The dwarf blacksmith did not begin the repairs immediately. Just as he had told Orion, he had his own blacksmith's curiosity to quench.
While repairing the weapons was his job, he first locked the workshop door, planning to study them. He cleared his main table and laid Orion's weapons out carefully beneath the lamplight.
His eyes gleamed as if he had lured a beautiful female dwarf to his bed. For a dwarf—and a blacksmith—it honestly wasn't that different.
The Uchigatana rested there first—its curved blade slim, elegant, almost delicate in appearance. But no matter how fantastical it was, it still looked like a normal sword. Not even a magic sword.
However, it was different. Only a blacksmith could tell that the blade was unlike any other.
Beside it lay the shield, dark and sturdy, yet forged with a balance he could not explain.
He ran a rough thumb along the sword's edge.
"…What in the hells are you made of?" He genuinely had no idea. He had seen all sorts of metals and alloys—but nothing like this.
The metal was flawless. Not chipped despite heavy use. Not dulled as much as it should have been after months of combat. It carried wear, yes—but not the kind he recognized.
Definitely an unbreakable weapon—however, not the kind found in Orario.
He tapped it lightly with a testing hammer.
The sound that rang out was unfamiliar. Not iron. Not mithril. Not orichalcum either.
He frowned deeper.
"Don't tell me you're some surface alloy I've never seen…" he muttered.
He tried to identify the grain, the weight distribution, even the way the blade reflected light. Everything about it defied his experience—and he had been forging for decades.
The shield proved no easier. Its internal structure was layered in a way he could not understand. No visible seams. No sign of folding. It felt… manufactured beyond Orario's standards.
The dwarf leaned back in his chair slowly.
"…Should have purchased them from that kid back then…" he sighed.
He had already told the boy the repairs would take a few days, so now that option was gone.
But that gave him time. Time to satisfy his curiosity.
And perhaps—an opportunity.
His lips curled slightly.
He carefully wrapped both weapons in cloth, then quickly shut down his armory and forge.
Meeting Hephaestus was not simple—even for one of her own Familia. If he planned to do so, he had to hurry.
It wasn't that Hephaestus herself was picky or neglectful. In fact, she was extremely busy—always working, always forging something. Besides a certain poverty goddess and a few of her favorite children in the Familia, no one else got to meet her whenever they wished. No, no.
The same thing happened here. Hours passed. Requests were submitted. Messages were carried back and forth.
He waited outside her forge chamber, sweat forming despite the cool hallway air. If this weren't his goddess, his dwarven pride would have long pushed him to break in and meet her by force.
Finally, the heavy doors opened.
"Enter."
He stepped inside. The room glowed with furnace light. However, the heat here felt different. The forge looked far superior to his own—not just in equipment, but even in how it was maintained. This was Hephaestus's personal forge, and nothing less than top-grade items were placed within it.
And there she stood. The one-eyed, red-haired goddess of his dreams.
Hephaestus.
Her red hair shimmered like flame, her single visible eye sharp and intelligent.
He knelt respectfully.
"My Lady."
"Speak," she said, her voice calm but firm. She looked like someone who had much more to do, and this conversation might—or might not—be worth her time.
The dwarf didn't hold back. He explained everything—the strange adventurer, the unfamiliar materials, the impossible construction. By the time he was done, he was almost breathless.
Hephaestus patiently took everything in, blinking when the dwarf used words like "otherworldly metal" and "unknown alloy."
To her, nothing was unknown. She had forged for centuries. There was no metal in existence she wasn't aware of. Or so she believed.
Then he unwrapped the weapons.
Hephaestus stepped forward.
She picked up the Uchigatana first.
Her eye narrowed—and silence filled the forge.
She turned the blade slowly, examining every curve, every line.
Her earlier calm expression shifted. Her eye narrowed further—then widened slightly. Her composed demeanor vanished.
"…This metal," she murmured. "What in heaven's name is it?"
The dwarf swallowed. Cursing heaven so casually—only a god could do that.
"Even you can't tell?"
Her red eye snapped toward him, and he immediately shut his mouth.
Hephaestus ignored him after that, her gaze returning to the weapons. At times she murmured to herself about possible origins of the metal—then shook her head, as if dismissing her own conclusions.
As time passed, the gleam in her eye grew brighter. Any earlier dismissal was gone.
"Where did you get these again?" she asked.
"Eh… a lad left them with me to repair," the dwarf replied.
"Repair, huh…" Her mind raced. The idea that an adventurer owned these weapons made sense in Orario—but not weapons like these.
"This is no common craft," she said quietly. "The method… the refinement… Forget Orario—I myself have never seen anything like this before, not even in heaven."
That left the dwarf gaping. What did that even mean, when the goddess of the forge herself claimed she had never seen something like this?
She set the blade down carefully.
"Where did the boy say he acquired them?"
"He didn't," the dwarf admitted.
Hephaestus smiled faintly.
"Of course he didn't. I'd be disappointed if he had."
Her gaze lingered on the weapons.
"Bring that boy here. I want to meet him. And try to purchase these weapons from him—money is not an issue."
—-<>—-
[Blue Pharmacy – Miach Familia]
When Miach returned to his pharmacy that evening, he expected the usual quiet.
The faint scent of herbs.
The soft clinking of glass.
Naaza's steady, disciplined movements behind the counter—ready to rob… he meant serve every customer as usual.
Instead—
He heard humming.
Miach paused at the doorway, blinking in confusion.
Naaza was standing at the main table, carefully grinding ingredients with a mortar and pestle. She was humming to herself. Not absentmindedly.
Happily.
Miach blinked again.
In all the years he had known her, Naaza rarely hummed.
He stepped inside quietly. "Naaza?"
She looked up at once. "Welcome back, Miach-sama."
Her voice was light.
Almost playful. How long had it been since he had seen his child this happy?
The short answer—never since that incident.
Miach tilted his head slightly. "You seem… cheerful."
Naaza hesitated for a second, then reached beneath the table.
"I was reorganizing earlier," she said casually. "And I found something."
She lifted something and placed it gently on the counter.
An arm.
The prosthetic arm they had worked so hard to afford. The one crafted carefully to replace what she had lost.
Miach looked at it, confused.
"Yes," he said slowly. "That is your—" He trailed off as he actually processed what he was seeing.
If it was in her hands, then…
Naaza picked it up and walked toward him.
She held it out.
"Here. I no longer need it." She handed the mechanical arm over to him—with the same hand it had been meant to replace.
Miach's breath caught.
Slowly—
Very slowly—
His eyes shifted upward.
To Naaza's shoulder.
To her sleeve.
Her right sleeve was no longer empty.
Fabric stretched naturally over a full arm.
His composure shattered.
"…Naaza."
She rolled the sleeve up quietly.
There it was.
Flesh.
Skin.
A living arm.
Miach stared, unable to speak.
He stepped forward, hands trembling slightly as he looked closer, as if afraid it might vanish.
"H-How?" he whispered.
Naaza nodded.
"I made a deal with a devil." She chuckled lightheartedly.
For once, the ever-composed god had no words.
xXx
A/N : Another chapter done, tell me how you like it and if you wish to add something in the story, I would love to make it happen. Give me some ideas if you have.
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