Chapter 48 The Blacksmith’s Encounter
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
After the Archangel’s bombshell warning, I watch her leave, lost in thought. Yohira mentioned it before, but getting a direct warning from a system entity about being banished from this world? I think. Does it mean I should stop inventing new things? Or is there another reason? No answers come.
The Alchemist’s Egg—aka the Philosopher’s Stone—is dangerous, no question. It’s like a Soul Core. With it, someone could theoretically create a god. But they’d lack the divine authority, so it’d just be a powerful being, right? Or could defeating a god let you steal that power?
I shake off these pointless thoughts and step outside. I head to the Church of the Healer Maiden [T/N: Goddess of healing].
I forgot to restock the goddess healing potion [T/N: Divine elixir] after giving one to Yohira. With trouble brewing, I need to stock up on recovery items.
At the church, an elderly sister in soothing white, blue, and green robes sweeps fallen leaves, her presence calming the crowd. “Long time no see, Sister Kareha,” I say.
”Oh, Tatara-san, it’s been a while,” she replies gently. She’s been a sister since I was a kid—a true veteran.
”I’m here for some healing potions,” I say. “Can I make a donation?”
”My, my,” she says with a smile. “I heard about that fiery young lady from out of town. Your doing, I presume? In that case, the Maiden’s potions are a must.”
”Yeah, we used one, and it worked like a charm,” I say. “Our regular healing items couldn’t compare. I can’t thank the Healer Maiden enough for her mercy.”
The Maiden’s blessed potions never lose potency, no matter how they’re stored. They’d only fail if the world lost faith in her, I think. I respect the Maiden a lot.
When my parents were badly injured as a kid, her potions healed them without a trace of scars. I’ve been coming to the church to give thanks ever since, though less often now. I even take their requests with little to no fee, I recall, though they rarely ask a non-believer like me.
”Please, step up to the altar,” Kareha says. “I’ll fetch the potions.”
”Thank you,” I reply.
I walk to the altar, kneel on one knee, and clasp my hands in prayer. I thank the Maiden for watching over the world and pray for Ethelena and the others’ safe return.
Suddenly, I feel a hand gently stroke my head. I look up, startled, but only the goddess statue stands there. No one’s around.
Just my imagination? I wonder.
It happens sometimes when I pray alone here. It started even before my parents died—not some desperate fantasy of a grieving kid.
”Sorry for the wait, Tatara-san,” Kareha calls, holding a heavy wooden box. “This is all we can spare today.”
I rush over to take the box from her. She’s not young anymore—she shouldn’t strain herself, I think, hoping she stays healthy.
”My, my, you’re strong, Tatara-san,” she says, chuckling.
”That’s not important,” I say. “You didn’t hurt your back or anything, did you?”
”Oh, I’m fine,” she laughs. “I may be old, but my HP’s still top-notch.”
Her gentle smile makes me relax, though she’s got a knack for worrying people. She seems sweet, but she’s tougher than most, I think.
Bet she had plenty of suitors back in the day. Even now, you can tell she’s a beauty.
I check the potions in the box, set it down, and pull 500,000 from my inventory to donate. “That’s quite a sum,” Kareha says, surprised.
”The Maiden’s helped me a lot,” I say. “It’s just a small gesture.”
They say the Healer Maiden shared the healing potion recipe in an era when injuries often led to death. I can make them too, but without her, that knowledge wouldn’t exist.
That’s why I respect her, I think. She keeps people healthy. As a non-believer, all I can do is donate to help the church stay strong. I don’t hold back.
”I wish you were a follower of the Maiden,” Kareha says, smiling.
”I’m not built for faith,” I reply. “If I joined, people might think I’m after the potion trade’s profits. That’d hurt the church’s image.”
That’s why Crafters and merchants rarely follow the Healer Maiden. The more devout they are, the less likely they join her sect.
Me? I just can’t believe in anything like that.
