Chapter 75 – Do You Think It’s Possible?

The blacksmith’s forge was modestly sized.

Though cramped inside, it appeared well-equipped with all essentials.

Located at the outskirts of the third tier, which also served as the residential district, this place exuded an atmosphere markedly different from the first tier—the village entrance—where shops, stalls, convenience facilities, and trading posts clustered together.

“A customer?”

“Yes.”

Cariel handed over his sword still in its scabbard and asked,

“Can you repair this?”

“Hmm.”

The middle-aged man accepted it and drew the severely bent blade from its sheath.

His skin was scorched and marred with burn scars.

Despite his short-cropped hair and lean appearance, his well-defined muscles revealed an unyielding discipline that permitted no laziness.

“Do you want it reforged, or just the bend straightened?”

“…Which would you recommend?”

“That depends on your needs.”

Sometimes people insist on fixing what can’t be salvaged.

“If you want to use it in combat, reforging is the right approach. If you’re keeping it for sentimental value… straightening it isn’t difficult. You could use it for training, though not for actual combat. That’s the limit.”

“……”

Surprisingly thorough.

Despite his stern gaze, his explanation was quite detailed.

“Then there’s no other option. If it can’t be used in actual combat, there’s no reason to keep carrying it.”

“I see.”

The middle-aged man set the sword aside with an understanding nod.

“Come back in two days. Payment in advance.”

While paying, Cariel briefly surveyed the interior. Though tools were plentiful, he saw no ready-made weapons available for immediate purchase.

“Do you only craft after receiving orders or commissions?”

“That’s right.”

Near the entrance of the adjacent building, a boy was meticulously cutting leather with metal shears.

Though the yard was small, a separate structure serving as storage suggested their business was reasonably successful.

“The grip seems salvageable. But I notice the thickness is uniform from top to bottom—is that acceptable? Usually, grips thicken toward the top. Judging by the guard and pommel shape, it’s a perfect Imperial sword. The Empire’s fixation with the cross shape extends even to maintaining uniform grip thickness for balance, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, precisely.”

Though it makes no difference to me.

Depending on whether the grip is oval, flat, or rectangular, the handling method and function change accordingly.

The leather wrapping, how wire is coiled around it—these also affect usage differently.

One could force any style to work, but the structure still creates differences between thrusting and slashing techniques.

“The fact that you didn’t mention it out of understanding rather than ignorance tells me enough.”

Had there been issues with the grip area, he would have offered to repair, replace, or reinforce it.

Temporarily wrapping with cloth, bandages, or cord is an option, but only as a stopgap measure.

To the uninitiated, such details might seem trivial, but in weaponcraft, exploring each nuance leads down an endless path.

There’s a reason some go to the extreme of skinning certain monsters or marine creatures, specially processing their hides to create unique leather for sword handles and sheaths, then guarding those methods as sacred secrets.

Even the slightest difference can affect a weapon’s utility and the user’s skill level.

That a wielder’s sensitivity has developed enough to perceive such minute distinctions is equally significant.

Of course, someone accustomed to premium equipment from the beginning will find cheaper alternatives jarring, naturally gravitating toward superior quality.

“……”

In that respect, I remain undiscriminating.

I simply use whatever is placed in my hands.

“I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”

With those words, Cariel departed.

He had instructed Luillin to purchase ample food, including enough for herself, so by now the chapel was likely bustling with preparations for their voracious guest.

“……”

And.

Having rescued a child and stirred up trouble in the process, even with Leo and Luciri present, he felt uneasy enough to deliberately station Luillin there as well.

If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing properly. Half-hearted kindness often leads to terrible retribution—this much is undeniable.

…Those who identify as predators, as aggressors rather than victims,

Never overlook what’s been done to them.

They never meekly accept or quietly endure.

They simply will not permit it.

This forms the fundamental mindset and lifestyle of those who wield violence and oppression.

Having lived that way their entire lives, the moment they relinquish that identity—

The instant they shed the façade of fear—all that awaits them is either being devoured by another predator’s fangs or suffering horrific vengeance from those who’ve harbored hatred, waiting for their opportunity.

