Chapter 70 The Blacksmith Gets a Request
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”…Tatara-san, I know you like me, but pushing me down like that isn’t right.”
”Wait—please, that’s a misunderstanding!”
The Archangel, who usually radiated the serene aura of a transcendent being, was now reacting like a flustered maiden. Well… given that this whole series had been entirely devoid of adult content, maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched that she was still innocent.
”I may be a maid,” she went on, her tone trembling, “but that doesn’t mean maids all do indecent things, you know?”
”That’s… quite the denial of every adult game ever made.”
At least in the earliest RPGs that defined this world, the protagonist always turned his apostles into maids and did… certain things with them. And in every fantasy title, there was always at least one maid in the cast and one questionable scene thrown in. The artists and writers clearly had a type—some of those maid scenes were written with more passion than the main heroine’s routes.
”I know you and Ethelena-san are… intimate,” she continued, cheeks reddening, “and that you want a child together. But including me in that is just—well, I’m not emotionally ready for something like that.”
”Please, could you just stop and listen for a second?”
An Archangel ignoring someone’s voice—now that was new. Normally, she’d beam with that calm, eternal smile and listen for hours.
”I mean… I’m not in any position to become a bride,” she murmured softly.
”Okay, seriously. Could you please come back to reality?”
Her thoughts had clearly drifted somewhere beyond the clouds. Bride? What was that about? She’d never shown the slightest interest in marriage before. And more importantly—what exactly was she doing here today?
”I have admired wedding dresses before,” she confessed. “I’ve looked at all kinds and thought they were beautiful. But I’m a maid. I know my place.”
”…Archangel. What did you come here for, again?”
”I’ve thought that being with you, Tatara-san, might be fun,” she said with a wistful smile. “But our lifespans are so different. If you were to leave me behind, I’d probably shut myself away for a thousand years. That kind of goodbye… I don’t think I could bear it.”
”…Enough! Just listen already!”
Before I knew it, my hand had come down in a sharp chop to her head. The Archangel froze, clutching her crown and staring at me in shock.
”Look, that was an accident,” I said quickly.
”…An accident?” she echoed.
”Yes. I was chasing that bird-shaped golem you were playing with, it tried to escape, and I just happened to lunge in your direction.”
”…”
She didn’t say anything. Then, covering her face with both hands, her shoulders began to tremble.
”…You make me look like some delusional girl!”
”Well, seen from the outside… yeah, kinda.”
Not exactly something easy to smooth over. Still, I had to say something.
”Look, I do like you, Archangel. We’ve known each other a long time. You’ve been there for me during some really rough moments. But it’s more like—you were my first crush when I was a kid, that sort of thing. Those feelings faded a long time ago.”
”…Wait, I was your first crush?” she asked, eyes widening.
”That’s what you picked up on?”
Of all the details to latch onto…
”Ah… oh no. I’m sorry?” she said meekly.
”It’s fine. That’s ancient history. And besides, I have Ethelena now. If anything, I should be the one apologizing.”
”…So I’m the one being rejected?” she whispered, crestfallen.
She looked genuinely downcast—but she’d just been talking about lifespan differences a moment ago! Sure, maybe when I was a kid I’d have said something innocent like, *When I grow up, let’s get married!* But being a reincarnator tends to complicate things. Your body might pull you one way, but your mind knows better. Honestly, saying that kind of thing to an Archangel would’ve crossed a line anyway.
”So, can we get back to why you came here today?”
”Right… yes,” she said, slapping her cheeks lightly and straightening her posture. Her eyes met mine for a second—serious, focused. Whatever she was about to say, it mattered.
”Tatara-san, you’ve been making divine statues lately, haven’t you?”
”Uh, yeah?”
The statues. Those borderline blasphemous ones. If she’d come down just to talk about those, then this had to be serious.
”They’ve become… something of an issue in the Divine Realm,” she said gently.
”Oh, crap. Seriously?”
So they’d actually noticed. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame the Moon Goddess Sisters for getting angry—those pieces were a bit much, even for me.
”At the moment,” she continued, “you’ve only made statues for the War God and the twin Moon Goddesses. The other deities are starting to complain that it’s unfair.”
”…Wait, what?”
Had I just heard that right?
”They’re asking me to make more?”
”Yes,” she nodded. “The gods themselves sent me with that request.”
