CHAPTER 10 — WHAT SHOULD NEVER HAVE AWAKENED
---
The interior of the blacksmith's workshop was warm—too warm for such a small room. The heat from the large furnace in the corner spread to every corner, making their skin feel dry and slightly raw. The rhythmic sound of hammer blows—clang, clang, clang—echoed between the stone walls, like the heartbeat of a place that was alive and breathing.
Kyoichiiro observed his surroundings carefully. The walls were filled with various weapons—curved-blade swords, gleaming-tipped spears, heavy battle axes, and some objects he couldn't identify. From the ceiling hung pieces of metal in various shapes and sizes, some still gleaming like new, others already rusted and dull. The floor was of stone, blackened from soot and sparks.
A large man stood before an anvil, hammering a piece of hot metal with a heavy hammer. Each blow sent sparks scattering in all directions, like small fireworks falling to the stone floor and dying in an instant.
The man didn't turn when they entered. He kept hammering—clang, clang, clang—with deep concentration, as if nothing could disturb him. Sweat dripped from his forehead and muscular arms, falling onto the anvil and evaporating upon touching the hot metal.
Kyoichiiro: (Standing near the door, not moving) "Wait."
Amura: (Whispering) "What? Why?"
Kyoichiiro: "Don't disturb him. He's working."
They waited. Aetheria stood behind them, trembling slightly—not from cold, but because the atmosphere of this place felt... heavy. Amura walked to a rack beside him, examining a small dagger with curious eyes. Kyoichiiro remained silent, his eyes fixed on the blacksmith.
Finally, after a few minutes—or perhaps more—the blacksmith set down his hammer and plunged the blade into water. A loud hiss filled the room, followed by white steam billowing upward.
Blacksmith: (Turning, his voice deep and hoarse, like someone who had spent too long speaking to metal) "Ah, customers. My apologies, I was in the middle of an important part." He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his already wrinkled sleeve. "Please wait there a moment. I'm almost done."
Amura: (Smiling warmly) "It's alright, Uncle. We don't mind waiting."
The blacksmith nodded, then returned to his work—finishing the last part of the weapon he was making. The three of them sat on a long wooden bench in the corner of the room, waiting.
The room's warmth and the exhaustion from the day's journey began to take effect. Aetheria yawned softly, then covered her mouth with her hand. Amura also began to look tired, though he tried to hide it. Kyoichiiro remained alert, his eyes still scanning his surroundings.
And without realizing it, all three began to fall asleep—lulled by the rhythmic sound of hammer blows and the hissing of cooling metal.
---
THE BLACKSMITH AND THE REQUEST
Kyoichiiro woke to the sound of approaching footsteps. He opened his eyes—seeing the blacksmith standing before them, with a warm smile on his soot-stained face.
Blacksmith: (Chuckling softly) "Sorry for the long wait. You fell asleep, didn't you? It happens. My workshop is too comfortable for tired people."
Amura: (Rubbing his eyes, smiling sheepishly) "Ah—it's alright, Uncle. We're the ones who were rude, falling asleep here."
Blacksmith: (Nodding, then sitting in a chair before them) "So, what brings you here?"
Kyoichiiro: (Getting straight to the point) "We need weapons. Swords suitable for fighting strong magical beasts, and durable."
The blacksmith stroked his beard—a thick beard that had whitened in places, but still looked bushy and unkempt. His sharp eyes studied them one by one, assessing.
Blacksmith: "Possible. Depends on the specifications. How many blades do you need?"
Kyoichiiro: (Turning to Aetheria) "Can you use a sword?"
Aetheria: (Shaking her head, voice soft) "No... but I can use defensive magic and basic healing."
That answer surprised Kyoichiiro slightly. Healing abilities were very valuable in an adventurer's party.
Kyoichiiro: "Good then. That's actually more useful than just an ordinary sword."
He then turned to Amura. Without words, Amura immediately understood.
Amura: "We need two swords. For me, I want a durable sword that can channel or absorb magic well, with a flexible design—maybe a one-handed sword, somewhat light."
Kyoichiiro: "And for me, I want a katana."
When the word "katana" left his mouth, the blacksmith froze. His eyes widened. His thick eyebrows rose almost to his hairline.