As the saying goes: you reap what you sow.

“……”

Furthermore,

While pretending to survey his surroundings, he checked whether anyone followed him.

Wanting to gauge the general rumors circulating, he examined various locations.

For now, he detected no watching or trailing eyes.

As the sun began to set, he headed back to the chapel.

“So you went to make a new sword rather than repair the old one?”

Luillin greeted him with a dissatisfied grumble.

“……”

What is she unhappy about?

More than six children gathered there, with Luines supervising them.

When Leo, Luciri, Luillin, and Cariel joined them, the combined kitchen and dining area inside the chapel became noticeably crowded and lively.

The chapel building itself incorporated living quarters within its structure. Even small churches typically separated such spaces, making this arrangement somewhat unusual.

The meal was plentiful in quantity but simple in content.

Hard bread and vegetable soup that resembled broth.

Milk mixed with preserved strawberries and grapes provided a welcome sweetness to an otherwise plain palate.

Cariel waited for his bread to soften in the soup.

Having joined them for the meal, conversations naturally reached his ears.

“Is there no dedicated caretaker here?”

“There was a nun, but… she left on a missionary journey.”

Luines gave Leo a vague response… A missionary journey?

This was an uncommon reason for travel within the Empire, momentarily confusing Cariel.

“Followers of the Irenis Church are known to be quite active in that regard.”

At Luciri’s comment, Leo nodded in agreement.

“They would visit our village every season as well.”

“Your village? That’s right, you mentioned being from another kingdom, Leo?”

At Luines’s question, Leo hesitated briefly before answering with a faint smile.

“Yes. Though it’s called a kingdom, in many ways it’s not much different in scale from this territory governed by Yarl Lutengar. Our king once told me that our nation’s existence is only possible because of our proximity to Metlan.”

“Is that so?”

Luciri offered a brief explanation.

“It’s called the Kingdom of Serf, where humans, beastkin, elves, and dwarves coexist. The terrain is rugged with numerous mountains and highlands, so other nations saw little benefit in conquest and left it alone. Eventually, those who gathered there formed a harmonious community and established a nation. After the kingdom’s foundation, iron ore was discovered, bringing dwarves into the fold. Eventually, the dwarves became royalty by unanimous consent, under the pretext of managing finances and providing protection.”

“I’ve heard of it too.”

Luillin chimed in knowingly.

“……”

Cariel had merely heard the name but knew little of the details.

“But you mentioned the king? If you’ve met the Konungr of Serf, does that make you someone important, Leo?”

“Not at all. Our king is simply kindhearted. And… unlike in Metlan, we don’t call our king ‘Konungr’ among ourselves. We just call him ‘king.’ That’s just what foreigners call him.”

The rulers of the Ice Sea Sand Tribes, commonly known as Wikinggru, were called Konungr, revealing their origins.

Some minor nations or local lords adopted this title through influence, but most settled for the title of Yarl.

Yet this was merely nominal. Much of their culture and ancient traditions had gradually faded, absorbed into the broader continental customs long ago.

“The reason I was summoned was as a witness to report on a tragedy that befell our village.”

“A tragedy? What kind of tragedy?”

Luciri gave Leo a cautioning look, but Luillin tilted her head and asked directly.

“Children, eat carefully—don’t spill.”

Luines remained busy tending to the children.

“It’s alright, Luciri. It’s not something that needs concealing.”

Leo’s expression grew somber, but seeing Luillin’s discomfort—wondering if she’d touched on something inappropriate—he forced a smile.

“The village where I lived, Tedeo, is now… asleep. Everyone except me.”

“Huh? Asleep? Why?”

Clatter!

A wooden bowl overturned onto the floor, causing a startled child to burst into tears.

“It-It’s okay! Th-These things happen!”

Luines hurriedly tried to console the upset child.

“What a waste.”

“Luillin…”

Luciri shot her a sharp glare, having clearly heard her muttering, and Luillin immediately shrank back.

“……”

Cariel observed the scene silently while finishing his meal.