”You’re kidding…”
I could only gape. That was not the reaction I’d expected.
”Especially the Healer Maiden,” the Archangel added. “She always comes down to hear your prayers, and she’s quite upset that she hasn’t gotten a statue of her own.”
”…I really didn’t need to know that.”
The Healer Maiden, of all people? I actually liked her—or rather, respected her. The idea of making something that might ruin her image made my stomach turn.
”Why not try making one for her now?” the Archangel suggested brightly.
”I’ll probably get smited.”
”It’ll be fine! I’ll deliver it personally,” she said cheerfully.
”You sure move fast…”
With a sigh, I pulled a chunk of mithril from my inventory and projected the image in my mind. Focusing on my gratitude for all her help, I shaped the metal into the likeness of the Healer Maiden. When the glow faded, the statue stood complete.
A small table set for tea, a gentle woman smiling as she gestured for you to sit across from her—a perfectly serene, utterly sacrilegious piece of art.
”So, uh… here’s the Healer Maiden’s statue,” I said weakly.
”Oh! It’s adorable!” the Archangel beamed. “No wonder the gods are jealous!”
”…Right.”
At this point, I was beyond words. The War God’s version already felt like pushing boundaries, but this was… something else.
”Oh, and the Machine God also wants one!” she added. “So if you have time, please make his too!”
”I get the feeling I’ll end up making statues for every god I know…”
Some of the gods—like the aloof goddess of darkness or the light goddess who created the angels—probably wouldn’t care. But the god of drink and the god of commerce? Yeah, I could already see that future coming.
”And one more thing,” the Archangel said.
”Yes?”
”I’d like one too. For me and my sisters!”
”…I’m sorry, what!?”
What was she saying!? Had she lost her mind?
”You want *those* kinds of statues—for the Archangels!?” I stammered. “Wouldn’t the gods smite us for that!?”
”Oh, not *those* kinds!” she said quickly, waving her hands. “I mean actual statues. Proper ones of us!”
So… she wanted me to sculpt the banner angels themselves. Was she serious?
”I’ve heard you mention your sisters before,” I said, “but I’ve never actually met them.”
”Oh, that’s right,” the Archangel replied. “You’ve gotten so used to me that I forgot—your connection to us only exists through me.”
In the past games, every time a new “poster girl” was added to the roster, the Archangel’s screen time would be pushed further back. To make up for it, her abilities were buffed—but in *Beyond the Deep Darkness*, she appeared right from the start. Following that logic, it made sense that she’d be the first one I met in this world. Still, I’d already cleared her story event back then. So why was something new happening now?
”Well then,” she said cheerfully, “next time I’ll bring my sisters along to introduce them!”
”Please don’t.”
For the love of all that’s holy, don’t casually invite beings even more terrifying than the gods down to earth. My stomach was already on the verge of destruction, like the city mayor’s during a budget crisis.
Anyway, I should probably just give her the statue.
I pulled a bar of mithril from my inventory and projected her image in my mind. Memories flooded back—our battles, our laughter, her unwavering smile. I poured all of it into the metal. When the glow faded, the statue was complete: a familiar figure of the Archangel.
She stood with both arms open, a radiant smile lighting her face—the same smile from the *Beyond the Deep Darkness* ending still, when she’d said farewell not in sorrow, but in gratitude. The only difference was that instead of feathered angel wings, this version bore wings of gleaming silver blades. Looking at her like this, her smile seemed almost too carefree… as if she didn’t have a single worry in the world.
”Oh! You finished?” she said, noticing my expression.
I nodded and handed her the statue.
”So this is… how you see me,” she murmured softly. Then curiosity got the better of her—she flipped the statue upside down, peeked beneath its skirt, and turned bright red.
”T–Tatara-san!? Why did you even sculpt the underwear!?”
”I swear, that wasn’t on purpose!”
When I project an image like that, I don’t focus on the tiny details. The process is half-automatic—a kind of skill-driven visualization. I don’t micromanage the, uh, anatomy.
”And how,” she went on, voice trembling, “do you even know what my favorite kind looks like…?”
”I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Honestly, I thought that area would just be filled in solid. For that matter, none of the “poster girls,” including the Archangel, had ever appeared in anything revealing—aside from a few hot spring scenes. So where did that underwear design even come from? If it was part of the skill’s auto-rendering, then maybe the world itself had decided that was canon. That was… unsettling.
