I entered the workshop for the first time at the age of eight.
I took up a hammer when I was twelve, and I forged a sword for the first time at the age of fourteen.
It wasn’t actually a sword. It was nothing but a flattened scrap of metal, made from striking heated metal.
I made a sword that could actually be called a weapon during the winter when I was fifteen. A famous swordsman gave me gold coins, telling me that he liked it.
I believed I was talented at smithing and opened my own workshop, despite my father trying to dissuade me.
Probably because the swordsman that bought my first sword became more and more famous, clients kept flooding into my workshop.
I expanded the workshop, accepting novice blacksmiths to increase the workload. I supplied weapons to countless organizations to rake in the money.
The workshop became bigger and bigger, and gold piled up like a mountain. My frequent use of a hammer decreased gradually, and I spent more time outside, spending money. It was a successful life for such a young age—I could even be called a child. It was a life that anyone would yearn for.
And the accident happened while I was enjoying my life in such a manner.
There was a problem with the swords and shields that I supplied in large amounts, all because I couldn’t properly check the quality if I were to meet the deadline. It resulted in soldiers dying or being heavily injured in their monster exterminations.
The Kingdom asked for a tremendous amount as a compensation fee, and I used all the fortune that I’d accumulated to barely meet the request.
The money I’d been accumulating for over ten years was gone, but that wasn’t the problem.
The problem was the fact that people died because of the sloppy swords that I had made.
I finally realized that I’d been making weapons that could kill or save people’s lives, rather than tools for my business.
I realized that I was a blacksmith, not a merchant.
I could finally understand why my father was against me leaving his workshop so early on. He predicted that such an accident would happen, as I didn’t have the correct mindset yet—despite having the skills.
I kept drinking every day after that. I drank and drank and drank.
I couldn’t stop drinking, because I kept remembering the people that had died because of my weapons.
Living as a drunkard for ten years, I used up the small fortune that I had left, then returned to my ruined workshop while thinking about killing myself.
As I was trying to die in the workshop that I set up myself, I saw the hammer on the furnace.
It was the first hammer that my father had bought me. Since I’d used it for over ten years, I decided to try holding it before I died.
I unconsciously burst into tears the moment I grabbed the hammer. I sank to the ground, crying alone for the whole day—as if the emotions that had been accumulating after that incident exploded out at once.
I stood up after weeping until my tears stopped falling. Mysteriously, my suicidal intentions were gone alongside the tears.
I grabbed my father’s hammer and ignited the rusty furnace. I inserted the scrap metal and my useless thoughts into the raging fire.
The only thing left in me was my desire to hammer.
I struck the steel.
I struck the steel.
I struck the steel.
Money, fame, emotion, life—everything was thrown into the furnace to melt it all and kept striking the hammer.
When I finally came back to my senses after a long time had passed, I was called the Continent’s Blacksmith, and I had made a sword for the warrior that was said to be the strongest.
I overcame my regrettable youth to achieve great success, and even had a family.
Although all I had left to do was to enjoy a satisfying life, something was missing. The unknown deficiency created a hole in my heart.
That was my distress. The despair coming from the fact that I couldn’t forge a sword better than the Heavenly Tremor was pressuring upon me.
I let go of the hammer that I’d been using for so long, running away while claiming that I would make a Golden Charcoal as an excuse.
I spent ten years in vain, comforting myself by saying that I was putting in effort.
As I was about to give up and return, a blonde child visited me.
He was small and extremely thin for his age, but his eyes were somber and cold. He said he wanted to feel the fire, and I let him do as he wished, since it was obvious he wouldn’t be able to endure it anyway.
However, that wasn’t the case. The blonde endured a heat intense enough that even skilled blacksmiths would have run away in disgust, eventually creating his own aura.
The legendary Golden Charcoal was born, but my eyes were looking at the kid instead of the Golden Charcoal.
I felt a passion stir—I wanted to forge a sword for someone for the first time in dozens of years, and promised him that I’d make his weapon.
