The Stray Smith: Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Preliminaries: Part 2

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Pratty took a deep breath from behind the entryway that would lead her down the stairs and into the arena. So far everyone from the Silver Guild who participated had won their matches. Sanary’s had been completely one-sided and, while Trish won because Pouso healed her, she still won fair and square. Welf’s had been cool too, though the twins had to explain how it worked—and they weren’t nice about it either.

Now it was her turn to shine.

She slapped her cheeks to banish the doubts that had been creeping in at the thought of fighting in front of an audience. She wouldn’t embarrass herself by failing where the rest of her fellow apprentices had succeeded—especially not after she made Welf promise to give it his all and he did. “Right! Let’s go, Kutty! We’ve got a match to win!”

The Magical Beast seemed to approve of her resolve as he floated over and licked her cheek. “Kutty!”

She giggled before making her way down to the left side of the arena. The damage from Welf’s battle was still there as part of the stone was scorched black from where his Guardian Beast had turned up the heat. She could make out where the big guy had smashed into the ground with his weapon too, though the larger chunks had at least been moved out of the way and the snapped portion of the massive sword had been hauled off by two Central Tower Officers.

No sooner than she had come down did her opponent do the same. It was a boy wearing a black shirt and matching pants. He had brown hair that was covered by a black bandana, and he seemed to be on the slender side. And floating next to him was some kind of cute green chick that was only half-hatched from its brown egg.

Master Sakuro waited until both took their side of the field before he said, “We will now commence the Fourth Round of the tournament. Craftknight Pratty, Craftknight Omugi, are you both ready?”

“Yes!” Pratty said, keeping her voice firm as she reached behind her back to the hilt of the knife there. It was hard to believe she hadn’t even used a weapon before last week and now it was a familiar sensation to hold it this way. She could only acknowledge that it was due to how many times she had to reach for it when she was in the Labyrinth over the last week.

Her opponent made a similar motion. “As am I.”

“Then, as Craftknights of Wystern, fight with honor and dignity.” The Craftlord of Sapphire drew his blade once more with a practiced grace and then brought it down. “Let the Fourth Round begin!”

Pratty moved forward slowly as her opponent did the same, both keeping a hand on their weapon. It was only once they approached the midway point that they stopped, eyes fixed onto one another even as they kept their arms tense. Waiting for the other to make their first move.

His knife should be the same as mine since the design of the handle is the same and the size of his sheath matches. That was the conclusion Pratty drew based on what she could see. It made her feel a little more confident since she had lots of practice with using her own weapon over the last week.

So, she drew her blade first. The sound of steel slipping from its sheath rang in her ears over her quickening pulse. She then held the blade forward and gave him time to draw his own before she approached closer.

Omugi pulled his weapon free and revealed it was the same kind of knife as hers. Same profile at the very least. However, hers did not have flames seemingly dancing within a burning red blade, tongues of fire occasionally leaping from the surface like serpents that seemed eager to lash out.

This might be harder than I expected, Pratty realized in that moment. Then there was no more time for regrets as Omugi rushed towards her with the burning blade in a reverse grip. She had only a second to realize that he was trying to disembowel her and had just enough time to take a single step back, pulling her just out of his reach as a searing arch lingered where her stomach was. That was close!

The relief that had formed at avoiding the first slash was short-lived as her opponent immediately switched the grip on his blade and took a single step forward to get back within range. The Fire Dagger came around from left this time, snapping back from whence it came at a higher angle. It was almost seamless in how smooth the transition was as it came toward her neck.

Reflex took hold. Upon catching the heated edge from the corner of her eyes, Pratty’s body responded to the danger by leaning her head further back. At the same time, her blade hand came up in a hasty arch to intercept it and sparks scattered as the Novice Knife repelled the attack.

The burning blade was still made of metal. That was why Pratty’s reflexive lashing out managed to knock it away. But in that same heartbeat, she spotted her Novice Knife was a dull-red color where it had met with the opposing steel.

The twins had told her how Welf had managed to break that larger weapon by heating it up first. Her knife wasn’t nearly that durable. Direct contact with the blade could put her own at risk.

Not that she had the chance to dwell on that fact as Omugi had slid forward and thrust his chambered blade toward her heart.

She couldn’t avoid it. Her balance was off from leaning too far back on instinct. Even with her protective mana-veil unbroken, Pratty knew she’d feel the burn once it hit the mark…

Thankfully, her Guardian Beast was still there. “Kuuu!”

Kutty jumped from over Pratty’s head and landed right on his forearm before the weapon could reach, leaving the Fire Dagger to fall short of her chest. Then he lunged forward off the arm and swung a haymaker hard enough that Omugi staggered off to the side, a flash showing his mana hardening in response. The Magical Beast then took to floating between them, slamming his knuckles together.

“Thanks!” Pratty got her footing beneath her and took a more stable stance. He turned back and gave her an adorable gesture by raising his fists. Then, what could only be described as a burning egg slammed into him. “Kutty!”

Omugi’s Guardian Beast had wreathed itself in flames, drawing on the power of his own Summonite Gem like how Welf’s had done. But rather than camping out before his opponent and then raising the temperature, it had chosen instead to launch itself like a rocket. Both Guardian Beasts were sent flying off the edge of the platform.

Pratty didn’t even have the luxury of checking on him. Her opponent was already closing in to take advantage now that Kutty couldn’t help her again and the Fire Dagger was hot enough that prolonged contact with it would put her own weapon at risk. Exposure to the Gremlins had left her accustomed to how easily flames burned through her mana reserves, and that was without being on the business end of a knife… 

Right, it’s still a knife! It may have been a burning blade, but it was still the same length and shape of a Novice Knife in the end. Taking a sharp breath to steel her nerves, Pratty took a more defensive stance as she readied for the impending attack.

The Fire Dagger came for her once more.

Pratty pivoted on her right leg as the blazing stab seared the air on the way toward her chest. There was no clumsy stumbling out of the way this time. It was instead a calculated motion so that it passed beyond her by a fair margin, giving her a clear view of his right side, arm still extended outwards. It was an opening she could exploit…

No, not yet. Before she committed to a thrust at his opened flank, Pratty pictured what she would do in this instance. It was no different than if she was in the Labyrinth, having failed to stab a Gremlin by it floating to her side. She would almost certainly adjust for it by either forcing herself into a roll to escape the impending flames or spinning on her feet and dragging the knife around, deflecting the incoming horn and slashing away at its body at the same time.

The question was which option he would take.

Her eyes shifted down to his feet for a split second. His arm was overextended, and her own knife was held out, so it should have been safe for a moment. There she caught sight of his lead foot angling towards her—a pivot into a slash aimed for her head.

Pratty ducked down while raising her empty arm. It kept her head beneath his blade even as she guided his blade arm up so that his own swing went well above it. Then she lashed out with her own knife, leaving a white glow that marked where the edge cut into his veil for the briefest of moments before it sealed itself up.

First blood—sans the blood itself.

She then drew back rather than pressing the advantage. All it would take was a flick of the wrist and she could bring her knife back the way it came for another slash. But the chances of getting counterattacked were too high, so Pratty retreated by kicking off her lead foot and putting distance between them.

It proved to be the right call as a blazing arch split the air where she had been not even a half-second prior. Omugi clicked his tongue in frustration before he switched back to holding the Fire Dagger in a reverse grip. Then he shot towards her once more.

Pratty moved to slip under his arm when he came in for another horizontal slash, intending to take advantage of her smaller frame and cut into his stomach in the passing. But mid-step he reoriented the blade to being pointed downwards at an angle, rather than being held flat out. The slice to slit her throat was now a rising cut from below to slash her open from hip to shoulder. Oh no!

Pratty’s left leg dropped from beneath her as she tucked her head into her shoulder and then threw herself off in that direction at the very last moment. Burning agony ran along her thigh as it scored a grazing cut. She grimaced in pain as she got back onto her feet, only to see a flaming arch coming towards her head.

CLANK!

Fat sparks bloomed amidst a spout of red flames and the sound of clanging steel as Pratty deflected the cut towards her neck with an upwards swing of her blade. It was the only way to keep the merciless heat from searing across her throat. With the briefest of contacts as the edge clashed with the flat of the burning blade from below, she knocked his arm above while getting ready to put more space between them.

“No, you don’t!” Omugi stepped forward to close distance again with his unrelenting aggression, having seen through her tendency to leap back in the face of it. But then he pulled back abruptly as a glint caught the corner of his right eye. The silver streak of a sharpened tip settled for caressing his cheek instead of slicing it open from Pratty bringing her Novice Knife from below in an arch to cover her retreat.

Then an emerald light flared up from the Summonite Gem tucked into her pocket. A powerful gale stream billowed past Pratty, and a green blur slammed into Omugi hard enough that he was blown back. It was his Guardian Beast, unconscious as it lay on top of his body, while the Kutty drifted over and landed on Pratty’s head.

“Kutty, you’re okay!” She felt relieved at the fact, even though in hindsight it was obvious he would be given that he had been her father’s partner. He could probably win the match all on his own at this point. Whereas she probably wouldn’t if things went on like this for much longer.

It wasn’t as though Pratty couldn’t see his movements. He was good, but since they used the same type of weapon Pratty could at least guess how he was going to use it and react. But she couldn’t put her knife at risk. One more mistake and then it would be over.

If there was just some way to keep my blade from making direct contact… It clicked. “Kutty, lend me your wind!”

Her Guardian Beast quirked his head. “Ku?”

“I could win if I just had some way to keep the heat in check on my knife,” she explained, holding out the blade where a good chunk of the edge was still a dull-red color. “Can you do like how Urus did and give me something like a sheath of wind?”

Kutty jumped off her head and made a cute cheering noise. Then he lightly hit the flat of her blade while the light coming from her Summonite Gem shone even brighter. Her weapon was shrouded in a soft teal color and the wind churned around the blade, wrapping tight until it was covered in a small viridian twister from tip to guard.

Her weapon enchanted, Pratty gripped the handle tight as her opponent got back onto his feet. Kutty, on the other hand, decided to simply observe for the remainder of the match and floated near Master Sakuro. The Craftlord of Sapphire regarded the Magical Beast for a moment with an air of familiarity but kept his eyes forward to see the match to its conclusion.

Omugi readied himself, able to sense the change in the circumstances. His sole advantage had been neutralized and, considering how hard he had been hit by Kutty, he couldn’t take another strong hit and stay standing. But Pratty didn’t think she could take another slash after that one that had cut into her before.

What would determine the outcome now would be their skill alone in the next exchange…

Pratty made the first move. She was done being the one who got attacked and playing defensively. So she rushed towards her opponent and swung the enchanted blade, leaving a luminous-teal trail to mark its path as she cleaved towards his neck with a battle cry. “YAH!!”

And in response, Omugi’s Fire Dagger seared through the air as he moved to intercept her attack with a roar of his own. “HAH!”

Elements clashed. The bound flames met the sheath of wind. A portion of the wind unraveled and pushed back against the blazing blade, fanning the fire that was unleashed. The result was that both of their knives were repelled by the sudden bloom of fire and wind, leaving the apprentices briefly taken aback before they steadied themselves to continue the fight.

Omugi attempted to stab her. It was a straight thrust for her forehead with the fiery tip. But Pratty brought her arm up from below and hammered the wind sheath into the burning blade once more, the expulsion of wind and flames obscuring his vision with its intense glow.

That was when Pratty re-oriented her arm and took a horizontal sweep. Teal light cut through where his chest had been as he hastily pulled back a single step. But in a mirror of his earlier motions, she slid forward a step while swapping her grip on the handle in a smooth motion. The knife snapped back from the opposite direction to cut him down, knowing his weapon wouldn’t make it in time to protect his chest.

So, Omugi didn’t bother trying to protect it. Instead, he fell back completely into a roll that carried him out of range. Then he snapped back onto his feet and readied to lunge with a spring in his step to drive the Fire Dagger into her heart—

“Gotcha!”

—only to see the teal-shrouded blade rocketing toward him like an arrow. The moment he had fallen back into the roll, Pratty had taken a final gamble. Knowing that her opponent was the superior fighter and the only way to win was to surprise him, she waged an all-or-nothing chance and threw the dagger with all her might.

The thrown blade struck him in the chest. It didn’t pierce his protective veil, but the wind sheath unfurled the moment it connected. And as its circulation was interrupted, all that wind bound within it was unleashed in the form of a powerful gale at point-blank range.

