Chapter 75 Blacksmith Shown the Path
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The reward for my latest delivery was so generous that, for a moment, I just stood there in shock. Getting this much of a rare metal was almost unheard of. Sure, I’d managed to gather mithril by the tens of kilos before, but orichalcum—five whole kilograms of it—was something else entirely. If I used it for Dahlia’s armor, the control system would reach a whole new level. All that was left was finding a Soul Core and one of those “eggs.”
”Master, with this much orichalcum—”
”Yeah,” I said. “Making Dahlia’s Arcane Armor just got a lot easier.”
My own armor, Genbu, was already tuned well enough. The next step was to focus on Dahlia’s. It would need a lot of Soul Cores and eggs, but I could get those by hunting a few more Liches.
While Dahlia and I were talking, Archangel called out to me.
(Tatara-san, what about the other request?)
”Oh, right—the one about the sisters’ statues. Give me a minute.”
Remembering it, I took out a mithril ingot and faced Chef. The moment my eyes met hers, her shoulders twitched and she started trembling like a frightened animal. Am I really that scary?
I closed my eyes and let the image in my head flow into the metal. When I opened them again, a small statue of Chef stood before me—her face bright and smiling, holding a bouquet of flowers. Though, for some reason, the bouquet had been replaced with the stuffed toy I’d given her earlier. Well… I guess that works too.
(Wow, wow! She’s so cute! My little sister is just too cute!)
Archangel reacted before Chef could. She grabbed the statue and admired it with sparkling eyes, completely forgetting her sister’s stunned face. Chef tried to snatch it back, but Archangel dodged every attempt with annoying grace. Great, I thought. Now we’re showing off the “poster girl” hierarchy right here.
(Big sis! Give it back! That’s mine!)
(No way! I’m using my older-sister privileges!)
Watching them bicker like that made me smile. They were just sisters—normal, affectionate, a little silly. Even Dahlia, who couldn’t hear their voices, covered her mouth and shook with laughter, guessing what was happening from their gestures.
Then an idea struck me. I pulled out two more mithril ingots and closed my eyes again. This time, my image was clear—Chef in a daring, high-cut leotard that looked a lot like Dahlia’s automaton outfit, and beside her, the powerful mechanical armor she wore into battle: her Arcane Armor. It was a fan-favorite design—slender, stylish girl beside a massive mech frame. I recreated it perfectly, complete with working joints.
”Hey, Chef—”
(What is it, Tatara-san? I’m kind of busy trying to get my figure back from my sister!)
…Did she just call me a flirt? Tatara. That’s how the poster girls saw me, huh? Ouch.
No, no, don’t lose heart. Focus. I’ll just hand her this.
”Well then… Archangel, I’ll give you this one, so please give that back to her.”
I offered the new figure to Archangel. She froze in surprise, while Chef, realizing what was in my hand, went stiff as a statue herself.
(No way… This is amazing!)
She seemed delighted, but Chef was still stuck mid-motion, too slow to reclaim her first figure. Archangel hesitated, realizing she couldn’t hold both—the figure and the armor—at the same time.
(Why, Tatara-san? Why must you be so cruel? I can’t cherish my cute sister and my cool sister at once!)
”How about you give her the maid one back first? She’s blushing already.”
(Sister! If you don’t stop, I’ll tell everyone how you always gush about Tatara-san to the others!)
”…You just said it out loud, didn’t you?”
Chef looked ready to cry, and yes, I’d heard every word. Archangel froze mid-turn, her neck creaking like rusted metal as she faced me.
(T-T-Tatara-san. About what my sister said—)
”I won’t pry, but maybe stop teasing her, okay… big sister?”
(Yes…)
Shoulders slumped, Archangel handed the figure back. Chef tucked her stuffed toy away and finally accepted her statue. She admired it happily—until she peeked under the skirt. Her face turned bright red.
(Tatara-san! Why did you even sculpt under the skirt!? And how do you know what my favorite looks like!?)
”I didn’t! The crafting skill pulls the details from the world automatically—I had nothing to do with it.”
Chef blinked, then collapsed to her knees. Yeah… finding out the world’s database knows your underwear preferences would break anyone.
(This is the worst. My sister and I… even our favorite underwear is recorded by the world…)
”Uh… sorry? Hang in there?”
I had no idea what else to say.
(So you’re telling me the reason my figure had accurate underwear was because the world saw me that way? I thought it meant I’d opened my heart to you…)
(Wait—you thought what!?)
