Chapter 40

Master Hughes.

This esteemed elderly blacksmith, known as Master Hughes, owned the largest forge in Cambria and was revered as the leader of the Artisans’ District. His stubbornness was even considered a virtue befitting a craftsman of his standing. Despite his gruff manner and prickly attitude, which often became the talk among adventurers, his skills were unquestionably genuine.

Decades had been spent hammering steel.

A master blacksmith whose skills could secure a prominent place even in the Empire’s capital, Hughes could have earned the title of a master craftsman had he sought it. However, preferring not to be bound by anything, he chose to settle and live in this city.

“I couldn’t have mistaken it.”

It was this very recognition by Master Hughes that the sword in his hands was the work of a true master. He examined the sword brought in by the young man once more.

The method of finishing the blade.

The channels carved into the blade allowing the flow of mana.

The perfectly balanced and seemingly custom-fitted handle.

A plain longsword, devoid of any flamboyance, yet its craftsmanship spoke volumes of the blacksmith’s experience. The simplicity of the sword held its own beauty, a work faithful to the essence of blacksmithing, incomparable to the flamboyant creations of contemporary artisans.

“However…”

The problem lay elsewhere. If it were merely a well-crafted sword, Master Hughes would have simply admired it. But the old man had noticed something. Traces of Atanga embedded in the sword.

Back when he was a young apprentice.

During his time in a forge contracted with the Knights of Atanga.

He learned forging under a renowned master smith. Back then, Hughes had observed the master blacksmiths forging swords for the honorable and dignified Knights of Atanga, defenders of ancient codes. The swords seemed to breathe life under their hammering, and the resulting weapons were incredibly beautiful.

“…I remember it because I’ve seen it.”

Scenes unforgettable even after decades.

Recalling those days, Master Hughes ran his index and middle finger along the blade. This unique finishing method was used for the swords of the Knights of Atanga. However, something felt off. This was the exact same method used decades ago, but the current Knights of Atanga were known to use a slightly different finishing technique.

A sword finished with old-generation techniques, but the one in his hands didn’t seem to have been forged long ago.

“Ah, Master Hughes.”

While he was lost in thought, the blacksmith beside him whispered into Hughes’ ear.

“That adventurer there, isn’t he the one? You know, the one who recently… jumped three ranks at once…”

“…The one who single-handedly took down the Blood Troll?”

“Yes, it seems to be that adventurer.”

The adventurer who recently stirred up Cambria.

Master Hughes’ eyes narrowed as he looked at Najin, who stood innocuously before him. Initially thought to be just a naive youth, on closer inspection, Najin’s posture was well-formed.

“Calluses.”

The calluses on the young man’s fingers and his slightly skewed stance. Hughes sensed the aura of an experienced swordsman, always ready to draw his sword.

“Here, you.”

The old man handed the sword back to Najin.

“Give this sword a hold.”

“Why all of a sudden?”

Najin grasped the hilt without a word.

What other blacksmiths failed to notice, Master Hughes saw clearly. The young man’s physique, the length of the hilt, the balance when holding the sword… everything fit perfectly.

A sword as if custom-made for this young man.

A weapon meant solely for him.

“That’s enough. You can stop showing me now.”

“But why do you keep asking?”

Najin sighed deeply. Replacing the sword at his waist, he looked straight at Master Hughes.

“I came here to get my sword repaired. Why all these questions?”

“It’s important. Will you tell me who made it?”

Najin remained silent. It was a response as if he had no intention of revealing it. Master Hughes shrugged. Probably some extraordinary encounter. Though the sword seemed too fine for the young man before him…

“Such a craftsman who forged this sword wouldn’t have blind eyes.”

There must be something special about it.

Why ,a sword of old-generation Atanga style made for him. Why such a sword was crafted for him. Many unknowns, but Hughes didn’t probe further. He always remembered what his senior used to say.

“A blacksmith just needs to hammer metal well.”

“Whether the one holding the sword is a once-in-a-lifetime genius or a fallen noble who’s been rolling in the dirt, what does it matter to us?”

“We are blacksmiths. Stay true to our craft.”

Hughes clicked his tongue.

“So, can you repair it or not?”

“No need for repairs. It’s going to be just fine for another decade or so.”

“…Excuse me?”

“That’s how it was made. Whoever the blacksmith was, they seemed to have put a lot of effort into its durability. It’s forged in a way that it won’t break easily.”

Slightly heavier than swords of similar size.

Hughes sighed and gave Najin another look.

“Your name is Ivan, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“So you’re the one the guild leader mentioned. I was thinking of sending you off with a sword…”

Hughes glanced at the longsword at Najin’s waist.

“Looks like you don’t need a sword. Come inside.”

I’ll show you something else.

“Then I’ll have these items delivered to this address.”

After arranging for the items he purchased at the forge to be delivered to his residence, Najin continued through the streets. His visit to the forge was unexpectedly fruitful, acquiring various items at nearly half their original prices.

Thanks to the Dieta Company.

The introduction from the guild leader made it all possible.

He managed to obtain simple armor and auxiliary weapons beneficial in emergencies. Initially standoffish, Master Hughes eventually warmed up, taking an interest in helping Najin choose his armor.

“You have an eye for quality.”

Remembering Hughes’ pleased smile, Najin moved on. He stopped by alchemists’ stalls to buy some potions, and while picking up some useful items, he paused.

Rustling.

A display of test tubes filled with a blood-red substance. A variety of doping agents lined up, their distinctive foul smell familiar to Najin.

-Blood Sect.

Merlin murmured in Najin’s ear.

-Don’t touch those. You’ll get addicted if you’re not careful. They’re effective but have severe repercussions after use.

I wasn’t planning on buying them anyway.

