Chapter 187 - The Young Blast Furnace (1)

Even in this moment, when everything was collapsing, the heart was still beating.

A heart that had been born cold, yet held within it the hottest heat in the world.

Inside the crimson-hot heart, an enormous lizard that seemed to be made of fire was looking down at Quijano.

"... So this is the great blast furnace."

The eternal breath dwelling within the great blast furnace.

Facing the eyes of a spirit that must have been hotter and purer than any flame, Quijano took off the hood he had been wearing.

Outside, the sound of the city collapsing was thunderous, but now that he had met the gaze of that ancient, enormous being, it felt as if time itself had stopped.

CLANG! CLAAANG!

At the deafening tremors shaking the ground, stone dust fell from the ceiling, and the smithy equipment hanging above creaked precariously.

Yet the hands of the old dwarf striking down upon the final work of his life remained straight and precise.

"... Almost done."

The old dwarf clenched his teeth and brought his hammer down toward the anvil.

Right now, he was striking the red-hot lump of iron with his entire body, throwing himself into it so hard that even his stance was falling apart.

It was no mere illusion that his face seemed to dry out each time he brought the hammer down.

ROOOOAR!

"Master smith! There is no more time!"

Amid the ceaseless hammering, the dragon's roar, now close, rang out.

Sensing the threat approaching, Quijano called out to the old dwarf in an urgent voice, but he merely completed the final tempering with care.

"Yes. So this was the shape you had."

From a meaningless lump of ore into the form of a sword with shape.

Looking at the sword, polished into a smooth form as if it had wanted to be born this way, the old dwarf smiled in satisfaction.

"... It is done, young swordsman."

The highest place in the smithy, where only the finest smith could stand.

Standing there, the old dwarf sent the silver sword riding along the molten iron flowing through the channel.

Because it was far too distant to hand over himself, and his aged body no longer had even a drop of strength left.

The slowly cooling molten iron began to carry away the final work the old dwarf had created.

"This is the last work of this smithy!"

The smithy was collapsing.

The stone dust that had been falling now began to cave in as fragments.

"Master smith! You must get out quickly!"

"No!"

At Quijano's cry, the old dwarf merely shook his head.

The sacred lizard dwelling within the blast furnace brought its snout to the dwarf who had completed his final duty, as if telling him he had done well.

"If you do not mind, please name it this. Quijano Frausen!"

Along veins made of iron, from high to low.

The silver sword, given form by the old dwarf's hands, came to a stop before Quijano together with the red molten iron.

"The 'silver knight' made by the last blast furnace."

"... Master smith!"

CRASH!

Together with the old dwarf's final words, an enormous shadow descended through the collapsing ceiling.

Yet even until the last moment of his life, the old dwarf was only smiling as if satisfied.

"... Understood."

Cold blue eyes that had finally broken through the ceiling and entered.

Meeting the gaze of the most perfect dragon, Quijano fiercely lifted his eyes.

"The silver knight you have sent me. I have certainly received it."

From within the shattering blast furnace, the final breath of the sacred spirit began to spread.

Feeling that breath spread out in vain, Quijano picked up the silver knight.

The molten iron that had begun in the blast furnace had cooled to coldness, but from the silver knight clasped in his hand, he still seemed to feel the beating of a crimson heart.

* * *

"Hmmm..."

On the deck, where the sailors were moving busily.

Sitting in a corner so as not to get in their way, Vlad was examining his sword with one eye narrowed.

"... No matter how many times I look at this thing, I can never tell whether it's been worked on or not."

It was his precious sword, but for some reason a small trace of dissatisfaction lingered on Vlad's face.

Because he did not like how the balance of the blade had subtly warped from all the battles so far.

["It cannot be helped. This is not something that can be corrected with a mere whetstone."]

"It is strangely soft for that, though."

["That, too, cannot be helped. It was never completed."]

At Quijano's words that it could not be helped, Vlad let out a small sigh.

Just as he said, Vlad's sword was indeed an unfinished sword that had not reached completion.

