Chapter 53 Forging the Future
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Shamir and Est were refining Shape Memory Alloy, but surprisingly, Shamir excelled at it. Est, ever the logical one, struggled with organizing the carbon structure, his methodical nature clashing with the task’s demands.
Shamir, though, seemed to instinctively know how to arrange the carbon for maximum efficiency, picturing it like drawing a design within the ingot. If he keeps this up, he might surpass me in alloy crafting, I thought, chuckling to myself.
”Ugh, Shamir beat me!” Est grumbled, clenching his teeth.
”Heh, looks like I’m the better one here!” Shamir smirked, striking a triumphant pose.
They made a great pair, honestly.
”Everyone’s got their strengths,” I said. “Est, you’ll get the hang of it with practice. Trial and error’s your thing, right?”
”…I don’t like losing,” Est muttered, determined.
”Shamir, you’re a natural with Shape Memory Alloy. If you can apply that same instinct to other materials and refine your Mana control, you’ll boost your Demonsteel success rate. Maybe try meditation at home for training.”
”Yes, sir! I’ll make my mentor proud as your top disciple!” Shamir declared.
”Hey, hold on!” Est protested. “I’m the top disciple!”
Their playful bickering kicked off again.
There’s no such thing as a “top disciple,” but they’re both my first students—call them the inaugural class. I should report to the City Mayor and see if she can pull some strings for them, I thought.
”You’re both my first students, so no ‘top’ anything,” I said. “If you want to compete, the one who masters all my patented techniques first gets the title.”
”Challenge accepted! I’ll learn them all first!” they shouted in unison.
Their perfect sync had me laughing as the end-of-day bell rang.
Walking home with Ethelena, we stopped to buy ingredients and some snacks for Yohira and the others waiting at home. We found a rare shop in Whirlwind, a place known for overly sweet treats, that sold subtly sweet confections.
If Hizuru’s tastes are anything like Japan’s, she’d love these, I thought. Hopefully, they’d make her smile.
”We’re home!” we called out together, but no one answered. A moment later, a tremendous crash came from the backyard.
”What was that?!” Ethelena gasped.
”Probably Yohira training with her two guards,” I said. “Maybe I’ll craft some urethane bamboo katanas for them.”
They’d be lighter than real blades but perfect for honing weapon instincts. In the backyard, Yohira was fending off attacks from both guards at once, her movements sharp and deliberate.
She’s likely using Appraisal, I noted, impressed. Facing two opponents simultaneously was no small feat—something even I rarely tackled.
Yohira parried Tengu-san’s swift strike, redirecting his blade with ease, then used the momentum to knock aside Foolish Fox’s kunai.
Her movements felt familiar, like something I’d seen recently. Then it hit me.
Is that… the Torakuma family’s dance? (T/N: Torakuma: Female-led family known for combat techniques rooted in traditional dance.)
Her footwork and blade arcs mirrored the morning dance I’d witnessed. In the game, the “Dance” skill was mostly a hobby, paired with “Singing” for events, not combat.
I’d nearly forgotten it existed. Yet here, Yohira’s dance-like precision gave her an almost predictive edge, even against Tengu-san’s speed, which rivaled Ethelena’s, and Foolish Fox’s unpredictable ninja strikes. She was overpowering them both—a cut above the rest.
After ten minutes, the sparring ended.
Yohira exhaled lightly, barely winded, while Tengu-san was drenched in sweat. Foolish Fox, oddly, looked unfazed, his combat prowess almost unnatural for a royal guard.
”You’ve grown strong, Yohira-jousama,” Tengu-san said.
”Your dedication to training is admirable-degozaru,” Foolish Fox added.
Don’t mix your quirky speech with praise—it muddies the compliment, I thought.
Yohira glanced at Ethelena and me.
”I’m not slacking in this land,” she said. “Besides… certain encounters make me want to grow stronger.”
”Oh?” Tengu-san raised an eyebrow.
”She’s got a crush-degozaru!” Foolish Fox teased.
Don’t say it like that, I thought as Tengu-san playfully bonked Foolish Fox on the head.
Yohira laughed heartily. “They’re both dear to me—my favorites, you could say!”
”There’s more to it than that-degozaru,” Foolish Fox sighed, straightening up.
”Training’s done, right?” I said. “Go wash up—hands at least—before lunch.”
Yohira and Tengu-san moved, but Foolish Fox grimaced. “Master, hand-washing’s just to avoid illness-degozaru.”
