Chapter 69 The Blacksmith Leaps
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”Sister Kareha… you’re requesting the creation of a weapon?”
The words slipped out before I could stop them. Of course, the Healer Maiden’s order had churches and temples of its own, guarded by knights. In times like these—well, in this world, really—public safety was never guaranteed. Even a sect devoted to healing all people placed survival above all else.
Self-sacrifice wasn’t considered a virtue in their creed. It was the mark of irresponsibility. Their core belief went something like: Don’t force the life you saved to carry the weight of yours.
Yeah… makes sense. It’s one thing to shoulder another’s life. It’s another to make someone carry yours.
”Yes,” Kareha replied softly. “There’s an uneasy feeling in the air around town. I thought it best to have at least one weapon for self-defense.”
”I see…”
Rumors about the apprentice knight’s “fireplay” incident should have been under control. Watching the city patrols, I could tell the story hadn’t spread far. And yet, Sister Kareha spoke of unrest.
Could she have sensed it from the sudden surge in orders for healing ointment?
”Well, then,” I said, straightening up behind the counter, “what kind of material did you have in mind? I’m sorry, but the Merchant Guild has banned sales of Mithril and Orichalcum.”
”Oh? Is that so?” She tilted her head. “But if it’s a commission rather than a purchase, that shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”
She had a point. As long as it was a crafting request, the rules allowed it—provided the client supplied the materials themselves.
”Understood. I’ll accept the order,” I said. “But I’ll need the raw materials.”
”Of course. That’s why I brought these to be reforged.”
From her inventory, Sister Kareha produced a battered shield and a massive lump of metal. Calling it a weapon felt generous—it was nothing more than an unshaped hunk of iron. I could only imagine her swinging that thing at enemies.
”…Wouldn’t it be easier to repair this instead?” I asked.
She smiled faintly. “That’s a relic of my reckless youth. I’d rather start anew. I’ve heard of your craftsmanship, Tatara—how you create the most unexpected things. So I thought this might be a good time for a change.”
Fair enough. A refit job was still a proper commission. But there was a hitch: today, I was home alone, away from the workshop. Without seeing her current movements firsthand, I couldn’t craft something truly tailored for her.
”I’m sorry, Sister Kareha,” I said. “I’ll accept the request, but I can’t start right away.”
”Oh? Busy today?”
”Unfortunately, yes. I’m alone at home, so I can’t observe how you move. Without that, I can’t forge a weapon worthy of you. Could you come by the shop again tomorrow?”
”I see. Then I’ll visit tomorrow. What time would be convenient?”
”Anytime works. I’ll set aside the whole day for crafting.”
”How kind of you.”
”I’ll keep the shop closed. Please come to my house and ring the bell.”
”Understood. Then, until tomorrow.”
We agreed she’d return before noon. I kept her weapon for now—later, I’d examine the damage and infer her fighting style.
Not long after she left, the doorbell rang again.
”Welcome—oh, it’s you.”
”Yo! Got a job for you, Tatara.”
In walked my childhood friend—an idiot I knew far too well.
”Another repair? Don’t tell me you broke your sword again.”
”Not this time. It’s a new commission.”
He stepped up to the counter and laid down three iron ingots and three small Mana Stones.
”…Gauntlets and a breastplate?”
”Ha! Nailed it.”
Guess today was weapon-day. Fine by me—nothing like a good crafting rush.
”For the gauntlets, you want the type that covers from fingertips to elbow, right? As for the breastplate—full upper body, or just protecting the heart?”
”Protect the heart. Honestly, even Light Armor feels heavy on me.”
”Got it. Easier to balance that way, too.”
”You’d probably fix it in five minutes anyway.”
”If I knew your body specs, maybe one. But I don’t, so call it three.”
”Still faster than I expected.”
His grin said ‘I knew it.’ I rolled my eyes and fetched a few samples of gauntlets and breastplates—same process I’d used for that rich merchant last week. Proper fitting always cut down completion time.
Then, just as he was testing the gauntlets, he looked up. “Hey, you got anything like a coat?”
”A coat? Go to a tailor. They’ve got better ones than I ever could.”
”No, not clothing. Something like armor—made from monster materials, with some decent stats.”
