The Regression Of A Grand Mercenary

The days after slaying the Lich had passed in a blur. Thankfully, the plague that had gripped the village began to fade as the curse lifted. No one had died since I dealt with the Lich, and for that, I was grateful. But with the danger gone, a new challenge emerged: survival.

Now that I was back, I decided to inherit the blacksmith shop that once belonged to our father. It was the only way I knew how to provide for the family. I approached my sister, Theresa, about my plan, knowing she’d be skeptical.

“Theresa, I need to run the blacksmith shop to support us.” I told her while trying to keep my tone confident.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she crossed her arms. “Are you sure about this? The last time I saw you in the shop, you were barely an apprentice. All you ever did was make nails for practice. How do you expect to craft swords and armor?”

I could sense her doubt, but I wasn’t about to back down. “Have a little faith in me, will you? Give me two days. I’ll make something that’ll get us the attention we need to start earning money.”

She sighed, still unsure but willing to give me a chance. “Alright, but don’t push yourself too hard. We can’t afford mistakes right now.”

I nodded, appreciating her concern, but I knew this was our best option. Money was scarce, and though there were other ways to support the family, this shop was the only proper trade I had learned. Even if it wasn’t much, it was something I could build on.

The that afternoon, my younger brother, Thomas, joined me in the shop. He stood in the doorway, watching me with a mix of curiosity and doubt.

Thomas was the third child of our family, just next to Theresa.

From what I remembered, I lost Thomas at a time when we were scavenging for food in the city streets. One day, he was taken away by bandits…

And a few months later, I found him dead near the city’s dump…

That memory alone ignited my hate towards every bandit that existed in the world…

I promised myself then that if I ever come across a bandit on the streets that would threaten my life and family, I would take their life without mercy.

Now that I’ve gained a second chance, no bandit will ever take my brothers and sisters away.

“I can’t believe you’re actually taking over the shop,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“We don’t have any other choice,” I replied, turning to him with a hammer in hand. “We need this to survive. I need this to provide for all of you.”

Thomas looked down, guilt etched on his face. “I…I’m sorry I can’t be of help. I don’t know the first thing about blacksmithing.”

I chuckled lightly, setting the hammer down. “Do you want to learn? I can teach you.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “R-really?”

“Yeah, really. But you’ve gotta promise not to chicken out. This shop’s been in our family for generations. Great-grandfather passed it to Grandfather, and he passed it to Father. Now it’s my turn, but that doesn’t mean I can’t share it with you.”

Thomas hesitated, his gaze shifting to the worn tools scattered across the workshop. “It’s just…it feels wrong that Father never had the chance to properly pass it on to you. He didn’t even get to teach you everything before…”

“I know.” My voice softened. The weight of our father’s death hung heavy between us, a shadow that refused to leave. “But we can’t change what happened. All we can do is make the best of what we have.”

Thomas looked at me with uncertainty, then nodded slowly. “Still…are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my own nervousness. “Thomas, come on. Have a little faith. I’ve got this.”

He cracked a small, hesitant smile. “Alright, fine. Show me what you can do, then.”

With that, we got to work. The sound of hammer striking metal echoed through the shop, a rhythm that felt both familiar and foreign. It wasn’t easy, but I had to believe in myself—if not for my sake, then for my family’s.

This was my chance to prove I could be more than just a warrior. It was time to show that I could forge a new path, one that would keep us all afloat.

The forge was alive with heat and the rhythmic clang of hammer on steel. I stood before the anvil, my hands wrapped around the hilt of the hammer with a sense of purpose I hadn’t felt in years. The raw material—a chunk of iron—sat waiting for me to shape it, and with each swing, I could feel the echoes of my past life guiding me.

In my past, I had wielded legendary blades—crafted by my own hands, forged from enchanted metals. Yet now, standing in my father’s modest blacksmith shop, I held the tools of a simple blacksmith. It felt strange, and yet, something about it felt right. The memories of forging weapons during countless campaigns were fresh in my mind. The weight of the hammer was familiar, even though this current body had never truly felt it before.

I began by heating the iron in the forge, watching as the dull gray metal glowed with a fierce orange light. Once it reached the right temperature, I pulled it out and laid it on the anvil. The hiss of the heated iron meeting the cooler air filled the shop as I started hammering, shaping it with swift, practiced blows. In this body, I might not have the same raw physical power I once did, but my precision was honed from decades of experience in another life.

Thomas watched from the corner of the shop, eyes wide with awe as he saw me work the metal. He didn’t need to know the truth—that I had forged weapons that had split mountains and torn through armies. To him, this was something extraordinary, a skill passed down from father to son. But for me, it was muscle memory. Every swing, every strike was calculated, perfected over years of battles, sieges, and wars.

