Badlands Saga: Reincarnation in a Different World with Extreme Charisma - Chapter 15

Chapter 15   Emerald Sword 9

Using the bellows to blow air onto the coals in the furnace, I raised the temperature while simultaneously lowering the melting point of the materials through alchemy.

The key is how they are mixed.

The essence of alchemy is to transform base metals into noble metals, and a part of that technique involves the restructuring of materials.

“Isara.”

“What is it?”

While performing alchemy on the metals, I beckoned to Isara, who was nearby. She leaned in closer to me.

I reached for her neck, gently touching her smooth hair, and captured the body of a fairy hiding there, tracing its wings with my fingers.

“Fairy dust disappears as soon as it separates from the body…”

Muttering this as a sort of excuse for the inappropriate gesture, I let the powder on my fingertips fall into the crucible.

This is a binder… a material to fill the gaps created when reorganizing and transforming the composition of the metals into a new one.

Hair, teeth, and then a dash of alcohol on top.

I poured in salt to accelerate the reaction as steam rose, and added a pinch of sugar for a hidden effect.

“What exactly are you doing right now?”

“I’m breaking down the metal into very, very small particles and rearranging them anew.”

“How is that different from just melting it?”

“Imagine a rope woven from many threads—what if it were a single thick thread from the beginning? And what if it were a thread made of iron, maintaining its flexibility?”

“Wouldn’t it be too heavy to carry around even if you made something like that?”

“That’s where we compensate by reducing the volume with the increased strength.”

I kept explaining to Kodara without pausing my work.

It seemed the process was nearing completion while I was talking, probably because I had used plenty of materials to accelerate the reaction.

“If only Ida hadn’t gone to attack the fortress, we wouldn’t have needed to use charcoal.”

“It can’t be helped. A mage is a precious thing.”

Well, part of the reason I chose a quick recipe was to save on charcoal.

I pulled the fish cake-shaped mold closer with tongs and tried to lift the crucible, but Kodara’s large hand, extending from the side, stopped me.

“That’s too much for you. I’ll do it.”

“Alright, I’ll leave it to you.”

I handed him the tongs, and he effortlessly lifted the large crucible, pouring its contents into the mold.

The God steel orichalcum, called Baikaron in the lands of the Makiano tribe, was alloyed to create the legendary sword Chionovagna… Let’s call it “Chiyono Metal.”

“Oh… so this is how it turned out.”

According to legend, it was supposed to reveal a beautiful deep blue ingot.

But instead, as it emerged, still smoking, the metal was more green than blue…

“Maybe there wasn’t enough orichalcum in the first place. I bulked it up with a lot of iron to get enough to make a sword…”

“No, Fusha-sama, this…”

“It was supposed to have a much bluer hue…”

“I’ve seen all sorts of metals back home, but I’ve never heard of a green metal. Can you even make a sword out of this…?”

Kodara looked worried, scratching his head, so I patted him reassuringly on the back.

“Don’t worry. There’s a record of a sword made from this that got passed down to the Makiano tribe.”

“It doesn’t seem like something to not worry about… I’d like to talk to the blacksmith who made that sword.”

The story goes that it was made by the legendary stonemason Eldar Dwarf, so he’s probably long dead by now.

Well, since the alloy itself was fairly easy to make, I imagine there are people somewhere in the world making swords and other things from this stuff.

As for the legend Long-Eared Sensei mentioned…

It’s probably just that it’s rare around here.

As time goes by, legends often stop being legends—that’s something that happened a lot in my previous life too.

“Anyway, try making a sword with this. Make it look, you know, like a legendary sword.”

“I don’t know what exactly a legendary sword is supposed to look like, but I guess if I make it flashy enough, it should be fine?”

“That’ll do. I’m leaving it to you.”

“I’m not a sword specialist, so don’t get your hopes up too much, alright?”

“I’m counting on you.”

“Heh, you’re a tough kid, bossing around a stonemason dwarf.”

Muttering complaints under his breath, Kodara quickly got to work. Leaving the rest to him, Isara and I stepped out of the forge.

The cold air felt refreshing against my face, still hot from the fire.

As I started walking, enjoying the sense of relief after finishing a task, I heard the voices of knights coming from the castle’s main gate.

