Chapter 36: Forging Bonds and Uncovering Secrets

Poporens, unable to hide his disappointment, finally nodded.

“Very well. Crafting a greatsword from this nephrion will take about four days.”

“Four days?”

Ethan couldn’t conceal his surprise at the dwarf’s words.

Dwarves, renowned for their craftsmanship, were blacksmiths with an ironclad artisan spirit.

When making an item, if it didn’t meet their exacting standards, they’d scrap it entirely.

Considering their meticulous nature, where every stitch and strike was imbued with care, four days was absurdly short.

I was expecting at least a month.

The timeframe was reduced by more than sevenfold.

“Are you planning to rush it?”

“What? Rush it? No way! That’d ruin our business,” Poporens replied. “Oh, are you saying that because the timeframe seems too short?”

“Exactly.”

“Haha. In the past, crafting a single sword took at least a month, sometimes a lifetime. But things have changed.”

“Changed how?”

“Well, humans are like that too, aren’t they? Some excel at cooking, others at sewing—everyone has their strengths. It’s the same with us dwarves. Ahem.”

Poporens took a swig of cool beer from the table and continued.

“Some dwarves are great at forging blades, others at balancing weight perfectly. Each has a distinct specialty. That’s why division of labor has become common.”

“Division of labor?”

“Yes. For one sword, about five skilled dwarves work together. Each focuses on their best skill, so quality stays high, and crafting time is drastically reduced.”

It wasn’t hard to understand.

The world’s changed so much from my past life.

In his previous life, dwarves were different.

The idea of collaborating on an item implied a lack of individual skill—a notion deeply ingrained in their culture.

Whether they succeeded or failed, dwarves were artisans who took pride in crafting items alone.

Division of labor?

If Muradni, the great chieftain of the dwarves in his past life, heard this, he’d have smashed this dwarf’s small head with a crafting hammer.

Hard.

As long as the quality’s guaranteed, it doesn’t matter.

The process was irrelevant if the result was excellent.

Whether one dwarf or ten worked on the greatsword, it made no difference to him.

“Then proceed. But I’d like to participate in the crafting process. Is that possible?”

“What? Why would someone of your stature…?”

“To make the greatsword attuned to my mana, I need to infuse it with my mana during crafting.”

“Oh!”

Poporens clapped his hands together.

Come to think of it, he’d heard the heirs of the Ardan Ducal House wielded fire mana.

That explanation made sense.

The reason the Archduke wanted to replace his current greatsword was likely because its blade couldn’t withstand the heat.

Indeed, the greatsword on Ethan’s back was slightly scorched in places.

“Is your mana’s attribute fire-based?”

“Correct.”

“Heh, then you’re more than welcome!”

Poporens rubbed his palms eagerly.

Materials for generating intense heat were costly.

Having a human furnace like Ethan was a godsend.

If he can just raise the temperature enough, we’ll save a fortune on materials.

“Shall we start crafting now?”

“Let’s do it.”

“Yes. Lads!”

At Poporens’s forceful shout, dwarf apprentices rushed in.

“Today’s business is done. Tell the next clients orders resume in three days.”

“Understood.”

The apprentices scurried off.

Poporens led Ethan to the crafting area, where four dwarves were already waiting.

“A greatsword. Warm up your hands and get ready.”

“Got it.”

The dwarves busily prepared.

Meanwhile, Poporens handed Ethan a black outfit.

“This is a protective suit.”

“Protective suit?”

“Yes. To melt the nephrion, we’ll use magical solvents, which generate intense heat.”

“No need for that.”

“What? Without it, you could get burns—or worse, end up roasted!”

When mana was infused into magical solvents, they evaporated, rapidly raising the temperature.

To melt the black nephrion, they’d need at least high-grade solvents.

High-grade solvents produced heat in the thousands of degrees.

Without a protective suit, even stray heat could cook a body.

But Ethan just shook his head.

His body, blessed by the Lord of Fire, Rorotia, was immune to such heat.

After several insistent offers, Poporens sighed in resignation.

“If you get burned, it’s not our responsibility!”

“I swear on the Ardan name.”

“Fine.”

Soon, Poporens donned his own protective suit.

It was a tight, stretchy material clinging from arms to chest to waist.

The moment Poporens turned around in it, Ethan felt relieved.

Good thing I didn’t wear it.

The suit’s front was rather unsightly.

Better to deal with a bit of heat.

“Let’s begin!”

Poporens opened the magical solvent’s lid.

A pungent, acrid smell filled the air.

The magical solvent was poured onto a mold shaped like a greatsword.

“Now!”

Fire mana flowed from Ethan’s hands, activating the solvent.

Sizzle…

The solvent’s temperature skyrocketed instantly.

So hot!