“GAH!” Omugi yelled out in pain as his body arched through the air by the shockwave-like blast. His body hit the ground hard enough to bounce before he tumbled backward a few more feet. For a moment Pratty was worried he might even go off the edge, but he came to a stop before then and let out a groan. “Urghhh…”

Pratty retrieved her knife from where it had been knocked back and watched him struggle to get back up with bated breath. The enchantment on her weapon had faded, likely expended in that final burst. She had gambled it on that last surprise.

Fortunately, his aura petered out the moment he got back onto his feet and the mana particles rolled off his body like grains of luminous sand. He clicked his tongue in frustration before he forced himself upright, sheathed his Fire Dagger, and turned to Master Sakuro. “I can no longer fight.”

The Craftlord of Sapphire acknowledged his surrender. “It was a well-fought match. But the winner is Craftknight Pratty.”

It took a moment after hearing the announcement for Pratty to register what had been declared. Then, all at once, it came. Elation. Relief. Exhaustion. As the tension of the fight melted, she let out a cheer that made her seem much younger than she appeared as she bound into the air. “YAY! KUTTY WE WON!“

Had her opponent been more of a sore loser he likely would have taken their display of joy as the Summon Creature floated over and rejoiced in their victory with bitter discontent. But instead, the apprentice of the Gold Guild chose to quietly bow before scooping up his unconscious partner and leaving the stage. It was only when he was halfway there that he heard his name being called and turned back.

“Thank you,” Pratty said after regaining her composure. “It was a good match, and I learned a lot!”

He inclined his head. “I’ll look forward to the rest of your matches.”

Then he walked away with nary another word.

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The remaining preliminary rounds for the day were ultimately concluded with the apprentices of the Silver Guild finding success. Caizo’s opponent had chosen to use a polearm against him, which he managed to cut in half after only a few swings. Ariel and Mariel had both been set against guys using axes, whom they bested by destroying their weapons with their drills. And Razzy had pretty much gone untouched as their small stature didn’t stop them from punching their opponent into submission with a flurry of hits that ended in an uppercut.

Flush with victory, they returned to the Silver Guild and reported their success to the Silver Master.

“You shoulda seen it!” Razzy said energetically as they showcased their footwork while ducking and weaving before throwing out punches into the air. “I totally sent that guy flying, Uncle Bron!”

“Master,” he corrected the child sternly.

Razzy winced before placing a hand on the back of their head and then apologized. “Sorry, Master.”

He let it go with a grin. “Still, good ta see that ya managed to make it past the preliminaries. And ya managed to kick the crap outta Libody’s apprentices! I’m proud of all of ya!”

Welf’s brows furrowed at the mention of a new name. He was leaning against the wall on the right side, with Urus keeping her flames dim as she clung to him with her arms around his neck. He was happy with his victory, but as one of the oldest of the apprentices he had opted not to draw attention to himself since their victories were well-earned and he didn’t want to bring down the mood with questions.

Perhaps being of the same mind, Sanary had chosen to take a seat not far from him. It probably helped that it was physically the furthest she could get from the twins. Having been observing him in the corner of her eyes and seeing his expression, she brushed loose strands of her hair back and faced him. “That’s the name of the Master of the Gold Guild. The two have something of a rivalry since they’re the Masters of the two most prominent guilds in Wystern.”

He nodded his head in understanding and gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Her red eyes lingered on him for a moment, carrying what was no doubt many questions like how he didn’t know that much. But she shelved them and swallowed before she softly said, “…I’m sorry.”

Welf crooked his head. “Hm?”

“For what I said earlier,” she elaborated, crossing her legs that hung over the edge of the boxes. “As much as I hate to admit it, Ariel hadn’t been wrong when she said that I was quick to judge you based on learning that Lady Amariss had helped you get into the Silver Guild. And even before then I called you out on babying that girl and that it would make her weaker. I have to apologize for that, at the very least.”

The shift in her tone was subtle. But it had been notable enough that Welf picked up on it. He shifted Urus to his furthermost shoulder while she looked on in curiosity and took a step closer so that they would not be overheard. “What changed your mind?”

His question acknowledged that she had said both. There was neither admonishment nor judgment. He was simply curious as to what had caused her opinions to shift when she felt so strongly about it.

“You both should have lost your matches,” Sanary said bluntly. Once more there was no malice in her tone, but a statement of facts based on observation. “You both got those Techniques for winning, right? That should have given you an idea of how dangerous members of the Gold Guild were.”

They had. It was their prize for victory—the Techniques of their defeated foes became their own. The others also had, but those weapons were at best on par with the Novice Weapons. It was only Chaves’ Sword and Omugi’s Fire Dagger that stood out as being a cut above the competition.

“His blade was impressive in how comparatively little Elemental Ores he needed,” Welf admitted. The monosteel blade had been massive and heavy, but it could be made from roughly the same cost as a Novice Knife. To convert so little into such a massive yet functional blade was only possible due to what had been Chaves’ own smithing technique. “I feel even worse for breaking it on its debut.”

As a blacksmith, he could only imagine how long it took to come up with that method. It was something to be proud of and likely was the product of not just a week, but several months or even a year of effort. And in the end, it had not been enough—all that effort was destroyed in under five minutes before the entire audience.

Sanary’s face briefly wrestled at the sympathy in his tone towards the destruction of his foe’s weapon. But she chalked it up to him being who he was and simply continued. “I don’t know how it was made but, from his size, he probably has thicker Silturnian blood than most. That strength and a weapon that heavy meant that an ordinary blade would have been smashed to pieces in a single blow, but…”

Welf’s blade hadn’t broken. It had endured the weight and strength of the opponent and his weapon. It had even prevailed and managed to destroy its opposite while coming out ahead.

“I kept calling you a slowpoke, but you got results.” Sanary turned her gaze over the weapon resting against the wall. It stood vigilant like a sentinel waiting to be called back into action. “And sure, it took help from your Guardian Beast. But you still won a fight that you wouldn’t have if you hadn’t lived up to Master Bron’s expectations. So I overstepped my boundaries when I said what I did.”

“Well, I’m happy to get your approval,” he said somewhat jokingly. From the beginning, he had crafted that weapon to live up to his standards and it had done so. The fact that it had begrudgingly gotten her to change her opinion was more of a bonus. “And what about Pratty?”

Her gaze turned back to their junior apprentice. She was still basking in her victory as she tried to convince Master Bron they should throw a celebration. “Her opponent was using a weapon made from Mystic Ore and was competent. It’d be one thing if he was swinging it around like an idiot, but that guy knew how to use a knife probably half as well as I could a sword. It was clear between them she was the underdog.”

Her opinion of her own skill aside, even Welf hated to admit that between the two of them, Pratty had been the underdog in that fight. She had never wielded a weapon before the last week. Even though spending every day in the Labyrinth had given her an inkling of how to fight, her opponent had been more experienced.

Well, she admitted afterward that Kutty had done most of the damage to him, Welf thought to himself. Even now the Magical Beast was floating on the other side of the room while looking rather lethargic, almost as though it were ready to fall asleep. It was Kutty who had worn out his defenses, and his enchantment made it a fairer fight.

Sanary continued. “She might be new at combat, but she adapted to his movements well enough that she managed to surprise him in the end. It helped that they used the same weapon, but she still caught on fast enough that she could blindside someone if they were careless. I’ll even admit that, with enough time and battles, she might even be a decent rival for me.”

In the end, it had been both getting through the preliminaries that had caused her to re-evaluate her opinion. The two who should have failed ended up surpassing her expectations, and so she was forced to acknowledge that her previous opinions had been flawed. Recognizing them as being competent was something she owed them at the very least.

“Let’s go out for curry!” Pratty said, pitching the idea of them having a celebratory meal. “All we can eat on Master Bron’s boam!”

“Geh!” The Silver Master grimaced. “Feedin’ all of ya would leave my coffers in the red! Yer a voracious bunch as is. ‘sides, the place is closed down for renovations for a while.”

She deflated hearing that. “Boo… then that means we have to settle for the twins’ cooking tonight.”

Two sets of bespectacled brown eyes furrowed as they shifted from their private discussion toward Pratty. There was notable animosity within their gaze even from the more passive of the two. “What’s wrong with our cooking?”

Pratty averted her eyes, having realized she must have pressed a button that she didn’t want to. “…W-well, it’s… how do I put it…”

Fortunately, before she lit the powder keg that was apparently their pride in their cooking skills by mentioning that the taste left a lot to be desired (to the point where not even a stray summon would eat it if given a choice), the door to the Silver Guild opened. The apprentices knew better than to bicker in front of their clients, so their voices died down. The prodigy twins settled for glaring daggers at Pratty.

But the girl paid them no mind. Instead, she was captivated when she saw who it was that had stepped through the door. It was no surprise to her even when Kutty sped through the air and into a pair of slender arms that welcomed him.

“Mother,” Pratty called out, watching her holding the fickle Guardian Beast affectionately against her bosom in a way that would get her punched if she tried. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, I can’t visit my daughter to congratulate her on victory?” Amariss said with a playful tone towards her daughter. Then her eyes scanned the room before they settled onto the wall where Welf was. “You also fought wonderfully, Welf. And your partner suits you well.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Welf brushed the back of his head in what could pass as slight embarrassment, failing to notice how Sanary seemed to shrink in her seat the moment Amariss’ gaze shifted over in their direction.

The housewife then turned her attention toward the Silver Master. “I actually came to take Pratty and Welf back home for dinner since I’ve missed their company and wanted to celebrate them doing so well in the Preliminaries. I’ll have them back before your curfew—if that’s okay with you, of course?”

“Sure thing!” Bron said with newfound enthusiasm that had been absent before. If there was any doubt about his affection for her, it had been dispelled. “They both worked hard, so what’s a little break for ‘em?”

“Thanks.” She waved her hand over to tell the two to come along with her before turning back to Bron on her way out and adding, “Make sure you treat the rest of your apprentices to a nice meal as well, Bron. They deserve to have a reward for all their hard work, right?”

“Sure, sure!” The moment she was out the door the Silver Master looked around at the others, who were giving incredulous looks that spanned the range between pitiful and amused. “Not a word, else I’ll feed ya the twins’ cookin’ instead.”

“It’s nutritious!”

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They had been given leave to enjoy the rest of their evening as they wished after dinner on the Silver Master’s boam.

Sanary had chosen to return to the Undersea Observatory, where the window that stretched wide offered her a view into the world beyond the looking glass. Structures from a hundred years ago were preserved by the ocean water like a snapshot in time. External fixtures to the tower had now been claimed by coral and reefs of bright colors that lured in fishes of all kinds.

She stood there in silence, watching as fins swirled the water and bubbles danced. Light from the window reflected off the scales of the fish. Some even bumped into the glass, drawn to the silvery flame that burned near her. That awkwardness drew her fingers to the glass as she reflected on her visage as it swam past.

Memories surfaced within the blue depths. She recalled a gentle but warm embrace lifting her so that she could do the same back then. The touch of the glass was cold from the water outside, but that just made her sister’s body feel warmer in contrast. It made for a calming memory as she reflected on the day’s challenges and accomplishments.

Clack, clack, clack.

The sound of hard soles impacting the stairwell broke the silence. They were neither hurried nor gleeful steps. Each one was calm and composed in a way that spoke of confidence rarely found within the den of monsters. Sanary’s eyes were drawn towards the entrance to the Second Floor to bear witness to the arrival.

Silky, emerald hair came into view first. It was long and glossy, two long strips of it framing the face of a demure beauty like a flower that had managed to bloom within the hive of steel that was the City of Swords. And eyes that were as elegant as crystallized flames greeted her own.

Sanary’s voice came out soft. “Sis…”

Kouren, the Craftlord of Ruby—one of the two beauties in Wystern to be counted among the ranks of the Craftlords along with the Majestic Lancer. The adult woman who was draped in shades of red carried herself with a dignified air befitting her title as she stopped at the incline of the observatory platform. “Sanary, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

It had. “Are you just now coming back to the surface from looking over the shrine?”

