Chapter 201 - The Young Tall Furnace (1)

Even in this moment when everything is collapsing, my heart kept beating.

Though I was born cold, it held the world's most intense heat inside it.

Within the heart, glowing a bright red, there seemed to be a massive dragon made of fire looking down at Kihano.

"…This is the great tall furnace."

The eternal breath that resides within the great furnace.

Facing the eyes of the purest and hottest spirit of any flame, Kihano removed the hood he was wearing.

The sound of the city collapsing was loud outside, but when I made eye contact with the old and gigantic being, it felt as if time had stopped.

Clang! Clang!

With each thunderous vibration that shook the ground, stone dust fell from the ceiling, and the hanging forge tools creaked dangerously.

However, the old dwarf's hand forging his last masterpiece remained steady and precise.

"…Almost finished."

With gritted teeth, the old dwarf hammered the anvil.

At this moment, he was putting his whole body into hammering the red-hot metal, to the point that even his stance was faltering.

Each strike made his face appear to wither, which was not just an illusion.

Grrraaaar!

"Master! There's no time left!"

Amidst the constant sound of hammering, the dragon's roar, now close, could be heard.

Sensing the approaching threat, Kihano urgently called out to the old dwarf, but he just focused on giving the final blows.

"So, this is your form."

From a shapeless piece, it had now become a sword with a defined outline.

The old dwarf smiled with satisfaction as he looked at the sword, which had been polished to a smooth appearance, as if it had wanted to be born in that shape.

"…It's ready. Young swordsman."

The highest point of the forge, which only the finest masters can ascend.

The old dwarf there placed a silver sword into the molten metal flowing along the pipe.

He was too far to hand it over personally, and his aged body no longer had any energy left.

The slowly cooling molten metal began to carry the old dwarf's last creation.

"This is the last work of this forge!"

The forge was collapsing.

The stone dust, which fell occasionally, was now coming down in the form of debris.

"Master! You have to get out quickly!"

"No!"

In response to Kihano's cry, the old dwarf just shook his head.

The spirit dragon inside the tall furnace approached the dwarf, as if thanking him for his last effort.

"If you don't mind, give this name. Kihano Frausen!"

Following the metal veins from high to low.

The silver sword, forged by the old dwarf's hands, stopped in front of Kihano along with the red-hot metal.

"The last creation of the tall furnace, 'The Silver Knight.'"

"…Master smith!"

Kwakagagagang-!

With the old dwarf's last words, the ceiling collapsed, and a huge shadow fell upon him.

However, the old dwarf only smiled as if he was satisfied until the last moment of his life.

"…It's okay."

Through the broken ceiling, cold blue eyes.

Kihano looked up fiercely as he met the gaze of the most perfect dragon.

"The Silver Knight you sent me. I have received it."

From the collapsing tall furnace, the last breath of the spirit spread out.

Feeling that breath scatter fleetingly, Kihano raised the Silver Knight.

The cast iron that began in the tall furnace had cooled, but he felt as if he could still feel the bright red heartbeat of the silver knight he was holding.

***

"Hmm..."

On the deck, where the sailors hurried back and forth, Vlad sat in a corner, inspecting his sword with a narrowed eye.

"No matter how much I look at this thing, I can't tell if it's sharp or not."

Though it was his precious sword, Vlad's expression showed slight dissatisfaction.

This was because he didn't like the balance of the sword, which had become slightly distorted due to the battles so far.

[It's inevitable. It's not something that can be fixed with a simple sharpening stone.]

"Still, it feels strangely smooth."

[That's also inevitable. It's not finished.]

Hearing Kihano say that nothing could be done, Vlad let out a small sigh.

As he said, Vlad's current sword was an unfinished blade that had not yet reached completion.

'My grandfather said he had sharpened the blade, but hadn't tempered it properly... I'm sorry.'

Vlad recalled the young priestess who had apologized with a remorseful expression while handing him the sword she had forged with so much effort.

She had said that her inexperience had caused the problem, but that was also inevitable.

"Mist! The mist is coming!"

[It seems we've arrived.]

Hearing the lookout's shout, Vlad stood up and could see the mist approaching from afar, just as the lookout had said.

Indeed, as the lookout had mentioned, a misty fog was coming in from the distant sea.

"This mist is as white as if milk had been spilled."

Observing the fog over the sea, Vlad sheathed his sword and quickly moved toward the railing.

This was because Otar's voice scolding the sailors on deck was unusual.

"Lower all the sails! We're entering a reef zone!"

"Those without tasks, go to the railing and keep a lookout! If you see anything, shout immediately!"

The waves were calm, but Otar's voice from the center of the deck was as loud as thunder.

Even Vlad was momentarily surprised that Otar, who was usually quiet, had such a powerful voice.

"We're entering! Everyone, to your positions!"

With the loud sound of Harven turning the helm, the Zemina was swallowed by the mist.

Then what you see is a fog thicker than expected.

Feeling as if not only his vision but also the sounds he could hear were obscured, Vlad turned his head back and forth as if curious.

"Are you also keeping watch, Lord Joseph?"

"No."

The fog was so thick that it seemed as if Joseph had appeared out of nowhere.

He walked indifferently and now rested his arms on the railing, looking out at the sea where nothing could be seen.

"You seem to be doing well lately. I'm glad."

"Really?"

Perhaps it was because of the white mist, but Joseph's usually dark shadowed eyes were not visible.

Vlad was smiling at seeing Joseph, who had become much healthier these days, but frowned when he heard the sound that followed.

"Uueeegh-"

"…Hmm."

A very explicit sound came from Joseph, who had lowered his head.