Blacksmith: "Ka... katana? I'm sorry, Kid, but I've never heard of that weapon at all. Is it a type of short sword? Or a dagger?"
Kyoichiiro sighed inwardly. Of course. This world didn't have Japanese culture. The katana was a foreign concept.
Kyoichiiro: (Explaining patiently, his hands moving to sketch the shape in the air) "It's a type of long, single-edged sword, with a curved blade, and a handle designed to be held with two hands. Flexible yet strong, with balance that allows for quick, precise slashes."
The blacksmith frowned, trying to imagine the described shape.
Blacksmith: "An unusual design... But interesting." He looked at Kyoichiiro carefully. "Do you have a detailed image? Perhaps a drawing? Or a sketch?"
Kyoichiiro: "I can make it myself. If you have good materials."
Blacksmith: (Startled) "You? Make it yourself?"
Kyoichiiro: (Nodding) "I'll show you what I mean by katana. I just need the materials—high-quality steel, pure iron, and hardwood for the handle."
The blacksmith fell silent. He looked at Kyoichiiro with unreadable eyes—a mixture of curiosity, doubt, and perhaps a little admiration.
Blacksmith: (Finally, laughing heartily) "Bold! But alright, I want to see what you can make. My workshop is yours to use. And for materials..." He walked to a rack behind him, taking a gleaming bar of metal with faint blue veins. "This is Mithril-Alloy Steel—an alloy of steel and rare magic stone fragments. Light, very strong, and has good magical conductivity. For the handle, there's Ironwood from trees hundreds of years old, as hard as metal yet comfortable to grip."
Kyoichiiro: (Nodding) "Thank you."
---
CRAFTING THE KATANA
The workshop area in the back was hotter and filled with impressive forging equipment. Kyoichiiro stood before the furnace, feeling the searing heat on his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling—digging into memories from his previous life, memories of how to make a katana that he had never actually practiced, but he knew.
In my previous life, I read books about katana-making, he thought. I watched videos, read articles, studied the theory. But I never practiced it. This is the first time.
He opened his eyes.
Kyoichiiro: (To the blacksmith) "I'll begin."
The blacksmith nodded, standing to the side with his hands behind his back, observing.
Kyoichiiro heated the Mithril-Alloy Steel bar in the furnace. The fire blazed with intense heat, changing the metal's color—from silvery gray to glowing orange, then nearly white. He observed carefully, waiting for the right temperature.
Here, he thought. Now.
He lifted the metal with long tongs, placing it on the anvil. With a large hammer—almost too heavy for his still-small hands—he began to strike. Each blow was precise, thinning the part that would become the blade's edge while maintaining thickness at the spine.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The sound of the hammer echoed through the workshop, accompanying Kyoichiiro's focused hand movements. The blacksmith watched with wide eyes—he had never seen a child this young work with such concentration.
Blacksmith: (To himself) He really knows what he's doing. This isn't guesswork. This is deep knowledge.
Kyoichiiro continued working. He carefully shaped the blade's curvature, using a specialized anvil to create a smooth, proportional curve (sori). He folded the metal several times—not hundreds of layers like tradition, but enough to distribute the carbon and magical content evenly.
After the rough blade was formed, he cut the base to form the tang (nakago), with a hole (mekugi-ana) for the peg. Then, he heated the blade once more—this time hotter—and quenched it quickly in a special oil bath.
Sssssssst!
Smoke billowed, and the metal changed color. A natural hardening line (hamon) began to appear along the blade—wavy lines like frozen waves, shimmering with faint blue due to the magical properties of the raw material.
Kyoichiiro exhaled. He wasn't finished yet.
He sharpened and polished the blade with whetstones—slowly, patiently, until the edge became razor-sharp, reflecting light like a mirror. Then, he turned to the Ironwood, carving two side panels (tsuka-ita) that fit perfectly in the hand, with a groove for the tang in the middle. He also made a small handguard (tsuba) from leftover metal, simple but elegant in shape.
Finally, he wrapped the tang with imitation shagreen leather and began binding the handle with a special cord made from magical plant fibers. The binding process (tsukamaki) was done in the traditional diamond (hishi) pattern—tight, neat, and comfortable in the grip.
He assembled everything—tsuka, tsuba, mekugi—and examined the result.