Archangel’s dignity as a “poster girl” was crumbling fast.
(Tatara-san…)
”It’s Tatara. And yes?”
(Did you know figures sell three times better when the underwear is well-sculpted?)
”…No. And I don’t think I wanted to.”
Apparently, that had been a thing in my past life’s figure industry.
(In short, the finer the details, the better the figure—and the most critical detail is, of course… the underwear.)
”That’s… quite the leap in logic.”
They say God is in the details, but I’d never imagined a god of underwear.
(Still, this figure’s craftsmanship is incredible—the fabric texture, the folds in the clothes, even how the underwear fits…)
”Let’s stop focusing on that last part, shall we?”
(If this were a PVC model, it would easily sell for forty thousand yen. With paintwork, I’d pay up to sixty.)
”You do realize it’s made of mithril, right? On the surface, that’s worth at least ten million yen.”
(If it could be cast-off too, even a hundred thousand would be fair.)
”Can we not start chanting otaku spells and deploying super armor in public?”
At this point, even I was getting tired of playing the straight man. I mean, sure, no one else could hear them—but talking about figure underwear in the middle of the street? That’s pushing it.
Archangel seemed to agree. She turned one of her swords into a giant paper fan and raised it over her shoulder. Good. Please, just whack her once.
(More than anything, I now understand—my sister and I complete each other. Each pose stands strong alone, yes, but together, they form the ultimate set—)
(Enough already! Wake up!)
(Fugyu!?)
A sharp smack echoed as Archangel’s paper fan struck Chef square in the face. She made a strange squeak—probably the same sound effect used for her figure.
”So, uh, can I take that to mean the statue turned out well?”
(…Yes. I could say much more, but there’s not enough margin in this world for it.)
”Apologize to mathematicians everywhere.”
If someone compared proving a theorem to otaku rambling, I’d be mad too… or maybe that’s just self-loathing.
(In any case, I’d like to offer you a reward for my figure.)
”Oh. Sure.”
I hadn’t gotten anything from Archangel, but apparently Chef was different. Back in the game, rewards like this usually unlocked new companions. I wondered what I’d get this time.
(Please accept this.)
”Alright—wait, what!?”
She handed me a massive chunk of orichalcum—at least ten kilos, easily. I took it automatically, but the sheer weight of its value made me want to bolt on the spot.
(Since you’re a craftsman, I thought I’d prepare something rare.)
”Ah, right. Your standards are… cosmic.”
What was precious to those on the surface was probably nothing to these poster girls. Still, with this much orichalcum, I could finally build Dahlia’s Arcane Armor—if I just had enough “eggs.”
(And this will be your additional reward.)
The moment she brought it out, my smile froze.
Resting in her palm was a perfect glass-like sphere, about the size of a softball. It shimmered as though an entire galaxy was trapped inside. Beautiful—if you ignored the fact that it wasn’t a Soul Core or an egg, but something far beyond either. It was a divine core, a condensed crystal of mana.
How was a normal guy like me supposed to react to that? And not just any divine core—this was clearly from a high-ranking Demon Lord. Possibly national-treasure level stuff.
(And one more, to include the optional parts for the main unit.)
Mercy clearly wasn’t in her dictionary. Trembling, I accepted both cores and activated Appraisal.
Material: Fragment of the Goddess of Endings’ Divine Core
Material: Fragment of the Goddess of Creation’s Divine Core
…What? I’d never seen those before—though something about them tugged at my memory. There’d been a bit of lore in an older game: two divine beings—one who ended the old world and one who built the new—spoken of by the first of all Demon Lords. If that story was true, then the fragments I now held were shards of power from those very goddesses.
Even holding them, I could feel limitless mana pulsing through my palms. Using this to forge magic metal might be possible—but I wasn’t sure it could even be exhausted. Was this her way of saying don’t bother hunting for eggs, just use this to build it already?
(With those three items, my payment is complete. Please use them wisely and without waste.)
”Uh… right.”
I doubted I’d ever find a way to actually use divine core fragments, but sure.
(Then, I’ll be going now, Tatara-san. Sister, don’t stay out too late, alright?)
And with that, Chef left. At least she called me by name this time. I quickly stored the divine cores away—just holding them made my hands shake. I’d examine them later… maybe.
(I’m sorry about my sister. She’s shy, but she means well.)
”It’s fine. Really, no harm done.”