”Still,” she said after a moment, face flushed but smiling, “the details are amazing. Even the folds in the fabric and the smile—it’s wonderful. I’ll take it.”
”Uh… sure.”
So she *was* taking it. I didn’t really get it, but fine. Without another word, she left—cradling the statue against her chest as if it were something precious. I couldn’t help thinking that wasn’t strictly necessary.
—
”I don’t like it when you call anyone else ‘Mother,’ you know.”
Ethelena’s voice reached me as she pressed gently against my back, hands working to knead the tension from my shoulders.
”She’s more like a mentor who’s been looking after me since before I even met you,” I said with a faint laugh. “Sister Kareha’s practically family.”
We were in the couple’s bath, lying on a waterproof mat. Ethelena was giving me a massage, her warmth pressed close. I’d tried to bathe alone after the Archangel left, but Ethelena had slipped in behind me before I could protest. I’d thought it might be too much after everything lately—but then I remembered she’d been struggling to get enough nutrition for her growing body, so I let her stay.
According to her, my life force had been weakening, so she wanted to “recharge” me with a massage first. Personally, I had a hunch the reason my energy was low had something to do with her draining it almost daily…
Her fingers worked with practiced rhythm, easing the knots in my muscles. My blood flowed warmly, my body relaxing more and more. The comfort was almost too much—sleep began to pull me under. Unfortunately, the relaxation also woke up another part of me.
”Tatara, are you falling asleep?” she whispered.
”Yeah… maybe…”
Her voice drifted into my fading consciousness. I answered, but it came out as more of a mumble than words.
”You can’t sleep in the bath,” she said gently. “You’ll catch a cold. And besides…”
She rolled me onto my back. The sudden movement freed me from the mat’s pressure, and my body reacted immediately, standing tall in the cool air.
”With that thing so awake, if you just lie there helpless, I might end up taking advantage of you,” she teased.
Straddling me, she guided herself into position, the tip of me brushing against her warmth. Payback, perhaps—for that one time I’d started things while she was half-asleep.
”…If it’s you,” I murmured, eyes heavy, “then I don’t mind.”
”Oh, Tatara,” she sighed with a tender smile. “You really are hopeless.”
Her voice softened, full of affection, as she lowered her hips. Heat and softness enveloped me completely, and for a moment, all coherent thought vanished.
”Mm… Tatara,” she whispered, playful and sultry. “I’ve eaten you all up. Tell me—what do you want me to do next?”
Her teasing tone melted into the air between us. The question slipped into my hazy mind, and before I could stop myself, the words came out.
”…I want you to have my child.”
”That might be difficult for now,” she said softly. “But… I’d like to, someday.”
Still joined, she leaned forward and rested her head against my chest. I ran my hand through her hair, gentle and slow. She purred faintly, like a cat melting into a familiar touch.
”Why do you want a child so much?” she asked.
”Partly because they call it the fruit of love,” I said. “But mostly… I just think our child would be really cute.”
”Mmm. So if it were my child, you’d be okay with it—even if it wasn’t yours?”
”…If that truly made you happy.”
”Don’t lie to me,” she whispered. “I’ve seen how much it hurt you when I asked that before.”
She was right. It would hurt. But if her happiness depended on it, I’d endure it again. Ethelena puffed her cheeks, her lips pressing into a pout as she frowned at me.
”Why do you always put yourself down like that?” she said quietly. “Every time I think you’ve learned to value yourself, you slip back again. Your self-esteem’s way too low. I’ve told you again and again—I need *you*, Tatara. And still, you keep thinking you’re not enough. Maybe the only way to fix that is if I really do have your baby.”
The roots of my low self-esteem probably traced back to my reincarnation—and losing my parents. I’d never been able to find value in my own life. Even when someone I loved told me I mattered, I couldn’t believe it. Maybe what I needed wasn’t more strength or love… but therapy.
”I thought maybe if I treated you like a baby, I could fill that emptiness,” Ethelena said, her voice hesitant. “But you always refuse. Do you hate it that much—playing baby?”
”Sorry. Yeah, that’s a hard no.”
”You answered that fast… even half-asleep.”
Her tone carried a small sting, but seriously—some lines couldn’t be crossed. The whole idea made my dignity curl up and die. No matter how much I adored her, that was one thing I couldn’t accept.