The katana stood in his hands. Its blade length (nagasa) was about seventy centimeters—slightly shorter than an adult's katana, but suited to his current height. The curvature was elegant. The hamon shimmered like a stream in the moonlight. The black-and-white handle with the hishi pattern provided a perfect grip.
The blacksmith fell silent. His eyes stared in awe at the creation. He swallowed.
Blacksmith: (Finally, his voice almost a whisper) "...Not at all. It's me who should thank you. I've never seen such a forging philosophy. Light, balanced, and... deadly. A weapon made for pure efficiency, not show. It turns out you're a true expert."
Kyoichiiro: (Still holding the katana, feeling its balance) "Thank you. For the materials and guidance."
Blacksmith: "Guidance? I only provided the materials. You did everything yourself." He shook his head in disbelief. "Who are you really, Kid?"
Kyoichiiro: (Silent for a moment, then answering in a flat tone) "Just a traveler."
---
AMURA'S SWORD
Kyoichiiro exited the workshop, returning to the waiting room where Amura and Aetheria still waited. Both looked refreshed after their short nap—Amura with sharper eyes, Aetheria with slightly more color in her face.
Amura: (Surprised) "So fast! Only two hours?"
Kyoichiiro: "Yes. The materials were very responsive." He placed the katana on the table—its blade gleaming under the oil lamp light. "The katana is finished."
Aetheria: (Admiring the katana) "Beautiful... but it also feels dangerous."
Kyoichiiro: (Sitting down, placing the katana on his lap) "We wait for Amura's sword."
Amura: "How long?"
Kyoichiiro: "I don't know. But the blacksmith seemed skilled."
They waited. The warmth and exhaustion returned, and fifteen minutes later, the three of them were asleep again—this time on the hard wooden chairs, with heads leaning against each other.
Blacksmith: (Emerging from the workshop, carrying a one-handed sword in a simple leather sheath) "Ah, it's finished."
They woke up. The blacksmith approached, handing the sword to Amura.
Amura: (Taking the sword, drawing it in one swift motion) "Whoa..."
The blade was straight, slender, made from similar material as Kyoichiiro's katana—Mithril-Alloy Steel with faint blue veins. There was a fuller in the center to reduce weight, and near the guard, a small crystal circle was embedded—likely for channeling magic.
Amura: "It's perfect!"
He tried a few swings—light, fast, and responsive. The sword felt like an extension of his hand.
Amura: (Turning to the blacksmith) "How much, Uncle?"
Blacksmith: (Smiling, raising a hand to decline) "You don't need to pay. Consider it a gift and... my investment."
Amura: (Surprised) "Ehhhh?! But—"
Blacksmith: (Cutting in, his voice wise) "You showed me something new and interesting today. A young one with unique forging knowledge, and the three of you have an... different aura. I feel these weapons will see many adventures. So consider this part of your journey."
He looked at them seriously.
Blacksmith: "Take good care of yourselves. The outside world, especially dungeons, isn't for careless people. But..." He looked at Kyoichiiro. "...I think you already know that."
Kyoichiiro: (To himself) A question that doesn't need asking.
They had experienced firsthand how cruel the world could be.
After repeating their thanks many times, they left the workshop. They retraced the dark streets, this time with new weapons at their waists, feeling slightly more confident. They didn't pay attention to their surroundings, focused on their next goal.
Back in the busier part of town, they found a merchant with a horse-drawn cart willing to take them to the area nearest to the Abyssal Dungeon. Amura paid the fare—again with his own money—and they climbed onto the cart.
The journey began again, carrying them away from the city's bustle toward the quieter forest outskirts.
---
ABYSSAL DUNGEON
The horse-drawn cart stopped at the edge of a dirt road that disappeared into a dense forest. The sound of wind rustling through the leaves was the only sound filling the silence.
Amura: (Jumping down and paying the driver) "Thank you!"
Driver: (Smiling) "Be careful on the road, kid. This dungeon isn't a place for children."
Amura: "We'll be careful."
They stood before the entrance path, marked by a worn wooden sign reading: "ABYSSAL DUNGEON - FLOOR 1-5 - RANK C RECOMMENDED". The front area was quiet, only wind rustling through the leaves of tall trees. The atmosphere felt oppressive—as if something was waiting in the darkness.
Kyoichiiro: (Looking toward the dark cave entrance in the distance) "Is this right? Too quiet."