”Hanyaaa!?” a piercing scream and a crashing sound interrupt us.
I instinctively step in front of Kareha to shield her, but she just sighs, touching her cheek.
”That girl’s at it again,” she says. “I hope she’s not hurt.”
She’s used to this? I think, stunned. That voice sparks a bad feeling.
It’s from the game this world’s based on—Beyond the Deep Darkness. I’d forgotten, but this church is home to a main heroine. An orphan raised by an unnamed elderly sister—Kareha, I guess—she’s got immense innate strength and was shunned for it. Shortest of the heroines, with the biggest chest, she had the most… revealing event art and graced the game’s cover.
”Sister Ranka, are you okay?” Kareha calls.
”Wah, sorry, Sister Kareha!” Ranka replies, stumbling out in a Healer Maiden robe, soft colors now smudged with dirt. Her white hair and glasses frame a tearful face, her chest—bigger than Tatia’s but smaller than Ethelena’s—drawing attention. Bet she’s a hit with certain folks, I think.
But her stats are pure vanguard, I recall. She starts with Physical Attack Boost, Physical Defense Boost, Magic Defense Boost, and Hammer Mastery—no faith magic despite being a sister.
She’s meant to heal but ends up smashing enemies on the front lines. Her HP, attack, and defenses grow insanely, making her a top-tier tank from start to finish. Clumsy, sure, but one of the most reliable in a fight.
Ranka notices me, blinking.
”Um, Sister Kareha? Who’s this guy?” she asks.
”This is Tatara-san, a local Crafter,” Kareha says. “He donated today, so I shared some potions as thanks.”
”What!?” Ranka gasps. “Sister Kareha, you’re so stingy with potions! What’s going on!?”
Hey, don’t air internal stuff like that with me here, I think.
Kareha’s always given me potions when I donate. I’ve made her supports for her legs and back, even sent carnations on Mother’s Day after my parents died, but that’s not enough for special treatment, right?
”My, my, Sister Ranka,” Kareha says, teasing. “You make it sound like I’m favoring him like a grandson. That’s not very kind.”
Kareha’s voice is as calm as ever, but it carries a heavy pressure.
Sister Ranka looks like she’s about to cry. Better apologize quick, I think, feeling a shiver myself.
”S-s-s-sorry, Sister Kareha!” Ranka stammers. “Our church helps everyone equally!”
She’s so rattled, it sounds like she’s reciting a script, I think, almost laughing.
”Um, Sister Kareha?” I say.
”Yes, Tatara-san?” she replies, smiling but with eyes that don’t. “Our church treats everyone fairly, you know.”
That’s scary, I think.
But that’s not what’s on my mind. “That crash earlier… did some dishes break?”
”Oh…” Kareha says, pausing.
”I’m a Crafter,” I say. “I’ll bring some replacements later. Please accept them.”
”That’s…” she hesitates.
”Please, Sister Kareha,” I say, catching myself. Almost called her Mom again. It’s a bad habit from when I was a kid—she reminds me of my late mother. I used to mix them up, and I still haven’t kicked it.
”Fine,” Kareha says, her voice warm, almost pleased. “If you insist so strongly, it’d be rude to refuse. I’ll accept your donation.”
She sounds happy about it, I think. One more thing.
”That was Sister Ranka, right? She probably eats a lot, doesn’t she?”
”Well, yes,” Kareha says, surprised. “She’s slim, but she eats more than you’d think.”
”Here, for her food expenses,” I say, handing over another 50,000 from my wallet.
Kareha looks shocked, but this comes from my game knowledge. Ranka’s muscle density is several times higher than normal, and her Mana-enhanced strength is off the charts. That means she needs way more food than most, but church life is frugal, so she’s often underfed. In the game Beyond the Deep Darkness, she starts weak because of this.