I knew exactly how to temper the blade—how to fold the metal just right to give it strength and flexibility. Most blacksmiths might take days, even weeks, to craft a decent sword. But for me, with my past-life knowledge, every step was simple, intuitive. The heat, the pressure, the delicate balance between power and control—it was second nature. I wasn’t just making a sword. I was crafting a weapon that could rival the finest blades in the kingdom.

“You’re really doing it,” Thomas whispered in disbelief. “Father would be proud.”

I nodded but didn’t respond. I couldn’t afford to let my thoughts wander. As I hammered the glowing metal, the blade began to take shape—a broad, powerful sword that could cut through both armor and flesh with ease. Its balance was perfect, its edge sharp enough to split hairs. The kind of sword that would be the envy of any knight or warrior.

My mind wandered briefly to the wars I had fought, the swords I had wielded in those battles. Each one had been an extension of my body, an instrument of destruction. And now, here I was, crafting one of my own.

After hours of forging, quenching, and grinding, the sword gleamed in the light of the forge. It was a weapon unlike any other, far beyond what an average blacksmith would create. The simple iron had been transformed into a masterpiece. In my hands, this sword was worth a hundred ordinary blades.

I held it up, inspecting the smooth, flawless edge. The weight was perfect—light enough for quick strikes, yet heavy enough to cleave through even the toughest armor. This was no mere tool. It was a weapon worthy of a warrior.

“Thomas,” I called, turning to my brother. “What do you think?”

He stepped forward, his eyes wide in disbelief as he looked at the sword. “I… I’ve never seen anything like it. You really made this?”

I handed the blade to him, letting him feel the weight. “I did. And there will be more like this. We’re not just going to survive, Thomas. We’re going to thrive.”

Thomas stared at the sword, still unable to believe what he was holding. “This… This is incredible. People will pay a fortune for a sword like this.”

I smiled, a faint glimmer of satisfaction stirring inside me. “Then let’s make sure they do.”

As the last of the heat from the forge died down, I realized that I wasn’t just crafting swords for the sake of earning money. This was the beginning of something more—a legacy, perhaps. One that would echo in the hearts of those who wielded these blades, just as my past life echoed in mine.

***

A few days has passed since the lich was slayed, and because of this, people started healing. And not long after, everything was finally back to its original state. Peace was restored.

But of this sudden healing, a visitor came to the village. A person that held the symbol of the church.

An Apostle of the Church.

“…Hmm, are you sure a lich was able to pass through here with his curse?” asked the person from the church to another person who seemed like a normal villager.

“I’m sure of it. The village had already reported a stream of cases of the plague here a few weeks ago…yet, I still can’t believe that it has disappeared. The lich must have been slayed.” said the man who looked like a simple villager.

“Really? Someone from this small village slayed a Lich? If that was the case, he must have been cheered for being a hero, no?”

“Umm…no, from what I know, the plague simply moved away…but that can’t be. Liches are never the kind to let go of such an opportunity as this village. They would have sucked this place dry before they would move on to the next village.”

“I know…which is why it’s strange. Have you asked around about the plague’s case?” asked the apostle.

“I did…but I already told you on what I heard from the village elder, the plague simply went away on its own. I can’t do anything else than that. I can’t see curses like you do. If I could, I would have solved this case already.”

“Hmm, okay…try to look around more. I’ll do my part and search for any traces left by the lich…if there’s even a hint of it, I’ll call you.”

From there, the two separated and started looking around the village.

“Hmm, it seems normal enough…the numbers of rats has decreased and not a single crow is in sight.” said the man who seemed like a simple villager.

Soon after, he started sniffing like a dog, searching for any sort of putrid smell.

*sniff*

“Hmm, nothing…but I do smell something rusty…is this iron?…maybe it’s blood.” since blood had a similar smell to that of iron, the man became curious and started following the scent of iron.

But to his unexpected find, it lead him to the sight of a blacksmith shop.

“…a blacksmith shop? Hmm, It’s a bit of a stretch but maybe they know something I don’t.” using every trail he could find, he was curious that maybe the blacksmith owner might know something. So he entered the shop in hopes of finding any sort of information.

“Um, hello? Is anyone here?” when he opened the door to this small blacksmith shop, he found the sight of three children standing around.

“Hmm?” the first one to notice the visitor was the youngest of the group, Tilly. A young cute little girl whose hair was braided rather well.

The second was her older sister, Thalia. A Timid looking girl who was polishing a shield on the corner.

