Chapter 74 The Blacksmith Delivers
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The tests with the new Arcane Armor went smoothly. Against the Giant Bat and the Goblin Commander, both artillery modes worked just as planned. I told Dahlia we’d do the next trial run deeper down in the dungeon. She didn’t look pleased, but if we wanted to test real combat performance, weak Goblins wouldn’t do. Orcs—or even Ogres—were the right opponents.
This armor’s physical attack boost was on another level. Even a Goblin Lord couldn’t stand a chance in a simple fight. Its defense was so high that even a Lord’s blade wouldn’t pierce it, and our own strikes easily broke through any enemy’s guard.
So, I chose the next test opponent—an Orc Slayer I’d met on the eleventh floor.
Twin flamberges gleamed in its hands as it rushed forward. I read its movement and stepped aside just as both blades cut the air where I’d been. Two clean dodges in a row—easier than I’d expected. I could have countered, but decided to strike next instead.
I lunged, my fist glowing faintly with mana. The blow landed squarely on the Slayer’s cheek, followed by a burst of magic bombardment that tore through its skull. Too much power. Its head vanished in a flash of light. Right… I’d forgotten that the ambush boost also amplifies magic output.
”Master! What was that attack just now!?” Dahlia shouted.
”It wasn’t anything special,” I said, taking a step back as she came closer. “I just timed the magic bombardment to hit with my punch. Don’t corner me like that, you’re scary when you do that.”
She leaned in like a dog tugging its leash, eyes shining. Terrifying.
”It looked like Burst Edge from Knight Swordsmanship,” she said, thoughtful. “Shall we call it… Burst Knuckle?”
”Now that you say it,” I muttered, “maybe I should make an actual spell formula for that. Not everyone could pull it off on instinct.”
Still, there was a kind of charm to turning these unscripted moves into real techniques. Of course, romance means nothing if you’re dead—so I’d still prepare the spell support just in case.
We kept testing combinations of melee and magic bombardment. The others helped by drawing out lone Slayers for me to face one-on-one, while I adjusted output for clean one-hit kills.
”…By the way, Tatara,” Tatia asked, her tone curious.
”Yeah? What is it?”
”Why are you punching things bare-handed?”
”Because this isn’t a Warhammer test,” I said. “It’s a performance trial for Genbu.”
Honestly, it felt wrong to test Genbu’s specs while holding a weapon. Even if it wasn’t how the armor would normally be used, I wanted to see its raw potential.
Besides, using mana triggered my Magic Attack Increase and Mana Boost skills. If I could get even a little stronger, it was worth the trouble. A man’s got his pride.
”You’re starting to match my attack power,” Tatia said with a sly smile.
”The armor gives a thirty-point physical bonus,” I replied. “So, bare-handed, that’s seventy-four total. Still not enough.”
”Even so, that’s close to the human limit, isn’t it?”
”Well, yeah. Ordinary humans cap out around a hundred.”
Thinking about it again, Tatia’s starting stats were absurd—over forty in physical defense and more than sixty in magic defense. Even if she only gained one point per level, by level fifty she’d break ninety in physical and hit a hundred in magic. Assuming her limits were human at all. With angel blood in her veins, her ceiling could be higher. If so, I’d need to use a Step item before her next rebirth. Raising her level cap would drop her stats by twenty percent—harsh, but the Earth Mother Series equipment would soften the blow.
We talked like that while continuing our exploration, fine-tuning my armor as we went. Every now and then, I’d fight another Slayer alone, each time learning how to defeat it more efficiently. Bit by bit, the armor’s speed adjustment improved until I could land direct hits even without ambush.
By the time we reached the sixteenth floor, I was ready for a real test. I asked—well, demanded—to face an Ogre Grappler one-on-one. It stood alone in the corridor, massive arms crossed, a grin stretching across its face. I mirrored its stance. Neither of us spoke. Then, as if on cue, we both moved.