I spent five years after that building my body and polishing my mind, and the child came to visit me. The child had grown up so much, to the point that it made me happy, and he brought the best materials and circumstances through multiple connections.
The day the sword was to be forged, I increased the furnace’s heat to the extreme by using the Golden Charcoal before putting the lumps of metals inside.
I burned away the impurities in my mind, watching the metals slowly melt.
I even threw my ambition to surpass the Heavenly Tremor and the desire to leave behind the best masterpiece before dying into the fire to melt them.
The only thing I had left was the blacksmith’s instinct to hammer steel. I took the lump of metal that had melted alongside my worthless thoughts from the furnace, then grabbed my hammer.
I struck the steel.
I struck the steel.
I struck the steel.
Just like when I was inside that ruined workshop fifty years ago, I forgot about myself and kept striking the steel.
Responding to my focus—polished like a blade—the three different kinds of metal mingled with each other, slowly taking on the appearance of a sword.
Jet black. Just like the Heavenly Tremor forged with Golden Shard, the entire blade was black.
I put the sword into the furnace, then took it out to start striking it again. It was gradually shaped, and the blade became sharper, but the black color covering the blade didn’t disappear.
I sprinkled Cran powder and put it back into the furnace. The blade that should’ve had the shining white color of a snow field still maintained its black color.
I struck and struck again. It was fine if it was going to be my last work. I kept striking with the hammer, and even forgot the flow of time.
The blade formed into the shape of a versatile sword, and its sharpness reached a frightening degree, but the black color covering the blade remained the same.
“I don’t understand.”
Even though I’d been wielding a hammer to strike steel for dozens of years, I couldn’t accurately figure out whether the blade was complete or not. It was the first time that had happened to me.
Whir!
As I lowered my hammer because I didn’t know what to do next, the sword started to cry. It was a different vibration from the sword resonance, which was an attempt to harmonize with its master. The sword was howling for its master.
“F-Father!”
“Wait.”
I made the panicked Harren step back, observing the sword’s howling. The sword floated into the air from its intense vibrations.
Whir.
Floating on its own, the sword started flying towards Raon, who was sitting at the end of the workshop, as if a string had been attached to it.
Whir!
The sword stood upside down, stopping right under Raon’s nose and starting to cry once again. As it was about to fall to the ground, as if it had run out of strength, Raon extended his hand to grab the sword.
Cring!
The sword vibrated intensely in Raon’s hand. The violent vibration made the black color of the blade turn to ash, scattering away as the snow-white blade made its appearance.
Spark!
As the blade glowed with the brilliant light of a snow field reflecting the sunlight, Raon opened his eyes. Blue and red. The two colors filled his eyes, radiating a mysterious brilliance.
I finally realized.
That sword was literally born for Raon.
* * *
Raon narrowed his eyes, looking at the sword in his hand. It was his first time grabbing it, but it fit his hand so perfectly that it even felt mysterious. He felt like he had found his other half that he had lost.
Whir!
The energy from the Ten Thousand Flames Cultivation and Glacier grew excited just from him holding the sword. The aura amplification ability of Golden Shard, Flaming Steel, and Cold Blood must’ve gotten a lot stronger.
“Wow, seriously?”
Vulcan exclaimed in amazement and sank to the ground.
“Even I have never seen a flying sword look for its own master before.”
“Ah…”
Raon immediately realized that he wasn’t joking, as he wouldn’t be holding the sword if it hadn’t flown at him.
“I knew that it was incomplete, but it finally completed itself from meeting its master.”
Vulcan breathed out in awe.
“That is your sword, Raon Zieghart. That sword will follow no one else but you, and you are the only one that can use it.”
He examined the blade that shone white with bewildered eyes before he continued.
“And it’s my best masterpiece.”
“Does that mean that it’s better than the Heavenly Tremor?”