”I get you’re trying to say something profound, but it’s necessary. Wash up.”
”…Wrong choice-degozaru,” he muttered, slinking to the sink.
Ethelena and I started cooking, as we had that morning. She’d occasionally sneak a kiss or wrap her tail around me—typical behavior—so I kept cooking.
She was heading out for exploration later, so we held off on anything more, despite her slightly pouty look. We were at it all morning and in the bath—she can’t be that insatiable, I thought, smirking.
We made fried redfish, pan-seared like schnitzel to avoid messy oil.
Olive oil and butter gave the breadcrumbs a savory crispness, with lemon juice and sauces ready on the table. As we set up, the doorbell rang.
At the gate, Tatia stood in her knight’s uniform.
”Hello, Tatara-dono. Could you open the gate?”
”Sure thing,” I said, the gate sliding open smoothly.
”Lunch is ready. Join us?”
Tatia nodded eagerly. “I’d love to.”
The meal went smoothly, though Foolish Fox caused a scene, yelling, “Squeeze it! Squeeze it on the fish-degozaru!” So I squeezed lemon juice toward his eyes.
He flailed, shouting, “My eyes! My eyes-degozaru!” and rolled on the floor, but he seemed fine, so I let it slide. Otherwise, it was peaceful.
Tengu-san gave me materials and coordinates before leaving. I told them to get Central Administration’s approval if they’re guarding Yohira, but who knows what they’ll do.
While cleaning up, I marked a spot where Mana was pooling, causing a faint spatial distortion.
It was minor—too small to cause issues unless triggered by a Special Ability, like the Torakuma family’s semen-based power, which could amplify it. Teleportation gates would stabilize it, but we’re safe for now, I thought.
Reflecting, I realized Yohira hadn’t gotten lost once, despite her “destiny-driven” tendency to wander.
Maybe meeting her “fate” suppresses it, I mused, recalling a designer’s comment in an old artbook interview. It sounded far-fetched, but with Yohira by my side, it felt plausible.
Yohira’s fate is a tricky thing, I thought, digging a hole with my Crafting skill. The game’s lore had neatly tied up her tendency to get lost—meeting the protagonist calmed it, but pairing with another heroine made it flare up again, or so the dialogue went. If her destiny is tied to the Demon God’s Bracelet, she might be free from wandering.
But if it’s tied to Ethelena or me, that’s less certain. A shift in our relationship could make her vanish one day. I don’t want some vague “fate” stealing a dear companion, I thought, frustration rising. If Yohira started to disappear, could I grab her hand in time?
The teleportation gate’s pedestal needed a three-meter-deep foundation, so I dug slightly wider and deeper for stability. Mixing cement with crushed Mana Stone, sand, gravel, and water, I poured it in and set the pedestal. The Mana Stone enhanced efficiency, drawing Mana from the Spiritual Vein.
Combining Crafting and Creation Magic, I hardened the Mana-infused concrete, speeding up the chemical reaction with Mana’s influence. Fantasy sure makes things convenient, I thought, grinning. Normally, curing takes a month, but this took hours.
Using Appraisal, I confirmed the concrete was fully hardened, then moved to install the pillars. Hizuru’s design was intuitive—grooves in the pedestal matched protrusions on the pillars, like assembling a robot model kit. Touching the one-ton pillar, I pulled a Levitation Stone from my Inventory to negate its weight, carefully aligning and inserting it into the pedestal.
It slid in until it locked, standing four meters tall—seven including the base. Hizuru’s earthquake-prone, so this height makes sense, I thought. Still, without their ground reinforcement, it could topple.
I repeated the process for the opposite pillar, then placed a curved beam across their tops and a lower beam through pre-carved holes.
Wedging the lower beam for stability, I mixed crushed Mana Stone into the provided sealant for anti-corrosion and applied it evenly. Using Crafting to dry each layer, I coated it five times, revealing a wooden gate with a beautiful grain pattern.
This isn’t a teleportation gate—it’s a torii, I realized, staring at the structure. It lacked the red lacquer, but it was unmistakably a Shinto gate.
Is this okay for a house without gods? Or is this a flag for a deity moving in? I shook my head. Nah, gods don’t linger in one place—they’d disrupt Mana concentrations or ecosystems.