Craftlords had a duty to make monthly visits to the shrine on the 50th Floor, where they would remain for a week or so. The public reason was that they were to make offerings to the remaining Holy Spirit of the Sword, whose blessing allowed them to work with their weapons as they do now. But the truth was… different…

“Not quite.” Her slender arms, veiled by crimson sleeves held in place at the upper arm with bands, shifted. One fell around her waist while the other rose. Her finger playfully twirled one of the locks of hair framing her face. “I merely came up to speak with Sakuro and re-supply. I’ll be returning after that for another two weeks.”

“But you’ve already been down there for half a month,” Sanary pointed out. Even if it was their duty, it was usually done on a monthly rotation. And while she understood that the time below had lengthened over the last three years, more than a week was still a lot. “And you’ve been the one in charge of shrine duty for three months in a row…”

A slight shrug of the shoulders was all that Kouren gave. “It can’t be helped. Sakuro handles most of the administrative duties and Lubert deals with our international relations. Tyram’s absence means someone must take his place when it comes to the rotation, and Rumari will no doubt be fraught with her beloved missing. It’s only natural to leave Ureksa free to work with the investigators to find out what happened to him and keep her company.”

Rumari had been the previous Craftlord of Jade until two years ago. Due to her declining health, she passed the title down to her younger brother Ureska. Since he was such good friends with Tyram, he would be the most determined to find him and leave no stone unturned.

Kouren continued. “Master Rondeau has long taken leave due to his advanced age. It would be wrong to bring him out of it at this point. And… Shintetsu’s seat remains empty until the end of the tournament, so it can only be me to watch over the shrine.”

The hitch in her older sister’s voice at the mention of his name felt the point of a dagger stabbing into Sanary’s chest. Yet another sign of the person she’d become, simply hiding beneath the mask of the sister she once knew. The younger of the pair couldn’t help but look away. “I… fine, I get it. You’re too busy and there’s no one else until the tournament ends.”

A light hum escaped the Craftlord of Ruby’s throat before she changed the topic. “I believe the preliminaries for your group were today, weren’t they?”

“…Yeah.” Sanary brought her hand up to her arm and squeezed. “I actually set the record time for the fastest match so far.”

A soft smile graced the older sister’s lips. “Lovely to hear. It’ll be harder from here on but keep doing your best. And remember the three treasures of a Craftknight—forging skills, sword skills, and fellowship with your guardian beast.”

A Craftknight’s true strength can’t be judged by the quality of their weapon alone. Nor the skills to use it. Nor the capability of their Guardian Beast. Only when all three are embodied can one be considered a good Craftknight.

“I’ll remember them, Sis,” she vowed.

“Good girl.” Kouren straightened up before brushing her hair over her bare shoulder. “Now, I’d better be off. Take care of yourself.”

The older sister deviated off to the side rather than taking the path that would lead her to the Entrance. It would appear to be a dead-end, but the younger one knew there were a hidden set of stairs that would lead up to the quarters of the Craftlords themselves on the Third Floor of the Tower. It was a secret only known to them, but her sister had shown her the day that she brought her down to the Undersea Observatory.

Sanary watched her go, not knowing the next time she would see her again. But she didn’t let the words she wanted to say escape, knowing that there was no point in the end. Instead, she turned her attention back to the looking glass and reached out for it as she did once before.

It felt even colder than she remembered.

April 19, 2023 | Categories: Dan Machi, Fanfiction | Tags: DanMachi fanfic, Kutty, Pratty, Rasho, Sanary, Summon Night: Swordcraft Story Fanfic, Swordcraft Story, Urus, Welf Crozzo | Leave a comment

The Stray Smith: Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Preliminaries: Part 1

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Pratty was a bundle of excitement and nerves as she paced her room when the day of the preliminaries arrived. Or, specifically, their set of preliminary matches. There were enough applicants that it was going to be more than a hundred rounds to get one victor, meaning you couldn’t pack all of them into a single day.

The excitement was the chance to finally put what she had been practicing all week into action. The time spent in the Labyrinth had resulted in her getting better with her weapon, and she felt that she herself had gotten stronger. She could even kill a Slime in two stabs now, so it was the time to take her first steps in following after her father as a Craftlord.

The nerves came from the fact that she could always fail. She could always get so completely overwhelmed that she didn’t last five seconds. It would be humiliating for her not only as the daughter of the former Craftlord of Iron, but also as an apprentice of Master Bron if she failed so badly.

Would Mother be disappointed in me for not living up to Father’s legacy if I fail? Her lips furled into a frown as her feet paused at the thought. It had been a few days since she last saw her mother and she hoped she was doing well alone at the house. She wanted to visit her after the match, but the thought of doing so if she lost left her feeling sick to her stomach.

“Kutty!”

“Ow!” She brushed her cheek where her Guardian Beast punched her abruptly. Kutty punching her was nothing new since he could be a little terror when he wanted to be. But she didn’t think she did anything to warrant it this time. “What was that for!?”

The wind-hued Magical Beast drifted slightly lower to her pocket and pressed against it. “Ku…”

Her bubbling emotions dwindled as she knew what was in that pocket. She pulled out the protective charm that had once been her father’s. Her mother had made it for him when they were younger, and he was never harmed when he had it according to her—it was the one day he didn’t have it on him that he died.

Kutty then snuggled into her hair like he was trying to affectionately rustle it. His fur naturally tickled, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. In fact, it reminded her of how her father used to do so.

Pratty remembered one time after she had fallen into the water when she was younger. She didn’t know how to swim yet so, when he had pulled her out, Pratty clung to her father for dear life and cried into his chest. But he would brush her head and tell her everything would be alright.

That was the same sort of feeling that she got from him now.

“Are you trying to get me to calm down?” The wind-toned Guardian Beast purred in acknowledgement. “You didn’t have to punch me, but I get it. Panicking now won’t do any good. I’ll just have to do my best.”

Pleased that he had gotten his message across, Kutty drifted off the top of her head as she grabbed her favorite helmet and slipped it onto her head. Then she checked on her weapon before sheathing it. Last, she tucked the charm back into her pocket and then clapped her cheeks before heading out of her workshop and down the stairs.

She discovered the rest of the apprentices were already on the First Floor. Bron had mentioned at Breakfast that he wanted them ready to depart at the same time, since that meant they would be able to get into the Tournament Hall at the same time without risking anyone being late. She pointedly chose to ignore that he was staring at her when he mentioned that.

Sanary was sitting on a box that was pushed up against the wall with her legs crossed. She had her Iron Saber in her hands and was polishing it with a cloth. Her eyes only flicked up from the blade long enough to see it was Pratty coming down before returning to the weapon.

The twins, Ariel and Mariel, were both off by the entrance to the forge. They had what appeared to be a sketch pad with what looked to be some complicated jargon written down next to the image of a drill. One of them was making gestures while pointing to it, while the other shook her head as if to state whatever it was wouldn’t work.

Caizo was nearby them and had a pensive look as he listened into their conversation. Pratty recalled that his Guardian Beast was a Mechanoid called Rygel, so he probably would be able to make a drill if they spent time on it. Even so, he still his axe slung on his back with a little hook that let you insert the handle portion and then twist it so that it wouldn’t come out without doing the reverse motion.

Trish was also in the process of talking to that Razzy kid. Her spear was slung across her shoulder with a leather sling that could switch the anchor point, so that she could shift it around to a comfortable length. She was standing there smiling and nodding her head as she listened to the child go on about something, making punching motions with their Novice Knuckles.

The only one missing was Welf.

He was missing at Breakfast too. Normally, she at least saw him at Breakfast even if he hadn’t been at Dinner the day prior. But the fact that she hadn’t seen him then meant that he was probably still working on his weapon. If that was hours ago then…

The door to Bron’s room opened before she could think on it further. The Silver Master drew their attention with a loud clap of his hands and then barked, “Alright, time’s almost upon ya now! Line up and ah’ll give ya the notices sent by the folks at the Central Tower this mornin’ about yer opponents!”

They moved to form a line in the center of the room, with Pratty standing at the rear of it behind Razzy.

Bron’s eyes skimmed over them all for a moment before he took notice of the absence. “The stray’s still not down ‘ere yet? I told ‘em not to be draggin’ his heels after skippin’ out on Breakfast!”

“I can go get him!” Pratty offered. “I’m sure he’s just—”

“I’m here,” his voice came from atop the stairs before Pratty could come up with some excuse for his absence. The red-headed smith came lumbering down the stairs still dressed in his dark clothes. Slung over his left shoulder was a blade that was about as tall he was. “Just doing some last-minute polishing so it’d be presentable.”

“You finished it!” Pratty broke from the line to inspect it up close. The dark grey steel ran the length of a rigid spine that sloped down steeply to the sharpened edge, unlike before when it had been more gradual. It had a wider bevel than she expected, and both the guard and grip were plain. He had shaped them to fulfill their function without any sort of embellishments or decorations.

“It still needs its final test,” Welf said with a slight smile before his expression flattened out. He then turned to Bron and held it out. “If you would, Master?”

The unspoken meaning was lost on her as until Bron’s expression scrunched up. The Silver Master then wordlessly drew his very large hammer and reared it back. Pratty finally caught on when she saw the twins and Sanary covering their ears and moved to do the same.

GONG!

The sound of a massive mallet molded from Mystic Ore mashing mercilessly into the blade left her to nearly jump up in shock. The impact was notable as Welf, who had more than once been shown able to lug a heavy blade around with little trouble, struggled when it nearly came out of his grasp. The blade sported a spidering fissure that spread out from the impact as well.

Pratty was horrified at the sight, knowing how long he had been working on that. “Master, you almost broke his weapon!”

Welf, on the other hand, only grinned. “It didn’t though. Did it?”

“Hm.” Bron’s face scrunched up, but he returned the grin. “Didn’t even crack the core steel. Acceptable.”

She looked between the two like they had lost their minds. Then she grabbed her hair tails sticking from the horn slots in her helmet and let out a frustrated huff. “Is this some sort of macho guy thing!?”

Welf finally explained things to her. “Basically, if I had made it out of a monosteel or screwed up the forging then that would have been a fatal fracture. The entire blade would have shattered completely. But because I got everything perfectly, it only cracked the outermost layer without touching the core—bad, but not fatal for a Wysternian Craftknight’s weapon.”

The Silver Master reached into his smith’s apron and pulled out what looked to be some kind of band and a round clip meant to be placed on a shoulder belt. He then tossed them to Welf. “Yer gamblin’ paid off this time. I only held back enough ta not break yer arms.”

“But… Master, what if you had broken his weapon?” Pratty asked. “There isn’t enough time to make a new one, so it did break…”

“Then he woulda lost on a technicality,” Bron said simply. “Ah keep sayin’ it—I don’t work with second-rate smiths. If it couldn’t handle that much, it didn’t live up ta the standards we set. An’ he was the one who asked me ta test it.”

“He’s right, Pratty.” Welf finished attaching the band and then slung the blade over his shoulder to his back. It snapped into place with an audible sound. “This blade has a purpose outside of the match. It needs to be able to live up to that.”

Pratty still didn’t get it fully, but ultimately let it go and got back in line as Welf joined right beside her. Bron then handed each of them an official notice that came sometime after Breakfast and was addressed to them individually. She opened the envelope and said, “I got someone called Omugi…?”

“Someone named Chaves for me,” Welf said, face scrunched up in thought. “Never heard of him.”

“Both of those are members of the Gold Guild on the Second Floor,” Bron said. “Can’t say whether or not ya’ll win but do yer best either way. I’ll be here waitin’ for ya ta get back.”

Razzy looked up from the notice in surprise at that. “You’re not coming to watch us?”

“No time,” he answered, tilting his head back to the main forges before setting a large hand on the child’s head and brushing it. “‘sides, ya spent the week preparin’ an’ sharpenin’ yer skills outta my eyesight. Ah’m confident yer gonna come back with good news. All of ya. Now, git goin’ before ya end up late.”

The dismissal led to the apprentices filing out of the Silver Guild. They began their walk along the stone pathways that would lead them into the heart of the City of Swords. Along the way, Pratty was still eyeing the sword that Welf had made. She could see through the cracks of the dark grey steel there was a lighter colored metal beneath it.

Welf spotted her glancing at the damaged blade and gave her a reassuring look. “Don’t worry. It’ll take an hour at best, but by then it’ll be as good as new.”

Pratty mulled that over until Kutty landed on top of her head, having decided that flying the entire way wasn’t worth the effort. “The design is different compared to your original one. That had a sharper point and thinned a bit as it got to the top. And why’d you mention it wasn’t a monosteel?”