“That’s a different story, as the Heavenly Tremor is made entirely of Golden Shard. It doesn’t exactly surpass it. However, the sword forged with everything I have isn’t the Heavenly Tremor, but that nameless sword. I returned to that time in the past to just keep hammering.”
Vulcan murmured that he felt free after satisfying his wish and regrets.
“Do you have a name in mind?”
“No, I don’t have one yet.”
“Then, can I name it for you?”
“Of course.”
Raon met Vulcan’s eyes and nodded. Since the blacksmith normally named the sword, there was no reason for him to refuse.
“Heavenly Tremor means that it shakes the heavens. With that in mind, how about naming yours ‘Heavenly Drive’?”
“Does it mean ‘leading the heavens’?”
“Yes. Show me that you can lead the heavens with your own power, never losing. It should be possible with that sword.”
“It’s an arrogant name, but I like it.”
‘Heavenly Drive.’
When Raon gripped the sword tightly, messages appeared in front of his eyes.
[You’ve completely absorbed the red dragon turtle’s heat.]
[The Ring of Fire’s proficiency has increased.]
[The Ten Thousand Flames Cultivation’s proficiency has increased.]
[Glacier’s proficiency has increased.]
[All stats have increased by 3.]
The messages announced that he had managed to absorb all of the internal energies that had remained unorganized. However, that wasn’t the end of it.
[Your personal weapon has been forged for the first time.
The legendary weapon ‘Heavenly Drive’ has recognized you as its master.
All stats have increased by 2.]
The stats had increased from gaining a personal weapon for the first time.
Judging from the increased stats and the increased proficiency of the Ring of Fire and his auras, he had managed to surpass about 70% of the wall towards the Master level. He could start to see what loomed beyond the wall little by little.
‘I’m close.’
It looked like he could break through the Master’s wall by next year at the latest.
‘In the future…’
Keuh!
As Raon was clenching his fist in anticipation, Wrath popped out from the bracelet.
Again! You are doing that again!
He looked enraged as he glared at the message.
How much are you planning to ruin the King of Essence’s main body before you are satisfied? You bastard!
‘Utan roasted pig.’
Huh? Hmm?
‘The Utan roasted pig is waiting for us.’
Ugh…
As soon as he mentioned the Utan roasted pig, Wrath’s aggressive coldness settled like soft hair.
D-Damn it.
Even though he was angry, he seemed to be suppressing his anger in anticipation for the roasted pig. As expected of the demon king of gluttony, who used his stomach to create his fake identity ‘Wrath’.
“You did a good job as well.”
Vulcan smiled at Harren, who was leaning his back against the wall.
“Raon and I were completely focused, and you saved us by moving without breaking that concentration. You were trotting around so easily.”
“Tsk. I know you are complimenting me, but why would you say ‘trot’?”
Harren complained with a frown.
‘Indeed.’
Raon nodded. It was really difficult to move around without breaking their concentration, as they were both immersed in the work.
He agreed with Vulcan’s compliment. Harren was talented.
“Thank you for your efforts.”
“Ahem…”
Raon expressed his gratitude with his eyes, and Harren awkwardly scratched under his ears.
“L-Let’s get some fresh air in! I feel really suffocated from being locked in here for two days straight… Argh!”
While opening the closed steel door, he saw the woman standing in front of it and stepped back in surprise.
Runaan was standing in front of the door, her silver hair flowing over her left shoulder. Judging from her slightly red eyes, she must’ve been waiting for a pretty long time.
“Have you finished?”
Runaan tilted her head, hugging a silver sword that he’s never seen before.
“It looks like you’ve finished as well.”
“Mhm.”
Runaan drew the sword that she was hugging, handing it over. With a silver color just like her hair, the sharp blade gave off an aloof impression. He could tell that it was an extremely excellent blade just from looking at it.
Fluttering blue flower petals were engraved on the scabbard, giving it an elegant air. Runaan’s expression didn’t change, but she looked extremely pleased, her cheeks blushing slightly.
“It matches her perfectly. He made it well.”
Vulcan gave a big nod, admiring Runaan’s sword.