The Grappler struck first, charging in with crushing force. I twisted my body, slipping past its fist, then countered. My own punch met its jaw with a sharp crack, mana already charged and ready. The explosion rocked its head sideways—its neck twisted unnaturally. Broken spine, maybe, but Ogres didn’t die that easily.
Using that momentum, I drew back my right arm and drove my left fist into its chest. Mana flared. Another blast. A hole opened in its torso, the shock stunning it completely. I reached into the glowing wound, gripped its mana stone, and pulled.
The Grappler dissolved into dust without another sound.
That double bombardment—only possible because I shared mana with Ethelena—had been reckless, but it worked. Without her support, I’d never have beaten it alone. That idiot really is amazing.
”Tatara,” Tatia said, voice firm now, “your selfish streak ends here. Forcing yourself to use that burst knuckle twice in one fight—I won’t overlook it again.”
”…Yeah,” I admitted softly. “You’re right.”
Yohira’s words hit home, and I finally gave in. I’d been pushing for more combat tests to train my own skills, but that was just my ego talking. Everyone had gone along with me out of kindness. It was time to stop leaning on that and get back to normal exploration.
”Sorry for dragging you into my experiments,” I said. “Let’s get back to our usual route.”
”I understand how you feel,” Tatia replied with a small smile. “I was the same at first.”
Her voice carried no judgment, only calm acceptance. It struck me how much she’d changed—from someone who once admitted she couldn’t see people as people to someone warm and grounded. I’d really been blessed with good companions.
We rearranged into our usual formation, Ethelena leading. Working as a team again felt so much smoother. We cut down every Ogre Grappler that appeared, collecting mid-grade mana stones along the way. By the twentieth floor, we brought down a High Ogre without any real danger.
When Muumin spawn rates increased, Ethelena kept stealing stat-boosting items from them as always. Each time one of those puffballs tried to hug her, murderous thoughts flickered through me, and Yohira and Tatia had to hold me back until we reached the twenty-fifth floor.
Once the enemies switched to Golems, we let out all that pent-up stress—smashing them one after another. Even the floor boss, the Orichalcum Golem, went down the same way as before: a single sniper shot from Ethelena at the start that blew off its head. We made it look so easy that I nearly forgot this thing was supposed to be one of the toughest bosses, with absurd defense and health.
From the thirty-first floor onward, Dahlia focused on hunting Liches. When Tatia’s skill leveled up, every mana stone they dropped became extra large, and Dahlia and I were so thrilled we had to be physically stopped by Ethelena and Yohira before we went overboard.
When we finally returned to the surface, sunlight still filled the sky. We had plenty of time left in the day.
”Right,” I said suddenly. “We still need to buy Dahlia some casual clothes.”
”I already received clothes from you,” she said, puzzled.
”Not armor or fancy outfits. I mean normal, everyday wear—something to go shopping in.”
She frowned slightly, clearly unconvinced.
”Your long coat and that finished Arcane Armor don’t count,” I explained. “You didn’t even have proper travel clothes when you first came from home to the dungeon.”
”I don’t really need them,” she said flatly.
”…Want to borrow one of Ethelena’s old armors instead?” I teased.
Her eyes widened. “Let’s go to the store right now! Shopping sounds wonderful!”
”…That was fast,” Yohira muttered.
Well, considering the last time she tried on something like that, I couldn’t blame her for wanting to control her own wardrobe.
”Yohira, you want something too?” I asked.
”Hm? Me? I suppose, yes—if it helps with cultural exchange.”
She’d already received a few kimonos and yukatas from home when we reconnected with her family, but those stood out too much in Whirlwind. It wouldn’t hurt for her to have something simple for casual outings—though she’d probably get lost if she went out alone.
We ended up at the same shop where I’d once bought casual clothes for the foolish fox and Hinagiku. It wasn’t fancy, but everything here was durable and comfortable. Sometimes they even stocked joke T-shirts like the one Hinagiku picked out before—the clerk had given her a look that basically said, Are you serious? Maybe Hinagiku just had a condition that forced her to choose gag items.