”Let’s test it,” I muttered. Without setting coordinates, I activated the gate as a random teleport to check its function. Mana flowed from the Spiritual Vein, confirming perfect assembly. But leaving it active risked unauthorized access, so I shut it down. Appraisal showed significant Mana consumption—I’ll need a household Mana Reactor soon, I noted.
The doorbell rang. At the entrance, I found the City Mayor, Calmys-san, an older man I called Old Guy, and Dalma-san.
”Welcome,” I said. “What’s up?”
”You said you’d build the teleportation gate today,” the City Mayor replied. “I brought extra hands.”
”You could’ve warned me,” Old Guy grumbled.
”Yeah, some context would’ve been nice,” Dalma-san added.
I scratched my head. “I appreciate the thought, but it’s already done.”
”Didn’t you say it’d take until evening?” the City Mayor asked, surprised.
”Hizuru’s specs made it straightforward,” I said, shrugging. Plus, using Alchemist’s Egg to recover Mana and combining Crafting with Creation Magic for quick-drying concrete helped, I thought, keeping that to myself.
”The Spell Formula’s working fine,” I continued. “Now it’s just about coordinating with the Torakuma family for activation.”
”Crafting’s beyond me, but kid, this speed’s unnatural,” Old Guy said.
”It’s normal for Tatara,” the City Mayor teased. “Compare him to others, and you’ll go bald.”
”Dalma’s already there,” Old Guy shot back.
”I shave it, not bald!” Dalma-san protested, sighing as the others roasted him. Sorry, Dalma-san, I thought.
”By the way, how’s your weapon and Egg working?” I asked Dalma-san.
”Awesome!” he boomed. “The axe cuts through tough hides like nothing, and the Egg lets me spam techniques, making training a breeze. At my age, feeling growth is incredible!”
Dalma-san’s enthusiasm belied his disciplined nature.
Despite his bold style, I’d heard he favored finesse over brute force, using an axe to mislead opponents. Top-tier Explorer for a reason, I thought.
”Got time for gear maintenance?” I offered. “Dalma-san, Calmys-san, need anything?”
”I’m good,” Dalma-san said. “Mithril’s holding up.”
”Hm… could you check mine?” Calmys-san asked, handing over her katana, Fiero, with its sheath. “Mana flow’s been off lately.”
They all followed me to the workshop, turning it into a public maintenance session.
”Let’s get started,” I said, placing Fiero on the workbench. Activating a Magic Circle and Appraisal, I used Conceptual Appraisal to inspect the blade’s pathways. Numerous blockages appeared—Calmys-san’s Mana had outgrown Fiero‘s handle, causing output overload. I adjusted the Spell Formula to optimize for her current Mana, halving consumption while maintaining initial output. She’d loosened the limiter to keep her skills sharp, so this is normal, I noted.
Next, I cleared Mana blockages in the blade. Forcing them out with Mana Stone risked damaging the Shape Memory Alloy’s pathways, so I worked meticulously.
Some paths were nearly collapsed—left unchecked, they’d have burned out. It took twenty minutes, longer than usual, but it was done.
”All set,” I said. “Check the Mana flow.”
Calmys-san channeled her Mana into Fiero, and the blade glowed faintly.
”Incredible,” she said, a hint of excitement in her voice. “The flow’s smoother than my old sword back at Honzan.”
I asked if she wanted to test it outside, but she shook her head, confident in its performance.
”Julon,” she said suddenly, “I have a request.”
”For me?” I asked, surprised.
”It’s because you crafted Fiero and own a personal teleportation gate that I can ask this,” Calmys-san said.
”Don’t tell me… you want me to fetch your cherished sword from the War God Church’s headquarters and balance it to match?” I ventured.
”You catch on quick,” she replied.
”No way,” I groaned.
Is this even allowed? I thought.
The teleportation gate belongs to the Torakuma family. (T/N: Torakuma: Female-led family known for combat techniques rooted in traditional dance.)
”No issue if we frame it as a test run to a nearby location,” Calmys-san said. “The Torakuma family ensures their daughter’s safety, I get to wield a sword like my old one, and everyone’s happy—no downsides.”
”If I get in trouble, you’re taking the blame, Calmys-san,” I warned.
”As your lord, I’ll share the scolding,” she teased.
The City Mayor sighed, looking resigned. Who’d have thought she’d be the one stressed by Calmys-san? I mused, amused by the irony.
”But can you even take your sword out of the headquarters?” I asked.
”No chance,” Calmys-san admitted. “So, Julon, you’re coming with me to the main temple.”