Those deep, yet cheerful voices belonged to those welcoming the forerunners who had arrived to report the great success of the first wave of the fortress assault operation.

◆◆◆

For a Rock Dwarf, a life of pursuit is the ultimate purpose.

This is the way of life ordained for Rock Dwarves since ancient times, or so my father and grandfather taught me.

Some dedicate their lives to perfecting their craft in blacksmithing, others in brewing, and some in singing and playing music.

There isn’t a single Rock Dwarf who doesn’t strive to master their art and reach the domain of the gods.

With these words ingrained in me, I left my home when I grew older.

The reason was simple: my family were blacksmiths, and my older brother had already inherited the business.

“I’ll find my own path in blacksmithing! Life is short; I’m going to earn my way and have my own forge!”

I declared that I would create a masterpiece that would be remembered in history, something that would last forever.

With that bold ambition, I was seen off with praise and left my homeland.

The world of the Rock Dwarves is simple: you aim ever higher, and if you die in the pursuit of your goal, then so be it.

But, the human world was much more complicated.

“We don’t hire Rock Dwarves.”

“Why not? My skills are proven! Just give me a chance!”

“Your skills don’t matter; we don’t want Rock Dwarves.”

No matter which forge I visited, I was flatly rejected, struggling even to scrape together travel expenses.

With nothing but a sturdy body, I had no choice but to take on jobs like hauling or construction, and with the money I saved, scrimping and scraping, I traveled from town to town.

But wherever I went, just being a Rock Dwarf meant no blacksmithing work…

With no way out, I was sitting in a tavern with a meager purse, drinking when a drunk patron approached me.

“Hey, you’re a Rock Dwarf, aren’t you? Where are you from?”

“I’m from Bitu,” I replied.

“Oh, that place where all the Rock Dwarves gather. Why’d you leave?”

“To master the art of blacksmithing,” I said.

The ape-man patron fell silent for a moment, then burst into loud laughter.

“Blacksmithing? Hah! That’s a good one! There’s a guy like you around these parts, too! Just past the western bridge!”

“Really?”

When I asked, a man who looked like a farmer at the next table joined the conversation.

“But isn’t he dead by now?”

“I saw him the other day, rummaging through trash around here.”

“Trash?”

“Yeah, Rock Dwarf boy, once you end up like that, it’s over, just over. I don’t know if he’s got skills or not, but if a blacksmith starts choosing his customers, it’s over for him.”

In the tavern’s uproar, the man’s words, “it’s over,” seemed to echo loudly in my mind.

Curious about this other dwarf supposedly living in the same area, I crossed the western bridge early the next morning.

I spent the entire morning searching, and finally, around noon, I found the blacksmith’s shop, which was on the verge of collapse.

Inside was a Rock Dwarf, wearing rags that could hardly be called clothing, with a beard covering his face.

“Who’re you?” he grumbled.

“I heard there was a blacksmith around here…”

The bearded Rock Dwarf stared at me, scratching his chin, and then replied.

“Looking for work? I’ll tell you now, I only make spearheads.”

“Spearheads, and nothing else?”

“That’s right. I’m a genius. When it comes to spearheads, I’m second to none, not even to the ancient Rock Elder dwarves.”

He looked worn out, like he could barely swing a hammer anymore, but he crossed his thin arms and spoke with utter confidence.

What could he possibly make in a smithy without coal, with a cracked furnace, and with rusting iron that seemed on the verge of returning to the earth?

“But aren’t there few customers in a place like this?”

“It’s just a coincidence right now. I’ve devoted myself to the God of Spears and mastered my path. One day, the world will need me, without a doubt. Young one, if you pursue your own path, you’ll understand someday.”

With bloodshot eyes, he spoke, and I couldn’t find any words to say in return.

At that moment, I began to understand, just a little, what those blacksmiths who kept rejecting me because I was a Rock Dwarf might have been trying to say.

I had left my homeland to perfect my craft, to get closer to the divine.

But the more I continued my journey, the more that Rock Dwarf’s image weighed on my mind.

I found myself thinking, “I don’t want to end up like that.”

If that Rock Dwarf’s fate was what lay at the end of the path of perfecting blacksmithing, then it seemed far too sad. That thought crept into my mind.