And so, the conversation drifted away unfinished.

***

Luillin’s astonishing appetite was enough to leave everyone amazed.

Initially skeptical, Luines and Luciri had tried to dissuade her, thinking she was preparing excessive amounts of food.

“It really does disappear.”

Her eating was impeccably neat, but even that had its limits.

Carrying all the dishes to the well and completing the washing took considerable time.

With darkness falling, the process of lighting lanterns and preparing to leave together became unexpectedly chaotic.

Since Luines, with her limited mobility, needed to remain behind, Cariel considered leaving Leo with her.

“…An idle teacher like you should stay instead, right?”

“??”

Why?

Claiming it was compensation for contributing to the food expenses, she instructed him to rest.

Consequently, Cariel found himself seated across from Luines by the light of a single candle.

“Thank you for today.”

“……”

I did what I could.

It was only natural for her to express gratitude, so Cariel acknowledged it with a simple nod.

If accepting thanks could ease the other person’s mind, there was no reason to refuse.

“It’s been quite a while since there was such excitement here… The children seem truly happy.”

“Is that so.”

Cariel listened attentively to her words.

He had nothing particular to contribute himself.

“……”

Yet she seemed troubled, as if something weighed on her mind, her expression remaining tense.

“Is something bothering you?”

“No… it’s nothing. It’s my own personal matter…”

Then, looking directly at Cariel, she suddenly asked:

“You’re interested in Grandeus’s sword too, aren’t you?”

“Interested, in what sense?”

“You want to draw it, don’t you?”

“……”

“I’ve observed many people. Those who come merely to pray and seek blessings, and those who arrive with the intention of claiming it—their eyes and expressions differ significantly.”

“……”

Cariel neither nodded nor offered any clear response.

She wasn’t seeking an answer.

“Do you think it’s possible?”

“…I don’t know.”

I truly don’t know.

I’m hardly in a position to approach anything with certainty.

I act because I must.

…I pursue it because it’s necessary.

That’s all.

“I apologize. That was thoughtless… Um, would you like some water?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Perhaps finding the silence between them awkward,

She attempted to rise with the help of her cane when—

“Oh?!”

Her hand slipped, and her upper body pitched forward.

Cariel reacted instantly.

Had he been living inattentively, even this might have escaped his notice. But even in moments of apparent relaxation, his awareness remained razor-sharp.

Every moment of opening and closing his eyes, every breath drawn and released, represented his reality—his battlefield.

If the ceiling were to suddenly collapse and kill him here, whose fault would that be?

A natural disaster?

The malice of an attacker launching a surprise assault?

Or simply misfortune—that he happened to be in a deteriorating building?

No.

It would be his fault for failing to anticipate it.

His fault for accepting such absurdity at face value.

“……”

The moment he caught her as she fell,

He saw something.

Not just one image.

Countless visions.

First,

A small girl sprawled on the ground, sobbing quietly.

Then,

A girl sitting in the pouring rain, completely drenched, weeping uncontrollably.

Her once-golden hair had faded with time, becoming pale like the sky itself.

As her bright blue eyes gradually lost their color,

The anguish in her expression slowly dulled.

Perhaps this represented another form of resignation.

Then one day, the girl reunited with her family.

But she could not call her father “Father.”

Because he had forbidden it.

[Remember this well. You must never reveal to anyone that you are my daughter. Should that truth ever emerge, I will cast you out from this place. No—banishment alone would be insufficient. I would exact far more severe punishment. So remember this.]

The girl was assigned to serve a boy younger than herself.

Her half-brother.

Initially, she hated and resented him.

What makes you so different from me?

Why were you given everything from the beginning?

In truth, the boy was exceptionally cruel, arrogant, and disrespectful.

He whined constantly when bored, threw terrible tantrums, and displayed extraordinary stubbornness.

…The only characteristic distinguishing him from other children,

Was his limp.

No tragedy or accident. No misfortune.

A congenital disability.

If one were to label it—simply not being born healthy.

Perhaps that alone constituted the greatest tragedy he would ever know.