The whole “Tatara the flirt” thing had probably come from her labeling me as a suspicious man near her sister. But since Chef had used my actual name at the end, maybe that mark had cleared. Maybe.
(Also, about what my sister said earlier… I do talk about you with the others sometimes. But it’s not bragging! More like… venting about your habit of collecting great deeds and great sins in equal measure. I might’ve wondered aloud if you were trying to get my attention, or if maybe I should just seal your soul in my room already or something—wait, what am I even saying?)
I swear her eyes were spinning from confusion. She didn’t even seem to understand herself anymore.
”Master, from my perspective, you appear to be talking to yourself. Should I be concerned?”
”Honestly, Dahlia, I’m just receiving rewards that make my head hurt.”
”And that led to… this?”
”Yeah, I’ve got no better explanation.”
How was I supposed to explain “I got paid for making a perfectly detailed figure, including underwear”?
(Anyway! Thank you very much for making my sister’s statue! Though… why two of them?)
”Because you snatched her toy and I needed to distract you.”
(Ugh, when you put it that way…)
I couldn’t help but smile at her slumped shoulders. Even transcendent beings could look human sometimes. In the game, she’d never shown this side of herself—never as a sister.
(Oh, then make one for me too!)
”I’ll think about it after I finish the ones for your other sisters. They’re probably waiting at home.”
(You promise?)
”Yes, yes. I promise.”
Well, I said I’d think about it. Not that I’d make it.
Archangel finally headed off as well, and I felt the exhaustion hit all at once.
”…Let’s go home.”
”Yes, my Master.”
Dahlia’s voice was calm, almost flat. Watching her, I thought she looked just as tired as I felt.
”So,” I said later, “that’s why the meeting ran long?”
”The vigilante corps started a timed reloading competition. It wasn’t expected, but it shows their dedication and skill. You seemed pleased, Master, so I couldn’t stop them.”
After returning home, we gathered for dinner and shared our stories from the day. Dahlia and I had agreed not to mention the poster girls to the rest of the party. Instead, we blamed our lateness on the vigilante corps’ meeting running long. Dahlia understood. She knew how powerful those two were and wisely chose not to bring them up—maybe out of caution that mentioning them could invite trouble. But honestly, they weren’t the vengeful type. Still, there had to be a reason they only appeared when I was around. Until they chose to show themselves openly, it was best to wait.
”Still,” Dahlia said with a pout, “I can’t believe no one had a single word for a stunningly beautiful maid like me.”
”You’re still on that?”
”She’s twisted herself into quite the knot, degozaru,” the foolish fox sighed, tail flicking lazily.
Dahlia might’ve been a beauty, sure, but the vigilante corps didn’t care about that kind of thing. In this world, “pretty privilege” didn’t get you anywhere.
”So, Tatara,” the fox asked, “what’ll you do now that your Sticky Launcher wasn’t approved?”
”It just won’t be adopted officially. They said I can sell the design, and private use is fine.”
It looked like the folding model would be the one officially chosen. Between the mechanics’ input and the needs of smaller races with less strength, that choice made sense—especially since it could use existing projectiles. The squad leader seemed to favor the small rapid-fire model, while the captain leaned toward the heavy bazooka type. Still, most of the rank-and-file had voiced complaints. The captain had allowed personal ownership of the Sticky Launcher though, which meant they could buy it individually. Honestly, the man looked ready to order one for himself if it didn’t pass the review. True vigilante spirit, that bunch.
As for me, I’d also made a single-shot model based on the rapid-fire type—looked kind of like that pirate’s hand launcher from a certain castle in the sky. It might sell well among women who weren’t good at throwing. If it helped make Whirlwind a safer, calmer town, I’d call that a win.
After chatting like that, dinner ended. I saw Tatia off, then locked myself in the workshop to study the divine core fragments. I wanted to know just how powerful they were. I didn’t dare use Concept Appraisal—the thought of what happened when I appraised Archangel’s sword was enough to stop me.
I hooked the fragment up to a mana tester. The result came faster than I expected—the counter blew out in under a second. The output was absurd, beyond measure. It might’ve even surpassed the Foljulon Drive, the reactor designed to resist the apocalypse itself. Which… was a terrifying thought. Maybe this was the real apocalypse. No, that couldn’t be right. Otherwise, Archangel’s words about the “previous world” might’ve been literal.
