Forge and Steel

Drip

Drip

In the dark streets of Orario, the figure of Zald, the nightmare of the city, advanced with heavy steps as the echo of dripping resounded around him.

"Ugh... Damn it, I hate blacksmiths and magic swords now," the deep voice of the great hero Zald growled in agony, echoing in the dark night.

Unlike his usual majestic appearance, he now looked utterly pitiful. Most of his armor was in pieces, with large burns and open wounds visible through the cracks, from which thick drops of blood still oozed.

It was clear that the damage caused by Pyrion's magic sword, along with the tons of rocks that had collapsed on him, had left him on the verge of collapse.

"Ughh..."

With another groan of pain, Zald stopped, leaning against a wall as his breathing grew heavier. Each step took a toll, and the pain of his broken bones made him shudder.

He took a deep breath, regaining some strength, and resumed his march toward a specific place. The streets and residences surrounding him were in ruins, almost deserted; there were barely any signs of life in this part of the city, an abandoned and gloomy corner of Orario.

After struggling for a while longer, Zald finally arrived at what appeared to be his destination: a ruined church.

Observing the church for a moment, Zald let out a harsh sigh and made his way to the large wooden door. With one last effort, he pushed the door open, which creaked as it gave way, and entered the interior of the church.

The interior of the church, like the exterior, was worn and covered in dust, with broken pews and walls that seemed to have witnessed countless winters. However, amidst this decay, one figure stood out. Before a nameless statue, a beautiful woman with silver hair stood in silence, her hands clasped in a gesture of contemplation.

Zald, stumbling as he entered, broke the silence with a heavy sigh. "Sigh... Alfia, you should find something else to do. If you keep standing in front of that statue every day, you might end up losing your mind. Do like the other women... I don't know, go buy some clothes or something."

After complaining in exasperation, Zald's exhausted figure trudged toward one of the pews in the church.

"Zald, I remember telling you hundreds of times to leave me alone while I'm here." With an indifferent expression but a hint of irritation in her tone, Alfia continued contemplating the statue, paying no attention to Zald.

Zald, letting out a snort, dropped his weary body onto one of the pews, completely ignoring the warning tone in Alfia's voice. He leaned back, stretching one leg with a gesture of evident pain, and cast an annoyed look at the faceless statue she was staring at.

"Yeah, yeah, you say that all the time... but what do you want me to do? This place is dead, just like that statue you pray to. Sometimes I think you're turning into a relic here, too."

Irritated by Zald's remark, Alfia turned to glare at him sharply. However, her stoic expression faltered as she took in the pitiful state of her companion; her eyelids, which usually remained closed, opened slightly, revealing mild surprise in her beautiful eyes.

"You... look pathetic," Alfia murmured, her eyes scanning Zald's wounds and the shattered pieces of his armor. For a moment, her characteristic calm gave way to genuine surprise—a rare emotion for her.

Zald let out a dry laugh, somewhere between a sigh and a groan of pain. "Is that all you have to say? Though I didn't expect you to run to me in worry, a simple 'Are you okay?' would've been nice."

Alfia let out a sigh, quickly regaining her composure. Her gaze returned to its usual calm as she looked at Zald slumped on the pew, her eyes lingering on the deep wounds covering his body.

"Are you so tired of living that you decided to throw yourself into a pool of lava or something?" Alfia asked, her tone sarcastic, though there was a hint of interest in her words.

Zald let out a bitter smile. "No, I didn't go that far. Let's just say I ran into a pretty cheeky brat."

"Oh, so there's someone in present-day Orario strong enough to leave you in that state?" Alfia asked, raising an eyebrow with genuine interest.

Zald let out a short, bitter laugh. "I'm not sure how strong he is... but I do know he's qualified to call himself the 'Master Blacksmith'." Remembering the terrifying magic sword that had fallen on him, Zald gritted his teeth in anger. "That damn magic sword nearly incinerated me."

Alfia showed no surprise, but her gaze grew more contemplative upon hearing Zald's words. "The 'Master Blacksmith'... So you're talking about Pyrion, a member of the Hephaistos familia, a Level 6 adventurer."

"Yeah," Zald responded, his tone laced with resentment. "By the way, although I only exchanged a few blows with him, I can assure you that his strength isn't normal. That guy is definitely not your average Level 6 adventurer."

"So, he has the strength to surpass his level, huh?" Alfia's mild interest grew upon hearing Zald's words. After all, even during the time when their two great familias ruled, adventurers capable of surpassing their level limitations were still a rarity. "That makes him even more interesting..."

Suddenly, Zald, who had been reclining on the pew, sat up in alarm upon hearing the interest in Alfia's voice. "Hey, hey, Alfia, let me tell you now, that kid is my prey, and I'll deal with him myself. You're not allowed to interfere."

Alfia didn't respond immediately, her eyes fixed on Zald while her expression remained stoic. However, a slight, disdainful smile appeared on her lips. "It seems you're unwilling to let it go. Your resentment is truly pathetic."

Zald's face darkened at the disdain in Alfia's gaze. With an annoyed snort, he replied, "Hmph, if it weren't for his dirty tactics, I would've beaten him to a pulp." A feral smile appeared on Zald's face. "He's mine, Alfia... After all, I still have to repay him for all these wounds."

Casting a disdainful look at Zald, Alfia chose not to continue the conversation. She turned her gaze back to the statue, leaving a final warning: "I hope you remember our mission, Zald. I hope you don't kill a future pillar of Orario."