Mulling over the name ‘Blood Sect,’ Najin wondered if the alchemist Hakan, who helped him draw Excalibur in the underground city, was also from the Blood Sect.

Time had flown by; it had been more than a month since he left the underground city. The passage of time felt both fast and slow.

“…”

Suddenly, Najin gazed up at the sky.

The blue sky and the bright sunlight. What once felt foreign and uncomfortable outside was now familiar. It had been a long time since he sought shadowy and damp places to rest.

The familiar things.

The ordinary things taken for granted.

Feeling a surge of unexpected emotions, Najin continued walking. People in the Artisans’ District recognized him from time to time, glancing at him as they would a celebrity and passing by.

An alchemist approached him, asking if he was interested in trying their creations.

Another blacksmith suggested wearing armor engraved with his mark.

In the City of Opportunities, Cambria, many coveted Najin’s growing fame. The gear of the city’s most talked-about adventurer would naturally attract the attention of many adventurers.

“…”

He appreciated the offers, but Najin declined them. There was no need to accept. He made his way through the Artisans’ District, heading towards its heart.

The area where craftsmen and merchants mingled.

Heading to the largest trading house in the district bustling with Cambria’s guilds, Najin was not stopped by the guards as before.

Thump. Najin ascended the steps of the trading house.

He had turned down numerous offers from blacksmiths and alchemists for a reason. A far more enticing proposition had been made by someone else. At the top floor of the Dieta Trading Company, someone was waiting to welcome Najin.

“Welcome.”

The guild leader of the Dieta Trading Company.

The Snake that Swallows Gold, Dieta Arbenia, greeted Najin with a smile.

In the top floor office of the Dieta Trading Company.

“I always had a good eye for people. I didn’t expect you to jump three ranks at once, though.”

Dieta, her face blooming with smiles, was conversing with Najin. Naturally, her mood was exceptionally good, thanks to the young man sitting before her.

The adventurer endorsed by the Dieta Trading Company, Ivan.

His meteoric rise to a three-tier promotion had made headlines, elevating the guild’s reputation. Dieta had no intention of letting this momentum slip away.

“About what we discussed last time.”

She snapped her fingers.

A secretary handed Najin a wooden box.

“Take a look inside.”

Inside the box lay neatly folded leather armor. Black as the primary color with a hint of crimson. Its make was not hard to guess.

The armor was made from the hide of the Blood Troll.

About a week ago, Najin had sold the troll’s hide to Dieta. He could have taken money for it, but instead, he asked Dieta to have armor made from it, a proposal she readily accepted.

“It’s a good deal for you,” Dieta had said. “I used about 60% of the hide for your armor, and the rest will be used elsewhere. The artisans sponsored by our trading company are skilled, so you can trust the quality.”

“Try it on.” Dieta pointed to a room in the corner of the office. After a short while, Najin reappeared, having changed into the armor.

It was custom-made to fit Najin’s build, resembling more a knight’s uniform than traditional armor. Made from leather, it offered ease of movement, and being crafted from the hide of the Blood Troll, it was tough enough to resist ordinary blades.

Najin fidgeted with his sleeves, unaccustomed to this type of attire, but found the fit comfortable.

“Looks good on you. Thank you.”

He expressed his thanks, but Dieta was lost in thought, staring at Najin with wide eyes. She had only seen him in loose, casual clothing before. Though good-looking, he had never dressed up properly. Now, in this properly fitted attire…

He looked striking.

Indeed, clothes make the man.

Dieta, returning to her senses, nodded slowly. Her gaze fell on the emblem sewn into Najin’s outfit, symbolizing the Dieta Trading Company. This was why she had accepted Najin’s proposal.

“You wear it well.”

This adventurer is sponsored by the Dieta Trading Company.

So, keep your hands off him.

Nothing could express this better than top-tier equipment. It might even make that damned “Red Eyes” think twice before messing around.

‘Where else could you find such sponsorship?’

Only a powerhouse like the Dieta Trading Company could afford to monopolize several artisans. Dieta stood up with a bright smile and approached Najin. The height difference made Najin look down on her naturally.

Rustling her hair, she suggested,

“How about a walk together?”

This was also part of the agreement. In exchange for making the armor at a low cost, Najin would spend a day accompanying her. Dieta had a reason for this condition.

She needed to show it.

By walking around with Najin, she would demonstrate that the rising adventurer had a close relationship with her trading company. This was to show that the Dieta Trading Company was engaging in long-term interactions with the city’s most prominent adventurer.

‘It makes quite a picture.’

Dieta extended her hand to Najin as if asking for an escort. Unaccustomed to such social graces, Najin grasped her hand as if shaking it.

Pasion, the bodyguard standing nearby, sighed and taught Najin how to properly escort. Expecting a challenging day ahead, Pasion had a sense of foreboding as he briefed Najin, who was set to be Dieta’s guard for the day.

But his intuition was proven right just 30 minutes after Najin and Dieta had left.

“This insolent brat…!”

A noble’s guard, drawing his sword.

“Why the long tongue?”

Najin tapped his sword’s hilt, expressionless.

“If you’re so confident, come at me.”

An insult settled by a duel.

Isn’t that the code of the knights? Najin muttered to himself as the guard’s rationality snapped. Throwing down his glove at Najin’s face signified a challenge to a duel.

Of course, the glove never hit Najin’s face. He caught it mid-air and tossed it to the ground.

“Why throw it at my face when it belongs on the ground?”

“How dare you speak like that in front of me…!”

“Then let’s duel.”

Najin drew his sword with a ‘clang.’

“Aren’t you going to draw your sword?”

The dumbstruck guard and his red-faced noble master, Dieta barely holding back laughter, and Najin, nonchalantly letting his sword tip hang. The scene was more than enough to attract the attention of the city’s adventurers.