In a vision that seemed familiar from somewhere before, Vlad simply kept his distance and rubbed Joseph's back.

'It must be genetic to be susceptible to seasickness.'

Vlad, scratching his head awkwardly, thought of the two brothers, who though different in appearance, shared this weakness.

He felt a bit uncomfortable thinking that perhaps he too could have something in common with these people.

"Vlad. I think we've reached the point marked on the map."

"Well done."

Vlad nodded as he looked at Harven coming down from the helm.

Although it was a difficult place that most captains would avoid, and even though it was his first time on this voyage, Harven finally managed to bring the group safely to their destination.

"And now what? Do we just blow this?"

"That's what they say."

"Then we should do it quickly. Even though we've anchored, the nearby reefs are a concern."

The conch shell that would likely mark a highlight in the journey was ready. Although Joseph, as the leader of the group, should have blown it, he was still by the railing vomiting.

"…Do it yourself."

"I guess I have to."

With the sound of vomiting still in the background, Harven quickly handed the conch shell to Vlad.

It was impossible for a conch shell that seemed precious to emit a strange smell without reason.

"Hmm."

Vlad accepted the conch shell from Harven with an awkward gesture.

Though it was just a signaling instrument, he had never held one before.

"Through this small hole..."

"Yes, that's right."

Vlad brought the conch shell to his mouth, looking out at the unseen sea. The sailors, knowing they could only rely on the conch shell, watched his movements attentively.

"Piii-"

"What are you doing now?"

"...Damn. I guess it's because it's my first time."

The sound of Joseph vomiting beside me.

In front, the disappointed look of Harven.

Feeling embarrassed by the weak whistle he had produced, Vlad took a deep breath.

"Puuuuu-"

"You did it!"

"Oh!"

A loud and clear sound echoed over the sea. It might have been his imagination, but Vlad felt that the sound of the conch shell reverberated through the fog.

"I've blown the conch shell, but now what?"

"…Good question."

However, after blowing the horn, all that could be felt was the silence conveyed by the gentle waves.

Joseph, who was wiping his mouth under the gaze of Harven and Vlad, simply shrugged.

"We have to keep blowing until something happens."

"..."

How long does it mean to keep blowing?

Looking at Joseph, who was leaning against the railing with a helpless expression on his face, Vlad brought the conch shell to his mouth once again.

"Huh?"

However, just as he was about to blow the horn, Vlad could see a long stick floating in the sea.

I don't know why, but Vlad noticed a strange look and quickly grabbed Harven's shoulder.

"Harven, what is that? Is it a sea creature?"

"Huh? Where?"

Harven tilted his head, looking in the direction Vlad was pointing.

However, where Harven looked, there was only a calm sea.

The long stick that Vlad had just seen wasn't even visible.

"What are you talking about?"

"It just submerged."

"What?"

"...I'm telling you something submerged."

Seeing Vlad with a frozen expression on his face as if he had seen a ghost, Harven swallowed involuntarily.

He knew that Vlad didn't exaggerate or joke about these things.

"There's something there."

Vlad, scanning the sea with narrowed eyes, saw bubbles rising from below.

It was a strange sign that didn't match the previously calm sea.

"...Nibelun, do you sense anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"That mysterious thing you're talking about. It's something that's hard to explain with words."

At Vlad's sudden question, Nibelun perked up his ears.

A world of mystery pursued by the instinct of curiosity.

However, Nibelun couldn't find any sign of it anywhere in the wide sea.

"No, besides the fog, I don't feel anything special."

"Really?"

After hearing Nibelun's response, Vlad slowly drew his sword.

The group surrounding them began to panic seeing him move cautiously, fearing that someone might notice.

"...Then, I'll handle this."

The bubbles that had been rising on the calm water's surface were now clearly visible.

So much so that even the sailors watching from the railing could recognize it.

Noticing Vlad's attention, Jager also caressed his patch while drawing his sword.

"Everyone to their positions...!"

The Zemina swayed.

As when you encounter a storm.

As the sea surface became increasingly agitated, even the sailors had no choice but to realize that something was beneath the surface.

"Go to your respective positions!"

Splash!

With Harven's shout, the ship began to rock violently.

It was due to the waves created by an unknown entity that had struck the ship.

"Something's out of the water!"

"It's a coffin from hell, coming to take us!"

Panic spread among the sailors, and some knelt on the deck, praying for their lives.

"...What the hell is this?"

[This is the first time I've seen it too.]

The sailors who had roamed the sea all their lives didn't know, and even the mage who dealt with mysteries hadn't noticed.

And as he looked at the strange creature whose identity even the experienced Kihano didn't know, Vlad gripped his sword tightly.

The creature, now visible on the water's surface, had a strange antenna on its head, similar to the stick Vlad had seen earlier.

***

"Little one, little one. Why are you so lively today?"

A smile spread across the long eyebrows of the old dwarf.

This was because the young lizard swimming over the red-hot molten iron was moving actively today.

"Why are you so happy? Could it be because the visitor you've been waiting for has arrived?"

The dragon, swimming in the old blast furnace, seemed to understand the blacksmith's words and nodded repeatedly.

Puuu!

The young dragon spat out a small fountain of bright red molten metal, as if it were in a good mood.

The old dwarf, with his hunched back, straightened up after observing the young dragon's antics.

He lifted his head and looked out into the distance through the window, toward the sea.

"Anyway, do you think they're doing a good job guiding the guests?"

The old man, the only craftsman left in modern Nidavellir, frowned as he looked at the dense white fog surrounding the island.

It was a fog that no one could easily escape from without a guide.

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