In the end, I gave up trying to analyze it. Maybe it could be processed somehow, but probably not without killing me in the attempt. I figured that using Concept Appraisal with Crafting and layering multiple magic circles might barely compress it—but even then, what would I use it for? The Arcane Armor was probably the only thing strong enough. Using it as a mana reactor would just vaporize the facility. Even with every limiter imaginable, the armor might still explode. Seriously, what was I supposed to do with this thing?
For now, I tried something smaller: using the fragment of the Goddess of Endings to enhance ten kilos of mithril. The mana output nearly went berserk, but I managed to keep it barely under control. Two kilos burned from inside, channels melted by mana overflow—but the remaining eight kilos transformed successfully into Evil Mithril.
So that was it—the Goddess of Darkness, who blessed creatures of the night, must have ties to this goddess of endings. A truth I honestly wished I didn’t know.
Next, I tested the fragment of the Goddess of Creation. Expecting the same chaos, I prepared myself—but the mana flowed smoothly. It felt natural, like it belonged. All ten kilos transformed into Saint Mithril.
Light and creation… she must be closer to this current world, more aligned with me. That’s probably why the mana resonated so easily.
Now I had ten kilos each of Saint Mithril and Evil Mithril, plus two kilos of reforged ordinary mithril that I later re-upgraded with the Endings fragment. Twenty kilos total of high-tier metal—and no idea what to do with it. Making an inner armor for myself was pointless; I’d just finished Genbu.
Dahlia’s equipment required high mithril enhanced by eggs, not divine cores. Her system worked better that way. So these materials… had no use at all.
(So it’s true, Tatara-san—you really do carry out wild experiments for fun.)
”Wha—!?”
The sudden voice from behind nearly made me drop the metal. I spun around to see Chef standing there, silver hair shining, green eyes narrowed. She was holding the plush toy I’d made for her, hugging it tight. Maybe she actually liked it.
(I heard from my sister—you advanced the world’s Arcane Armor technology. Seeing this, I understand why. You’re performing literal miracles.)
”Wait—Chef? Why are you even here?”
(If my sister can appear behind you, then so can I. We share the same blood.)
”That doesn’t explain anything!”
I wanted a reason, not a shared skillset.
(I have another request. No deadline.)
”A request?”
(Yes. I think you can guess—it’s about my armor.)
”…You’re joking, right?”
The armor she meant wasn’t ordinary. It was a divine weapon on par with Archangel’s sword, designed to sustain her immense power. Chef’s armor was a balance type—no single focus, but its overall performance was terrifying. In the game, it boosted all stats by a hundred points except for luck and movement. A total monster of a relic.
(I’ve researched your actions on the surface. They border on insanity. I can’t understand why you weren’t exiled after forging my sister’s sword. Still, your craftsmanship is undeniably world-class. You even managed to handle those divine cores I gave you as a joke. So yes—I’d like to commission you to rebuild or upgrade my armor.)
”…You’re serious?”
(Completely. Also, drop the formal tone. I’m not my sister—I don’t like distance between us.)
She’d insulted me plenty before getting to the point—but in the end, she’d come to recognize my crafting skill and ask for help. And now, apparently, we were on a first-name basis.
”Well, I’ll take the job. First, can I see your current armor?”
(Of course. Please examine it.)
Following my request, Chef pulled her Arcane Armor from her inventory. It looked less like traditional armor and more like a powered suit—almost like one of those spiritual mechs from a certain flower-themed war story. Personally, I preferred the kind that transformed into a flying dragon, but that would’ve been a nightmare to build. In any case, I’d either need to rebuild this one from the ground up or craft an entirely new frame.
(Do you need me to provide materials?)
”If possible, yeah. I’m running low on orichalcum and adamantite.”
(Understood. Please use these.)
She reached into her inventory again—and produced mountains of metal. Fifty kilos of mithril. Thirty of orichalcum. Twenty of adamantite. My head hurt just thinking about the street value.
”…Mind if I ask a few things first?”
(Something full of passion and romance, please.)
”Try being more specific.”
(Then start by analyzing my armor, and infuse it with your own touch.)
What a reckless request. Analyzing her armor? I wasn’t even sure my brain could survive appraising something of that level. Still, I’d try.
”Some parts are worn down,” I said, “but let me show you my armor first. Tell me what functions you want. I’ll try, at least.”
(All right. Please show me.)
I brought out Genbu and mounted it on the armor rack, projecting its status display into the air so Chef could read it.