I paused to think. For a student—practically a broke adventurer—what he wanted did exist. Made from the wing membranes of upper-level Giant Bats, tanned and treated into Light Armor. Technically classified as an accessory, it gave about +5 Physical Defense.
Problem was, even though those bats were low-tier monsters, their materials were pricey—over ten thousand per piece. You needed at least ten membranes, and the crafting fee alone ran past forty thousand. Total rip-off.
”You wanting gear like that’s… unusual,” I said. “Something happen?”
He scratched his cheek. “Nah, it’s just… graduation’s in a few months, right? I figured I’d want some kind of trademark, something recognizable once I start making a name for myself.”
”…I get it.”
Like how the old man was known for his ‘black gear.’ Or how Calmys — that monster of a man—earned fame by strength alone, no symbols, no Saint-class armor, just the standard War God plate, and still stood out.
Still, my friend’s idea wasn’t wrong. A distinct look helped an adventurer’s reputation. People remembered you faster that way.
”So,” I asked, “what’s your budget?”
”Uh, around sixty thousand for Demonsteel gear, and thirty thousand for the cloak.”
”Not nearly enough. Monster materials cost a fortune… but fine, I’ll use a little trick.”
”A trick?” His eyes lit up.
It was risky—if the Merchant Guild caught wind, they’d frown—but he was my friend. Besides, if he became famous, that’d spread word of Demonsteel’s quality, and by extension, boost the value of Shamir and Est’s work too.
”We’ll combine the breastplate and cloak into one piece of equipment.”
”Wait—you can do that?”
”That’s why it’s called a trick. Cuts the processing cost, and no one complains much.”
”No way…”
He leaned forward, excitement sparking in his eyes.
”Well, that’s partly because it’s made from Giant Bat materials,” I said. “If we used Dragon scales instead, the price would skyrocket exponentially.”
”That’s only natural.”
Dragon parts always outclassed even the best Magic Metal, in both quality and price. Of course they’d be expensive. But with Giant Bat materials, rarity wasn’t a big issue—cheap enough that I could pass it off as an optional enhancement.
”The trade-off,” I continued, “is that I can’t follow Est’s design request for the chestplate.”
”What do you mean by that?”
”If I make the coat’s inner armor protect only the heart, people will complain it’s lazy work.”
”That makes no sense…”
”It didn’t to me either, back when I first opened the shop,” I said with a sigh. “Got yelled at for ‘skimping on iron and hiding behind monster defense values.’ As if I’d ever touch their low-grade scrap metal.”
Later, the Merchant Guild summoned me to explain my methods in front of a group of crafters. The whole meeting was a disaster—they couldn’t understand my technique at all, and the argument turned ugly fast. It was forging, plain and simple!
In the end, the city’s female Mayor stepped in, clarified what I’d actually done, and declared the accusation baseless—defamation, even. The client got slapped with a fine or some penalty. I didn’t ask for details, didn’t care either. Rumor had it that a few of the crafters who mocked me went bankrupt later. How a group that couldn’t even grasp basic iron forging ended up as professional smiths still baffles me.
At least the folks who’d come to observe Demonsteel production had understood it—it wasn’t some obscure technique.
Ever since then, whenever I forge armor in this style, I make sure it fully covers the chest.
”For now,” I said, “leave the design to me.”
”Fine by me. But how much is this going to cost?”
”Ninety thousand, just for the armor.”
”Whoa, that’s a jump!”
”Do you at least have any Giant Bat membranes?”
”Not a single one.”
”Then quit whining. That’s the markup for materials.”
Even so, I was giving him a deal—priced by Demonsteel standards. Normally, I’d make him gather the materials himself, but this guy couldn’t fly and didn’t know a single aerial spell, so fighting skyborne monsters was impossible for him.
I had plenty of membranes in stock, so I’d list them as an optional cost. If I charged properly, the crafting fee alone would be forty thousand. In my shop, even a cloak cost eighty thousand, so ninety thousand for both armor and materials was a generous bargain.
”Man… at this rate I might as well just buy a full Demonsteel set with a weapon included.”
”You can switch if you want.”
”No way. I still haven’t mastered those two blades yet.”