”Maybe,” I said dryly, “if you tried being the baby, you’d understand how it feels.”
Her eyes lit up. “Wait—does that mean you’d play the papa!?”
”No. Absolutely not. You sound way too excited.”
Why was she even *into* that idea? It wasn’t like I could breastfeed; at best I’d be feeding her bottled milk. I didn’t understand her tastes at all. And honestly, the thought of marriage suddenly felt… daunting.
”When a succubus grows stronger,” she said with a grin, “she can do all sorts of things, you know? I could turn myself into a baby—or turn *you* into one. I could make clones, or even swap our genders.”
”Please stop saying terrifying things so casually.”
Maybe I should’ve found a way to suppress her succubus power altogether. But that strength was inherited from her mother—I couldn’t take that away from her, even if part of me wanted to.
”Actually,” she went on, “the idea of you as the mommy taking care of baby me sounds *adorable*, right?”
”Dream over. Delete it.”
Why was she doubling down? If we ranked everyone in this house by how extreme their fetishes were, she’d win by miles. Honestly, if she ever found something kinkier than this, I’d be out of my depth entirely.
”You’re impossible,” she pouted.
”Please stop clenching like that in protest,” I hissed. “It’s—too much.”
”All you need to do,” she whispered, breath hot, “is finish inside me. My body’s maturing fast, and if a miracle happens and I get pregnant—well, that’d be wonderful, wouldn’t it?”
”Well… yeah, but…”
Something about this situation felt wrong. Did she even realize how weird this sounded?
Still pressed against me, Ethelena started to move again. Her motions were short and shallow, teasing more than thrusting, yet every subtle squeeze of her body sent pleasure crashing through me. Her rhythm wasn’t rough—it was devastatingly precise.
”You always act tough,” she said between soft laughs, “but you end up losing to me so easily.”
I couldn’t answer. The pleasure was overwhelming, flooding my brain until I couldn’t think. My body refused to move, my will crumbling under her relentless pace. Even if I could fight back, I’d only end up giving in—meeting her movements with my own, driven by pure instinct.
Ethelena straightened her back, shifting into a full straddle. Her hips began to move with mesmerizing precision, her breasts swaying heavily in time with each motion. The sight alone was enough to push me closer to the edge. I was helpless—entranced.
”Come on,” she whispered, voice trembling with desire. “Fill me up, Tatara. Mark me as yours. I want proof that I belong to no one else.”
Something in that plea broke the restraint inside me. My body moved on its own, flipping our positions so she was beneath me. The need to answer her—to *prove* that she was mine—burned through me like fire. My hips snapped forward, again and again, hard enough to make the water ripple.
The limit came fast. I pulled her close, burying myself as deep as I could, and released everything. She shuddered beneath me, her body tightening as she climaxed. I could feel her walls pulsing, milking every last drop from me.
”Tatara,” she whispered faintly. “Feeling better now?”
”…Yeah,” I breathed. “I think I am.”
Whether from the lingering magic or sheer closeness, her emotions flowed into me—warm, vivid, and real. Love. Tenderness. A trace of anxiety. Possessiveness that was almost suffocating. Beautiful and ugly, pure and selfish, all at once. I wondered if she could feel mine too—the fear of losing her, the desperate, ugly wish to keep her only for myself. I’d told myself I wanted her to be happy… but deep down, I wanted to be the one who made her happy. I’d tried to ignore that pathetic, selfish desire, telling myself her happiness was all that mattered.
I tried to pull back, afraid I might crush her with my weight—but she hooked her legs behind my waist, holding me there.
”No,” she murmured. “You’re not going anywhere. Your punishment is to keep hugging me and showing how much you love me.”
”…As you command, milady.”
I sat up, shifting so we were face to face, and wrapped her in my arms. Her wings folded around me like a cocoon, sealing us off from the world. For that moment, there was no heaven, no earth—only us.
* * *
The next morning, after we’d confirmed our love once again, we found ourselves side by side in the kitchen. We’d washed each other in the couple’s bath, and now we were cooking breakfast together.
I was making tartar sauce from scratch, while Ethelena worked on fried chicken nanban using a recipe I’d shown her. The night before, we’d soaked the chicken in a mixture of sugar and water, then drained and coated it—first in a batter of flour, egg, and water, then in starch before frying. She fried each piece twice: first at 160°C for a few minutes, resting them briefly between turns, then again at 180°C for a crisp finish. She didn’t use a timer, just her eyes to judge the perfect golden color—and somehow, every piece came out looking delicious.