Amura: "Of course. Maybe we came at a quiet time, or other adventurers already went in earlier. Or..." He paused. "...maybe they never came back."
Aetheria: (Her face paling) "W-what?"
Amura: (Smiling—a strange smile, somewhere between joking and serious) "Just kidding. Relax."
But Kyoichiiro wasn't sure that was really a joke.
The dungeon itself was a large cave mouth carved into the stone cliff, looking dark and deep. From within, cold wind blew out, carrying the scent of damp earth and something else—something he couldn't identify. From behind, the sound of footsteps and chatter began to be heard. A group of adventurers—about five people with varied armor and weapons—were approaching. They glanced at the three children with slight surprise, then without much talk, walked straight into the cave's darkness.
Adventurer #1: (To his companion, without turning) "Little kids... they don't know what they're doing."
Adventurer #2: "Let them be. They'll learn."
Kyoichiiro heard that conversation. He didn't react.
Amura: (Staring at the cave entrance) "Shall we go in?"
Kyoichiiro: (Taking a deep breath—cold air entering his lungs, feeling sharp) "Let's go."
Without further words, with new swords in hand and hearts filled with resolve—and a little anxiety for Aetheria—they stepped forward, slipping into the dark mouth of the Abyssal Dungeon.
The entrance corridor of the Abyssal Dungeon swallowed the outside world's light like a gaping giant mouth. The temperature dropped drastically, replaced by a damp, cold air that prickled the skin. Near the entrance, several torches were prepared in iron holders—a basic Guild facility for adventurers. Kyoichiiro took one, struck the provided flint, and an orange flame illuminated the three tense faces.
Their formation formed naturally, without further discussion. Kyoichiiro held the torch in front, his light blue eyes sweeping every corner of the darkness with high alertness. Aetheria was directly behind him, in the protected middle position. Amura took the left side, while Kyoichiiro himself guarded the right. They were a triangle moving slowly deeper inside.
Their footsteps echoed, clearly audible in the quiet, damp stone corridor. The sound of dripping water from stalactites above was the only accompaniment besides their own breathing.
Dark... and too quiet, Kyoichiiro thought, his instincts ringing. In every game or story, a quiet dungeon doesn't mean safe. It means something is waiting, hiding, or... hunting. Danger always comes when we let our guard down. I have to be ready to react at any moment.
Amura glanced at Kyoichiiro, as if feeling the same tension. But no words were spoken. Their communication was beginning to rely on body language and situational awareness.
They kept walking, passing the first turn. And suddenly—
From the darkness beside the corridor, nine pairs of glowing red eyes appeared. Low growls and the scraping of clawed feet on stone. A pack of Black Beast Dogs—monster dogs the size of wolves with pitch-black fur and bared, sharp teeth—emerged to block their path.
Kyoichiiro: (To himself) Level 15… Too low to be the main inhabitants of a dungeon with this reputation. This is probably just fodder, or an early patrol. Even ordinary adventurers should be able to handle this.
Without a word, without verbal coordination, they moved.
Kyoichiiro darted forward first, his small, light body moving like the wind. His new katana gleamed in the torchlight as he struck the two lead Black Beast Dogs with a quick cross-slash, slitting their throats before they could howl.
Amura was no slower. His one-handed sword was wrapped in a faint flame aura. He stepped to the side, and with three precise slashes almost simultaneous, three more monster heads flew off, their bodies crumpling before touching the ground.
Aetheria, though pale-faced, raised her hands. Her lips whispered a short incantation. From her palm, small red lightning—more like concentrated electrical bursts—leapt and struck two Black Beast Dogs trying to approach from the flank. Both convulsed and lay still.
Kyoichiiro, already turning, finished the remaining four with clean, efficient slashes, using momentum and exploiting the gaps between their ribs.
Within ten seconds, nine monsters lay dead. Only their final breaths disturbed the silence.
Amura: (Relaxing his fighting stance, smiling) "Good work. Our coordination is pretty solid for a first time."
Kyoichiiro's expression remained flat, but there was a small nod of acknowledgment. Aetheria smiled in relief, her hands still slightly trembling from releasing the magic, but her eyes shone with a small achievement.
Kyoichiiro: "They were just fodder. Don't let your guard down."