”Master, I want this one,” Dahlia said, pointing ahead as soon as we entered.
I followed her finger. It landed on a black-and-white Gothic Lolita apron dress. In other words, a maid outfit. Why was that even here?
The shopkeeper caught my stare and gave me a look that clearly said, You can’t be serious. If it doesn’t sell, why stock it at all?
”Wait, you actually want that?” I asked.
”Yes,” she said solemnly. “For some reason, I feel the Machine God inside me whispering that this is what I must wear.”
”…Are you sure that’s not a ghost?”
If her so-called Machine God was suggesting maid uniforms, we might need to reconsider its divinity. The last thing I needed was a shrine statue giving off weird vibes because of this.
”Tatara,” Ethelena said gently, “if Dahlia picked it herself, maybe let her have it?”
”But won’t people think I hired a maid or something?”
”Then just make it the shop uniform,” she suggested with a grin.
”Ethelena… are you ready to wear a maid outfit, then?”
She smiled. “Sure. I could even wear it at night if you like.”
”Stop right there! That’s a no!”
For one awful second I actually thought, That wouldn’t be so bad. I hated myself for it. I’d clearly been influenced by too many illustrators and story tropes.
”Excuse me,” the shopkeeper said, stepping closer.
”Ah, sorry for the noise,” I said quickly.
”If you’re buying matching uniforms, I can give you a discount,” she said cheerfully. “We even have easy-clean fabric versions.”
”…Your comprehension skills are terrifying,” I muttered.
I felt my resolve waver. Men are such weak, foolish creatures.
In the end, I bought one for Dahlia’s casual wear, one as a store uniform, and—somehow—one specifically for nighttime. Yohira decided she wanted one too, saying it looked cute, and Tatia got dragged into it as well, reluctantly agreeing. We’d probably only use them when they helped watch the shop, but still.
When I tried to stick with my usual apron, they handed me a copper-colored jumpsuit and a pair of goggles. I tried them on—perfect fit. I had to admit, the tailor was a pro.
”This outfit is excellent,” Dahlia said, turning in front of the mirror. “It breathes well, doesn’t restrict movement, and best of all, I can hide weapons under the skirt.”
”Apologize. To every maid on the planet.”
Seriously—who says stuff like that? Not that she needed to hide anything anyway; with inventory storage, concealed weapons were a thing of the past.
”Tatara,” Ethelena called. “They don’t have my size—it’ll need to be custom-made.”
”I figured,” I said dryly.
I couldn’t even imagine what kind of person would plan a maid outfit for her proportions. Even in the city center’s lingerie shops, her size was considered rare.
”Tatara,” Yohira said shyly, “I don’t really understand this world’s clothing. Could you help me choose?”
I walked over to her, and Ethelena followed, clearly ready to play dress-up.
I decided to start from practicality—something like what the female city mayor had worn: pants for ease of movement. But part of me also wanted to see Yohira in something more feminine. She always wore long kimonos or robes, so a long skirt might suit her too.
Ethelena, on the other hand, was holding a miniskirt and grinning. She clearly had other plans.
I picked out a blazer-style jacket, a high-neck knit top, and a blue-and-black check long skirt. Traditional, modest, and elegant. Yohira seemed to like the low exposure; she smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror. She retied her hair, switching from a ponytail to a side-tail. It softened her whole look—cute, in a quiet way.
Ethelena’s outfit, by contrast, was all playful energy: a light pink hoodie, red-and-black check miniskirt, and long over-knee socks that showed just enough skin to make me nervous. Her twin ponytails made her look even more youthful. The way she blushed while tugging at the short hem was unfairly adorable.
She and Yohira even matched their styles—a kind of twin look. But honestly, with Ethelena’s figure, it was… dangerous. If we went on a date like that, I wasn’t sure I’d survive.
”…Master,” Dahlia said, arms folded. “Don’t you have something to say to me?”
