Land of the Blood Demons (3)
“Ahh.”
The refreshing, crisp taste tingled down his throat. Laveron’s handcrafted beer was still a masterpiece. Dallon drained his large mug in one go, and a stocky, muscular man approached him.
“Care for another?”
“As many as you like.”
“Heh, drink to your heart’s content. I heard you were coming, so I brought up all the beer barrels from the cellar.”
Laveron took Dallon’s mug, filled it to the brim, and handed it back.
As Dallon slowly sipped the frothy beer, he gazed out from the office at the bustling forge below.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Sizzle! Clang…!
The mithril foundry was noisier than ever.
In the vast space, more than thirty forges blazed with fire.
Around them, over a hundred artisans and apprentices moved busily, their hands a blur of activity.
Behind the constant hammering at the anvils, machines crafted by Bjorn poured molten metal into molds.
At this scale, it was more a factory than a forge.
As Dallon stroked his chin, observing the machinery, Laveron noticed his gaze and spoke up.
“The one-eyed master has been a great help.”
A sigh of relief escaped after a sip of beer.
“If it weren’t for the machines he made, we might not have met the deadline for this order. Could you pass on my thanks?”
“Of course. Are you getting any sleep?”
“Naturally. I try to catch three or four hours a day.”
Laveron chuckled as he replied.
Three or four hours. The dark circles under his eyes made sense now.
Even with dozens of apprentices and artisans under him, the workload of a forge master didn’t lessen.
As the forge grew and production increased, so did the chances of problems or defects.
Laveron managed and supervised the mithril foundry, now at factory scale, while still crafting his own pieces.
Getting even a few hours of sleep must be an effort, as he said. With only one body, there was no other way.
“Did you know? I still vividly remember those days when I was on the brink of being thrown out on the street over a few gold coins. Every day felt like hell.”
Was it the few beers that had him tipsy? Laveron’s cheeks were slightly flushed as he murmured, looking down at the forge.
“Compared to those days, today’s struggles are nothing.”
“Are you drunk, old man?”
“Ha, do I look like someone who’d get drunk on this much?”
“Fatigue can do that to you.”
Dallon chuckled softly. Laveron shook his head and placed his mug on the table.
“By the way, I have something for you.”
After fidgeting with his fingers for a moment, the blacksmith strode over to a large safe in the corner of the office.
As he unlocked the safe and unhooked the chains, he spoke.
“I figured the owner of a holy sword wouldn’t need another blade. So, I prepared something else.”
Creak—
The safe opened to reveal a set of armor and weapons with a dull silver sheen.
Laveron handed Dallon a spear and a hand axe that hung beside the armor.
”…Mithril.”
“You recognize it. Yes, it’s from the elves who landed in the east.”
Mithril, known as the metal of the gods.
Light, strong, with high magical conductivity, and able to change weight with infused magic—a legendary material.
The continent’s veins had long been depleted, so mithril could only be found in the land of the elves.
Of course, the elves weren’t foolish enough to easily hand over such a strategic resource to humans.
Typically, it wasn’t until late in the game, when elves displaced by the evil god Lapilem crossed to the continent, that mithril became available.
According to Sienna’s network, the elves landed this time around the conclusion of the Eclahim battle in the Tsar Kingdom.
The timing of mithril flowing into the city-states wasn’t strange, but…
“Are you sure you can give this to me?”
Even if it was released by elven refugees, mithril’s value was beyond imagination.
Even in the game’s final stages, it wasn’t easily obtainable. At this point, it would be hard to acquire even with a hefty premium.
Though Laveron’s reputation had soared, acquiring enough mithril to craft both armor and weapons must have cost him dearly.
Giving it away without expecting anything in return was something Dallon hadn’t anticipated.
“I told you, I haven’t forgotten what I once owed.”
”…”
“And I haven’t forgotten who pulled me out of that pit. Without you, I’d still be hounded by the Telia Trading Company.”
Thud.
The calloused hand of the blacksmith placed the spear and axe on the table. Dallon hesitated for a moment before picking them up.
“This metal was more challenging to work with than anything I’ve handled before. I hope it suits you.”
“No, it’s perfect.”
Dallon tucked the hand axe into his belt and gripped the spear with both hands.
The feel of mithril was cool yet smooth. It felt as light as a feather, but with a touch of magic, it became weighty.
The sleek shaft and firmly attached spearhead, with its gracefully curving lines, showed how much effort Laveron had put into this spear.
Even elves, who had long worked with mithril, typically crafted crude swords, shields, or arrowheads.
In this era, only Laveron, known as the mithril forger, could process it with such finesse.
‘The old man has come a long way.’
It felt like just yesterday when he followed Penny, who turned out to be Laveron’s niece, on a sewer guide job.
Now, he held mithril weapons crafted by Laveron himself.
It would be a lie to say he wasn’t moved. No matter how many times he’d obtained mithril weapons from behind a monitor, this was his first time holding them in person.
‘And in the game, this was usually the old man’s limit.’
Mastering mithril was a feat worthy of history.
But Dallon had once seen someone surpass that.
“Speaking of which, I have something for you too.”
Dallon pulled a well-worn hammer from his coat. He placed it in front of the blacksmith, who was laying out the mithril armor on the table.
“A blacksmith I know asked me to give this to you.”
This iteration of Laveron Ahakim would surpass the limits he’d faced in other cycles.
Beyond a mithril forger, he would become a master of dragon bones and scales.
After the Golden Palace declared a massive counterattack against the Empire, it took about a month to muster the army.
An army wasn’t something that could be conjured up instantly with a decree.
Messengers had to be sent to each city, and those cities had to gather and send their forces, which took considerable time.
The fact that it only took a month for all the cities to send their troops and reorganize was remarkable.