She was curious because it was different from how they forged their own weapons. At least the Novice Weapons that she, Trish, and Caizo had. She was pretty sure if her blade had taken a hit like that it would have snapped clean in two.

He pulled the weapon off his back and flipped his grip into reverse so that he could face the edge forward while holding it to the side for her to see. “After getting a feel for how hard the bodies of the pumpkins were and running into that sword trying to kill me, I figured it was pointless to try to stab anything with such a broad blade. Anything small enough could get around it and piercing points work better with thinner and narrower blades in the first place, which tend to be more prone to breaking. So, I decided to shift the profile so that it leveraged the weight to make carving through enemies more effective and expanded the bevel since that determined the cutting power.”

“And because the spine runs along the entirety of the blade up to the end where it curves down, it’s structurally sounder. You also used a laminate method… but not completely, otherwise it wouldn’t have slightly bent under that blow.”

Pratty’s gaze shifted when she heard Mariel’s comment. It was then she noticed the others had gathered around them. They were all listening in and observing the weapon.

“That’s right,” Welf admitted. “The outer layer is composed of pure Water Ore since that had the most flexibility and durability, so it can handle impacts better. The only time it’ll crack like this is if the softer metal compresses in on the harder core. But because it wraps around the spine some of that force gets transferred to the other side rather than going through the Fire Ore core.”

Ariel shifted her glasses as she took that into consideration. “And because it’s a jacket rather than a layer, that also means it’ll cushion the edge somewhat when it hits a harder surface. It won’t chip as easily since it’ll pass into the softer spine, so it won’t wear out as fast.”

Pratty’s lips pursed as she tried to follow along. “So… basically, instead of combining the ores you instead kept them separate and then put them together like a hotdog in a bun? And because of that it won’t break as easily?”

“Yeah, basically.” He gestured to the cracks that had already started to shrink ever so slightly. “To make sure it could stand up to another Spell Sword, I needed to test it against something just as hard or harder. That’s why I asked Master Bron to take a swing at it.”

It clicked when she recalled his entry test into the guild. “Oh, right! All his tools are made of Mystic Ore like your hammer is. Since that comes from them, it only makes sense for him to use one of them to see if it was able to stand up to them.”

Welf nodded as he slung the blade back over his shoulder. “With that said, I didn’t expect him to do that much damage in a single blow. Yeesh.”

“What did you expect asking Master Bron of all people to hit it?” Ariel’s tone was both mocking and inquisitive. “Even if he had been holding back, you were basically challenging someone of his abilities to test your blade personally. I thought you were basically just asking for him to withdraw you from the tournament until I saw it was still in one piece.”

It was the way she spoke that annoyed Pratty on her friend’s behalf. It was like she was saying that he had been stupid doing so. Sure, it did seem a little stupid at first. But after hearing his explanation Pratty at least knew the reason why he wanted to do it.

“That’s a bit much. Welf might have expected the hammer to do some damage, but you make it sound as though Master Bron could smash the entire thing in a single blow.”

Ariel opened her mouth for a moment to retort. But then she stopped herself as the gears in her head began to turn. Finally, she put her hands on her hips and said, “You don’t know, do you?”

Pratty pouted. “Know what?”

“Of course she doesn’t.” The blunt voice belonged to the red-haired swordswoman who was keeping pace beside them. Her arms were behind her head, and she had one eye open to peer at the other red-headed smith appraisingly. “And I’m guessing you and the kid don’t know either considering the looks on your faces?”

Razzy took being addressed as a kid openly about how you would expect. “I’m not a kid! And I know Master Bron is a great Craftknight!”

The sigh that Sanary let out and the way Ariel pressed a hand to her forehead got the point across that there was something they were missing. Pratty turned to her other friends for answers. She saw Caizo pointedly looking away from them, as if he didn’t want to be involved. “Trish, do you know what they’re mocking us about?”

“Well, we thought you would know considering who your father was, so we never really thought it needed to be brought up…” Trish trailed off for a moment as she pressed her hands together. “Master Bron isn’t just a great Craftknight. He was a candidate to become a Craftlord.”

Her mouth hung open as she briefly overlayed the image of the burly man standing next to the likes of her father and the men who had been on stage a week ago. Somehow, she found that incredibly hard to believe. “Really?”

“Specifically, he was considered a candidate to become the Craftlord of Amber along with Master Lubert,” Mariel chimed in. “For some reason he chose to give up his candidacy, so which one of them was superior was never settled. But everyone recognizes his skill, hence why the Silver Master carries such weight within Wystern and other places that his weapons are shipped like Vance.”

Razzy crossed their arms and frowned. “He was always a strict master, but he never told me anything like that.”

Welf let out a low hum. “I suppose it makes sense looking at some of his completed pieces.”

“Honestly, how did you get into the Silver Guild without having a clue?” Sanary questioned them—or rather, Welf. “Master Bron’s standards for apprentices are strict because there are so many people who want the chance to study under him. His friendship with Master Shintetsu means that the clueless girl gets a pass, and the kid is obviously a relative of his. But you pretty much showed up out of nowhere.”

“Miss Amariss introduced me to him,” he answered plainly.

She recognized the name from how her expression shifted. “…In other words, you’re here because Lady Amariss asked him to take you on?”

Her accusative tone was blatant enough that Pratty could tell she was all but saying he only got in because her mother asked him to… which was also true. But that didn’t give her the right to be so mean about it. Master Bron had tested Welf with the graduation process and he passed on his own, so he was just as qualified as any of them to be there.

“That’s a bit hypocritical coming from you, isn’t it?” But before she could speak up in his defense, Ariel did so while wearing a smug expression. “Of all the people complaining about nepotism you are the last one to talk.”

The hostility shifted from Welf to the older of the twins. “…You wanna say that again?”

Ariel responded to the attention by drawing up on herself and grinning in a manner that reminded Pratty of a cat. “You act so proud and like you’re better than everyone else, but the best you can do is make an Iron Saber on your own. So naturally when someone beats you at something, you get prickly about it. Must be hard when the only reason you’re here is because your sister probably asked Master Bron to accept someone with your subpar forging skills.”

For the first time Pratty caught the older girl not merely looking annoyed. But she seemed genuinely angry. Her entire body was trembling and one of her hands had already reached for the grip of her sword. “…Take that back. Now.”

At the same time, the older of the twin girls had snapped up her protective mana-veil. Her right hand was wrapped around the grip of her drill. She was leaning forward as if getting ready to lunge and strike, meeting the glare with a daring wry grin. “Make me.”

“Enough,” Welf spoke in a tone that was surprisingly sharp for him as he stood between them with arms out. He then exhaled and changed his tone to one of normalcy. “We’re not enemies. Regardless of how we got here, Master Bron has clear standards and already said that he wouldn’t be given special treatment just because of any relationships past or current. There’s no reason for us to not get along outside of the competition since we’re all part of the same Familia—”

He cut himself off abruptly at the strange word. Then his brows deepened in thought as he stopped walking. It was like he had gotten lost in his own world as he looked down at the ground and covered his mouth.

Sanary stared at his pensive expression with one of confusion. Then she let out a heated breath before removing her hand from her weapon. “Whatever. I can deal with her in the arena.”

“I’d like to see you—” Ariel cut herself off when her sister set a hand on her shoulder and shook her head. She settled for stomping her foot once and then marching forward, not willing to let Sanary get ahead of her while her sister followed.

That left Razzy to look confused about the sudden hostility and its end. She muttered about talking to her uncle later before shrugging and then running ahead. It was less out of competitiveness and more not wanting to delay getting to the Central Tower.

As for Trish and Caizo, they remained behind with Pratty. She had an inkling about why he was doing it, but she wasn’t sure if it was something she should tell others since he hadn’t. So, she covered for him by saying, “He’s probably just tired from working all this time without a break. I’ll get him something sweet and then we’ll catch up at the Central Tower. You guys go ahead.”

They reluctantly left. Once they were out of earshot, Pratty motioned for Kutty to get off her head since she didn’t want him punching Welf for no reason. Then she leaned close and asked, “Did more of your memories come back?”

“…Familia,” he answered. “I felt such a strong feeling towards it that I didn’t want to risk it slipping away. But I just can’t pin down why. It feels really felt important, but I still can’t grab hold of why in the end.”

“Maybe it’s another way of saying family?” Pratty reasoned.

“That’s…” He grimaced while his brows furrowed deeper. Then he let out frustrated sigh before standing straight. “Maybe. I’ll think on it more later. Sorry for keeping you here worrying about me.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. Besides, I got the feeling that if you hadn’t stepped in just now things would have gotten bad.”

“Well, I suppose I can understand where they’re both coming from…” He crossed his arms and looked up towards the rim of the Second Level of Wystern. Since it was a bright day and the sun had yet to reach its apex, the light from it cast a shadow over the other side of the Lower Level. “Hopefully, they’ll cool their heads by the time the matches start.”

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Sanary’s head had not cooled by the time she faced her opponent in the preliminaries.

The arena where the matches would take place was hosted on a circular platform that stood over the rear section of the moat surrounding the Central Tower. Spectator seats were arranged in scaling rows all around it with a massive clockwork gear spinning in the background as it powered some mechanism or other within the building. That allowed a view downward from every angle so that the audience could bear witness to the events that transpired from a safe distance.

Being unable to retaliate for Ariel’s earlier mocking had only served to stoke Sanary’s temper and she was about to boil over as the words had time to sink in further. She and the twins had never been on good terms given their awful attitudes. But that was a personal attack on her skills as a Craftknight this time.

Fortunately, she had enough self-control that she wasn’t going to blow up in front of an audience of attendees. But it did mean she was not going to pull her punches. More so considering her opponent had the misfortune of being a Drillmaster—who she decided to use as a replacement for her anger.

“Craftknight Sanary, will you be summoning your Guardian Beast?” Master Sakuro asked as he stood to the side. He was acting as the referee of the current batch of matches and her opponent had called out their own already.

“I don’t need my partner for this one,” she said, resting her hand against her sword sheathed on her back. It was a bold claim to be certain, but it was literally the first match of the preliminaries and everybody there was competition. Keeping her Guardian Beast out of the fight was one of the few ways to control the information she gave until it was necessary—and Rasho would probably complain about being called out for the preliminaries.

She was not in the mood to put up with him being cheeky.

“Very well.” The Craftlord of Sapphire drew his blade into the air and hoisted it up. “Then, as Craftknights of Wystern, fight with honor and dignity. Let the First Round of the tournament begin!”

Sanary shot forward at her top speed while drawing her blade in a single, smooth motion. She could tell that her opponent hadn’t trained in combat much from his stance alone. Better to end it as quickly as possible.

The Drillmaster’s response was a stabbing thrust with the spinning point. It was more of a conditioned reaction after spending the week diving into the Labyrinth. Since stray summons tended to attack upon sight it was better to hit as hard and quick as you could without hesitation.

That was his biggest mistake against a trained opponent.

Sanary kicked off the ground and sailed over his head, keeping the blade chambered while leaving his outstretched hand to pierce empty space. No sooner than she landed behind him did she spin on the soles of her boots and swing down the chambered sword. The result was a clean cut straight against his unprotected backside from shoulder to hip.

He stumbled forward, barely avoided falling over. The lingering white streak in his defensive veil showed she had cut a large chunk out before it sealed itself back up. By the time he righted himself and turned around to face Sanary, she was already following up.

The red-haired swordswoman finished reorienting her blade and then unleashed an upwards diagonal cut. It was a reversal of the previous slash but had enough force behind it this time that he tumbled over. The only reason she didn’t finish the three-hit combo while was laid out on his back was because his entire body flashed as his mana-veil hardened in response to the abrupt and accumulative damage.

Trying to cut through it was pointless due to how hard it was. Attempting to do so would only damage her blade. Not to mention it could be seen as a lack of self-control since piercing it would mean attempting to kill rather than subdue.

So Sanary twisted on her soles again and faced the Spirit that had been floating next to him. It was his Guardian Beast and had a body that was round like a balloon and its lips were pulled back to reveal sharp teeth. She could smell the ozone from an impending lightning strike and knew she had to deal with it.