When I turned toward Dahlia’s voice, I froze. She stood there in a classic maid outfit, her porcelain skin and perfect symmetry giving her the air of a living doll. For a moment, I forgot to breathe.
”You look… stunning,” I managed.
”…I see,” she said quietly, turning her head away.
So much for finding the right words. I’d spoken honestly, and she’d looked away, cheeks faintly colored with something between embarrassment and irritation.
”Well,” Tatia said dryly, “you look rather splendid.”
”If you want one too, I can buy it for you,” I teased.
”No thank you,” she replied at once. “My knight uniform is far more comfortable.”
She brushed me off, but Ethelena was watching Tatia with sparkling eyes, already plotting. I could almost see the future—Tatia caught and dressed up against her will. Poor woman.
When the shopping was done, daylight still lingered, so I decided to stop by the vigilante corps guard post. Dahlia, still dressed as a maid, offered to assist me, and I accepted. Ethelena took Yohira and Tatia home to start dinner. Since we’d been eating mostly Japanese-style meals lately, I suspected Ethelena would try making something from this world’s cuisine tonight.
”Excuse me,” I called at the front desk.
”Yes, how can I—huh!?” The receptionist jumped so hard she nearly fell over. “J-Julon-san!?”
Every guard in the room turned at once, mid-conversation or mid-laugh. The atmosphere flipped instantly. Okay, maybe that reaction was a bit much.
”Sorry to drop by unannounced,” I said. “I just wanted to deliver the prototype of the new model.”
”T-the n-new Sticky Launcher prototype!?” she squeaked. “P-please wait just a moment!!”
She shot out of her chair like a bullet, shouting “Captain! Lieutenant!” down the hall as she ran. …Maybe I should’ve scheduled this.
Before long, another guard guided me—not to the meeting room from before, but to the outdoor training field. I used Crafting to make a simple table and lined up nine prototype Sticky Launchers on it. Dahlia linked her processor to a large outdoor holo-display, ready to handle data and notes like the perfect assistant she was.
”Tatara-san!”
”Oh, squad leader—good to see you.”
The familiar face from before greeted me with nervous energy. Perfect. A reliable tester.
”Since you’re here,” I said, “I’ll need your help.”
”M-me!? Wait, me!?”
”Yes, you,” I said firmly.
The squad leader froze as the others started jeering. “Come on, don’t chicken out!” “Show him what you’ve got!” Eventually, red-faced but determined, he stood tall. Good spirit. I liked this team already.
When enough members had gathered, we began the demo session. The squad leader and I each took one of the launchers. I demonstrated the basic firing and reloading procedure, and he mirrored my movements perfectly, even as a first-timer. Within minutes, he was reloading in under a second.
Everyone cheered and joined in the challenge. Even the captain grabbed a pair of the heavy bazooka-type launchers and managed to reload both in exactly one second flat. I couldn’t help clapping at that.
After the live tests, I disassembled one in front of the maintenance crew. I walked them through every part—how the mechanism functioned, where dirt built up, what parts wore down first. They groaned at the complexity of the rapid-fire model, cursed the bazooka’s weight, and praised the break-action type.
When the session ended, the entire corps saluted me again. I couldn’t help but admire them—disciplined, capable, and proud.
”…Not one of them commented on my maid outfit,” Dahlia muttered beside me as we left.
”Honestly,” I said, “they were probably more interested in the new launchers.”
The sky was turning red as the sun began to set. We walked side by side through the quiet streets, her tone sharp despite her expression remaining unreadable.
”How could anyone ignore such a perfectly beautiful girl and care only about weapons?” she asked, half-pouting.
”Let me put it this way,” I said. “If a handsome guy dressed to impress tries to flirt with you, or I show up covered in soot holding a new magic device—which one catches your attention?”
”Obviously the magic device,” she said flatly. “Are you stupid?”
”There’s your answer, idiot,” I replied.
I was about to laugh when a chill raced up my spine. Dahlia sensed it too—she instantly stepped in front of me, drawing a magic-blade from her inventory.