They continued their journey, now with slightly increased confidence but undiminished vigilance. This dungeon turned out to be very vast. Corridors branched like a labyrinth, stone walls covered in bioluminescent moss that emitted a pale green light, providing an eerie additional illumination. The air grew damper and heavier, as if filled with restrained magical energy.
Kyoichiiro: (Suddenly asking) "How many bosses are usually in a dungeon like this?"
Amura: (Blinking) "I'm not too sure about this specific one. But based on rumors, a C-rank dungeon like Abyssal usually has a final boss with levels that could exceed 200. There might be mini-bosses along the way too."
Kyoichiiro: "Level 200…" He processed that information. With their current levels still very low (they didn't even have a clear leveling system yet), that number sounded like a chasm.
Amura: "If we face something like that directly… we could be overwhelmed. Even lose in an instant."
Kyoichiiro: (Sighing deeply) "Ohhhhhh…" His tone was flat, but within it was an acceptance of the risks they faced.
Suddenly, the corridor ended at a large door made of dark wood and carved iron, far more magnificent than its surroundings. Without much discussion, Kyoichiiro pushed it. The door opened slowly, creaking, then closed itself with a loud BAM after they entered, as if cutting off their retreat.
The room they entered was a vast circular hall. The ceiling was too high to see, lost in darkness. In the center of the room, there was a stone altar. And on that altar…
Kyoichiiro paused for a moment. From the corner of his eye, he saw something—a large black silhouette moving, lurking from behind a stone pillar.
Kyoichiiro: (Softly muttering) "Oi, oi, oi…" "You've got to be kidding me."
From the shadows, the creature emerged. A Tricephalon Noctyros—a Three-Headed Lion. Its body was as large as a bull, a deep dark blue like the night sky, with fur that looked hard as steel. Its height was over four meters, and each of its three heads had glowing yellow eyes that stared at them with intelligence and hunger. Above Kyoichiiro's head, as if there was a display only he could see: Level 50.
Kyoichiiro: "We just reached the first deeper room, and we're immediately greeted by a level 50 creature? This dungeon doesn't joke around."
But there was no time to complain. The Tricephalon Noctyros roared, and its three mouths emitted different hissing sounds—one like a growl, one like a serpent's hiss, one like a rumble of stone.
Amura moved immediately. "I'll take the left leg, you take the right!" he shouted.
Kyoichiiro nodded, and they attacked simultaneously. Amura darted forward, dodging the right head's claw, and his sword sank into the monster's left hind thigh. Kyoichiiro, with katana in hand, executed a series of quick movements on the right side, slicing tendons and trying to find a gap in its thick-fur-covered belly.
Seeing disturbances from two sides, the monster shifted its attention. Amura used the opportunity to leap, planting his foot on the monster's thigh, then climbing onto its back. From this high position, he swung his sword with force at one of the heads' necks.
SWISH—THUD!
One head was severed, falling to the stone floor with a heavy thud. Thick black fluid sprayed.
However, the victory was short-lived. The two remaining heads looked up and let out an unnatural howl—not an animal's sound, but a magical sound wave that shook the dungeon. Stones from the ceiling began to fall.
Amura: "GET BACK!"
Kyoichiiro leaped backward, dodging a head-sized stone that smashed the spot where he had stood. Aetheria, with surprising reflexes, raised both hands. "Barrier!" A semi-transparent energy wall formed above them, holding back the smaller debris. Amura jumped down from the monster's back gracefully, landing with a roll.
The shaking stopped. Dust swirled. As their vision cleared slightly, the wounded and enraged Tricephalon Noctyros had already lunged. Not at Amura, but at Kyoichiiro, who was rising from his evasive position.
Kyoichiiro: (Eyes widening) "Quick—!"
But too late. A large claw, still retaining dark energy from the earlier howl, struck. Kyoichiiro tried to parry with his katana, but the force was too unbalanced. The claw broke through his guard, raking his right arm and chest, then brutally hurled him against the wall.
BAM!
His body slammed into the hard stone, and he crashed to the ground, sharp pain spreading from his chest and arm.
Amura & Aetheria: (In unison) "KYOICHIRO-SAN!!"
Their voices were full of panic. Amura quickly took command.
Amura: (Commanding voice) "Quick! Aetheria, protect him and heal his wounds! NOW!"