”Now, this—”
(Wait! Before that, please give me that armor rack!)
”…I’ll make you your own once your armor’s done. Just bring the materials then.”
(Deal!)
She was just like Dahlia. Well, I couldn’t blame her—my rack was a labor of love.
When you aim for top performance, size grows naturally. Compact designs are overrated; extra space means room for upgrades and reinforcement later. Expandability is key.
If I added my techniques, then of course I’d include flight. Magic bombardment too—it’d make combat far more versatile. The armor plating would be an alloy of all three metals, with every gram of adamantite used there. The main frame would be forged mithril, the joints and spine forged orichalcum. Movement would rely on the new artificial muscles powered by sublimated mithril.
I jotted everything into a design blueprint and turned to show her—only to find Chef leaning over my shoulder, eyes wide and glowing like a fanatic.
”…Chef, what’s that look for?”
(Tatara-san, what exactly am I looking at?)
”It’s called a blueprint. For your new armor.”
(Why are you trying to build something this insane—actually no, keep going!)
Yeah. Her enthusiasm was leaking through.
”Anyway, any features you want to add?”
(Hmm. Limit the magic bombardment to the right arm, please. Concentrating it there should increase output.)
Good suggestion. Getting insight straight from a system-linked being like her was helpful—it wasn’t quite reverse engineering, but it expanded my options.
”If we had a strong enough Soul Core, I could integrate it. Got any?”
(Then use these.)
And of course, she pulled out the fragments of the Goddess of Endings and the Goddess of Creation again. I just stared. Why does she even have multiple of these?
”…You have more of those?”
(Not that many. I only have one more of each left.)
Just one more set, she says—still terrifying.
I started by using the fragments to forge new mithril. From them, I made forty kilos of sublimated metal—twenty Saint Mithril, twenty Evil Mithril—and channeled mana through both. That’s when I discovered something: the Saint variant needed light mana, and the Evil one needed dark. Mixing them weakened the output, probably from mana repulsion. No point trying to fix that; I’d just build around it.
Next came measuring Chef’s body for the pilot frame—neck, shoulders, arms, waist, hips, legs. I… skipped the chest. I valued my life, and I could already imagine Archangel dropping in, sword drawn.
Using those measurements, I forged the cockpit frame from orichalcum—about ten kilos, matching the average bone weight for her 155-centimeter height. She was a little taller than Dahlia. I could feel her staring daggers at me while I worked, but I ignored it and kept going.
Once the new pilot frame was ready, I removed the old internal skeleton from her armor and replaced it. Since orichalcum was a mind-reactive metal, her control synchronization should skyrocket. I fine-tuned the internal fittings, rebuilt the spell formulas, and adjusted the circuits.
Then I stripped off the arm and leg plating and started redesigning the internals. I used eighty kilos of mithril from my own stock to forge a new inner frame. Each limb would move through artificial muscles, with orichalcum in every joint. I layered adjustable enhancement formulas over both the frame and the muscles. The right arm’s internal structure matched an Arcane Gun, embedding a compressed fragment of the Goddess of Endings in the right shoulder and one of Creation in the left. The system circulated mana separately through each side, preventing opposite flows from colliding and exploding.
Finally, I began building the flight system. I made a connector frame on the back and started crafting the propulsion unit. Chef, looking nervous, handed me more orichalcum and mithril—thankfully. I thanked her and forged a new alloy, dividing it into wings and engines. The wings received Angelic Flight formulas for lift, while the engines inhaled air, compressed it, and expelled it after heating it with divine-core mana.
It was basically an evolved jet engine powered by mana stones, though with slightly lower thrust. Still, since Fluid Mana Stones weren’t exactly renewable, this version made more sense. When I ran a test, everything worked flawlessly on the first try. For that alone, I silently thanked the gods.
To finish, I melted down the remaining armor plates and fused them with the leftover metals into a new alloy. I hammered it into one massive sheet, fought through the ridiculous surge in magical defense with Crafting until I broke through, and then cut and shaped each piece to fit. The knee joints got compact high-power motors—each fitted with a drill. The right arm received new spell formulas to compress mana bullets to a denser, deadlier degree. The left arm’s palm was etched with barrier and warding runes to enhance defense. Finally, I carved the face of a lion into the breastplate and stood back. Done.
It was an Arcane Armor born from pure inspiration and limitless resources—materials that only a poster girl could casually carry. Frankly, I doubted anyone but Chef could even operate it.