I picked her route first because she looked so happy when I fed her enough, I recall. I grinded for cash to let her eat her fill, and somehow that triggered her route. She’s officially the “sexy sister,” and her wild side lived up to it. My younger self was… grateful.
”She’s got more strength than most,” I say. “Probably needs extra food because of it. Sister Kareha, you and this church saved me when I was young. Now let me help you and the church. Please.”
I bow deeply. This means more than some game heroine, I think.
The sister and church that helped me come first. It’s like honoring my mom in a small way. I want to support them, even with little things.
”Alright,” Kareha says, her tone a mix of resignation and amusement. “I’ll accept your kindness.”
”Thank you, Sister Kareha!” I say, catching myself again. “I mean, not Mom—Sister Kareha!”
”That habit of almost calling me Mom,” she says, chuckling. “You need to fix that, Tatara-san.”
Ugh, slipped again, I think. Gotta kick this before I embarrass her.
”I’ll grab those dishes and be back,” I say. “Sorry for the trouble.”
”Come back anytime,” Kareha says, waving gently.
I wave back and jog home, Ranka waving too with quick reflexes. She’s got good reaction speed, I note. At the workshop, I craft a set of Mithril dishes for four—plates, cups, the works.
They’re spares, might as well use them, I think. I bring them to the Church of the Healer Maiden, claiming it took time to find the right ones. Kareha seems to see through the excuse but doesn’t call me out.
As I’m leaving, someone enters—a boy shorter than me, maybe 170 cm, with silver-gray hair and yellow eyes, a bit younger than I am. We nearly bump, so I step aside.
”Hey, sorry,” I say.
”No worries,” he replies casually, passing by.
”Gramma, I got hurt—gimme some healing potion!” he shouts inside.
”Smith-kun!?” Ranka exclaims. “Calling Sister Kareha ‘Gramma’ is rude!”
”Sister Ranka?” he says.
”Eek!” she squeaks.
I turn back, stunned.
Only one person in the game gets called ‘Smith-kun’ by Ranka, I think. “Smith Santorina… that was the main protagonist.”
It was just a passing moment, but what an encounter. He shows up in the game, but he’s forgettable, I think.
Unlike other protagonists with cool or striking event art, Smith’s moments are mostly him making dumb faces or acting goofy. Guess that’s why he doesn’t stick in your head.
”Whatever,” I mutter. “I only care about dealing with Sister Kareha.”
I say it to myself, hoping it doesn’t jinx me. Please don’t turn into a flag. I head to the commercial district for shopping. I can craft almost anything with the right materials, but lately, iron’s been scarce. Normally, you’d buy it in the business district, but sometimes the commercial district has shops selling cheap scrap iron. I buy it low, recycle it in my workshop, and maybe get one or two ingots.
It’s a hassle, but it’s a quarter the price of buying new, I think. Turning it into Demonsteel for sale can net twenty times the cost—shady, but profitable. Still, getting tons of Mithril but no iron is ridiculous. I could run out of sellable stuff soon. Crafting fees alone won’t cut it.
Normally, you’d make stuff like Goblin Killer from Goblin drops, Meat Chopper from Orc, Garagaradon from Trolls, or Core Breaker from Golems. But Tatia’s skill messes with drops, so we mostly get Mana Stones, which let me make things like levitation stones or the Alchemist’s Egg.
Those are too special to sell easily, I think. Even the Whirlwind party might not afford the crafting fees. The City Mayor dodged talking about fees—kinda ominous in hindsight.
Lost in thought, I feel a jolt in my chest. “Kyuuun!?” a high-pitched yelp follows, and something hits the ground.
I look down to see a small girl sprawled out, eyes spinning. “Hey, you okay!?” I shout, rushing over.
She’s familiar but dressed oddly—like a ninja, but more like a game version. No sleeves, spandex shorts, totally “NINJA” or KUNOICHI. She’s out of place in Whirlwind, I think. While I’m analyzing, she doesn’t respond to my calls.