The dwarves flinched at the heat.

High-grade solvents, with a protective suit, should feel only slightly warm.

But this?

It was like being blasted by scorching steam.

What’s this? The temperature’s at least seven hundred degrees higher than expected…

Even with protective suits, the heat was intense enough to make them grimace.

Poporens hurriedly looked at the Archduke.

Could a bare-bodied human survive this?

Then, his face went blank.

Huh?

In this insane heat, not a single bead of sweat marred the Archduke’s face as he infused mana.

What kind of human…

To survive unscathed in such heat, one needed more than mastery of fire mana—they’d have to be one with fire itself.

Or be a monster, a Transcendent or master.

Whichever the Archduke was, one thought was inevitable.

He’s a complete monster.

Oh, the metal!

Poporens placed the nephrion into the mold.

The intense heat began to soften it.

The nephrion, adhering to the mold, gradually took the shape of a greatsword.

“Uh, Archduke.”

“What is it?”

“We need to remove the sword from the mold and start forging. Could you infuse more of your mana during that process?”

Forging involved hammering the blade to the hilt hundreds of times to remove air bubbles.

Sustained heat during this would yield a superior item.

“Fine.”

Ethan nodded readily.

Attuning the greatsword to his mana was a necessary step.

Thus, five dwarves and a fire-wielding knight began crafting the sword.

***

At the Inner Castle of the Kargas Barony, Silvia, working in her assigned office, received a letter.

It was from the Archduke.

She opened it and scanned the contents.

The Baron concealed information.

The letter detailed Helmut’s hidden information and instructed her to investigate the mastermind behind it.

Who should I dig into?

The Baron, who likely knew the most, was already dead.

Then, a figure flashed in her mind.

The head butler.

One of Helmut’s closest aides, still imprisoned in the Capital Prison.

Leaving the office, she was joined by Manhattan, the Knight Commander, and three knights who volunteered to escort her.

They headed to the Capital Prison.

“I’ll go in alone from here.”

“Understood, Lawrence. We’ll wait nearby,” Manhattan replied.

She opened the prison door.

The head butler squinted at the sudden light, gasping upon seeing Lawrence.

“Hiiik!”

Unfazed, Silvia coldly asked, “You know about the letter from Peltorn Village, don’t you?”

“Peltorn Village…”

The butler, recalling it, nodded frantically.

“Yes! I remember!”

“Why did the Baron conceal it?”

“I… I don’t know exactly! I only know one thing for sure!”

“Speak.”

“When I was with the Baron in his office… occasionally, a figure in a black robe would appear.”

“You don’t know who?”

“No… I don’t. They appeared suddenly, without any sound, right outside the office. Each time, the Baron sent me out.”

“If that’s all you know, you won’t survive.”

As Silvia spoke coldly, the butler desperately racked his memory.

Please! Please!

The black-robed figure.

He had to recall something about them.

Then, his face lit up.

“Oh! There’s… there’s more!”

“What?”

“They’re likely a mage!”

“A mage?”

“Yes. I heard the Baron mutter, ‘How many mages do they have there?’”

“And?”

“And… when he erased those records, the Baron said something. He said to forget it if we wanted to live. It was… like he’d received a secret order from someone higher up.”

The butler’s eyes darted nervously.

That was truly all he remembered.

Silvia, meeting his gaze, nodded and left the Capital Prison.

Not an individual, but an organization.

If the butler was right, the mages in this organization were likely highly skilled.

An organization with multiple mages of that caliber was the likely mastermind.

Though she’d recently formed an intelligence group, it wasn’t yet on par with established guilds.

I’ll need to use an intelligence guild.

Even a guild wouldn’t know about such a secretive organization.

So, her request would be different.

Scope: the entire Ducal Territory in the west.

Objective: narrow down what kind of mage could wield such skill.

Lawrence headed toward the city’s intelligence guild.

***

Meanwhile, “It’s done!”

The dwarves, after four days of relentless work, let out a joyous cheer.

Even they were impressed by the flawless greatsword they’d crafted.

“Try holding it!” Poporens said confidently.

Ethan gripped the greatsword.

From blade to hilt, it was entirely black-tinted.

Lighter than a steel sword, its mana conductivity was far superior.

I can use this without issue for at least a year.

He nodded, satisfied.

“Good work.”

“No trouble at all! Heh… uh…”

“Something to say?”

“When you use the sword, if you could hold the hilt just a tad higher to show the mark… it’d be the greatest honor of my crafting career!”

“I’ll try.”

Try wasn’t enough!

But contrary to his thoughts, Poporens’ lips clamped shut.

Over the past four days, he’d seen Ethan’s skill firsthand.

He could only pray the Archduke would hold the hilt just a bit higher.