(…I know I’m the one who requested this, but isn’t this a bit much?)
Don’t turn reasonable now. You didn’t say a word to stop me earlier.
”I just packed in everything I could do, everything worth doing. It’s the ultimate expression of craftsmanship and romance. You said that’s what you wanted, right?”
(When did I ever ask for this much?)
”You never told me to stop either.”
She looked exasperated, but her eyes said something else entirely—she wanted to hop in and take it for a spin right now.
(Does it have a name?)
”Uh… let’s go with Gagaga. The Fangs That Surpass Me.”
(That explanation sounds suspiciously loaded.)
Well, yeah. Anyone who caught the reference would know. Between the lion on the chest and the drills on the knees, I’d clearly been thinking of that mecha series.
”Next up, I just need to build its custom hanger. Got any iron left?”
(Barely. My stock of rare metals is nearly gone, but I still have plenty of iron.)
She produced about a hundred kilos of it. Do poster girls just carry everything? I didn’t ask. Instead, I reforged it into demonsteel and shaped it into a heavy-duty hanger designed specifically for Gagaga. I built in a floating holographic display that used modified appraisal magic to show armor status and maintenance warnings. If something ever went wrong—though I doubted it could—she could bring it straight to me.
(Including the hanger, this is an incredible piece of work. Thank you.)
”Yeah, I… honestly don’t know how to respond to that.”
She was being polite with “incredible.” Terrifying was probably closer.
(Now that I have equipment this powerful, what exactly am I supposed to fight?)
”Reality?”
(Would you like me to demonstrate the difference in our power right now?)
”…Sorry.”
Damn. I couldn’t even argue when the stat gap was that wide.
(Still, I can’t let such effort go unrewarded. Please, take this.)
”…Wait, seriously?”
She handed over another load of metal—fifty kilos of mithril, thirty of orichalcum, twenty of adamantite. Enough to finish Dahlia’s armor once I had the eggs.
(…Since you’re only human, I’ll tell you something about my sister.)
”Wait, Archangel? What happened? Is she in trouble!?”
(Calm down.)
The mention of Archangel instantly tensed me up. Her story events were over in the game, but here, time didn’t follow scripts. If anything were to threaten her again, I’d stop it—no matter what it cost me.
Even if I was cast out of this world, I owed her that much.
(My sister acts daily to protect your ordinary life. As long as you live out your human lifespan, this town’s peace will remain.)
”…My lifespan, huh.”
(Yes. But that protection doesn’t extend to your children—or their children.)
”Fair enough.”
Her debt was to me, not my descendants. That much made sense.
(If you want your future children to live in peace, then aim for the deepest part of the dungeon.)
”…What?”
(At its depths lies a calamity my sister sealed away with her own power. To destroy it completely is the condition for your descendants to live free of its shadow.)
The deepest floor of the dungeon—the birthplace of Whirlwind itself. The thing that created all other dungeons. In the game, it was the ultimate challenge. Now it was my next goal.
(If you truly decide to challenge it… I’ll lend you my strength. Provided you meet one condition.)
”And that would be?”
(The cooperation of all my sisters—including Archangel.)
Of course it was. That alone made it a near-impossible task. If Chef’s request was any indication, their full cooperation meant each of their final armaments had to be complete.
(Once that’s achieved, I’ll fight for this town’s future with all my power.)
Her eyes were steady—calm, unwavering. She meant every word.
Maybe my children should fight their own battles. But if even someone like me could do something for their future, then I would.
(That said, I won’t help you seduce my sisters.)
”Can we drop the womanizer label already?”
(But it’s true. My sister fell for you, and I…)
”…Wait, what?”
(N-no! That’s not what I meant! Not at all!)
Chef’s face went red as she waved her hands in panic. Maybe poster girls weren’t exactly experienced with… feelings. Hopefully she wouldn’t get led astray by some worse guy down the line.
(Anyway! I’m heading back for now! If I need something else made, I’ll come again!)
”Sure. If you ever want a custom knife, I’ll forge you something special.”
(Oh, I’ll look forward to that. Farewell for now.)
She curtseyed gracefully, stowed both the armor and hanger into her inventory, and departed.
A new goal had taken root within me: to reach the lowest level of the dungeon.
For the sake of my children’s future.
But first, I still had to deal with Tatia’s report about the student movement. One step at a time.
Notes:
• Dahlia – The automaton.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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