“Get lost!” She put as much strength as she could into her arms as she brought the overhead chambered blade down upon it. Instead of cutting through it, something made a lot harder than you would expect due to being bound to a Summonite Gem, the Spirit was spiked into the platform. Her red eyes watched its body contorted as it flattened out against the solid surface of unmoving stone before springing back into the air even higher in a rolling tumble. Then she turned her attention back to the Drillmaster that had gotten back onto his feet.

Fear took hold in his eyes as he saw her rushing him down once more. He thrust right for her head, only to have his arm jerked down as she pivoted out of the way and slammed the sharpened edge of the sword onto his outstretched arm. He didn’t lose the limb, though from the pained expression he made it was easy to tell that he was feeling the bleed-through, but he did end up having his upper body jerked forward.

That gave her a clean shot at his unprotected head and Sanary took it.

“GAH!” A very short-lived cry of pain was followed by the hearty sound of a body hitting the ground again. The light shrouding his body quickly dissipated into the air like dust being scattered in the wind, showing he was tapped out of mana to keep his defenses up. Not that was conscious enough to actively try.

She exhaled before turning to Master Sakuro, stationed to the side with his sword resting against his palm and the point against the ground. The Craftlord observed her fallen foe until it was clear he was unable to battle further. Then he declared her the victor and she felt a lot better.

She walked up the stairs and off the platform as a set of Central Tower Officials came to haul her unconscious opponent away.

[-|-|-|-]

The match that had followed Sanary’s had been an actual battle between equal apprentices.

Trish had managed to defeat her opponent, but it was a narrow thing. The purple-haired spear-user had only won because of the reach of her weapon and the fact that her Guardian Beasts could replenish her mana, so she took a lot more effort to make yield compared to Sanary’s opponent. She essentially won a battle of attrition in the end.

Then it was Welf’s turn to take the stage for the Third Round.

The first thing he noticed when he set foot on the platform was that his opponent was a very large person. To the point where he overshadowed the stairs leading to his side of the Central Tower from Welf’s position at the opposite edge. Sure, it might have been a trick based on depth perception, but for him to probably be around the same age as Welf he was as large as Master Bron.

He was dressed in a green leather jacket and pants, flame retardant but still having black marks from sparks dancing across the surface. Steel-toed boots supported his bulk, he wore a crossed harness strap that stretched around his broad frame, a thick pair of brown gloves were around his hands, and metal plates were affixed to his shoulders. His face was also nearly completely hidden, the lower half covered by a high collar to hide his mouth and his eyes covered by a pair of steel-grey goggles, while his light brown hair stuck out with a pointed pompadour that cast a shadow.

Retaining his role as the referee, the Craftlord of Sapphire gave them both an appraising glance before he decreed, “We will now commence the Third Round of the tournament. Craftknight Welf, Craftknight Chaves, please call out your Guardian Beasts if you intend to use them.”

Welf reached for the Summonite Gem around his neck and felt the flame sleeping within it. The Fire Spirit had been tired given that she had worked late into the night so that they could finish, so he opted not to wake her from her slumber until necessary. Now was the time. “Urus.”

Red flames rolled free of the gem and then bathed his upper body before slowly pulling away. Her figure formed over his shoulders, body twisting slowly as she spanned her incandescent gaze over the backdrop of the arena—from the crowd in the seats to the clockwork gear slowly churning. She then leaned over him with her arms wrapped around his neck and turned her focus onto the enemy in front of them as Welf pulled free his greatsword.

“I don’t need a beast to handle this guy,” Chaves said, declining to summon his own Guardian Beast as he pulled from his back what was probably the largest sword that Welf had the experience of seeing. And he was factoring in what may or may not have been within his missing memories. If Welf’s blade was a large greatsword then his was a colossal sword that was more than twice the width and thickness.

In the hands of someone at an ordinary height it would be oversized to a degree of impracticality. But Chaves himself had taken advantage of his large stature to wield the large grey blade. It was almost as wide as the guy himself and nearly matched the height of his upper body.

Sharpening that must have been a nightmare, Welf couldn’t help but think as he took in its profile and width. But then he felt a question from Urus brushing his mind, concern about having to fight something that large with the blade they just made. He was quick to reassure her it would be fine. “Don’t worry, I have an idea on how to deal with it.”

Seeing as Chaves had chosen not to summon his own companion and Urus had seemingly settled into place, Sakuro asked, “Are you both ready?”

“Yes,” Chaves answered.

Welf nodded. “We’re ready.”

Sakuro drew his own blade and held it aloft in the air. “Then, as Craftknights of Wystern, fight with honor and dignity. Let the Third Round of the tournament begin!”

Welf rushed straight towards the mass of muscles at the signal.

And in response Chaves’ Sword came down with the intention to split him in half. It was a standard overhead chop. Taking advantage of the mass of the blade to deliver a crushing blow, the huge but otherwise plain sword would end the match as quickly as it began.

Urus’ flames fanned wildly from her perch as the blade narrowly avoided her when Welf took a slight shift to the right with his leading foot. The impact of the steel smashing into the ground a hair’s breadth ran up their bodies and served as a testament to its weight. But with the blade down, there was an opening for them to exploit.

Welf stepped forward and readied to swing his sword at the mass of muscles in front of him. But then his eyes spotted the twist of Chaves’ wrists that shifted the blade from vertical to diagonal, putting the edge facing towards him. He changed his intentions from an overhead swing to a parry as he twisted his body while bringing it up from below.

Steel screeched. The scoop that was meant to cut from the waist to the underarm scraped its way along the rising edge. The stray smith put his back into it as he raised it up, leaving it to go over his head as Urus clung to his back.

The click of a tongue could be heard before Chaves reoriented the blade with his wrists so that it was horizontal and then swung once more. It was a decapitating strike meant to take off the head, but it sailed high the moment Welf ducked down.

There it is! Welf’s muscles tensed as he took advantage of the opening as his opponent’s arms went wide to the right due to the excess momentum. He swung his sword with all his might at the exposed underbelly and drew a streak as the edge ripped into the protective veil of his opponent, sheering away a portion of it.

The mountain of muscle was moved. Chaves took a step back reflexively in response before his rear leg braced itself to stand firm. He then repositioned the blade into a guard as the greatsword came around for a second swing that would cut him from shoulder to hip.

Steel screeched again. The broad side of the thick metal barely shifted on the impact as the thin edge carved a small groove into it in passing. Chaves then thrust it out just like that, shoving as hard as he could into the smaller frame of his opponent.

A surprised sound slipped out as Welf was sent staggering back, thrown off-balance by being bashed against the flat of the blade. He would have stumbled over if not for Urus, who slipped behind him and then pushed him forward. She acted as an anchor to keep him upright, which was what allowed him to react in time as Chaves went back on the offense.

The sharpened tip of the colossal sword shot forward to gouge out his heart. The stab went off to the side as Welf slammed his blade’s edge into it, giving him just a bit of breathing room. But it was short-lived as Chaves twisted his body and blade—batting at the stray smith from the side.

Welf braced and raised his blade from the spine, catching the edge and letting slide. It went over his head once more and left Chaves open a second time. He thrust his own blade straight between his opponent’s eyes as he called out. “Turn up the heat, Urus!”

The giant stumbled back while flailing the colossal sword in the process. They were wild swings meant to give him space if Welf decided to press his advantage while he regained his footing. But they were too high if anything, as they obscured his vision enough that he only noticed the Fire Spirit drifting closer once she was just before his waist.

That was when red light shone from the Summonite Gem around Welf’s neck and Chaves only had enough time to use his blade as a shield before a pillar of fire erupted right in front of him. The Fire Spirit let her flames swell with such ferocity that the massive blade between her and him turned from dark-grey to bright-red from the heat sinking in. He chose to back off to escape the pressure and flames and that gave Welf the time he needed.

“Now, Enchant Flame!” He brandished his blade into the air as the gem shone even brighter and Urus’ flames propelled the Fire Spirit back so that she could embrace it. She shared her flames, leaving the greatsword to bathe in them. The steel drank deep until its color turned a burning red hue even as she released her grasp and clung once more to her master’s back.

Chaves’ googles reflected the burning blade as Welf charged forward with the weapon chambered to swing. He opted to let loose with a diagonal slash meant to cut him down before he could get in range to meet his flesh with the flaming blade.

The colossal sword slammed into the ground instead as Welf had stopped short of the range to slash at his opponent’s massive frame, instead choosing to drive the flaming blade into the spine of his opponent’s weapon. It left a burning crescent tail to fill the space between them as Welf twisted his entire body to follow the momentum of the previous swing. That brought it around again. “I’m not done yet!”

Chaves raised his sword into a guard with the flat forward. The dense steel absorbed the hit, leaving his arms to buckle as the impact caused the magic from the enchantment to flare up. The giant could feel the fire licking at him from around the wall of metal even through his flame-retardant work clothes as Welf kept up the attack with another three hits before he tried to shove him again for some breathing room.

This time Welf saw it coming and pushed back. He braced his own blade with his forearm since he knew Urus’ flames wouldn’t harm her master after all. Their blades remained locked as the fire continued to burn between them.

“BACK OFF!” Chaves’ voice came out as a growl as he shoved harder to break the lock. He had no intention of being left on the backfoot just because his opponent had set their blade ablaze. So, he decided to end it now with a merciless overhead swing. “I’LL CRUSH YOU!”

Welf chose not to avoid the crushing blow meant to end the match. Instead, he braced the flaming sword and angled the edge before driving it forward. The blazing edge met with the thicker one closer to the guard—

SNAP!

—and the sound of metal snapping and heavy steel hitting stone seemed to cut off all other sounds as Welf, who had been staggering to the side and nearly lost his balance a second time until Urus steadied him. He let out a heavy breath as the flames wreathing his weapon died out and then said, “…Sorry, but you didn’t leave me many options.”

The apology received no answer from Chaves, who stood there with his arms held outwards at their full length. If anyone could see his eyes from behind his goggles, they would have caught sight of them staring wide and unbelieving. It wasn’t every day that one had their weapon reduced to a quarter of its original length with the remaining end slowly dulling in hue from yellow to cooler colors.

Welf had determined that trying to get through Chaves’ guard to strike him down would be too tedious in their first exchange. He could do it, but Chaves was competent enough that there was a chance they could trade hits. Welf was certain if that was the case then he would have likely been the one to come out worse due to the differences in their blades weight and size.

So, rather than dragging it out, he decided it would be simpler to break his opponent’s weapon by taking advantage of its size and construction. The coloration and lack of flexibility only confirmed his suspicions that the weapon was a monosteel alloy rather than a laminate wielded together like his own. That meant it had the same fatal flaw that he had explained to Pratty earlier—that a single fatal weakness would be enough to break it.

In this case it was having the metal softening due to being exposed to such hot temperatures while striking at it. Urus use of Burst Flare had been meant to get the metal hot enough to get started and then by constantly using his enchanted sword to keep the heat on, he struck and carved into each time while letting other parts of it cool off. That made certain parts far weaker than the others until he made his final move by positioning his still burning blade to act as a wedge beneath the point of balance, which was higher up since the blade was so large it was more top heavy.

In the end, it basically snapped beneath its own weight.

Of course, if not for the jacket to support the shock it would have snapped my own blade in half as well. He looked down to the edge to see it had cracked along the exposed area due to the hardness of it. But it didn’t go much further than that and so it would be able to repair itself in time.

“The match has been decided.” The voice of the Craftlord of Sapphire sliced through the resulting silence of the first of what would be many shattered blades in the tournament. “The victor of the Third Round is Craftknight Welf.”

“Looks like we did it, Urus.” He smiled as he brushed the top of her head, fingers weaving through the passive flames. “Your timing was excellent.”

The ghost of a smile could be felt gracing her expressionless face at the praise and affectionate gesture.

“…NO CONTEST!”

That was when a strained half-growl rang out from the massive frame of Chaves. He seemed to regain his senses now that the shock had worn off. Instead, it was replaced by anger as he gripped his broken weapon tight enough that the gloves could be heard straining as he marched towards the pair and called for neither victory nor defeat to be claimed by either of them.

“IT WASN’T THE QUALITY OF HIS WEAPON OR HIS SKILL WITH IT THAT LET HIM WIN! IT WAS BECAUSE OF HIS GUARDIAN BEAST ALONE! NO CONTEST! NO CONTEST!!”