From what I’d seen, “not mastered” was modesty. Few could match his skill. Honestly, only Calmys, the old man, Dalma, and maybe two guards clearly surpassed him. In his party, only Yohira came close—and the rest lagged behind by skill alone.
Among our generation, he was exceptional.
”Then I’ll finish it tonight,” I said. “Pick it up tomorrow morning. We’ll do the fitting then.”
”You running the shop tomorrow too?”
”No, I’m dedicating the whole day to crafting a weapon for someone else. If the timing works, I can adjust your armor while you’re there. Want to come?”
He thought for a moment, then nodded.
”All right. I’ll drop by around the time you usually open the shop. Go to your house, right?”
”Yeah. Just ring the bell when you arrive.”
”Got it. Then here—payment in advance.”
He handed over twelve thousand. I took it carefully. Time to make something flawless.
”You heading into the dungeon after this?” I asked.
”Yeah. Didn’t expect this expense, so I need to refill my wallet.”
”Then go wild. I’ll check your weapons for free tomorrow.”
He laughed under his breath and left the shop.
I started sketching the armor in my head, planning how to incorporate his fiery red as a personal mark. Then I waited for the next customer.
The rest of the day passed quietly—no one unusual came by. Sales hit around two-point-seven million, mostly thanks to Olive buying the Robe of the Undead King. That piece had done wonders for profits. I couldn’t mass-produce it, but even displaying one drew attention. I’d have to craft another soon.
When I closed the shop, Ethelena and the others still hadn’t returned. I began prepping dinner for them.
I washed the rice and set the magic cooker’s auto-timer for three hours later. Checking the pantry, I realized we were short on a main dish. I decided on ginger pork, grabbed my wallet, locked up, and headed for the commercial district.
At the butcher’s, I bought three kilos of pork shoulder and chicken. At the greengrocer’s, I added fresh ginger, onions, and cabbage. Can’t have ginger pork without shredded cabbage.
Back home, still no sign of the girls. I started the prep work.
I cut the pork into two-hundred-gram portions per person, scored the meat to keep it from curling while cooking, then arranged it in a tray. I poured in soy sauce, mirin, and sake in a 2:2:1 ratio, adding grated ginger and apple for flavor. Covered the tray, slid it into the freezer—cold marinade infusion would soak the taste just fine.
The onions and cabbage I sliced thin. The cabbage went into a bowl of water to wash out the green bitterness—our resident foolish fox hated that taste. After two rinses, it stayed crisp and mild. The onions went into a separate dish and into the fridge. I’d start frying once everyone got home.
For the miso soup, I made broth from dried sardines and bonito flakes. Torakuma had sent over some wakame, so I thought about adding it—wondered briefly about enzymes, but figured heat would destroy them. Even if not, seaweed fibers were harmless. I mixed red and white miso, three to one. The strong miso flavor would balance the fishy broth. Personally, I liked the fish taste, but since I didn’t know everyone’s preference, better to keep it mild.
Once the miso soup was done and the rice set to cook, I’d only need to fry the pork when they returned. Still, no one had come home. A small worry crept in, but a yawn caught me off guard.
I’d been up early and working nonstop—my body was demanding rest. Rather than go to my room, I stretched out on the sofa. I pulled a blanket from my inventory, draped it over myself, and yawned again. Drowsiness hit hard, and I let my eyes close.
…A faint touch brushed my lips. My eyes fluttered open.
Through the haze of waking, I saw something golden. No—deep brown hair catching the light like gold.
Golden eyes gazed down at me with quiet affection. Above them, a pair of furry ears twitched.
”…Ichika? Welcome home.”
”…I have returned, Master,” she said softly. “Falling asleep here—you must have been truly exhausted, degozaru.”
When I tried to sit up, my body wouldn’t cooperate. Maybe sleeping on the sofa hadn’t let me rest properly.
”Just stay like that a little longer, degozaru,” Ichika said gently.
”I can’t. Dinner—”
”I already found the marinated ginger pork in the freezer,” she interrupted. “I shall cook it, degozaru. Please, rest a little more.”
With that, the foolish fox rose and padded toward the kitchen. As she left, a white silhouette drifted closer to me.