I’m responsible for bumping her, but touching her could get me in trouble, I think. Best case: keep calling until she wakes, apologize, and leave. Next best: if she doesn’t wake, find a woman nearby to help and get a doctor. Worst case: carry her to a hospital myself.
Why do I feel like I’m doomed no matter what I choose? I think, still calling out to the girl.
Then, a loud growl rumbles—her stomach. The crowd around us goes silent, like a fairy just passed by.
”I’m… so hungry-degozaru…” she mumbles, her voice pure cliché.
Really, a templated line? I think, but I don’t waste time.
I rush to nearby food stalls, grabbing anything that smells good. The crowd pitches in, gathering drinks and snacks.
”Here, eat this,” I say, propping her up and holding a skewer of meat near her mouth. The spicy aroma must hit her, because her nose twitches. The crowd watches, holding their breath.
Slowly, she leans forward and takes a bite. “So… delicious-degozaru…” she says, her voice full of heart.
Her words hit deep, making some in the crowd sniffle. I keep offering food, and she devours it, murmuring “delicious” with every bite.
”Ugh, cough cough,” she chokes.
”Need a drink?” I ask. “This is spiced, but it’s good.”
I tilt the cup carefully so it doesn’t spill down her throat.
Her pale neck moves as she swallows, finishing the whole thing. Her eyes finally focus.
”Hey, you okay? Can you move yet?” I ask, holding another piece of food.
She snaps upright, suddenly scarfing down the food at lightning speed.
Is it safe to eat like that after starving? I wonder, setting more food within her reach. She demolishes everything, then chugs a Crafting Drink I bought nearby like it’s a victory toast.
”Phew! Thanks for the feast-degozaru!” she exclaims.
Her impressive eating earns applause from the crowd. She scratches the back of her head, nodding sheepishly.
She seems fine now, but she feels like trouble, I think. Better leave with a quick apology.
”You look okay now,” I say. “Sorry for bumping into you.”
”No, no!” she says, waving it off.
”Then I’m out,” I say, turning to go.
The moment I step away, something slams into my waist.
”This must be fate!” she cries, grabbing me. “Help me-degozaru!”
”Go to the patrol unit first,” I say. “Get help from the authorities.”
”No way-degozaru!” she protests. “I came from far-off Hizuru-degozaru, but I can’t read, so I didn’t understand the entry process-degozaru! They wouldn’t listen, so I ran, got chased for three days and nights, couldn’t use my money, couldn’t eat, got surrounded by creepy guys threatening my purity! I’m at my limit-degozaru!”
”That’s all your own doing!” I snap. “I’m turning you over to the patrol unit!”
Worse than Yohira’s messes, I think. The crowd senses trouble and starts calling for the patrol unit.
”Let go!” I yell. “What, you trying to strip me, you pervert!?”
”I’m a pure maiden-degozaru!” she retorts. “Not some player!”
”That’s not the point! Let go!” I say.
”No way-degozaru!” she insists. “You fed me, so it’s legal—you’re responsible-degozaru!”
”That makes no sense!” I shout, ready to give up arguing. Where’s the patrol unit? Save me already.
The patrol unit arrives, and I think, Gotcha now.
”Your luck’s run out!” I say. “Surrender quietly!”
”You tricked me-degozaru!” she cries. “After being so kind!”
”Kindness got me roped into your mess!” I retort.
The patrol unit raises their Sticky Launchers. I’ll get caught if I stay close, I think.
I grab her hands, spin her around, and expose her to the patrol. A sharp pop rings out as the launcher fires.
”Kyauun!?” she yelps, the same weird noise from when we collided.
I glance back—her lower half is stuck to the ground with sticky goo. Nice aim, patrol unit, I think.
”What’s this-degozaru!?” she shrieks. “Men shot white, sticky stuff all over my lower half-degozaru!?”
”Don’t say it like that!” I snap. She’s making the patrol look bad.