["Grandfather said... The edge was set, but it wasn't properly tempered... I'm sorry."]

Vlad recalled the young Divine Maiden in his memories, who had looked apologetic even as she handed over the sword she had worked so hard to make.

She had said this had happened because she was inexperienced, but that too must have been unavoidable.

"Fog! Fog is coming!"

["Looks like we've arrived."]

At the lookout's cry, Vlad rose from his seat and could see the bank of fog approaching from far out at sea.

Just as the lookout had said, a pale white fog was indeed rolling in from the distant sea.

"What kind of fog is that white, like someone poured milk over it?"

Looking at the fog over the sea, Vlad sheathed his sword and hurriedly pressed close to the railing.

Because Otar's voice as he harried the sailors on deck was anything but ordinary.

"Take in every sail we've got! From here on, it's a reef zone!"

"Anyone without a task, stick to the railing and keep watch from now on! If you see anything, shout right away!"

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

Vlad was even briefly surprised that Otar, normally so taciturn, could have such a loud voice.

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

Along with the noisy sound of the rudder Haven was turning, the Zemina was swallowed by the fog.

What appeared then was a mist thicker than expected.

Feeling as though not only his vision but even the sounds he heard had grown muffled, Vlad turned his head this way and that in wonder.

"Lord Joseph, did you come to keep watch too?"

"No."

The fog was so thick that Joseph seemed to have suddenly popped out of nowhere.

Having walked over indifferently, he leaned his arms on the railing and looked out at the sea, where nothing could be seen anymore.

"Still, you seem to be in pretty good condition lately. I'm glad."

"Do I?"

Perhaps because he was in the white fog, the shadows beneath Joseph's eyes, usually so deep, could not be seen.

Vlad was smiling at Joseph's recently healthier appearance, but at the sound that followed, he ended up frowning.

BLEEERGH!

"... Mm."

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

At the sight that somehow felt familiar, Vlad merely stood at a distance and rubbed Joseph's back.

'Looks like being weak to seasickness runs in the family.'

Thinking of the two brothers, whose impressions were different but who nevertheless ended up showing some resemblance, Vlad awkwardly scratched his head.

When he thought that perhaps he too might have something in common with someone through blood like they did, he felt needlessly awkward.

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

"Yeah. Good work."

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

Though it was a rough place most captains would avoid, and though this was his first time on an unfamiliar route, Haven had ultimately succeeded in bringing the party safely to their destination.

"What now? Do we just blow this?"

"That's what they say."

"Then hurry up and blow it. We did drop anchor, but there are reefs nearby, so I'm really uneasy."

It was the conch horn that might perhaps put the final mark on this journey.

And if someone were to blow it, it would have been right for Joseph, the person responsible for the party, to do it, but right now he was pressed close to the railing, spilling up bile.

"... Just you do it."

"I guess I should?"

At the still audible retching, Haven quickly handed the conch horn to Vlad.

After all, they could not let a horn that looked precious end up smelling strange for no reason.

"Ahem."

Vlad received the conch horn from Haven with awkward motions.

It was only a horn for sending a signal, but to begin with, this was the first time he had ever held anything called an instrument.

"Into this little hole..."

"Yeah, that's right."

After bringing an eye to the small opening of the horn, Vlad turned toward the pale white sea, where nothing could be seen.

Knowing that on this whitish sea, where even direction was hard to grasp, the only thing they could trust now was the horn Vlad held, all the sailors began to focus on his actions.

PHEEEW.

"What are you doing right now?"

"... Ah, shit. It's my first time."

Beside him was the sound of Joseph retching.

In front of him was Haven's pathetic look.

Embarrassed by the limp whistling sound he had made, Vlad drew in a deep breath with the feeling of steeling himself anew.

BWOOOOOO!

"That did it!"

"Oh."

A sound that anyone would call bold and clear began to stretch out beyond the sea.

Whether it was just his mood or not, it seemed as though the horn blast he had just let out was echoing between the gaps in the fog.

"I blew it, but what do we do now?"

"... Good question."