Before I knew it, I had joined a certain mercenary band.

It was a ragtag group of misfits, led by a simian named Kintman who had lost his homeland.

After journeying for a while, I had picked up some martial skills, and I joined the ranks as a warrior wielding a battle axe.

Perhaps because everyone in the group was an outcast, they were all surprisingly friendly, and I quickly became close to them…

For the first time since leaving home, I felt a sense of comfort, like being with family, among Kintman’s band.

As I traveled with the mercenaries, I gradually started to be entrusted with small blacksmithing tasks.

They bought me some portable blacksmithing tools, and I began handling simple repairs of everyday items, sharpening swords and spears, and making arrowheads… Everyone began to rely on me.

And as they relied on me, I wanted to meet their needs to the best of my abilities, no matter the task, so I worked hard to make it happen.

“Kodara, do you think you could make a hair ornament?”

“A hair ornament? For you? It wouldn’t suit you!”

“You idiot! For a woman! A woman!”

“Tilda, why don’t you just buy one from a proper shop?”

“Come on, Kodara, if you can’t make it, then there’s nothing to be done.”

“I didn’t say I can’t make it!”

“That’s the spirit of a Rock Dwarf for you! I need three, make three!”

“Don’t mess around with me!”

It was a feeling I hadn’t experienced since I left my homeland… days filled with a deep sense of fulfillment in blacksmithing.

But even such golden days came to an abrupt end.

Whether we were betrayed by our client or it was just a coincidence, I still don’t know.

All I know is that we encountered an earth dragon in battle, and we lost most of our comrades — our precious family.

“Maybe it’s time to just quit…”

When Kintman said those words, not a single person objected.

We sold the carcass of the earth dragon we had slain and retired to the countryside.

There, Kintman built a blacksmith’s forge for me.

It’s ironic.

I thought I didn’t need family when I first started my journey, but I ended up finding one that became more important than my life goals.

And just when I thought I’d lost that newfound family, I ended up getting the forge I sought at the start of my journey so easily.

Hey, God, are you saying it’s greedy to ask for both at once?

Is the path of devotion to the gods, the life of a Rock Dwarf, really that harsh?

If that’s the case, then I don’t want it anymore.

Leaving my name in history, forging some magnificent weapon that lasts forever — I no longer desire those things.

So… please, just don’t take anything more from me.

“But, Kodara, you’re one of the ones who stayed. You survived. Isn’t that enough of a gain on its own? There’s nothing complicated to think about, is there?”

Still, it felt like Tilda, who always used to trouble me with impossible requests, was saying that to me from up in the sky.

Indeed, I am alive.

Kintman, and a few of the others, survived too.

If living as a mercenary was what I chose, maybe there was no need for anything more.

“Kodara, are those nails ready?”

“Oh, hey boss, yeah, they’re ready.”

“Your nails are great, they’re tough and really grip the wood.”

“Glad to hear it.”

But still, I started walking the path of a blacksmith once again.

To feed the members of our mercenary group who had left behind a life of violence, and to repay the debt I owed to Kintman for giving me this forge.

It was a back-and-forth life, but perhaps because I’d been through so much in between, my life as a blacksmith was going well.

At first, people avoided me because I was a Rock Dwarf, but since I wasn’t picky about customers or jobs, they gradually started coming to me for work…

The forge became fairly busy, so much so that the mercenaries helping me out began to complain about how hard they were working.

I no longer had the grand ambitions I once did, but maybe this was a good life in its own way.

However, even this quiet countryside life didn’t last very long.

“Forever, huh…”

That was because Kintman, who had received a letter from an old friend, began to get restless.

When Kintman got like that, it meant a new journey was about to begin.

Everyone in the mercenary group knew that…

So, without waiting for Kintman’s note that said, “Stay here,” everyone immediately followed after him.

I too hung a sign on the door of the forge saying, “Out on mercenary work,” grabbed my battle axe, and went after them.

Leaving behind the forge I had acquired, or straying from the path of blacksmithing to which I once thought I would dedicate my life, didn’t feel like a loss at all.

Because by then, I had already made up my mind about which I would choose to keep in my hands: blacksmithing or my family.