Meanwhile, I worked the mayo base. Egg yolks, salt, vinegar—mix until thick, then slowly drizzle in olive oil while stirring to emulsify. When the texture turned creamy, I added chopped boiled eggs, minced onion, and a bit of basil, finishing with a touch of sugar. Back in my old world, I’d have swapped the onion for chopped pickles or even pickled radish for extra bite, but those didn’t exist here. Maybe I should ask Yohira if her family could send a pickling jar or two…
Next came the sweet vinegar glaze. Sugar, soy sauce, vinegar, and water in a pot—heat and stir until dissolved, then add a slurry of starch to thicken it to a glossy sheen.
We plated it all together: shredded lettuce at the base, Ethelena’s fried chicken on top, a generous drizzle of glaze, and a dollop of tartar sauce on the side. I’d meant to keep mine separate, but Ethelena insisted she wanted it the same way—so we poured both sauces over.
She took a bite, eyes widening with delight, and that alone made all the work worth it. Though I did remind her, quietly, that tartar sauce wasn’t exactly low in calories.
When Yohira and the foolish fox came down—with poor Hinagiku dragged along by the tail, half-asleep—we greeted them and began setting the dishes on the table. This morning’s miso soup was made with white miso and turnips; I’d wanted to add taro, but we were out. Daikon would’ve worked too, but since the ‘Whirlwind’ region didn’t grow any, turnips were our go-to root vegetable.
I debated whether to wake Dahlia but decided against it. Instead, I sat on the sofa beside Ethelena to watch Yohira and the others train. Her tail curled around my arm, soft and warm. I twined my fingers with hers in return, and she leaned her head against my shoulder. The quiet between us felt peaceful—dangerously so. If we’d been alone, I might’ve pushed her down right then and there. My desire was definitely back.
Training wrapped up soon after. The moment Yohira sheathed her bamboo sword and turned toward us, the composed warrior vanished—replaced by the familiar box-pushing gremlin. Where had that dignified air gone?
The foolish fox looked different too, her expression tinged with melancholy. I remembered Yohira’s words from yesterday—about how Ichika, the fox, might have feelings for me. She hadn’t said it outright, but if it were true… what would I even do?
I didn’t dislike Ichika. In fact, I respected her; she was kind and earnest. But accepting her feelings? That wasn’t something I could do lightly. My heart belonged to Ethelena. That would never change. Whether Ichika could accept that… I didn’t know.
As those thoughts ran through my mind, Ethelena squeezed my hand. When I looked over, her expression was tight, as if she could read every thought. Just like with Yohira before, I could tell she was about to give me one of her blunt little pep talks.
Before that could happen, Yohira suddenly lifted her chopsticks, eyes shining. “This is incredible! The crisp outer coating gives way to tender, juicy meat beneath! The sweet-and-sour glaze enhances the flavor instead of masking it, and the richness of the chicken oil ties it all together perfectly! The egg and onion sauce—something we don’t even have in my homeland—adds a brilliant harmony, with just enough tang and sweetness to balance every bite!”
”That egg-and-onion sauce is called tartar sauce,” I explained. “It goes with just about any fried food.”
”Remarkable! I’d love to try it on a fried fish fillet next!”
”…You’re headed straight down the path to becoming a chubby tengu, you know,” Hinagiku muttered.
”What nonsense! Something this delicious *can’t* possibly make you fat!”
”How does that logic even work?” I sighed. “She’s right, though—it’s high-calorie stuff. You eat too much, you’ll get bigger for sure.”
”Ah… so that’s how it is,” the tengu murmured solemnly.
”Life is suffering,” Hinagiku added.
”That was supposed to be *my* line…” the fox said, slumping.
Poor girl. She looked genuinely dejected that someone had stolen her catchphrase. She’d been speaking more normally these days, though—maybe the whole “weird phrasing” thing had been her way of keeping people at a distance.
Beside her, Hinagiku was devouring her food with her usual enthusiasm. Ichika, meanwhile, was eating her chicken nanban carefully, making sure to take small bites of lettuce with each piece. She still didn’t like vegetables, but she’d been trying hard to overcome it. Maybe I should reward her later with a head pat—or better yet, craft her a new ninja tool or some kind of trinket.