”That’s a high bar out of nowhere!” I protested.
The War God Church’s headquarters was the heart of the largest modern sect. You don’t just stroll in empty-handed, I thought.
”Give me an hour,” I said.
”Why?” Calmys-san asked.
”I can’t go empty-handed. I need to craft a spear to offer, or who knows what those zealous believers might do to a non-believer like me.”
”What do you think they’d do?” she asked, puzzled.
”I don’t think the War God is that petty, but… fervent followers can be intense.”
She gave me a complicated look. “Do what you need to.”
Guess it stings to hear your own sect doubted, I thought, heading to the workshop.
The group followed, apparently eager to watch. “No talking during crafting,” I warned, starting the process.
I’d mentioned a sword, but the War God sect favored spears, so I’d offer one. As a non-believer, I can’t dedicate it directly to the War God, but donating to the church should be fine, I reasoned. Taking three Mithril Ingots, I channeled Mana through them with Crafting, softening them like heated metal.
With the City Mayor watching, I decided to showcase Mithril forging. Hammering swiftly, I folded the metal twenty times, creating roughly 3.15 million layers. Quenching it in water, my Mana infused the process, hardening the spearhead to rival Orichalcum, its true strength lying in Mithril’s Mana affinity. I kept it simple, no decorations, just a polished spearhead.
For the haft, I shaped spare Orc Material into a rod, coating it with Mana Stone-infused preservative and drying it with Crafting. Using two more Mithril Ingots, I formed the butt end without forging, as it wasn’t meant for combat.
Assembling everything, I completed a spear fit for the War God Church. Mithril should satisfy them, I thought.
”Impressive work,” Calmys-san said.
”I could’ve made it longer, balanced for thrusting and slashing, but I kept it simple for anyone to use. It’s decent,” I said.
”‘Decent’?” the City Mayor scoffed. “That’s fighting words, Tatara. This is exceptional.”
Guess my work’s too good for my own ego, I thought, sheepish. “I can’t dedicate it to the War God, but donating it to the church is fine, right?”
”Hand it to a priest, pray at the War God’s statue, and you’re set,” Calmys-san said. “Let’s go!”
”Wait, don’t drag me!” I yelped as she grabbed my collar, pulling me to the yard.
At the teleportation gate, I set the coordinates Calmys-san provided.
She’d used the sect’s holy seal network to arrange two-way access with the headquarters’ gate. Talk about abusing authority, I thought, worrying about strangers teleporting into my yard.
”Let’s go, my lord,” Calmys-san said to the City Mayor.
”I don’t have a travel permit,” I noted. City exit required one, and my application was still pending.
”I’ll authorize it as a special case, given Calmys’s request,” the City Mayor said, rubbing her stomach as if in pain. Not my fault, right?
Leaving the City Mayor, Old Guy, and Dalma-san to watch the house, Calmys-san and I teleported to the War God Church’s headquarters.
The first thing that struck me was the white stone architecture, reminiscent of the fortress that inspired the academy. Makes sense, I thought.
The War God prepares for the gods’ final war, so the headquarters being a fortress is logical. The teleportation gate we arrived at was modest, dwarfed by a massive, ornate golden one nearby. Good thing we didn’t use that one—we’d clog the exit, I thought.
”This is the War God Church’s headquarters,” Calmys-san said.
I stared, awestruck. “It’s overwhelming.
The divine aura here… it makes the War God’s domain of just and fair struggle feel real, not just a story. This is a true sanctuary.”
Calmys-san smirked, probably enjoying my reaction after I’d teased her and the City Mayor.
”Let’s head to the church. Time’s limited.”
”Lead the way,” I said.
As we walked, believers greeted Calmys-san but eyed me suspiciously.
A non-believer trailing a saint, without a holy seal or armor? No wonder they’re wary, I thought.
We passed through a massive door into a vast lobby. Calmys-san called to a nearby priest.
”Guide him to the War God’s statue. He has an offering to deliver.”
”Y-Yes!” the young male priest stammered, clearly nervous to be addressed by a saint.
”This way!” he said, moving stiffly. I followed, marveling at the temple’s scale. After ten minutes, we reached an even larger door. The priest opened it reverently, revealing a grand chapel. At its far end stood a towering statue of the War God.
”I’ll leave you here,” the priest said.
”Thank you,” I replied, pulling the spear from my Inventory. “Here’s the offering.”
He frowned briefly at the plain spear but accepted it and left. Did he notice it’s Mithril? I wondered.