“Have you forgotten the three tenets of the Craftknighthood, Craftknight Chaves?”

Chaves took a step back at the stern voice of the Craftlord of Sapphire responded to the calls for no contest with a question instead. “N-No… it’s him who relied only on his Guardian Beast to secure his victory.”

“If that were the case, I would have called the match otherwise,” Sakuro said plainly. “As it stands, you have lost this match fairly. Reflect on the tenets and you will understand why. Now, both of you please leave the stage so we may prepare for the next match.”

Chaves turned his gaze from the Craftlord of Sapphire towards Welf, carrying an unspoken message from behind the googles that this wasn’t over. Then he turned around and lumbered towards the stairs from which he had descended earlier. Welf kept his thoughts of someone being a sore loser to himself as he gestured for Urus to take her usual place before they took the opposite stairs themselves.

That left only the Craftlord himself, who brushed the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses before announcing, “The Fourth Round will begin shortly. Will Craftknight Pratty and Craftknight Omugi please come to the stage?”

April 10, 2023 | Categories: Dan Machi, Fanfiction | Tags: DanMachi fanfic, Kutty, Pratty, Rasho, Sanary, Summon Night: Swordcraft Story Fanfic, Swordcraft Story, Urus, Welf Crozzo | Leave a comment

The Stray Smith: Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – Forging Ahead: Part 2

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A silver arch was drawn in the air.

It was the swing of a dagger brought around to meet the spearpoint thrust of a blue horn belonging to flying nuisance that was known as the Gremlin. Having committed to propelling itself forward, the stray summon had attempted to drive it into the helmeted skull of the young girl that had wandered into its territory on the Second Floor of the Labyrinth. But said human had opted to bring the dagger around in a swinging motion where it scraped against the hardened point until it met the cross-guard, and the momentum of her arm sent the Gremlin drifting off to the side.

It was proceeded by Pratty spinning on her heel and then swinging the blade around to cut into its round body. But the edge sailed beneath the Oni-kin as it rose into the air, barely rustling the tassels of the paper streamers hanging around its waist. “Sit still already!”

The response it gave was to spin around and narrow its gaze towards her as embers began to appear form in front of it.

Pratty immediately threw herself back as far as she could. She had already been on the receiving end of its flames more than once and knew the signs it was coming. Even then the tongue of fire it spat at her still licked at her skin as she put two meters between them.

That was when the wind-borne Guardian Beast appeared right behind the annoyance, one arm winding up like a windmill before he slammed a hammer-blow down upon it. The flames died as it knocked down to the ground where it bounced once and flinched in shock. The Magical Beast let out a sound, as if to say to strike now. “Kutty!”

She didn’t hesitate. In a single motion she lunged forward and drove the tip of the knife into it.

There was enough force to penetrate the Gremlin’s defenses at last and leave it skewered. Then its body broke down into motes of mana. They drifted off the blade and left only the rope that it kept as an ornament around its body behind.

Pratty kept her knife out as she scanned her surroundings a final time, only to let out a huff and relax the tension in her body. She didn’t drop her aura, but she did lax her shoulders. “Nnn… those things are so annoying to deal with when you have such a short weapon.”

The blade was around six inches while the grip was four inches, giving her a weapon that was just under a foot long. That made her reach incredibly short and forced her to get a lot closer to her enemies. Not exactly an ideal weapon when said enemy was able to fly above her height.

Or breathe fire.

“Pratty, did you get it?” a voice called out from some distance away. She turned her eyes towards the source to see Trish poking her head around the corner of what she assumed to be the houses of one of the people who used to be here a long time ago.

“Yeah, I got it.” She nearly fell over when Kutty landed on her head as she bent over to pick up the Drop Item. But after shifting her helmet back from over her eyes she turned towards her fellow apprentice. “Did Caizo take care of the Pumpkeenos hanging around?”

“Yep, which means we can finally have Lunch in peace.” Trish held out her hand that had an Amulet in it, which ignited into a silvery flame that slowly burned to ward away any other stray summons that got curious. “Sorry to ask you to deal with the Gremlin for me.”

“It couldn’t be helped,” Pratty said as she sheathed the knife and fought down the gnawing in her belly at the promise of food. “We don’t have spare weapons yet, so it’ll be a pain to remake your spear before the preliminaries if it breaks.”

It had been three days since she had finished making her first weapon. Trish and Caizo had finished theirs shortly after Welf had come back from the Second Floor, which was part of the reason that Pratty and Sanary had been the ones cleaning the main forging area of the Silver Guild. Since they were relatively on the same level when it came to their skills as Craftknights, and there was the threat of them being attacked by a Spell Sword, they had opted to work together in the Labyrinth in order gather materials and gain experience with utilizing their new weapons.

They may have been rivals, but chances were they wouldn’t actually be facing one another for a while. And they were part of the same guild, so there was no reason for them not to assist one another for the time being. More so considering they were pretty much complete novices when it came to both forging and combat.

The first day they had gotten used to the First Floor. They only encountered the occasional Slime, but to their surprise even those had been a lot more resilient than they had expected. And their acid actually hurt a bit too.

The second day they had come down to the Second Floor. Not only did they have to deal with the Slimes, but Pumpkeenos proved to be a lot harder than they appeared. It took so many swings to actually take one down with her knife that she actually almost broke it. They had opted to leave when a Gremlin showed up and had to be taken care of by Kutty, leaving them to decide to head to a restaurant to eat and then come up with more of a strategy in how they explored.

Today they had come here earlier in the morning and chose to go more to the south. The northwest area had people more frequently traveling it so they could get to the Third Floor. Less people meant they could have more stray summons to face in order to refine their abilities and collect materials for the future.

Pratty climbed up the nearby stairs to where they had set up a small place to eat. Caizo was already there and sitting on his carrying case, weapon next to him. He was applying a bandage to his arm.

Trish frowned as she marched over towards him, purple pigtails bouncing with each step. “You told me that you wouldn’t have any trouble dealing with them!”

“A mere scratch is hardly something the Great Caizo considers trouble,” he said with his voice full of bravado until she came over and inspected it. Then he winced as she poked it. “The last one just latched onto my arm slightly long enough for it to bruise from the bleed-through.”

It did little to settle her. “The fact that it managed to bleed-through before your aura hardened means your mana must be low. And if that’s the case then you could have lost the whole arm if it ran out.”

Their mana provided them protection so long as they had enough to spare. At full capacity it basically took a lot for them to really suffer a major injury, though they still felt diminished pain. But the lower the capacity meant there was greater bleed-though and less pain dampening.

Trish brows furrowed before she fished from her pouch her Summonite Gem and held the jade gemstone out. “Pouso, I need you.”

At her beckoning a sphere of light appeared and the air shifted. It was a gateway that breached the barrier set into place by the king of eld, calling forth one bound to the stone. And once the light was dispelled, what appeared next to her was a cute little floating yellow spirit from the Sapureth with an adorable, pointed brim-hat. It waved its little stubby arms in greeting at its summoner. “Pou.”

“Nice to see you too,” she brought the little spirit over for a hug before turning her attention to Caizo. “Can you help restore his mana with your Healing Spell?”

Pouso produced what could only be described as a star-shaped wand and floated over towards him. Then it pressed it against his forehead as her Summonite Gem shone brighter. His entire body shone as his aura was restored to full by the time it was done.

Calling it a Healing Spell was a bit much to be honest. Creatures from Sapureth only gained physical forms due to the Summoning Ritual, so restoring their mana was the equivalent of a healing spell. It couldn’t actually heal wounds for Humans like them, but replenishing the mana within one’s body made it so that their defenses were strong enough to ward off further damage and numb what they already felt.

Caizo shot her an apologetic look of gratitude. “Sorry for making you worry so much about me when you can only use that so many times a day.”

Their Summonite Gems could be used like expendable batteries to enhance what their Guardian Beasts were capable of to a degree. But they could only do so roughly six times a day. After that it took them just as long to absorb ambient mana to replenish themselves. Add that to the fact that most of their Guardian Beasts got really tired after doing so meant that using their abilities was something that had to be done with consideration.

“Pouso can use it once more today if we need it, and if you get seriously hurt then you might lose out on the chance to compete in the preliminaries. Besides, if I hadn’t nearly broken my spear then I could have helped deal with the Gremlin and Pratty could have helped you… I wish these things weren’t so fragile.”

The Novice Weapon Series, as Master Bron called them, consisted of five weapons: Knife, Spear, Axe, Knuckle, and Drill. He gave them to those just crafting their weapon because they were easy to make and best to get a handle of the process for each individual weapon. But because they were so easy to make they were also fairly fragile.

She had complained to Master Bron about it, of course. She wanted a sword like Sanary used. It was an Iron Saber made from elemental ores rather than by working the Iron Ore directly, which meant it could repair itself and was sharper and more durable than if it had been worked by a normal smith.

But he only pointed out that the Novice Weapons weren’t meant to be amazing. They were functional and meant to teach novices how to make use of them and act as a reliable spare for when they made more advance weapons. Sanary was apparently really skilled with handling a blade already and had made her own weapon outside of the guild, while the twins were the same when it came to using drills.

And then Master Bron had stated that while the dagger was weaker and even less durable on its own compared even to the other Novice Weapons it had a lot more potential as the user got more proficient with using it—and that if she didn’t understand that fact then she didn’t understand the three tenets of a Craftknight.

That had hurt. She couldn’t help but puff out her cheeks as she turned the knife in her hands when she remembered that. Master Bron has no consideration for a woman’s feelings.

“Still, we’re not doing nearly as bad as even two days ago,” Trish said with a note of elation in her voice. “We’ve fought a more strays now with less trouble and the weapons aren’t nearly in as bad of a condition as they would have been a day ago. We’re improving.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Pratty’s blue eyes fell onto the Novice Knife as she inspected it for damage and found it already showing from just the last battle. There was a dent from where it had slammed into the hard bone of the horn when they had started, along with scratches from where the point of the horn had run against it while she was trying to divert it. Not as bad as it could have been, given it looked as though it was nearly completely corroded from the First Floor alone on her first day.

Her swings weren’t as wide as when she started out either. She was getting a better gauge of the distance and a feel for the amount of force that each one needed. Thanks to that she didn’t stress the blade as much and she was dispatching stray summons a bit faster.

It wasn’t as though she was good enough to kill a Pumpkeeno or anything with a single swipe of her knife. It just meant that instead of having to stab a Slime six times to kill it she had gotten better at putting just the right amount of force into it to get through their defenses in four. But the less she needed to use it meant the less wear and tear on it.

She could only guess that was why Master Bron wanted them to spend the rest of their time practicing in the Labyrinth rather than making a new weapon with only a few days to the preliminaries.

“But will we be fine with this alone?” Caizo soft words carried his concerns well as his gaze fell onto his Novice Axe. “If we get matched up against someone like Sanary, we probably won’t make it beyond the preliminaries.”

“…Is she really that great?” Pratty asked while unwrapping the sandwich that she had made for her lunch. There were two of them in total along with a pastry that was meant to keep her energy up. Once it was unwrapped, she held it up so that Kutty could eat—having learned from him socking her yesterday the price of not feeding him first as a reward for his efforts.

Her companions both gave her glances. For Caizo, it was a dumbfounded look that lacked the sugarcoating that Trish was prone towards. One that spoke of something that fought against common sense in terms of expectation.

She pouted. “…what?”

He sighed in resignation that an explanation would be necessary. “Pratty, where is Sanary now?”

“Probably on her way past the Third Floor,” she answered while unwrapping the sandwich she wanted to eat. The older girl had not hidden her disdain at the fact that due to what was apparently some kind of obstacle clearance going beyond the Third Floor was not an option prior to today. But from Pratty’s perspective just the first three floors alone were enough.

“And she’s been there for the last two days from sunrise to sunset with only her Iron Saber and probably a single backup weapon. If we’re struggling just to last half-a-day on the Second Floor while rotating through each of our weapons, then can you imagine how much of a monster she is compared to us to be going at it alone on a floor where there are even more of them?”

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The sound of steel slicing through a hollowed out husk rang out.

The body of a Pumpkeeno split wide open with a single horizontal swipe of a blade, dissipating as a red-haired young woman pressed forward past it. Two more of the feral fruit snarled ravenously as they took the dead one’s place with the intention of taking her head off her shoulders. But twin arches smashed through each of the pumpkin’s skin and left them to dissipate with just as much ease.