”Oh—almost forgot,” I said suddenly.
”Hm? What is it?” Yohira asked, pausing with her miso soup halfway to her lips.
”Remember that accessory I said I’d make? The one with soundproofing and telepathy enchantments? I finished it, but since you didn’t join the last expedition, I never got to hand it over.”
I reached into my pocket and offered her a mithril hairpin. Yohira blinked, surprised, then carefully set her bowl down and accepted it with both hands.
It had felt too plain on its own, so I’d embedded a piece of amber we’d found the day we met. I’d engraved our team’s emblem into the amber and filled the grooves with molten mithril. I’d wanted to use topaz to match her eyes, but since I couldn’t get any, I’d settled for a color that matched my own original eye hue instead.
”…It’s beautiful,” she said softly.
”I’m glad you like it.”
”I do. I’ll treasure it,” she said, smiling.
She untied her hair, then gathered it up again, slipping the pin into place. The gleam of mithril and the golden glow of amber shimmered through her silvery-white hair—it suited her perfectly.
”It really looks good on you,” I said.
”Does it? I’m happy to hear that.”
Her gentle smile warmed the room. I was glad I’d taken the time to make it.
”Ethelena, yours was the earrings, right?” I asked.
”Mm-hm. Thank you,” she said, accepting the small box. Her accessory was simpler—just a pair of mithril earrings set with violet spinel. I’d engraved spell formulae on the inner side and carved our symbol into the base so it shimmered through the stone when light hit it. She replaced her old pair immediately, the spinel catching the light in a way that made her eyes and hair seem to glow even more vividly.
”That leaves Dahlia’s hair ornament and Tatia’s bracelet,” I said. “We’ll give those out once everyone’s up.”
”Speaking of which,” Yohira said, looking around, “Dahlia’s taking her sweet time, isn’t she?”
She finally noticed Dahlia’s absence after seeing the accessories. Maybe something had happened? I was just wondering that when the doorbell rang—probably Tatia.
I went to answer it. “Good morning, Tatia—oh, and Sister Kareha?”
”Good morning, Tatara-dono,” Kareha said, bowing politely. “We happened to meet outside. She was looking for your front door, so I escorted her.”
”Good morning, Tatara-san,” Kareha added with a kind smile. “Thank you for having us.”
I quickly bowed in return. As a client, she deserved proper courtesy.
I led them to the living room and served tea while introducing her to Yohira, the fox, and the others. I explained that she was the one who’d requested yesterday’s commission, and soon the conversation turned friendly.
”So you’re the sister who acted as Tatara’s mother figure,” Ethelena said with a smile.
”Oh my, and you must be his wife-to-be,” Kareha replied, smiling back. “Such a lovely woman… Tatara-san, you’ve always had an eye for beauty, I see.”
”Hey now,” I said, flustered. “I mean, sure, I did fall for Ethelena at first sight, but you didn’t have to *say* it like that.”
There was an odd sense of instant understanding between the two women. They seemed to get along naturally—almost too well.
I hadn’t expected Kareha to arrive so early, so preparations weren’t finished. She seemed a bit embarrassed too, apologizing for showing up ahead of schedule.
”I must admit,” she said, “I feel a bit awkward eating while a sister of the church watches over me.”
”Oh, don’t worry about that,” Kareha said lightly. “There are people at my abbey who eat three times as much as I do.”
”…Wait, Sister Ranka eats *that* much?”
Right, I remembered now—back in the game’s original text, the protagonist Smith had a “glutton” flag that triggered around Sister Ranka. But I hadn’t realized that meant *literally* gluttonous. I’d given her fifty thousand for food expenses recently… was that even enough? Now I was worried.
”By the way,” Sister Kareha added, “the tableware you gifted us has been such a blessing. You wouldn’t believe how many dishes that girl managed to break before—none of which were unbreakable, until now.”
”Well, it’s made of metal,” I said. “Mithril, specifically. So it shouldn’t break—maybe dent, at worst.”
Mithril tableware wasn’t exactly fragile; it should’ve lasted decades. But Kareha sighed and pressed a hand to her cheek, which instantly set off alarm bells.
”She already bent one,” she admitted. “It still works fine, of course, but honestly—how does someone even *bend* something that hard?”
