Kays Translations

Chapter 151

Wrapped in light, my line of sight rose higher.
Yes—Shijima’s height was the third tallest among all my characters.
Tallest was Silent, then Rue, and after them… Shijima.

The blacksmith class was rare among production jobs in that it was actually strong in direct combat.
Of course, it didn’t come with unique attack techniques or support skills, but its base stats were nearly the same as a warrior’s.
And since Shijima’s sub-class was set to warrior… the feel was basically that of a warrior with fewer usable skills.

“Alright, my consciousness is still me. Melt, how about it? This is the blacksmith, Shijima.”

“Eek! Your voice is deep and loud—it’s kind of scary…! And that beard is all scruffy.”

“Yeah, well… I was aiming for a dwarf vibe.”

But the game I played never had a dwarf race.
So instead, I’d made him a stereotypical burly blacksmith—big, brawny, middle-aged man.
My friends back then often said things like, “Wow, that’s so spot on,” and “He looks like his items would have great bonus effects.” …Well, not that such things actually happened.

“So tomorrow you’re registering for the tournament, right? Hey hey, can I watch you when you make the sword, Shijima?”

“Of course. I’d like you to know where the rented workshop is anyway, so let’s go together tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait… You really have this aura about you, Shijima. Like a master craftsman! But watch your speech, okay? Be like… a stubborn craftsman, or a taciturn old guy?”

“…Like this, perhaps?”

“Perfect!”

Alright then… I’ll claim victory in this blacksmith tournament…!

The next morning, I awoke inside the microbus.
Thanks to the bus’s original insulation and the fact that we were underground, it stayed warm enough that a blanket alone was sufficient without any heater.

The lights around us were all off, so no matter what time it was, it was pitch dark. I got up, stepped outside the bus, and climbed out of the hole.

“Mmh… morning already, huh? Incredible… from outside the bus is completely hidden.”

The hole was sealed perfectly, just covered over with fallen leaves and snow.
Even the ramp down looked nothing more than tangled, dead tree roots left to rot.
It was perfect camouflage—no stranger wandering by would ever find it.

“Alright… time to wake Melt.”

I went back into the bus, roused Melt, who was still curled up in the backseat. She mumbled drowsily but followed me as we headed toward the city.

“Fwaaah… ahh… I’m still so sleepy… Shijima, you’re such an early riser…”

“Well, I guess mornings are early for craftsmen.”

It must’ve been very early indeed, because even the gate guards looked sleepy-eyed.
The city itself was wrapped in silence with no one on the streets, but from the workshop district came the occasional sharp clang! of metal striking metal—proving my hunch right: a craftsman’s morning begins early.

“Guess the eateries aren’t open yet… Melt, do you want to go back and sleep some more?”

“No, I’ll tough it out…”

With her floppy tail and sleepy face, Melt walked unsteadily down the road.
I almost felt guilty dragging her out here—she must’ve been exhausted still.

Eventually, we found the blacksmiths’ guild near the entrance to the workshop district.
A large sign shaped like a hammer and sword hung outside.

True to its name, the guild sign was made of metal, with detailed engravings and gold inlay spelling out Blacksmith Guild.

“This sign’s got real dignity. Alright… from now on, I’m a wandering blacksmith. Secretive, taciturn, a stubborn old man.”

“Mm… but be nice to me, okay…”

“…Of course.”

Yeah, that’s true—even stubborn old men dote on their daughters.
Alright then… roleplay start.

I opened the guild’s doors. The hinges had been oiled so well that they made no sound at all. That tiny detail alone impressed me—it showed this was indeed the guild headquarters.
Most places had plenty of small things left unmaintained.

I went straight to the reception.
Unlike the adventurers’ guild, it was smaller, so there was only one counter.
Well, there were far fewer blacksmiths than adventurers to begin with.

“Excuse me. I heard I can register for the blacksmith tournament here.”

“Hm? Don’t think I’ve seen your face before. You a drifter?”

“Yeah. I work for something like a traveling mercenary band.”

The receptionist, too, seemed to be a blacksmith—a burly, bearded man.
His beard was even fuller than mine, and though a bit shorter, his build was solid.
Most likely, he belonged to the race they called dwarves.

“Then you’ll need to rent a workshop too, eh? We’ve got shared ones and private ones. Private ones have different ranks. For a month, shared costs three gold coins. Private runs from at least eight to fifteen, depending on quality. What’ll it be?”

“What’s the difference in facilities? I’ve no intention of letting anyone steal my techniques. Private it is. Tell me how the price affects the equipment.”

“Heh, sounds like you’ve got confidence. Anyway, we always give private renters a tour of the facilities. I’ll show you around now. You got the money?”

“Plenty.”

“Good. Then follow me.”

And so, led by this rugged, craftsman-looking receptionist, I walked toward the workshop district. …Of course, Melt was tagging along behind me as well.

“That girl with you—what’s her story?”

“She’s a new recruit in our mercenary band. The boss ordered me to finally make her a proper weapon.”

“I see. …A new recruit already at ruby rank, eh? Must be quite the elite band if you’re their personal smith. I’m looking forward to this.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t aiming for victory, but in the end, victory will be mine.”

“Kuha! Bold words! To declare that in the blacksmiths’ city—good guts, lad! What’s your name?”

“Shijima.”