”You were out cold, Tatara.”
”Oh—hey, Yohira. Welcome back.”
”I have returned,” she said with a teasing smile. “I was surprised to see you sleeping here of all places.”
Her hand brushed my forehead, checking for a fever. Probably worried I’d overworked myself. I reached up and touched her cheek in return—it was warm, maybe from the walk home.
”What’s this? I’m not Ethelena, you know?”
”I don’t only do it to Ethelena.”
”That hardly makes it better.”
She sighed, but her fingers curled around mine, pressing my hand more firmly against her face. If I had caught a cold, she’d probably have done the same—just to reassure me.
”I’m glad,” she murmured. “You seem fine.”
”You think anything down there could actually scare me?”
”Maybe not. But if you’d gone up against another Lich with an instant-death curse, I’d still worry.”
”Too much worry,” she said, though her tone softened. “You get lonely on your own, don’t you, Tatara?”
She must’ve remembered the day my parents died. I’d watched them leave that morning like always, stayed home alone—and by nightfall, the old man brought me the news. That wound never healed. Probably why Ethelena calls me “the lonely type.”
”Would it help if I left Ichika or Hinagiku behind with you?” Yohira asked.
”They’re your guards. Keep them close.”
”At least Ichika would rather protect you,” she said plainly. “You’re weaker than I am—and more importantly, you’ve stolen her heart.”
That… didn’t sound right. I hadn’t treated Ichika particularly kindly. I’d only told her that if this life felt like a fleeting dream, she should enjoy it until she woke up.
”Back in our homeland,” Yohira continued, “Ichika had neither a place nor lingering attachments. She probably feels she can exist here—by your side.”
”…I already have Ethelena.”
”And yet you tolerate me as the exception?”
Her words silenced me. I was, at my core, a one-woman kind of man. Even if someone accused me of juggling two or three now, my heart was still fixed on Ethelena. Yohira stayed because she’d accepted that.
”Well,” Yohira said with a grin, “you’ll figure it out in time. At least Ethelena seems to accept Ichika’s presence.”
”…Wait, what?”
Last I heard, Ethelena hadn’t accepted that at all.
”Come now,” Yohira said lightly. “You’re awake enough, yes? Dinner’s almost ready. Let’s go.”
”R-right…”
Still unsure how to feel, I pushed myself up. Dinner first—then I’d tell them about tomorrow’s plans.
”So this is shōgayaki,” Ethelena said, peering at her plate. “It’s a little different from pork ginger stir-fry, isn’t it?”
”Yeah,” I said. “The base is soy sauce, mirin, and cooking sake I got from Yohira’s homeland. Gives it a different flavor profile.”
”Indeed,” Tatia said after tasting it. “Compared to balsamic vinegar, the taste feels lighter.”
Both women kept eating between comments, clearly enjoying themselves. Good—seemed I’d nailed it this time.
”It’s that sweet-salty balance,” Ethelena said. “Unusual, but nice.”
”Yes,” Tatia agreed. “Like the buri teriyaki we had yesterday, but the ginger adds a pleasant sharpness.”
I smiled as their chopsticks kept moving.
”Hm,” Yohira mused. “It’s close to our homeland’s seasoning—authentic, yet distinct.”
”This is quite excellent,” Tatia added. “The pork fat blends perfectly with the soy and mirin, tender texture, and a faint fruity sweetness… apple, perhaps? And the onions caramelized just enough to mellow the saltiness, bringing out the meat’s own flavor. Truly splendid work, Tatara-dono.”
”I’m the one who cooked it, degozaru,” Ichika said proudly.
”Ha! But Tatara-dono made the marinade. My praise goes to its source,” Tatia countered smoothly.
Ichika’s ears twitched, clearly flustered. Yohira chuckled, and I couldn’t help smiling.
”Master,” Ichika said suddenly, “this cabbage—there’s no bitterness at all.”
”Yeah. I soaked it in water. Loses some flavor, but easier to eat that way.”
”I see. A considerate choice for someone who dislikes green vegetables. Truly thoughtful of you, boob saint master.”
”Don’t make it sound like I achieved enlightenment through breasts, dammit.”