‘It’s likely due to the power of the Seals of the Twenty-Six Halls.’
With transcendents, who rarely moved, stepping forward, even the cities that had been holding back had to act quickly.
During the month Dallon spent in Falcion, he wrapped up unfinished business.
Visiting the mithril foundry to deliver the hammer imbued with Dallucahim’s insight was just one of those tasks.
“Dallon, this is…”
“I brought it from the lair of the earth dragon. The dwarves who followed it were using them.”
His next stop after the mithril foundry was the workshop of the one-eyed master, Bjorn Kaladrakum.
To the craftsman sharpening his blades for the impending battle with demons, Dallon handed over the spoils from the earth dragon’s lair.
Streamlined copper bullets and various firearms. Plus, the remains of the fake dwarf king made of machinery.
“You said you were making weapons to kill demons. I hope this helps.”
”…Thank you. I’ll study them.”
There wasn’t much time left before the expedition. But for the one-eyed master he knew, it was enough time to elevate his skills to the next level.
And the same went for Dallon. During the remaining time, he focused on retrieving the bodies scattered throughout the Bronze District.
[You have retrieved the body of a swordsman who starved to death in midwinter. You inherit their abilities.]
[Inheritance Reward: Dexterity +1]
[You have retrieved the body of a miner buried deep in the tunnels. You inherit their abilities.]
[Inheritance Reward: Stamina +1]
[You have retrieved the body of a slave trader murdered in the back alleys. You inherit their abilities…]
[]
The bodies in the southern district had already been collected through a request from Sienna. What remained were the bodies in the western, eastern, and northern districts.
In total, nearly fifteen bodies granted him over 20 points in abilities.
‘Having retrieved a transcendent’s body before, this feels a bit lacking.’
Of course, having even a single skill is better than having none at all.
While diligently searching for corpses and retracing his memories, Dalen didn’t forget to study skills ranked B and above.
He spent a month visiting auction houses to buy all sorts of relic weapons and occasionally stopped by the Crow’s Nest to keep an eye on the empire’s movements.
With just three days left until the expedition, his last stop was the Crow’s Nest bartender, Bourbon.
It was because the great dragon, Kylebercus Arburn, known as the First Roar of the Dragon God, had reached out to him.
[You asked me to diagnose the rapidly growing left-armored kid.]
“That’s right. I can’t tell if true dragons are supposed to grow this fast.”
[You’re correct. Typically, true dragons grow even slower than humans. Yet this kid, despite having awakened not long ago, is nearly at the adolescent stage.]
The bartender’s greenish-brown eyes scanned the boy up and down. Akasha, with his silvery-blue hair, looked slightly tense.
Dalen shrugged from where he lay sprawled on the table.
“I can see that for myself. I’m here because I’m curious about the reason.”
[…I was just about to explain that. You’re quite impatient.]
“Koreans do like to get things done quickly.”
[…]
The dragon narrowed his eyes but began his explanation without further comment.
According to the ancient dragon, Akasha’s growth rate was dozens of times faster than that of a typical true dragon.
The reason was none other than the arrangements made by his mother, the Azure Dragon.
When the previous Azure Dragon laid her egg, she was nearing the end of her life due to the curse of the tree and injuries from the knight commander.
To ensure that her hatchling would survive after her death and eventually avenge her, it needed to grow rapidly.
[Accelerating a dragon’s growth is an unprecedented magic. Even for the previous Azure Dragon, who was skilled in magic, it wouldn’t have been easy.]
“Is that so?”
[Yes. She must have completed the magic after decades of nurturing the egg with her mana. I knew she harbored a grudge against the knight commander, but I didn’t realize it was this intense…]
Bourbon swirled his whiskey glass, drawing out his words. Dalen nodded quietly as he listened.
’…So that’s why the Azure Dragon could become the great calamity of the south.’
It was a moment of revelation for a question he had long pondered.
How could a true dragon, which typically takes over a century to mature, become a full-grown dragon capable of destroying a kingdom in just a few years?
In the game, the Azure Dragon Akasha had never once been an ally.
He had frozen the entire capital of the Noria Kingdom, earning the moniker “The Breath that Froze the Kingdom,” and was considered one of the worst bosses, second only to the evil gods.
There were over a dozen instances where the Holy Knights fell to his breath, and Dalen himself had been devoured five times.
[We have discovered the corpse of a warrior from the southwestern continent.]
[We have discovered the corpse of a mage who participated in the Great War.]
[We have discovered the corpse of a noble hunter from the Dark Moon.]
[We have discovered the corpse of a hero who lost their light.]
[We have discovered the corpse of a righteous saint.]
The remnants of the past were still vividly etched in the boy’s mind.
Someday, he might have to retrieve those corpses.
[I’ve digressed long enough. The activator should have taken full effect by now, so let’s begin the surgery.]
Bourbon set down his whiskey glass. Dozens of magic circles began to form in the air.
Dalen felt his body involuntarily tense. Bourbon, unfazed, continued to pull out various materials from a pocket dimension.
[The right gauntlet of the Dragon God, the marrow and heart of Tateankart Parzium. Excellent materials for restructuring your skeleton. It’s well-processed, so the transplant should go smoothly.]
”…That’s good, but have you still not found an anesthetic that works on me?”
[No, so it’s going to hurt quite a bit this time too.]
“Damn it…”
With a smile, the bartender set the magic circles spinning.
In the end, the skeletal transplant was several times more painful and left longer-lasting aftereffects than a heart transplant.
As Dalen reacquainted himself with the sensation of his body not obeying him, the three days until the expedition flew by.
And so, seventy thousand troops from the city alliance, including the four transcendent beings of the Golden Palace, began their march toward the southern empire’s lands.