“Raon. I’m planning to make your scabbard with the red dragon turtle’s shell. I’ll weave it in a flashy and durable way so that you can also use it as a club.”
He clenched his fist as if he were telling him to rest assured, despite his clearly exhausted state.
“Harren, you should help me as well.”
“Okay. I mean, yes! Understood!”
Harren pounded his chest with his clenched fist, telling him to leave it to him.
“Thank you.”
Raon stood up and bowed at Vulcan and Harren.
“I was really lucky to meet Sir Blacksmith, as I managed to obtain such a nice sword.”
“Lucky?”
Raon raised his head, hearing Vulcan’s voice asking what he meant.
“There was no luck involved in any material used to forge that sword. The reason she gave you the Cold Blood, the way the Golden Charcoal was created, and the reason I decided to forge your sword—it was all because you have been yourself.”
“I have been myself…”
“The Heavenly Drive is created from your relationships, not just some luck.”
Vulcan smiled softly as he walked towards him, then patted his shoulder.
“The path you’ve been walking so far isn’t wrong. Keep devoting yourself to your progress.”
The way he said he wasn’t wrong, and the word ‘relationship’ touched his heart. He had the feeling that he was getting comforted for his hellish previous life.
“…Yes.”
Raon bit his trembling lip, bowing once again.
“Thank you.”
Really.
* * *
* * *
Two days later.
The scabbard containing the Heavenly Drive was hanging around Raon’s waist.
The golden light of dawn and the blackish red light of the evening glow mixed with each other in harmony, creating the perfect appearance of a scabbard that would contain the sword leading the heavens.
He could only admire Vulcan and Harren’s skills, as they had managed to create such a piece of art from the red dragon turtle’s shell, which had nothing but hardness to boast about.
“I’ll leave now.”
Raon bowed to Vulcan, who was standing in front of the workshop.
“It’s a shame. You could’ve stayed for a bit longer.”
“Since my mission’s going to begin soon, I think I need to make my preparations as the vice-squad leader.”
“I suppose, since that ruffian is the squad leader, you must have a lot of work to do.”
Vulcan clicked his tongue, saying that the world must be coming to an end.
“Yes, indeed.”
Raon snickered and nodded.
“What are you planning to do about that?”
Vulcan pointed his finger at the red dragon turtle shell, claws, and teeth that were inside the workshop.
“I’m too exhausted to make anything with them now.”
He shook his hand to fan himself. He had gotten more wrinkles, making it look like he aged at least ten years after making the sword and the scabbard. He wasn’t lying about being too tired.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. It was me that wanted to make the sword, and I’m satisfied enough with it.”
Vulcan smiled honestly. He looked like he had no regrets.
“Then, about those…”
“Please leave them to me!”
As Raon was about to speak, Harren—who was behind him—jumped forward.
“If you leave it to me, I’ll create the best equipment with them!”
He knelt and bowed while saying that.
“I don’t even know anymore.”
Vulcan shrugged, telling Raon to do as he wished.
“We didn’t settle the reward for the bet we made when we first met, right?”
“Hiee!”
Harren finally remembered it and screamed.
“Since you have to grant any of my wishes, I’ll tell you what I want. Work as the Light Wind Squad’s exclusive blacksmith until you manage to forge a sword that meets my standards.”
Raon smiled, meeting Harren’s eyes. They had begun to look more respectable. Since Harren had enough talent that even Vulcan acknowledged him, and he had begun to learn his lesson over the last four days, Raon was sure that he would become an excellent blacksmith in the future.
If he could turn him into the Light Wind’s exclusive blacksmith, it was going to be extremely helpful for sure.
“I-I’ll do it for sure! Thank you!”
Harren immediately nodded.
“I’ll give you your first mission, then. Please make the basic armor for thirty-four swordsmen by using the red dragon turtle’s materials.”
“Basic armor…”
“Can you do it?”
“Of course! Just you wait.”
He confidently smiled.