Dahlia’s quip earned her a sharp glare from me—and made Ichika’s ears flick toward us again. Please, don’t take that seriously.
”So, Tatara-dono,” Tatia asked, “you haven’t joined any expeditions lately. Everything all right?”
”Yeah. I’ve been swamped. No time to train my skills. Won’t be going tomorrow either.”
”Tomorrow as well?” Yohira frowned. “You hardly ever join anymore.”
”Yeah, well. Crafting commissions, you know.”
Accepting work for Sister Kareha and that idiot friend had just happened because I’d opened the shop today. Still, considering the coup the apprentice knights would attempt in about three weeks, maybe it was good timing. Especially Kareha—after inspecting her equipment, I realized how dangerous her last battles must’ve been. The shield looked fine on the surface, but inside, it was close to collapsing. One strong blow might’ve shattered it.
”What will you be doing tomorrow, Master?” Hinagiku asked.
”Making a shield and mace for a nearby church sister, and adjusting my friend’s armor and gauntlets.”
”Then I’ll stay behind to assist.”
”…You sure? It might not be magic-related.”
”That doesn’t matter,” she said seriously. “A nearby sister means either the old woman from the Healer Maiden Church—or the short, clumsy, glasses-wearing, large-breasted one. In either case, the busty one must perish. No mercy.”
”Why do you even have that kind of intel…?”
Seriously, how did she know that?
”While you attended the academy, I scouted the area,” Hinagiku said, perfectly composed. “There’s only one church nearby—the Healer Maiden’s. Knowing potential threats within range is standard procedure.”
”…And your threat-assessment criteria?”
”The size of the breasts my master loves most!”
”Shut it, you useless tinhead.”
Sure, I wasn’t denying the “boob saint” nickname, but come on. I wasn’t about to start preying on the locals. I was loyal—to Ethelena, and that’s that.
”So,” Ichika called from the kitchen, “which sister placed the order, degozaru?”
”The elder one,” I said. “She’s helped me since way back. I promised to take her requests for free.”
”…So even mature women are within range, degozaru?” Ichika muttered darkly.
”Don’t drag the mayor incident into this,” I said flatly.
”Tatara,” Ethelena added with a wry smile, “you’re not planning to make a move on your mother figure, are you?”
”Come on, Yohira. Even if she looked like you, she’s not you. I wouldn’t feel that way.”
That made Yohira smile faintly—pleased, maybe. Did that count as flirting? …Yeah, probably.
”So,” Ethelena asked, tilting her head, “what kind of person is this sister?”
”She’s been with the church since I was a kid. When my parents got badly injured during an expedition, she treated them. Been looking out for me ever since.”
”…So you’ve known her a long time.”
”Yeah. After my parents died, she taught me how to cook, helped me out a lot. She’s like a mother to me—along with the city’s mayor.”
”I see…”
Ethelena went quiet, thoughtful. Then she looked up again.
”In that case, I’ll stay home tomorrow too. I’d like to meet her.”
That caught me off guard. What was she thinking?
”Well, we’ll head out for the expedition as usual,” Yohira said, turning to Tatia. “You coming?”
”Of course,” Tatia replied.
”Then naturally, Ichika and Hinagiku will join us,” Ichika said matter-of-factly.
”As your guards, it’s our duty,” Hinagiku added with a crisp nod.
After settling everyone’s plans, we called it a night. Tatia promised to pick Yohira and the others up in the morning.
I retreated to the workshop alone and took out the shield and metal lump Sister Kareha had left with me. Time to appraise them.
Shield: Benedictus
Physical Defense +25
Magic Defense +25
Special Ability: Anti-Mana Barrier
Hammer: Divine Iron Mallet
Physical Attack +45
Speed −15
A named shield, and a hammer with a pompous title to boot. Divine Iron—was I even allowed to tamper with this stuff?
Closer inspection revealed Benedictus was an alloy of Mithril and Orichalcum, while the so-called Divine Mallet was mostly Adamantite with traces of both mixed in. Great. Melting this down might get me smited.
Still, I got to work, carefully cleaning the bloodstains that had crusted along the edges. The rust turned out to be nothing but dried blood; a quick polish brought back the original gleam.