“Smashing pumpkins is getting old!” Sanary’s frustration was evident as she as she continued her jaunt through the Third Floor of the Labyrinth.

Unlike the Second Floor that had more open water due to the flooding, the water channels were narrower here as they circled a central structure. She assumed it was a water elevator meant to transport large goods to and from the floor above. By funneling water from those channels upwards it would push a platform that could move several tons of materials, but at some point it had broken and that had caused the flooding above. Because of that elevator most of the Third Floor was actually akin to a loading area that went around it, with the exit on the opposite side. That meant to get the other side you went along the walls of the Central Tower, with it expanding further into the south into what could pass as a smaller storage area for the ones awaiting transport.

Of course, that was a long time ago. Now there were only overly aggressive pumpkins that had made themselves at home and, of course, Slimes—a gaggle of whom loitered ahead of her with their numbers rather padded out. She scoffed before funneling mana into her Summonite Gem without slowing down. “Rasho!”

A swirl of light gave way to flames as from it burst free a member of Oni-kind that sported a singular protruding horn, long and wild red hair that framed his pointed ears, and a burning red gaze. Standing tall with his chest laid bare to reveal the muscular definition, his only protection was were the rectangular shields that went down from his shoulders to his elbows, along with his forearm and leg guards. On his back was a tiger-striped cape, and to his side was an impressive Silturn-style longsword.

“Clear a path ahead,” Sanary ordered as he floated next to her. “I’m almost to the Fourth Floor and don’t want to have to slow down waiting for my blade to mend itself because of the corrosion from cutting through so many.”

“At least give me something worthy of my blade.” In spite of the clear disappointment in his tone at having to contend with such meager foes, the Oni Prince shot forward as his fist ignited with a burning flame. He then slammed it down into the ground in the center of the horde, causing the flames to expand in an eruption that swallowed the Slimes up and burned them away.

Sanary didn’t slow down as she ran towards the exit until she noticed there was a Teleporter. She only paused in her sprint to go over to it just long enough to attune to it, giving her a way up to the First Floor and back without needing to go through the Second Floor. Then she shot towards the stairs leading down and began to bounce down them and into the Fourth Floor.

It would not be wrong to say that the half of the Fourth Floor was just a singular expanded corridor that ran across the tower. In keeping with the idea of transporting goods it was wide with crystals blooming like flowers along the walls at non-fixed intervals for light. The sound of her footfalls and panting echoed throughout the empty chamber as she ran through it, keeping her frantic pace while Rasho floated next to her.

Then he scowled. “Tin heads are coming.”

Her gaze snapped up to the air above. His vision was sharper than hers, so she didn’t doubt his words. And sure enough she could catch the gleam of the light reflecting off the three-unit group of machine lifeforms that loitered there.

Gunnerheads—a type of Mechanical Soldier from the Machine World of Loreilal with a rectangular body that resembled a floating mechanical head with two sets of rotating barrels attached for arms. They were driven by a simple AI and meant to act as mid-ranged artillery units during the Summoner Wars, though they were later repurposed for the sake of security units after the Warring Era.

The optical units that served as their eyes processed the approaching organics and ran their biometrics through their databanks, which were long out of date since they had been copied from the original progenitors. Unable to find them, it registered them as intruders to be eliminated with excessive force and began the process of converting mana into solid projectiles with a good deal of stopping power—bullets.

“If you’re careless your sword will break,” Rasho warned her. He knew that creatures from Loreilal tended to have tougher bodies due to their inorganic nature and that made them a pain to deal with when only using a sword. It was better to use an axe since they had greater cleaving power due to their weight, or a spear that had thrusting power behind them to penetrate.

“Then I’ll melt through it!” She once more triggered a charge of the Summonite Gem while gripping her sword even tighter as they neared the firing range of the Gunnerheads. “Enchant Flame!”

He snapped his fingers and generated a spark that turned into a slithering flame that coiled around the blade of her Iron Saber before sinking in. Then there were no more words. The cacophony of bullets being fired echoed throughout the corridor.

Sanary changed her approach to an angled sprint as the construct bullets smashed into the ground and scattered into mana, leaving them to trail after her. She used one of the crystal outcroppings jutting from the wall as cover before she jumped up and kicked off the wall to close the distance from the air. “YAH!”

The trail of the flames drew burning arches in the air. Blazing steel cleaved through two of the three as she landed past their disintegrating bodies, having cut through their defenses in a single swipe each in passing. The third subsequently exploded as a burning fist was slammed into it by Rasho, whose gaze kept on the young woman as she continued pressing onward to the second wave, before he continued his role as Guardian Beast and shot after her.

The flashes of searing flames. The scent of smoldering steel. The drum of gunfire. The din of shattering crystals. The padding of pained grunts and flicker of a defensive aura blunting the damage. The corridor became nothing more than a recreation of the era where bladesteel and flame clashed with the otherworldly creatures whose purpose now was only to serve as a threat to the inhabitants due to old directives.

And by the time she was finally through the straight corridor and into the room that served as the passage for Assessors Gate, Sanary was left with her shoulders rising and falling as she fought for breath.

Rasho regarded her condition for a moment before pointing over to the northern wall. “There’s a Rejuvenation Pad over there.”

The Rejuvenation Pads were a second convenience of the Labyrinth from the ancient era and kept in working condition. Much like with the Teleporters, if someone attuned to it, they would trigger and gather ambient mana from the tower and send it into the recipient to restore their own or a vessel they were carrying like the Summonite Gem, which also fed into the Guardian Beast.

However, it wasn’t an instantaneous process. It took time between charges. Time that could be spent pushing into the Labryinth to gather materials and seeking out treasures not claimed by other. Or running into a Spell Sword and finally obtaining Mystic Ore.

Sanary grimaced at the thought of slowing down for that long. But more than a few stray shots had caught her on the way. Reason won out over recklessness as she knew she wouldn’t be able to claim her prize even if she ran into it with her current state. “Fine. I’ll take a break long enough to eat and get my mana back.”

The young swordswoman made her way over to the pad and began the attunement process. The hum of the device stirring to life and beginning the charging process was lower than she liked, doing little to pad out the uncomfortable silence that followed the ringing that lingered in the back of her head. But it gave her time to work out her progress in her head and broach a question to the Guardian Beast standing away from her. “Rasho, how long did it take for my sister to make it this far?”

The Oni Prince regarded her for a moment before closing his eyes and pulling up the memory. “Maybe two weeks or so?”

So, I beat her on that front… It brought a smile to her face hearing that. In just three days she had reached as far as her sister had in two weeks when she had been starting out. That was proof enough for her that she was getting closer to her goal of becoming the best and most beautiful Craftlord in Wystern.

As if reading her mind, the Oni Prince ruthlessly pulled the rug from under her achievements without mercy. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. She started with a knife and didn’t have any experience, whereas you’ve had myself acting as a combat instructor even before she transferred over the contract. Your forging skills aren’t even close to hers, your sword skills are barely passable, and as far as your body goes, you’re about as distant as night from day.”

His words came from his observation as one who had served as the Guardian Beast for the Craftlord of Ruby, Kouren. The older sister that Sanary looked up to and the standard she had set for being a Female Craftknight with Rumari. At least that was the case once upon a time.

Sanary knew that she still wasn’t there yet. She only had to look at the sword at his waist to be reminded of what the craftsmanship of a Craftlord was truly like. It was a weapon that her older sister had made for the Guardian Beast.

When they first met, Rasho had stipulated it would be under the condition that Kouren would make him a weapon worthy of his stature as an Oni Prince that he would serve as her Guardian Beast. It was a condition she fulfilled after becoming a Craftlord. She made so splendid a weapon that he rarely drew it unless he found something or someone worthy enough to do so.

When Sanary inherited her sister’s contract with the aid of a Summoner, Rasho applied the same condition to her. He would serve as her Guardian Beast but only to the degree that he deemed her skills merited. She would only get him at his best when she herself reached the point she could craft a weapon on par with the blade her sister made.

She also knew her swordsmanship was lacking. Her sister would have gotten through that bullet hell without so much as a hair out of place, let alone being touched by a single projectile. Craftlords were on an entirely different level compared to an apprentice Craftknight like her.

But there was one thing that she couldn’t overlook as she bristled and blushed. “What does my body have to do with any of that!?”

He crossed his arms and spoke bluntly. “You’re chasing after your sister in all aspects, including appearance. She has the title of the most beautiful woman in Wystern for a reason. Really, the only thing that you have going for you is that you’re as much of a Tomboy as she was at your age.”

Her eyes twitched as she struggled to keep her temper in check. “…You’re being awfully cheeky today, Rasho.”

He opened his arms and smiled. “What can I say? Watching as you flounder around with little grasp of your own emotions is far more entertaining than you trying and failing to match the countenance that your sister projects.”

She responded as any adolsenct teenager would. “I understand my emotions perfectly!”

“Oh really? Then have you figured out why that red-headed fellow still gets under your skin?”

His face popped up in her mind and suddenly she felt her lips pulling themselves into a frown. “That slowpoke who’s barely come out of his room after his first visit to the Labyrinth?”

“I believe it was mentioned that he’s forging himself a new sword,” Rasho pointed out. “The fact that he’s devoting that much time to it will likely speak well towards its quality.”

“Or it just reinforces the fact that he works at a snail’s pace. It’s bad enough I can’t even sense much drive from that guy to start with, but if it takes him that long to make a decent weapon then I don’t see him making it past the preliminaries. He just won’t be able to keep up.”

You couldn’t just make weapons that were decent. It had to be done at an appropriate speed. Taking too long for a weapon he would have to discard for a better one wasn’t the mark of a professional, but an overly cautious amateur.

It would be a different story if he was using the Mystic Ore that he had lucked into getting. They were hard to get their hands on and hard to refine, but the weapons created from them were on a whole other level. Not only did they draw out the elemental property of the weapon, but those benefits bled back into the weapon’s user to enhance their own abilities to a greater degree.

Sanary was sure that if she had gotten it, she would have cleared more than half of the way to the Eleventh Floor by now.

“He made the right decision,” Rasho said, recalling the half-hour of complaining she had done the day prior when they had yet to find another Spell Sword. “He decided to plan things out rather than trying to burn himself playing fire. The fact that he did so is part of what’s bothering you.”

She fought down a scowl. “Enlighten me then. What about him bothers me?”

“Not even a night prior that you said, and I quote, ‘Male Craftknights are all just brutes with muscles all the way up to their brains.’”

She had. “Yeah, and?”

“You call him a slowpoke, but he’s already got Mystic Ore and thus ahead of you. If he had used it on something like a Novice Knife, then you would be complaining he’s wasted it like a brute. But the fact he’s using his brain to plan out what he intends to do immediately contradicts that. Especially when you no doubt would have done the same thing for an edge with your sword at this point. Do you understand where I’m going?”

Her brows deepened as she wracked her brain over it to no avail.

The Oni Prince sighed and gave her a hint. “Tyram.”

Tyram—the Craftlord of Crystal who had gone missing. He was also known as ‘Tyram the Calm’ to others because of his demeanor being like the calmness of the ocean without wind or waves. That also extended to his fighting style where he often carried a sense of serenity and speed that went beyond the limits of what one would think possible.

Sanary had watched a spar between him and her sister. It looked like he stood in place with the appearance of being unmoving even as he somehow fended off a variety of attacks. Her sister had explained it as the result of having no wasted movement or imperfections from the start to the end, which gave it the appearance of him not moving at all.

And he used a Crystal Sword as his weapon of choice—an incredibly sharp sword, but one of the most brittle and fragile ones possible to make. The Novice Weapons Series were even more durable than those things. Yet it barely looked scratched at the edges while facing off against a peer of his level or higher.

She acknowledged the Craftlords were talented beyond comparison. But out of all of them she had seen in action, Tyram was the one she simply couldn’t read at all. Not his movements. Not his personality. Not his thoughts. None of it.

Then it clicked for her what about the smith bothered her. “…Ah, so he throws me off because I can’t read him at all.”

“Finally,” Rasho huffed. “With the others who are competing you at least can gauge where they stand and where you stand. But with him you can’t and so you don’t know how to respond. And if you don’t know how to respond, it takes up your time thinking of ways to do so, and your usual confidence goes out the window when he does something to contradict that. That leaves only frustration.”