“I’m also going to check on whether this idiot is working properly or not.”
Vulcan smiled, while lightly hitting Harren on the head.
“We will get going now.”
“See you later.”
Raon and Runaan bowed at them, before taking their new swords and going down the hill.
“Hmm…”
Vulcan smiled slightly, watching their backs.
“I’m looking forward to seeing how much stronger you’ll be the next time we meet.”
A seventeen-year-old swordsman that could already see the Master level. The entire continent would be shaken if his name became famous.
In anticipation for the majestic appearance of the Heavenly Drive in Raon’s hands, he automatically clenched his fist.
“Father! What are you doing over there? Come here already and help me! I can’t carry all this on my own!”
Harren’s voice could be heard from inside the workshop. Even though he’d been living as a loser for two years, he snapped out of it in the span of four days and displayed a passion similar to Vulcan’s own in the past. A smile appeared on Vulcan's face, even though he was exhausted.
Raon expressed his gratitude, but he was the one that felt the most grateful.
“Alright, alright!”
Vulcan wished for good luck on Raon and Runaan’s future battles as they got further away, then returned to his noisy workshop.
* * *
Raon went to the Dwarven Hammer, located in the corner of Mirtan Village, with Runaan. There were many people inside despite it being on the outskirts. It seemed to be a famous pub, just like Harren had said.
Sniff. I already like the fragrance. I can smell the fragrance of that sauce that’s made from fifty different ingredients.
Wrath licked his lips, already excited upon reaching the entrance.
‘Calm down a little.’
There’s no way the King of Essence can calm down, as it’s his first time eating some proper food in a few days. The King of Essence will definitely not calm down.
‘Then wait a moment. We are going to eat soon enough.’
Raon grabbed Wrath to force him to calm down, then entered the pub.
“Welcome!”
The server came running out and smiled.
“Two people?”
“Yes.”
Raon nodded. They were guided to a table inside.
“What are you going to order?”
The server gave them the menu and politely gathered her hands in front of her.
“What do you want to eat?”
“Whatever Raon is eating.”
Runaan blinked her eyes, telling her to order the same thing as him.
“Then two servings of Utan roasted pig…”
“Ah, I’m really sorry.”
The server frowned and lowered her head.
“We are out of ingredients.”
“You ran out of ingredients?”
“Because people gathered from everywhere upon hearing the news about the red dragon turtle being slain, we used up all the ingredients.”
Argh!
The moment she said they had run out of ingredients, a strange sound came from Wrath’s throat.
“Hmm… Then, when do the ingredients…”
“It will take at least a week.”
Raon felt sorry for Wrath, but there was nothing more he could do, as he couldn’t possibly wait for a whole week.
Wh-Why the hell…?
The flames of coldness raged from Wrath’s whole body.
Why the hell is it never there when the King of Essence wants to eat?
‘It can’t be helped, since the ingredients…’
It’s all your fault! This all happened because you brought that turtle here! You should’ve just sold it already!
‘Hmm…’
Raon scratched the back of his head. Since he was right about that, he couldn’t say anything.
‘I should blow off his steam with something else.’
He felt like he needed to eat something other than the Utan roasted pig in order to cheer Wrath up.
“Do you have any recommendations?”
“There’s a pretty famous menu item, even though it’s not as famous as the roasted pig.”
“What is it?”
“The blacksmith set menu! It has a warm onion stew, soft bread, and even stir-fried chicken with sweet sauce. That item is definitely delicious!”
“Uh…”
Raon hung his head while swallowing nervously. Wrath hated set menus the most, and even the composition was the exact same as at Habun Castle.
Set menu. Set menu again. Set menus exist everywhere…
‘Of course, it…’
Shut up!
Just as he expected, deadly lightning exploded from Wrath’s eyes.
God damn it! Did everyone plot together or something? Why is this menu the exact same as that damned castle’s scout menu?
He screamed, looking up at the ceiling.
The entire world hates the King of Essence!