”Stop it!” she cries. “You’re gonna rough me up, like in those Ehon books! Like in Ehon!”
Ehon means dirty books, doesn’t it? I think. She’s pulling internet meme lines now.
”Like those Immigration Bureau goons, you’re gonna strip me-degozaru!” she accuses.
”Whoa, hold up,” I say. This is getting weird.
”They’ll make women handle me, strip me, and do yuri stuff!” she rants. “They can take my purity, but not my heart-degozaru!”
”Wait a sec,” I say, piecing it together. “Did you hide weapons under your clothes, get stopped by Immigration, refuse to show them, and then run?”
She goes silent, sweating buckets. The crowd’s sympathetic looks turn suspicious.
She sticks out her tongue and winks. “Tehe♪” she says.
”Grab her!” the patrol unit shouts, fed up.
I press a spot on her arm to loosen her grip, and she lets go, stunned. The patrol unit swarms, pinning her down.
”Kyauun! Why, why-degozaru!?” she wails.
”You didn’t follow proper entry rules!” I say. “Just explain your purpose and work with the officials!”
”I can’t trust them-degozaru!” she insists.
”You don’t trust, so they don’t trust you,” I retort. “Get it?”
She’s worse than Tatia was at the start—half-reasonable but a total mess, I think.
Her look and speech suggest she’s tied to Yohira, maybe from the Torakuma family? No, even they wouldn’t send someone this chaotic.
A loud flapping sound interrupts, followed by a gust of wind. Something lands beside the pinned girl, blowing the patrol unit back. Left standing are the sticky-covered girl and a new figure—a person with jet-black hair cut to their shoulders, sharp black eyes glaring at me.
They wear a white hunting robe, like from an old samurai drama, with high geta sandals, a large fan in their right hand, and a katana [T/N: Japanese sword] at their left hip. Most striking are the black wings on their back—not angelic, no halo. A youkai, I think.
”Tengu, huh?” I say.
The crowd and patrol unit turn to me, curious. Guess they didn’t know.
”Oh?” the Tengu says, raising an eyebrow. “You know my kind? We’re not well-known, being distant from our homeland.”
”I’ve got my sources,” I reply. “So, what’s one of Hizuru’s three great youkai doing in Whirlwind?”
”Two things,” they say. “First, I’m here to find someone, sent by my master. Second…”
They turn to the ninja girl, who’s grinning triumphantly, and smack her hard on the head.
”You idiot!” they yell. “Why’d you skip the entry process and run!?”
”Kyauun!?” she yelps.
Poor Tengu, I think. They’ve got their hands full.
”I waited three days and nights in the Immigration Bureau, and you were gone!” the Tengu snaps. “Do you know how that felt!?”
”Sorry-degozaru, sorry-degozaru!” the ninja girl wails.
Three days and nights waiting? I think.
This Tengu’s a bit off too. Or maybe they didn’t know how to navigate a new place?
”If you’d behaved, we could’ve entered this town three days ago and found Yohira-sama!” the Tengu continues. “The staff were kind enough to tell us about the blacksmith’s shop!”
”Ow, ow, ow!” the ninja girl cries. “My tail’s gonna go bald-degozaru!”
”Take the bald tail and deal with it, you foolish fox!” the Tengu barks.
Calling the staff ‘kind’ with honorifics?
This Tengu’s a decent sort, I think. Wait, did they just say Yohira?
”Sorry to interrupt,” I say, raising my voice.
The ninja girl’s eyes light up, hopeful.
Sorry, I’m not here to save you, I think. Once the Tengu’s done, you’re going straight to the patrol unit.
”Hm, I’m busy scolding this foolish fox,” the Tengu says. “Can you wait?”
”Just one quick question,” I say. “You mentioned looking for someone, ordered by your master, right?”
”Yes,” the Tengu replies cautiously. “My master’s daughter got lost in this country, so this foolish fox and I were sent to retrieve her.”