It was such a simple thing in the end. Every time she wanted to place a label on him things would change. She would be forced to reassess him and then it would happen again.

She tried to treat him as competition and make distance, he would respond cordially and without a hint of competitiveness. She labeled him a slowpoke, he went and got ahead of her by obtaining the one thing she knew would tip the scales. She tried to advise him to quit holding the hand of the girl latching onto him like a child, he threw back in her face the fact that she only was where she was now because her sister did the same for her when she was younger.

That smith was such an enigma for her that even now she was getting frustrated thinking about him. “Whatever. It’s a waste of brain power trying to think more about someone who probably isn’t even going to make it past the preliminaries. We need to focus on the here and now.”

There was so little time left. Three days at the most. If she couldn’t get Mystic Ore by tonight, then incorporating it into an Iron Saber and getting familiar with the new weapon would be impossible—at worst she would probably fumble over it and embarrass herself in front of the world.

Not a great start for someone seeking to succeed the Craftlord of Ruby as the best swordswoman in Wystern.

[-|-|-|-]

Welf let out a sigh as he set down the water bottle after downing the contents for the third time today.

The workshop had risen in temperature from the constant heat surging through the forge. Even with the surprisingly efficient ventilation he was soaked in sweat. The pungent scent was only masked by the aroma of hot metal that loitered in the air at all times.

The light in the room was kept dim. He needed to be able to eyeball the temperature of the metal he was working based on the colors, and that meant the light was an obstacle. Even Urus kept her flames rather low when not assisting to keep from hindering the project they were working on.

He huffed, wiping the sweat that dripped past the bandana out of his eyes with his blackened thumbs. His gaze fell into the yawning crimson maw of the forge as he stared at the billet formed solely of Fire Ore that had been shaped into a rectangular block as its color shifted to show the heat of the physical flames sinking in and making it more pliable. “Urus, we’re getting ready to get started with the core.”

The Fire Spirit drifted over to her perch on his shoulders. Then she leaned over, her face brushing against his sweat-slicked cheek as her incandescent gaze focused on the same sight. Her head quirked back at him as she quietly pressed for more information.

“We’ve finished the jacket so now we’re going to get to work on the heart of it,” he explained to the silent question. “It’ll be a long one, but not as long as the jacket. Then we’ll fit it inside and then forge it together. We should finish that much tonight. Then tomorrow we press on to the next part.”

The sword that they were working on to replace his broken one was one that Welf had debated on for some time the night he had come back. He knew the qualities that he wanted it to possess so that it wouldn’t be so easily broken again. But the matter of forging them into the weapon itself was one that took careful consideration.

He had opted for only two elemental ores—Fire Ore and Water Ore. Fire was known for being hard and carrying an edge exceedingly well, enhancing the cutting power to a degree that couldn’t be underestimated. Water was the opposite in that it made the blade softer and flexible, but it also made it heavier and didn’t hold an edge as well.

Welf wanted to create a sword that possessed a very high degree of cutting power but also was durable and flexible enough to not snap like the previous one had. It was fine if the blade chipped since they could mend themselves, but it had to be able to avoid completely breaking. That was fatal for the weapon and likely would follow suit for its wielder.

He had first considered making it a monosteel—using a single kind of steel for the entirety of the blade. Since the different elemental ores could be merged into one alloy using the Holy Flames, the option to combine the proper ratio into a single lump of steel and shape it was viable. He could have done that and been finished by now, but he had deemed it not suitable for what he wanted.

Urus was still new to breaking down the materials for the elements and then reconstituting them into the individual ores. They had spent the first day working that out as they took everything they gathered and then broke them down one-by-one to help her get a feel for the process. The resulting ores were rough even if they were workable, but that made it clear that having her combine multiple ones to focus the concentration into specific parts wasn’t something she could do.

If he wanted a general, all-around blade then that was fine. She might get the distribution wrong, but he could just fold the metal repeatedly to spread out the composition. It would take more time, but it would ensure that it wasn’t too hard or too soft within a specific part and make them weak points for the blade. However, that would just leave him with a general blade that didn’t excel in specific areas and there was no merit in doing that when he had a specific purpose in mind for what he wanted to create.

So, he opted for the longer and more difficult path of creating a laminated blade instead. It was a process of bladesmithing that relied on layering different kinds of metal rather than using a monosteel alloy. That allowed the individual aspects of the steels to play a part in the blade without compromising on their qualities by melding them together.

Of course, it was more complicated and time consuming in both the planning and forging. More rooms for error. And Bron had been clear on one thing in particular: once the technique was submitted to the Central Tower there was no turning back.

He was gambling the time it would take to forge the blade with the time before the preliminaries.

In the best-case scenario, it would be ready a day beforehand. In the worst-case scenario, it would be hours. Either way there would be no time to build up his technical skills by familiarize himself with it. And if there was a mistake in the forging process there would be no time to re-forge the blade or start over.

It was all or nothing.

But that was fine with the stray smith. The preliminaries were a deadline, but they weren’t his end-goal. His promise to Pratty was still in effect but something else guided his hammer as his thoughts drifted back to the Second Floor.

Urus had nearly sacrificed herself in order to buy him time to escape. Though she was a spirit from another world, her physical form had been given to her by the Summoning Ritual. That meant she could feel pain and be killed.

Her life for his was not a trade that he had been comfortable with tolerating for even a second.

And what if Pratty had been with him at the time when they were attacked? How would he defend her if his blade shattered when he needed it the most? Would her life have been the price for his instead?

Those thoughts drove him to make this blade. Not for the preliminaries, but for himself. He needed a weapon that was strong enough to protect others and durable enough to protect himself. So that the knowledge that his blade shattered when he needed it the most didn’t haunt him.

He could not compromise on that if he was going to remain true to himself.

“…It’s at a good temperature,” he said as he took in the hue it had become. Fire Ore itself tended to require a very high heat to be malleable due to its nature. “We’ll get started drawing it out enough to fit into the jacket.”

Using a pair of tongs, he grabbed hold of the heated materials and brought it over to the anvil. It came up to his upper thighs thanks to a stand, putting it in a comfortable position for the long work. No sooner than he set it down did the heat begin to sink into it.

“Same as before, Urus. Keep it at the temperature it’s at now for as long as you can.”

The Fire Spirit gave an enthusiastic nod before settling her hands onto the steel. The flames of her body grew more intense to match the heat. They then writhed and lapped at the heated ore to trickle it in as she pulled away.

Welf started hammering away to work it into shape. He couldn’t hammer it too flat right now or else the fit wouldn’t be snug enough for when they forge-welded the cores to its jacket. If that happened, it would simply slide out during the welding process and complications would emerge.

Sparks and flames billowed from the friction of the blows. Steel sang as the hammer took joy in fulfilling its promised purpose. The ghost of a smile could be felt within the orange and red mask that was the Fire Spirit’s face as she watched the scene until the shaping was done.

His human limits demanded a moment’s rest afterwards. He adjusted the temperature of the forge and then set the jacket that was already in its boat-shape into it to start heating up. He refueled with a quick snack and replenished his water supply, and then outlined the next phase for the Fire Spirit to comprehend based on Urus previous performance and the amount of metal he was working with.

Then it was back to work.

The jacket heated up enough to where it could be used, so he had her keep it steady as he slid the core into place and held the rod connecting it. Then he took up the hammer and smote the core into its jacket. Sparks bloomed and fire spat as it was wedged into place since the core had cooled enough to where it wouldn’t shape the inside and cause his efforts to need further correcting. Eventually, the residual heat from the jacket brought the core up to match.

He flipped it onto its side and began to hammer at it as hard as he could. It was so they would naturally meld together with any gaps being squeezed out so there was no air inside of it. Urus kept the heat up so that he could weld them together until they were truly made into one. Then he returned them to the forge as one completed billet and once it was up to temperature began the process of squaring it out.

It was late by the time that Welf had retreated from his workshop.

Night had long fallen by the time he finished squaring it out. Looming silence permeated the Second Floor and had done so for some time. The hands of the clock hanging from the wall was closing in on its midnight stroke.

Sweat and steel filled his nostrils. His muscles that had been stressed through the pounding of hot metal were aching. His stomach gnawed away at him from the inside, demanding compensation for staving off its pains while he worked until now like a child seeking attention.

Welf would comply. But first he slipped into the closest bathroom to cleanse himself of the proof of his hard work. No one else on the Second Floor had been awake so he didn’t need to worry about someone else taking it up. The squeak of a knob was followed by the drum of the water beating against his skin and he went through the motions while his mind comb through everything that still needed to be done.

Then he stopped the shower. Toweled himself dry. Dressed for the night. And then he made his way down to the First Floor of the Silver Guild to head towards the Kitchen.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

His footsteps paused as he caught the sound of hammer falls coming from the central forge area. He had to head that way to get through to the Kitchen, but he didn’t expect anyone else to be up now. He opened the door and was greeted by the distant silhouette shrouded in the orange glow of a forge at work, sparks blooming with each hit.

It was the Silver Master at work.

The large smith was busy working a bar of steel into shape by himself. One hand was using tongs that had a cup-shape holding the tang portion firm. The other took a smaller hammer to the end and forged the glowing tip.

He was striking beneath where the tip would be, causing the end to bulge out and become convex as he flipped between one side to the other. It was drawing out the tip the closer he got to the end and would form a fine tip. His eyes never left his work even as he suddenly spoke up. “If yer fixin’ to get somethin’ ta eat, yer gonna hafta deal with leftovers.”

“That’s fine,” Welf said. “I didn’t expect you to still be up, Master.”

“Order ta Vance needin’ to be filled,” he explained. “Iron Sabers by the dozen. Journeymen have their own orders, so it’s up ta me.”

He likely would have been finished well before now if not for the fact that he had to assist the others as well. His apprentices had a big day coming and they needed his guidance. But he couldn’t neglect his duties to patrons who came to him for quality blades. So he was spending late nights working the forge.

“How’s yer…project comin’ …so far?” Bron asked between adjustment strikes.

“We still need to draw out the blade to its full length,” Welf stated. Once that was done he would cut off the tip and save it for later use with the guard. Then forge the tip over into a slope so that the hardened edge ran along the sword from belly to spine and start the beveling for the edge. “I think we can get the profiling done within two days.”

They were cutting it dangerously close. “I wanna call ya overly ambitious for makin’ a blade with that much effort in so short time. It’d be one-thing if ya had more time or yer Guardian Beast was more accustomed, but yer handlin’ the workload yerself. No time for buildin’ technical skill with it, that blade’ll be what determines the outcome—if ya finish it.”

Welf acknowledged it. “That can’t be helped. The sword needs to be able to last not only in the preliminaries but in the Labyrinth. I don’t want regrets.”

“Hrm.” The grunt was thick and spoke of his opinion without words. “No sheathin’ a blade like that. I’ll use Magnetic Ore to create a band and holster.”

The question of how he was going to sheathe it had been on Welf’s mind. But he was content with simply carrying it until after the preliminaries. “Will you have time to do that when you have so many orders?”

“It’s the duty of a master to provide fer his apprentices,” Bron stated in a tone that said not to argue with him on it. “So just focus on gettin’ it done properly. I expect nothin’ less than the best damn blade ya could make with the materials ya have considerin’ Magnetic Ore comes Iron Giants from the Lower Floors.”

“Of course,” Welf vowed. “The duty of the smith is to make something that will last after all, and that means the best.”

There were no more words after that. The Silver Master went back to his work. The stray apprentice he had taken in ate what was left and went to back to his room to rest. Tomorrow would be another busy day.

Laying on his bed, his gaze turned over to mouth of the forge that had stopped running but still baked the room with its lingering heat. The Fire Spirit whose flame burned bright now gently flickered within the forge. Her limits had been reached for that day and in deep slumber she laid.

There was little she could do aside from providing the constant heat and occasionally act as a second set of hands. She was still too inexperienced to work as a hammering partner for something like this. But even so he was grateful she was still giving it her all to bring the blade to life.

It was because of that he had no fear of failure.

They would finish in time.

April 1, 2023 | Categories: Dan Machi, Fanfiction | Tags: DanMachi fanfic, Kutty, Pratty, Rasho, Sanary, Summon Night: Swordcraft Story Fanfic, Swordcraft Story, Urus, Welf Crozzo | 1 Comment