They might actually break.
”In any case, do we have anything else to discuss?” I asked.
”…No. I’ll take these overview documents with me,” the mayor said.
”That’s why I wrote them. Please file the patents.”
”I will… Honestly, how many patents will you rack up before graduation?”
”I’ve got to come up with a new theory for my thesis too. It’s a lot, you know.”
”…You could graduate right now if you wanted,” she said dryly.
”Hah, good one. Don’t joke like that,” I laughed.
She’d said the same thing when I enrolled, and even then it was a joke.
There was no fast-track system at the academy, and no precedent either. Even the mayor couldn’t force that through.
”Well then, we’ll take our leave. Don’t slack off on preparations. And expect requests for healing salves soon—each workshop will be asked to contribute.”
”I can deliver five thousand right now.”
”…That number is insane,” Rogas muttered.
Truth was, I kept making more whenever I had time, just to see the shocked look on that wealthy regular customer’s face. He always came in first thing every morning, after all.
”…Fine. I’ll hold onto them for now,” the mayor said.
”Sure thing. I’ll send them straight over,” I agreed.
I touched the mayor’s outstretched hand, transferring the five thousand healing salves from my inventory to hers. Direct transfers like this required both contact and consent—something hardly anyone ever used, but it was technically possible.
”…There really are five thousand,” she murmured.
”I don’t lie about my wares,” I replied.
”Boy, won’t that hurt your shop stock?” Rogas asked.
”I’ve still got fifteen hundred left. Enough for sales.”
”You mean to sell sixty-five hundred in total?” he groaned.
”No, that’s my emergency stock. In case of disaster.”
”…Why are you always thinking like that?”
Well, because in my previous life I came from a land plagued by disasters. I’d stocked portable toilets, canned food, water, salt… and even told Ethelena to keep plenty of sanitary products in her inventory.
She’d gone red and snapped at me—until I explained about disaster preparedness. Then she’d quietly stocked up, face serious. I even had an emergency tent tucked away, and yes, I sold them in my shop. Not that anyone bought them.
”I wish others shared your mindset,” the mayor sighed. “But that’s too much to hope for.”
”One earthquake in Whirlwind would convince everyone,” I said.
”If such a quake struck, it would be the end of the world,” Rogas muttered.
Come to think of it, the last major quake on this continent was about three centuries ago, according to the archives.
Whirlwind itself hadn’t had a true quake, only dungeon-related disturbances. The most recent tremor was about ten years back.
”Besides, I was preparing for situations like this,” I added.
”You thought war was possible?” the mayor asked.
”On the surface, things look calm. But I heard from a diplomat that the homeland’s still tense. So I figured I’d stock enough to cover at least a tenth of the city’s needs. This shipment cut deep, though.”
Whirlwind’s population hovered around a hundred thousand, rising and falling with dungeon deaths and newcomers. In the game’s timeline, just before the main story began, a major incident had killed off twenty percent of the populace.
One reason? A lack of medicine.
The city couldn’t meet demand. The fallout crippled the mayor’s chief knight—Calmys—and forced the defense minister to resign. Crime spiked, and chaos followed.
Worse, that event had drawn an Angel from an enemy nation, nearly sparking war. The original protagonist barely prevented it, defeating the Angel in combat before…
well, persuading her in other ways. The damage still wasn’t small.
The game never revealed the incident’s true cause. But medicine?
That I could handle. Even if five thousand salves had just left my hands, I could replace them in half a month.
”The Medical and Apothecary Guilds might raise a fuss,” Rogas muttered.
”The Medical Guild won’t dare,” the mayor said. “Tatara’s salves save lives.”
”Tell the Apothecary Guild I can’t make anything else,” I added. “That should calm them.”
”…You haven’t brewed some outrageous super-potion, have you?”
”I tried enhancing salves with mana stones once. Didn’t work. Mana isn’t a cure-all.”
”…But you did try,” the mayor said, narrowing her eyes.