Now came the tricky part—Kareha’s strength and stamina. She’d asked for a kite shield, but if I rebuilt Benedictus, the weight would become a serious issue. Maybe a buckler-sized base would suit her better.
I pulled out an old blueprint I’d drafted for Dahlia’s defensive gear—a design that had veered dangerously close to becoming a Magic Device, just as she’d teased.
Its concept came from the Archangel sword project and the twelve accompanying blades—one main shield as the control core, with smaller floating shields moving by the user’s will. With Orichalcum, mental control would be easier. Even if Kareha’s physical strength had waned, the shields could respond to her intent. And if the sub-shields could link together to form a barrier, she could defend a whole area—something told me she’d need that.
Originally, I’d planned for six sub-shields orbiting a large main one. Given the materials, though, three small ones around a central core seemed more realistic. I also drafted an alternate version—smaller main shield, six satellites.
As for the mace… something about keeping it as-is felt wrong. Kareha struck me as someone who fought more like a swordswoman than a blunt-weapon priest. Maybe a hybrid design—a sword-mace—would fit better. I’d confirm that with her tomorrow.
Next came my idiot friend’s armor and gauntlets. I checked the measurements he’d chosen earlier and got to work.
First up: the armguards. Since he didn’t use a shield, I reforged his two iron ingots into Demonsteel. Mana flow became rougher that way, but I’d grown used to fine-forging Mithril—guiding Mana through the veins of the metal like threading a needle.
I folded and hammered the ingots twenty times, creating roughly 2.1 million microscopic layers. Then I split the bar cleanly in half, cut the pieces into smaller components, and shaped them one by one.
The result: sleek Demonsteel gauntlets, black with a faint blue sheen, covering fingers to elbows. Inside, I lined them with tanned leather for shock absorption. The fine adjustments could wait for tomorrow’s fitting—it’d take three minutes, tops.
Then I forged the armor, repeating the process—twenty-one folds for another 2.1 million layers. Hammered it thin, shaped it to cover the upper torso, polished the curves.
For the coat-like mantle, I alchemically fused ten Giant Bat wing membranes into one large sheet of leather. Once tanned, I dyed one side crimson and the other black, cutting it into pieces: shoulders, back, and side panels flowing from the breastplate down. It would drape from shoulder to elbow and cover the back to the waist—red on the outside, black within. Eye-catching now, but once worn and weathered, the colors would darken—marking the shift from novice to veteran.
”…Protect him well, for a long time,” I murmured to the newly forged armor and gauntlets.
I’d never be able to say that kind of thing to his face, but whispering it to the gear felt right. That’s how it worked between men.
When I finished in the workshop, I went looking for the bird-shaped golem I used for sending reports. It was nowhere in sight.
I finally spotted it—perched delicately on the finger of none other than Archangel herself, standing in the garden.
”Oh—Tatara-san!” she exclaimed brightly when she saw me.
The golem, however, bolted the instant our eyes met.
”Oh no you don’t!”
I lunged, catching its leg just as it took off, but lost my balance and fell. Archangel tried to steady me and got pulled down too. We rolled across the ground in a tangle before I managed to secure the golem’s leg, tie on the report, and send it off properly.
”U-um, Tatara-san…”
”Huh?”
Relieved that the report had finally gone out, I looked down—only to see Archangel’s face flushed scarlet beneath me.
Oh no.
Blood drained from my head so fast I nearly blacked out. I scrambled back, mortified, while she hugged herself, still red as a flame.
…Fantastic. I’d just tackled the company’s poster girl. If I didn’t die of shame, someone else might finish the job for me.
Notes:
• Kareha – A human paladin and nun appearing in ch.71. She requests new weapons from Tatara after past battles damaged hers. The order sends her under church duty. Works with Tatara and Dahlia as ally. Close to Ranka. Strong, polite, and fearless.
• 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.
• Hinagiku – A tengu woman as Ranka’s potential companion. She stays with Tatara’s group after travels. Joins household scenes only. Linked to Ranka by shared gluttony jokes. No direct tie to Tatara beyond cohabitation. Cheerful eater.
• Dahlia – The automaton.
Please bookmark this series and rate ☆☆☆☆☆ on here!
Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
Leave a Reply