And the last was Theresa…the oldest of the bunch. The one managing the cash register.

“Oh my, Good morning, Welcome to the Cicial Family Craft-Shop, are you here to look for a weapon? or is it armor that you’re looking for? If not those two, are you here for an order for a personal craft that you want to be order-made? If so, we recommend you talk to the smith of the shop.” asked Theresa as she greeted the visitor quite nervously.

“Hmm, are you the one in charge of this shop?” asked the man.

“Um, Y-yes, please if there’s anything that has caught your eye, don’t mind asking me anything for its information.” she said.

“Oh, no I’m not here for a weapon. I’m actually here to ask about the recent plague that went through your village.” said the visitor.

“Um, may I ask why?” asked Theresa as she was nervous.

“Me and a few people from the church were simply curious about the recent passing of the plague. It intrigue us to know how it was possible for the plague to end so abruptly. Was there any sort of news or rumors you heard from your neighbors? Any sort of information can really help us in the long end.” he said as he tried acting nice towards Theresa.

“No, not that I’ve heard of any rumors. Most of us stayed inside since it was dangerous wandering around the village at that time. It was safer to stay indoors.”

“Hmm…I see.” hearing her answer, the visitor was saddened to find no new clues to this mystery…

Feeling rather down, he took this time to change his perspective and simply decided to stop his search altogether. He’s been looking for information in this town the whole afternoon, and yet no new information ever came to him. So maybe this in of itself was a dead-end case.

Still, seeing as how he was in a blacksmith shop, maybe it wouldn’t be a problem to look around for something that might catch his eyes.

“…”

But looking around, nothing seemed to gain his attention. Most of the items crafted here were modernly simple at best. Compared to the shops found at the city, the items here were nothing to look twice at…

If anything, there were barely any swords or armors made. Mostly it was only utensils and any other metal crafts.

‘Hmm, there’s nothing really good here. If anything, there’s only about five swords displayed on the walls and a few leather armors and shield on the corner. The swords themselves don’t look anything special…if anything, they all seemed old made.’ he thought.

But as he kept looking around, soon enough, something did catch his eye.

“Hmm?”

It was sword near the counter being polished by Theresa.

“Umm, may I look at the sword?” asked the man as he held out his hand in front of Theresa.

“Are you interested in this? This was just made a few days ago by my brother. He was really confident in this one since this is his first ever creation.” she said.

“Really?” the man was curious.

From a single look alone, he could tell that the sword was a masterpiece.

‘This was just made by her brother?’ The thought lingered in the simple man’s mind as he gently held the sword. Its craftsmanship was far beyond what he expected from a modest village blacksmith shop.

He examined the blade closely, noting the impeccable balance and flawless edge. It shimmered faintly in the light, not with magic, but with the precision of its forging. He could tell immediately this wasn’t an ordinary sword. It was the kind of weapon that could withstand the trials of battle and come out unscathed.

“Your brother made this?” he asked, unable to hide his astonishment.

Theresa, feeling slightly nervous, nodded. “Yes, he’s been working hard. It’s his first real attempt at something beyond the simple nails and tools he used to make.”

The man ran his fingers along the blade’s edge, careful not to cut himself. “This is remarkable. I’ve seen swords made by some other smiths that don’t have half the precision of this one.”

Theresa’s eyes widened. “Really? I knew it was good, but I didn’t think…”

The apostle set the sword down gently, his curiosity piqued. “I’d like to meet this brother of yours.”

Meanwhile, in the forge at the back of the shop, Thill was busy. Sweat poured from his brow as he worked on another blade, the rhythmic pounding of his hammer filling the air. Each strike was deliberate, each movement honed by the memories of his past life. His hands, though smaller and less powerful than they once were, moved with practiced precision. In this body, he lacked the raw strength, but his experience compensated for it.

In his past life, he had forged legendary swords—blades enchanted with spells and imbued with the power to turn the tides of war. But here, in this small village, using nothing more than iron and steel, he was still crafting masterpieces. This blade would be no different from the one he had made days ago, one worth a hundred ordinary swords.

As he hammered the molten metal, shaping it into a weapon, he could feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. This wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about building something greater—ensuring his family’s future.

“Thill.” but in his concentration, it was broken by the voice of his sister.

He paused, wiping sweat from his forehead as he turned to see Theresa standing at the entrance to the forge. “What is it?”

“There’s someone here to see you,” she said, her voice a little more urgent than usual. “He’s a person from the Church.”

Thill’s brow furrowed. “…from the church?”

“He’s seen the sword you made. He wants to meet you.”