About fifty meters ahead stood another maid. Silver-blond hair, green eyes, a classic uniform almost identical to Dahlia’s—but behind her stretched a pair of gleaming wings the same color as her hair.
I recognized her. And I had no idea why she was here, waiting for us in the middle of town.
”…Master,” Dahlia said quietly, “did you do something to anger an Angel?”
”Not that I can think of,” I said. “Unless using an Angel’s soul core to craft armor counts as an offense.”
Well, technically, the being in front of us wasn’t an Angel anymore—but still. Why was she radiating so much pressure?
”Master,” Dahlia said, voice firm, “I’ll buy you time. Please run.”
”Yeah… that probably won’t work.”
”…So you feel it too.”
Feel it? I knew it. This winged maid wasn’t just similar to Dahlia—she was the same type. And if she was equipped with what I thought she was, she could turn the entire city of Whirlwind into rubble in under a minute.
To stop her, we’d need someone at least equal in power. For example—
(Why are you terrifying people again, young lady!?)
(Eep!?)
A blur dropped from the sky. A harisen—an oversized paper fan—smacked the winged maid square on the back of the head. The one holding it landed gracefully: the Archangel.
”…Master,” Dahlia said, “I detect an increase in similar units. The second one attacked the first—could they be companions?”
”Yeah,” I sighed. “You’re not wrong. The one who just arrived… she’s an acquaintance.”
Dahlia gave me a look of disbelief. Fair enough—it wasn’t every day you met someone who could scold a supposed Angel mid-combat. I stepped forward, addressing the Archangel still wielding her fan.
”Uh, Archangel? Mind explaining what’s going on here?”
(Ah—sorry, Tatara-san!)
She turned, embarrassed, the fan melting back into one of the blades strapped to her back.
(This girl is one of my sisters. I can’t tell you her name, but her title is Chef. Please just call her that.)
”Titles are easier anyway,” I said. “I’m Tatara Julon. Nice to meet you, Chef.”
(…Nice to meet you too.)
The silver-haired maid stepped forward shyly, then quickly hid behind the Archangel again. Of course I knew her. She was one of the poster girls.
The newcomer was the third sister—a small, shy girl who somehow managed to be second only to one sister in certain… proportions. Her cleaning skills were hopeless, but her cooking was legendary. In the original lore, that gift had earned her the title Chef. In the game, recruiting her as a companion meant unlocking powerful support abilities—her dishes could fully heal the party and grant every buff imaginable.
Though she looked cool and composed, she was actually a crybaby. Many players adored her for that softness; I always preferred the rare moments when she smiled instead of crying.
”Come to think of it,” I said, “you mentioned introducing your sister so I could sculpt her statue, didn’t you?”
(Yes! Since she’s free right now, please start with her!!)
The Archangel beamed and gently pushed Chef out from behind her back. Suddenly standing in front of a stranger, Chef froze, eyes wide and glassy. If this were an illustration, her pupils would be spinning. Poor girl—she wasn’t good with people, but I had to earn her trust somehow.
I knelt to meet her gaze and pulled something from my inventory. It was a plush toy about the size of her torso, filled not with cotton but soft beads—something like a “body pillow” cushion. It looked like a lazy, slightly lopsided cat, the kind of face that made you feel relaxed just looking at it. Chef blinked, uncertain, then slowly reached out. I placed it in her hands.
”As a token of friendship,” I said gently, “please accept this. It’s soft, and I think you’ll like how it feels when you hug it.”
She hesitated for a moment, then pulled the plush close and nuzzled it against her cheek. A faint smile appeared on her lips. Success.
(Already charming my sister, are you? As expected of Tatara the Charmer.)
”Was that a slip of the tongue or a deliberate insult?” I asked.
(My mistake. Tongue slip.)
”Uh-huh. You sure about that?”
(God exists.)
”She’s still around, not past tense,” I muttered. And you’re basically in that category too, lady.