Yet after blowing the horn, the only thing they felt was the silence carried by the gentle waves.

At Haven and Vlad's gazes, Joseph, who had been wiping his mouth, merely shrugged.

"We keep blowing it. Until they come."

"..."

How long was he supposed to keep blowing it?

Looking at Joseph, who had leaned against the railing with a drained face, Vlad brought the conch horn to his mouth once more.

"Hm?"

But just as he was about to blow the horn, Vlad spotted a long rod floating on the sea.

Realizing that, for some reason, he felt a strange gaze from it, Vlad hurriedly grabbed Haven by the shoulder.

"Haven, what's that? Is that a sea creature too?"

"Huh? Where?"

Haven tilted his head as he looked in the direction Vlad pointed.

But where Haven looked, there was only the calm sea.

There was no sign of the long rod-like thing Vlad had just said he had seen.

"What are you talking about?"

"It just went in."

"What?"

"... I'm telling you, something just slipped right under."

Looking at Vlad's expression, frozen stiff as if he had seen a ghost, Haven swallowed without realizing it.

Because he knew very well that Vlad would never exaggerate over some nonsense.

"There's something there."

Looking over the sea with narrowed eyes, Vlad spotted bubbles rising up from below with a burbling sound.

It was a strange sign, utterly out of place in the sea that had been calm until now.

"... Nibelun. Do you feel anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"That mystery thing you talk about. Something hard to explain in words."

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

The world of mystery pursued by the instinct called curiosity.

But Nibelun could not find any such sign anywhere in the wide sea.

"Well. Aside from the fog that suddenly appeared, I do not particularly sense any mystery."

"Yeah?"

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

Seeing him move carefully as if he did not want anyone to notice, the party around him began to grow flustered.

"... Then that thing is something I can deal with."

The bubbles rising onto the calm surface now began to stand out clearly.

Clearly enough for even the sailors keeping watch around the railing to recognize them.

Jager, noticing Vlad's gaze, stroked his eyepatch and drew his own sword.

"Everyone...!"

The Zemina was rocking.

As if it had met a storm.

As the surface of the sea grew rougher and rougher, even the sailors had no choice but to realize that something was beneath the water.

"Get to your positions!"

SPLOOOOSH!

Along with Haven's shout, the ship began to rock violently.

It was because of the wave created by an unknown being that burst up right beside the ship.

"A coffin, a coffin jumped out of the sea!"

"It's a coffin risen from hell! It's here to take us away!"

Together with the sailors' screams, the calm sea began to grow clamorous.

Some of the superstitious sailors even threw themselves flat on the deck and bowed, begging to be spared.

"... What the hell is this?"

["This is my first time seeing one too."]

Something unfamiliar even to sailors who spent their whole lives wandering the sea, and something even a mage who handled mysteries had not noticed.

Looking at the strange creature whose identity even the experienced Quijano did not know, Vlad gripped his sword tightly.

On the forehead of the creature that had finally surfaced was the strange rod-shaped feeler he had seen earlier.

* * *

"You little thing, you little thing. Why are you so excited today?"

A smile spread beneath the old dwarf's long, drooping eyebrows.

And for good reason, since the young lizard swimming atop the crimson molten iron was moving especially energetically today.

"Why are you in such a good mood? Is it because the guests you were waiting for have come?"

As if the lizard swimming inside the old blast furnace had understood the smith's words, it kept nodding its head.

BWOOOOOO!

The young lizard spouted a fountain of crimson molten iron from its tiny mouth as if it were happy.

It was a strange and absurd sight, but the old smith merely kept nodding as if watching his grandson's little tricks.

The old dwarf, whose back had been bent deeply, straightened up at the young lizard's antics.

Stretching his head high, he looked out at the distant sea through a window far away.

"By the way, I wonder if those fellows are guiding the guests properly."

The old man was the only master craftsman Nidavellir possessed in the present age.

Before his heavily narrowed eyes lay the pure white fog filling the area around the island.

It was the kind of fog that no one would be able to escape easily without a guide.