”….”
I was speechless. How do you even manage to deform solid mithril? That wasn’t clumsiness anymore—that was superhuman strength. Should I make her a new set? …No. If she managed to warp that too, my pride as a craftsman would never recover.
”Oh, right—Tatia,” I said, turning to her. “This is yours. The accessory I promised.”
”Ooh!” Tatia’s eyes sparkled. “It’s got the party emblem on it—so that means it’s the one with soundproofing and telepathy enchantments, right?”
She slipped the bracelet onto her wrist immediately, beaming. It was simple—mithril band, a single tanzanite set in the center beside the engraved emblem. The stone was a deep blue, darker than her eyes but calm and mature, like a midnight sky. I’d chosen it that way, hoping it would suit her as she grew into adulthood.
Then I felt a tug on my sleeve. When I looked down, the foolish fox was clutching my coat, her ears drooping slightly. She didn’t say a word, but I understood—she didn’t want to be left out.
I reached over and ruffled her hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll make something for you too. Tonight, okay? You’re family, after all.”
That earned me a small, shy smile.
After breakfast, Tatia and the others set off for the dungeon, while the rest of us went outside. It was time to assess Sister Kareha’s current physical condition.
”Sister Kareha,” I said, “could you try swinging your old weapon once? I want to see how you’re doing.”
”Of course,” she replied, nodding. “May I borrow it, then?”
I summoned her equipment from my inventory—a heavy iron mass and a shield—and handed them over. She took both as if they weighed nothing, shifting into a standard half-guard stance with the shield forward. The iron weapon rested on her shoulder in a peculiar, modified grip.
”Haah!”
With a sharp cry, she swung. The iron mass cut through the air faster than it had any right to, flowing into a seamless combo. Blow after blow, precise and merciless, until thirty seconds later she finally stopped—sweat beading her forehead as she rolled her shoulders and caught her breath.
”I see… my stamina isn’t quite what it used to be,” she said with a rueful smile.
”Uh, Sister… that combo could’ve killed an *Orichalcum Golem*. I’d say you’re fine.”
I wasn’t exaggerating. Her strikes hadn’t been wild—they were calculated, aimed at vital points, each one strong enough to breach heavy armor. If anything, she’d only gotten sharper.
”Well, I was quite the reckless one in my youth,” she said with a modest laugh. “It wouldn’t do to lose all that edge.”
”What *exactly* were you doing in your youth, Mom—uh, I mean…”
She chuckled. “Tatara-san.”
”Ah—sorry.”
I winced, glancing at Ethelena, who looked genuinely startled. I hadn’t meant to call her that aloud… but honestly, it wasn’t wrong. The warmth she radiated had always felt like that of a mother’s.
Back to the matter at hand—her weapon. Her stamina might’ve dropped a bit, but her technique hadn’t dulled. A lighter version would probably suit her better now.
”Sister Kareha,” I said, “about your weapon—”
”Yes, I assume you’re thinking of reducing the weight? Just don’t make it *too* thin, or I’ll break it again.”
Wait. *Again?*
There’s no way she actually *broke* that adamantite club before… right? If she did, that was beyond my comprehension.
”I was thinking of a hybrid design—a sword mace,” I explained, opening a floating interface to sketch the concept. “Here’s the outline…”
She looked intrigued, then serious, studying the diagrams as I expanded on the details. We discussed structure, balance, material density, and enchantment patterns. She asked sharp, technical questions, and I refined the design with each response. We finally agreed on the “sword mace” concept—a weapon blending cutting precision with blunt force. When I said it would weigh about two-thirds of her current one, she nodded in satisfaction. “That will do.”
The shield, however, proved trickier. The traditional crafting methods for shields had been mostly lost to time, replaced by other magical constructs, so it took a while for her to grasp my description. After much back-and-forth, she agreed to my design: a mithril core reinforced with an internal magic circuit. Her only request was that the outward-facing side bear the image of the Healer Maiden herself.
I could replicate the portrait easily enough, but part of me hesitated. That felt dangerously close to blasphemy. Maybe there was an old painting reference around the house somewhere…?
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.
• 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.
• Ranka – A nun called Sister Ranka as a big eater under Kareha’s church. Her appetite strains church funds, prompting Tatara’s donations. Works with Kareha. No family noted. Jovial and carefree.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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