The Archangel looked faintly sulky, but Chef didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy playing with the plush, holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world. That tracked—her in-game event had her descending to the surface just to buy a plush toy, only to freeze up from shyness and fail. Fans loved her so much that… well, let’s just say the internet produced “creative” works about it. I’d always wondered how those sleazy villains survived even one encounter with her—her power levels were absurd. One of her ultimate items in Beyond the Deep Darkness literally had text saying it could “erase Whirlwind from the map.”
If the Archangel was from after her event timeline, then Chef probably was too. Meaning her current equipment was on the same level. Wonderful. I was surrounded by apocalyptic-grade sisters.
”…Master?” Dahlia asked cautiously. “Are you talking to yourself?”
”Oh—right. You can’t hear them, can you?”
I’d forgotten that nobody else could hear the Archangel or her sisters. Maybe another reincarnated person could, but so far I was the only one. If it really was just me… that was unsettling.
(Tatara-san, could I ask you for something? We need a statue of the Machine God.)
”The Machine God? You mean… right now?”
(Yes. Please finish it today. If you don’t, the Machine God might possess Dahlia’s body and launch an attack on you.)
”…What kind of divine logic is that?”
If Dahlia got possessed, I’d be dead in seconds. Did I somehow offend a god?
Still, I didn’t have much of a connection with the Machine God. Unlike the Moon Goddess or the War God, I didn’t have an existing image to draw from. Without that, crafting a divine statue would be tricky.
”Master,” Dahlia said, tilting her head. “Did you just say ‘Machine God’?”
”Yeah. It’s a request. I need to make a statue of one.”
Explaining it out loud gave me an idea. Automaton Maidens like Dahlia were said to be creations of the Machine God—made in her own image. If anyone could serve as a reference, it was her.
”…Dahlia, stand right there for a bit.”
”Yes, my master.”
She obeyed without question, though curiosity flickered in her eyes. I drew a mithril ingot from my inventory, closed my eyes, and focused. Using Dahlia as the base of my image, I dove deeper and deeper into the core of my Crafting skill, reaching for something at the edge of consciousness. Something tugged at my fingertips—and I began shaping the metal through that thread.
When the feeling settled, I opened my eyes. The ingot was gone, replaced by a finished statue. Short bob-cut hair. Blade-like antennae where ears would be. A delicate frame wrapped in an apron dress, holding a mop in both hands.
I stared.
It was unmistakably that green-haired maid robot.
”…Why!? Why is this my image of the Machine God!?” I shouted. “Yes, she’s a pioneer of maid-robot design, but that doesn’t mean she belongs here!”
I couldn’t help it; my voice cracked into a near-scream. Technically, she was a prototype maid robot, even if she’d mostly worn a school uniform in her own story… but still!
Focus, Tatara. This thing was basically a divine-grade hazard. If I handed that to the Machine God, I’d never live to regret it.
(Oh! You finished the statue! Wonderful! The Machine God will be thrilled!)
”You’re kidding me. This makes her happy?”
Why would any deity be pleased to be compared to a famous maid robot? None of this made sense.
”…Master,” Dahlia said softly, staring at the figure. “What is this maid statue? I can feel… an overwhelming divinity from it.”
Her usual polite tone trembled slightly.
If I told her it was modeled after her creator, she might actually short-circuit.
”And… what did you mean by ‘pioneer of maid robots’?” she asked.
”Don’t think about it,” I said quickly. “Just—don’t. That way lies madness. Understand?”
”Ah—y-yes, my master.”
She didn’t look convinced, but I couldn’t risk explaining further. Giving pre-reincarnation pop culture knowledge to an Automaton felt… dangerous. With Ethelena or Yohira, it might have been harmless—but Dahlia? It just felt wrong.
”…Archangel,” I said, holding up the statue. “Is this acceptable for delivery?”
(Yes! The Machine God’s statue has been received! Thank you, Tatara-san—please accept your reward!!)
Notes:
• Dahlia – The automaton.
• 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.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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