That was the end of the meeting. The three left.
The truth was, I had crafted a stronger salve. Thirty times the cost, ten times the healing, and fifty times the risk of addiction. ‘Extreme Recovery Draught,’ appraisal had called it.
A legendary-tier potion once known to exist—but far too dangerous. I’d destroyed the recipe and notes. But the knowledge still lived in my head, and with my crafting skill, I could make it again.
When I returned to the living room, Torakuma sat sulking while Ethelena tried to soothe her, and Tatia chuckled awkwardly at the scene.
”Sorry for keeping you waiting,” I said.
Three pairs of eyes turned toward me at once.
”Good morning, Tatara,” Ethelena greeted, still in her sleepwear.
”Morning, Ethelena,” I answered, returning her smile. Judging from Tatia’s earlier scream, her first moments awake had been… something else. Honestly, I’d never seen Ethelena properly dressed after sleep. It was always my shirt, or nothing at all after we’d been intimate. On nights we slept apart, she usually beat me to waking, already cooking by the time I came downstairs.
”Tatara! You could’ve warned me about her hugging habit!” Torakuma barked. “I nearly suffocated!”
”Well, in my case, when she pulls me close I just kiss her—or more—so I didn’t think a warning was…”
”Your wedded bliss is sickening! Spare me so early in the morning!”
Make up your mind—angry or satisfied. Either way, she clearly enjoyed hearing about me and Ethelena.
Torakuma picked up several sets of chopsticks, testing each until she settled on one pair.
”I didn’t expect you to have chopsticks at all,” she said. “They don’t exist here.”
”They didn’t. I made them from spare orc material last expedition. If you don’t like those, I can craft a better set.”
”…How do you know these things, boy?”
She sounded exasperated, but she’d long since decided “because it’s Tatara” was enough of an answer.
I grabbed my own pair and sat down.
”Well, it’s cold now, but—itadakimasu.”
”Itadakimasu,” the three echoed.
I took a slice of omelet first.
The center was still soft, yolk melting across my tongue. Seasoned only with salt, it brought out the pure flavor of egg without distraction.
”Torakuma, you’re fine with salt-seasoned omelets? Without dashi, I can’t make proper rolled ones. But if you’d rather sweet, I’ll switch to sugar next time.”
”Mm? …No, salt suits me fine. But sweet—occasionally—would be welcome,” she admitted.
”Got it. If trade opens, I’ll see if we can get bonito flakes, miso, or rice. You must miss the taste of home.”
”I’ll ask Father. I long for soy sauce and mirin as well,” she nodded.
Our easy exchange left Ethelena and Tatia staring.
”…What is it?” I asked.
”We were just amazed,” Tatia said. “You eat so skillfully with those sticks.”
Right.
Chopsticks didn’t exist in Whirlwind. To them, I must have looked bizarre.
”And why, pray tell, do you already know how to use them?” Torakuma pressed.
”Because I’m me,” I said simply.
It was a flimsy excuse to dodge the reincarnation issue.
Yet instead of questioning it, the three of them just nodded, entirely convinced. Unbelievable.
”Once we finish eating, I’ll start adjusting Tatia’s armor,” I announced.
”Aah. I’ll be in your care again today,” Tatia said.
Notes:
• Rogas – Tatara’s father friend.
• Calmys – War God’s knight, Mayor’s guard chief, whip-master hiding as a swordswoman; sharp tongue, big-sister vibe to Tatara, grants him and Ethelena church protection.
• Dalma – A massive, rugged Explorer with a burly frame and a presence that overshadows others, long considered a battle comrade of Rogas, Calmys, and the mayor. Straightforward and loyal, his trademark is entrusting everything to his allies—“makaseru otoko,” the kind who leaves even the forging of his great axe entirely to Tatara’s hands.
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name.
Please bookmark this series and rate ☆☆☆☆☆ on here!
Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
Leave a Reply