Aetheria: (Trembling) "B-But…!"
Amura: (Without turning, his gaze fixed on the monster) "I'LL handle this damn beast!"
Aetheria nodded quickly, then ran toward the fallen Kyoichiiro. Amura turned to face the Tricephalon Noctyros. His usually relaxed or friendly expression had vanished. Replaced by a cold tension, his red eyes (Crimson Iris) blazing with terrifying intensity.
Amura: (Low voice, venomous) "Unforgivable…"
His sword's blade was suddenly enveloped by a swirling dark red magical aura, like fire and blood combined. The air around him vibrated.
And then, Amura vanished.
Not teleportation, but speed so extreme that the eye couldn't follow. Only a red flash moving in a cross pattern around the monster. One breath. Two. Then, Amura reappeared a few meters behind the monster, in a low stance with his sword drawn.
The Tricephalon Noctyros fell silent. Then, from the necks of the two remaining heads, thin red lines appeared. Before the monster could move again, its body began to dry, crack, and turn to ash, scattering in the air before vanishing completely without leaving a corpse.
Amura turned, his gaze still cold but now fixed on Kyoichiiro.
Amura: (Whispering, but clearly audible) "Never… hurt someone I care about."
He ran closer. Aetheria was already kneeling beside Kyoichiiro, her hands radiating soft golden light against the wound on his chest. Her face was tense.
Aetheria: (Her voice trembling) "Don't move… If you move, the dark poison could spread faster."
Amura stopped beside them, silent. He saw the wound on Kyoichiiro's right arm and chest—the clawed area was blackened, and a network of black veins like roots tried to spread outward.
Kyoichiiro coughed weakly, trying to sit up. "Tch… I couldn't react fast enough. So stupid."
Aetheria: "Stay still… Let my magic work."
The black color on Kyoichiiro's chest slowly faded, pulled out by the golden light. Aetheria then moved her hand to the wound on his arm, focusing completely. Cold sweat beaded on her temples. Amura stood there, clenching his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. In his heart, a curse echoed: …damn it. So close.
After a few minutes that felt like hours, the black color finally disappeared completely. The deep wound closed, leaving red marks that would become scar tissue. Kyoichiiro took a deep breath, the pain already much reduced.
Kyoichiiro: (Trying to stand, but his legs still weak) "Ugh…"
Amura & Aetheria: (Immediately supporting him on both sides) "Careful!"
Amura: (His face full of concern) "Seriously, are you okay? We should rest here for a while. No need to rush."
Kyoichiiro: (Shaking his head slowly) "No need. The wound has healed. Just exhaustion and a little blood loss. That was thanks to Aetheria's help." He turned to the blonde girl. "Thank you."
Aetheria: (Her face still anxious) "Don't push yourself, Kyoichiiro-san… Please."
Her hand was still holding Kyoichiiro's arm, and Kyoichiiro felt a faint trembling in her touch. Not just fear, but there was another strange sensation—a familiar warmth, like nostalgia for something he couldn't remember.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering, more to himself) "What is this…? I feel… a connection to something I should be able to remember…"
His head suddenly felt heavy, throbbing. His vision blurred for a moment.
Amura & Aetheria: (Panicked) "Kyoichiiro-san!!"
Kyoichiiro: (Closing his eyes, then opening them) "It's nothing… Just a little dizziness. A side effect of the poison or the healing, maybe."
Amura looked at him seriously, analyzing Kyoichiiro's condition.
Amura: "No. We rest. Period. We sit, eat, and recover our strength. Don't push yourself. That's not courage, it's stupidity."
This time, Kyoichiiro didn't argue. He nodded in resignation. They sat leaning against the wall near the door (which remained closed). They took out simple rations from their bags—hard bread, cheese, dried meat, and water. They ate in silence, but a silence filled with gratitude for still being alive and tactical evaluation of the battle.
The dungeon fell quiet again. Even quieter than before, as if all life within was holding its breath.
And deep in the darkness, in depths yet untouched by C-rank adventurers, something more ancient, darker, and worse than the Tricephalon Noctyros… slowly opened its eyes. That primordial consciousness had sensed an unusual wave of energy—a combination of pure healing magic, blazing magical fury, and something else… something that felt very old and foreign. And now, it began to watch.