”Was one of the conditions ‘someone who doesn’t get lost’?” I ask.
The crowd looks confused, but the Tengu’s guard goes up. “What’s the meaning of that question?” they ask.
”Alright, next question,” I say, ignoring their suspicion.
”Why are you asking me this?” the Tengu presses.
”Do you know Torakuma Yohira, the Oni Clan’s young lady?” I ask.
Their reaction is instant. The Tengu draws their Katana with blinding speed, pressing it to my throat.
The ninja girl, freed from the sticky trap, slips behind me, her small Katana at my neck. Didn’t even see them move, I think. This is bad.
”Answer,” the Tengu demands. “How do you know that name?”
”Please answer,” the ninja girl adds, her tone suddenly serious. “You fed me, but we need to know about our lady. Answer before we get rough.”
She was faking that goofy act? I think. I didn’t catch it at all.
”Answer one thing first,” I say. “It’ll decide if I can help you.”
I’m at their mercy, but I need clarity to move forward. The crowd’s worried, but they’re too far to help with blades this close.
”Fine,” the Tengu says. “Ask.”
”What’s the name of the blacksmith your master told you to find?” I say.
”Why does that matter?” they ask.
”I have a hunch,” I reply.
”We already know where they are,” the Tengu says.
”Really?” I counter. “In Whirlwind, with no sense of direction? Good luck finding anyone in these orderly streets.”
The Tengu’s expression shifts slightly.
Knew they were worried about getting lost, I think. Even with a map, this town’s layout is a maze.
”That’s not an issue,” the Tengu says, less certain.
”It is,” I insist. “Your clan’s got a reputation for getting lost, doesn’t it? That ‘Wanderer of Fate’ nickname?”
”How do you know that?” the Tengu asks, eyes narrowing.
Come on, can’t you piece it together by now? I think.
Before they can answer, a silver flash streaks from above. The Tengu and ninja girl leap back, dodging as the ground where they stood is slashed apart.
A knight lands behind me, standing back-to-back. Calmys-san, I realize, the saint blessed by the war god, the city’s strongest. Guess they’re the bigger threat.
I face the Tengu, repeating my question.
”One more time—tell me the blacksmith’s name. This doesn’t have to turn into a fight.”
”Enough, human,” the Tengu says. “I must fulfill my divine command. If you interfere, I’ll cut you down.”
”Just listen!” I snap. “This could make your mission way easier!”
Naming myself now might complicate things, I think. Didn’t the Acting Head of Family give them a description or something?
”Who are these two?” Calmys asks, her voice sharp.
”Envoys from the Torakuma family,” I reply.
”Then why are they threatening you?” she asks.
”An unlucky misunderstanding,” I say.
I summon my Black Iron Armor from my inventory, equipping it instantly.
The Tengu’s eyes widen in shock. Then, I pull out a one-meter Demonsteel baton, plain but designed for close combat when my Warhammer’s too slow.
”Sorry, Tengu,” I say. “You’re gonna listen, even if I have to knock some sense into you.”
”Try it, young one,” they reply.
Young one, huh? I think.
Guess something shifted their view of me. For now, I’ll hit them until they calm down. We can talk after.
—
Tatia Event Ongoing. Torakuma Event Started.
Note: Character details—Smith Santorina (German: blacksmith, flower: santolina), the original protagonist; Sister Ranka (flower: kasab Ranka), a heroine with erotic scenes; Sister Kareha (flower: withered leaf), a named character with no erotic art; Shamir (Arabic: sun), a character with erotic scenes; Est (Portuguese: star [Estrella]), a character with erotic scenes; youkai duo, new remake characters. Survey options: Sun’s Smile (Shamir route), Star’s Smile (Est route), Sun and Star (junior harem?), or “Give me your daughter, old man” (Rogas route).
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.
• Rogas – Tatara’s father friend.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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