"Hmph, of course, I haven't forgotten our mission," Zald said, somewhat offended by Alfia's words. He restrained his temper and continued, "Besides, you should worry more about me than him. After all, if that guy pulls out another damn weapon, I might be the one who ends up incinerated."

Alfia didn't respond further, her focus shifting back to the statue in the church, ignoring Zald's complaints.

"Now I have to go to those rats to get some potions." Looking at his wounds with disdain, Zald pronounced the word "rats" with a tone of contempt.

"Care to join me, Alfia?"

"Get lost."

"Hey, so cold."

...

"Ottar-san, I'm very sorry for the delay."

Outside the Freya familia's residence, Pyrion, carrying a large box slung over his back, spoke to Ottar with an apologetic smile.

"No problem, I understand the circumstances of your delay." Ottar, who was performing his daily duties as the gatekeeper of the Freya familia, responded in an indifferent tone.

"Yes, well, then I'll show it to you." Facing the stoic captain of the Freya familia, Pyrion didn't have much to say, so he got straight to the point and planned to take the box off his back to show the weapon.

"Please wait a moment, Pyrion-san."

However, before Pyrion could lower the box containing Ottar's weapon, the Boaz raised his hand to stop him, causing Pyrion to look at him in confusion.

Seeing Pyrion's confused face, Ottar quickly explained. "Pyrion-san, even though this weapon was commissioned for me, the one who will pay for it is my goddess. Therefore, I would prefer the delivery to be made to her personally."

An expression of discomfort appeared on Pyrion's face upon hearing Ottar's words.

"Um... Ottar-san, are you sure you can't receive it yourself? The truth is, I have a few things to take care of afterward." Scratching his head awkwardly, Pyrion tried to escape the situation.

However, to his disappointment, the giant Ottar immediately shook his head firmly. "I can't do that, Pyrion-san. At my goddess's request, she wishes to be the first person to see the finished sword."

"Oh, come on... Sigh. Alright, then lead the way, Ottar-san." Although somewhat nervous about meeting the goddess Freya, Pyrion could only grit his teeth and walk along; after all, it was impossible to leave without receiving his payment.

"Understood." A simple nod from Ottar was his cue, and without saying anything else, he walked toward the enormous gate of the Freya familia. He then pushed the door open with strength and continued his path into the residence.

Despite his reluctance, Pyrion followed Ottar with steady steps.

**CLASH**

**CLANK**

After walking several hundred meters, the two soon approached a courtyard where several people were fighting. Around them, several women were healing the injured.

Looking closer, Pyrion soon noticed that the intensity with which they were fighting wasn't normal for simple training; most of the wounds they inflicted on each other were fatal, and they didn't seem to care about their companions' lives.

"It seems like fierce training." In Pyrion's opinion, this couldn't be called training; it was more appropriate to label it as death duels, especially when he saw that some members of the Freya familia were gravely injured.

Without stopping his stride, Ottar casually commented, "The training in our familia consists of our members fighting with everything they have, without worrying about dying. After all, we have several trained healers supervising the 'training.'"

As Ottar's words ended, Pyrion saw a cute girl approach a gravely injured member of the Freya familia. In a quick process, the girl recited healing magic, causing the person to recover from their severe wounds.

"I see. I suppose it works in its own way." Though Pyrion, who was born into a loving familia like the Hephaistos familia, found this type of training rather barbaric, he couldn't deny its effectiveness nor judge their way of doing things.

"Facing life-threatening challenges is the most effective way to become powerful," Ottar briefly explained his familia's perspective on their training.

For his part, Pyrion neither agreed with nor denied Ottar's words. Remaining silent, he continued walking behind Ottar, drawing closer to the Freya familia's main residence.

Entering the heart of the Freya familia's residence, Pyrion followed Ottar as they crossed multiple hallways and staircases. After a long walk, they finally seemed to reach their destination.

Reaching the end of the hallway, Pyrion noticed a large door leading to some kind of hall. Pyrion assumed this was probably the main room of the goddess Freya.

Outside the door, there seemed to be two people waiting—one was a woman with gray hair and black eyes, and the other was an elf with blond hair and red eyes.

The elf looked at Pyrion with a neutral expression, while the woman, on the other hand, gazed at him with some resentment and disdain.

"Do you have a problem with me?" Pyrion, noticing the woman he had never seen before staring at him with displeasure, felt somewhat dissatisfied and asked directly.

After Pyrion's question fell, the woman's face showed slight surprise, as if she hadn't expected Pyrion to confront her directly within her familia's residence.

On the other hand, the sharp gazes of the blond elf and Ottar immediately fell on the woman after Pyrion posed the question.

Feeling the piercing stares of the three people in the hallway and recalling her goddess's previous warnings, cold sweat ran down her forehead. Then, in a slightly trembling tone, she replied, "I... I have no problem, Pyrion-sama."

"I see." Looking at the girl who had broken into a cold sweat, Pyrion didn't pursue the matter further. After all, he knew a bit about the girl's personality according to the plot he was familiar with. Thinking of this, Pyrion didn't continue making things difficult for her.

"Pyrion-san, you may proceed. My goddess is waiting for you inside." Giving one last glance to the girl, Ottar walked toward the door and opened it carefully, then gestured for Pyrion to go ahead.

"Understood." Feeling his nervousness return, Pyrion walked toward the door, praying that goddess Freya wouldn't make things difficult for him.

...