Approaching the statue, I studied the War God’s form. Something felt… off. The craftsmanship, maybe?
It didn’t feel right. I’d planned to pray until Calmys-san arrived, but as a non-believer, that seemed disrespectful. Besides, I sensed what I needed to do here.
I pulled a Mithril Ingot from my Inventory and activated Crafting, focusing on a clear mental image. The result was a palm-sized statue of the War God, my attempt to resolve the unease I felt from the towering statue before me. The church’s statue depicted a stern goddess wielding a spear, shield, and sword at her hip. Mine was different—a gentle smile, holding a scale for justice and fairness, a shield for protection, no weapons.
This is how I see the War God, I thought. Not just preparing for battle, but cherishing those she loves. Quietly, I placed the statue beside the grand one as an offering, closing my eyes as if in prayer. When I opened them, my statue was gone. I hope she likes it, even a little, I thought, a faint warmth in my chest.
”Sorry to keep you waiting, Julon—Julon!?” Calmys-san’s voice cut through as she entered, then faltered, her eyes wide.
”What’s wrong, Calmys-san?” I asked, confused.
She started to speak but stopped, her gaze flickering around me.
”Nothing,” she said, brushing it off. What’s she looking at? I wondered.
”Anyway, let’s get to why we’re here,” she said, handing me a sword in a blue sheath.
I drew it carefully. The blade was blue with a silver edge, a golden tsuba, and a black handle.
Intricate gold filigree adorned the katana, radiating solemnity and sanctity. A red gem at the tsuba’s center shimmered like a flame—not a gem, but a Soul Core, perhaps.
”This is Kerav,” Calmys-san said. “Bestowed by the War God alongside my saint title. It’s practically my other half.”
”Kerav… ‘war’?” I murmured. The name felt heavy for such an elegant blade. Something like ‘Rue’ would suit it better, I thought, but it wasn’t my creation.
Raising Kerav, I used Appraisal.
Linked Sword Kerav
Physical Attack: +110
Magic Attack: +85
Max Range: 8
Special Abilities: Mana Absorption V, Saint Calmys Exclusive
Unlike the Archangel sword, it didn’t strain my mind. Its stats were staggering—lower than some of my disposable, energy-fueled weapons, but this was pure, no gimmicks.
Divinely crafted weapons are on another level, I thought. The Archangel sword was practically the entity itself, impossible to replicate.
Memorizing Kerav‘s length and balance, I returned it to Calmys-san. “I can adjust Fiero now, unless you want to do it here for comparison.”
”Here?” she asked, surprised.
”Yeah, I’ve got Kerav‘s specs in my head. I can tweak Fiero on the spot so you can compare. Weight’s the one thing I can’t match perfectly.”
By chance, Fiero was 50 grams heavier than Kerav—within tolerance, but fine-tuning would require precise shaving.
”If you can match the blade’s length and width, that’s enough,” Calmys-san said. “Can you do it?”
”Of course,” I replied.
Taking Fiero, I accessed its internal data with Crafting, rewriting values to adjust its shape.
The blade morphed slightly with each change. After thirty minutes, Fiero matched Kerav‘s balance.
”Amazing,” Calmys-san said, testing it. “The swing feels almost identical.”
”That’s because Kerav is straightforward, no odd quirks,” I said. Someone might’ve maintained it, I thought. No traces of Calmys-san’s protective habits remained, possibly erased by repeated sharpening or repairs by others.
”This’ll work perfectly,” she said.
”I’m honored to help,” I replied.
Suddenly, I felt a gentle pat on my head.
Turning, I saw no one—just the War God’s statue. First time that’s happened with someone else around, I thought, puzzled.
”What’s wrong, Julon?” Calmys-san asked, her voice tinged with unease.
”Sometimes I feel like someone’s patting my head,” I said. “Happens when I offer something at a church or pray at a statue. Last time was at the Healer Maiden’s temple.”
”Really?” she said, her tone odd. “When does it happen?”
”When I’m offering or praying, I guess. Why?”
”Hm…” Calmys-san trailed off, looking thoughtful. Does she know something?
”I should return to my lord as Chief Knight,” she said abruptly. “Take us back, Julon.”
”Sure,” I said, feeling like she’d dodged something. What was that sensation?
Notes:
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name.
• 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.
Please bookmark this series and rate ☆☆☆☆☆ on here!
Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
Leave a Reply