“Got it. Alright, Shijima—first place I’ll show you is here.”

We chatted as we walked until we reached a small workshop not far from the entrance.

Inside—

“As you can see, the forge here’s a bit small. Tools and fuel are all ready, but this place is only good for accessories.”

“Then no. Ideally I need a forge that can sustain high heat, a decently large anvil, and for refining ingots, a semi-automatic belt hammer.”

“Oh-ho, you’re picky. That means the top-class workshop. It’ll cost you plenty, though—are you sure?”

“No problem. Take me there.”

Even now, I didn’t have all the detailed knowledge of smithing burned into my mind.
From experience, I knew it would only come once I stood in a real forge, tools in hand—then all the knowledge from the game, the smithing skills, the dev materials and references the devs studied, all of it would come flooding back.

For now, even without that knowledge, my gut told me: I’d need the best equipment.
Because I wanted to forge a weapon for Melt—because I wanted to win this tournament—my body, my Shijima form, was responding to that desire.

“I’ll forge the ultimate masterpiece. I will grant your wishes, no matter what.”

Such feelings welled up from deep within my chest.

…The blacksmith’s story is one of endlessly pursuing the path of a craftsman, of fulfilling the wishes of clients, of cutting down evil and answering the prayers of the people—swinging the hammer without pause. It is the tale of a seeker of justice.

I can feel how those thoughts, that experience, have sunk deep, deep into this body.

And so, I was guided to the deepest part of the district, where a workshop stood with a particularly tall and massive chimney towering above all others.

“This is the finest workshop. But the flames here run hot, and with the slightest carelessness, ingots can melt down far too quickly. Whether in casting or forging, you must pay the utmost attention to shaping the weapon. Even so, are you prepared for that?”

“I don’t mind. Here, I will create the ultimate weapon. Expect it—a supreme blade the likes of which you’ve never seen.”

“Hah, if you can brag that boldly, then you might just be worth something. Shijima, you’ll need to replenish materials from the wholesalers in this district. Show them this participant’s badge, and they’ll sell to you at a discount. Of course, you’re also free to use your own stock. Some of the participants are backed by nobles—there are plenty who combine first-class skills with vast resources. Show me whether a wandering craftsman like you can truly surpass them.”

“Leave it to me.”

With that, I received a heavy iron medal and hung it around my neck.

Materials, huh. I should at least go take a look.

After paying a month’s rental fee—fifteen gold coins—I watched the receptionist leave.

“Alright! Melt, for this one, I’ll keep your requests to a minimum. I’ll think it through and forge the best weapon myself. Is that okay?”

“Ah, yeah! You suddenly changed the way you talk, so it startled me a little. But you’re right—it’s a present for me, after all. I should wait until it’s done to enjoy the surprise.”

“Exactly. Still, I need to know at least the blade length and how the edge should be forged. Melt, what kind of sword do you want? There’s paper and pen here—can you sketch it out for me?”

When I set paper and pen on the table, Melt made a blatantly sour face.

Unusual…! She’s never shown me an expression like that before!

“Uuugh… I’m terrible at drawing…”

“Well, just things like whether the blade is single-edged or double-edged, or if the tip should be sharp.”

I picked up the pen, intending to sketch from the knowledge I had of weapons.

But in that instant, a flood of blacksmithing knowledge and experience—documents, images, all of it—rushed into my mind.

Tch… I let my guard down… Just being here, in a place of work, must have triggered it…

A headache, dizziness, memories flooding in even with my eyes shut. A torrent of information rushing through me.

I slumped onto the table, enduring the pain until it passed.

“Shijima? Are you okay? Is it that same thing again?”

“Ghh… Yeah… but I can still bear it…”

Perhaps it’s thanks to this body being that of a sturdy blacksmith. Compared to Rue, it’s still manageable.

…Amazing. The creator must have actually visited real smiths, interviewed craftsmen overseas who made replica and mock weapons, studied countless histories of arms and blacksmithing techniques, even watched endless videos online about forging processes…

And on top of that, Shijima’s life and experience as a craftsman seem to be fusing into this body.

What until now was just scenery—the look of this workshop—now feels etched into my brain as if it were part of my own hands and limbs.

“…I can draw it now. Melt, watch. I’ll sketch several types of daggers, and you pick the one that feels right for you.”

“O-okay. Got it.”

So I drew up all kinds of blueprints—blade shapes, edge placements, thickness, grip length, guard designs, whether to include a knuckle guard—and asked Melt for her thoughts each time.

“A-amazing… All my little ‘I wish it looked like this’ thoughts are becoming drawings right before my eyes… It feels kind of mysterious… like magic.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised myself. So then, you’d like: ‘A double-edged, flowing, streamlined blade. The blade somewhat thick, strong enough for thrusting. Using some biological components so it can act as a medium for magic. The grip slightly thin and short. Both blades identical. A guard designed for deflecting attacks.’ Does that sound right?”

“U-um… hearing it out loud, that’s going to be an incredible weapon, you know? Maybe even in the realm of a magic sword.”

“It’s fine. I’ve made swords like that before. I’ll show you—I’ll forge the greatest pair of twin daggers.”

And with that, I laid out every material I had on hand, plus all the resources I’d gathered since coming to this world, and began constructing the blueprints for Melt’s swords inside my mind.

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