Author Romeru
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Chapter 61: The Best I Have Ever Met
🕑 Added 2024-11-19 19:16:53 +0000 UTCThere was no confusion between the two.
As soon as Julian held his rapier sideways in front of the shadow—the woman—she immediately understood what Julian intended. It was barbaric, a method every blacksmith alive would scoff at as the most absurd way to test a weapon’s quality.
But they were going to do it.
Both understood what was about to happen, and each wore a smile as they prepared for it.
One smiled with utter confidence, her wrinkled face tightening as she looked at Julian with a mix of amusement and disdain.
The other smiled with quiet trust, his face calm and resolute. Unlike the shadow blacksmith, Julian wasn’t looking at his opponent—his focus was entirely on her weapon. She seemed to be saying something, the clicking noises emanating from her blending into the silence. Even though Julian couldn’t understand the words, he felt as though he could grasp the meaning behind them.
She was mocking him. Her gestures and clicks seemed to sneer, telling him that his transparent weapon was no match for her blood-like blade. It wouldn’t even take one strike, she seemed to say, for her weapon to shatter his glacivyr rapier into pieces.
“Well…” Julian’s voice was steady as he responded, his tone carrying neither malice nor insecurity. “...I’d much prefer it if we just let our babies talk instead. So, please…”
He adjusted his grip on the rapier, ensuring it wouldn’t budge or falter when the shadow blacksmith’s weapon struck down. His movements were deliberate, precise, as though preparing for a ritual.
Yes, they were about to slam their weapons against one another—sharp edge against sharp edge—until one blade gave out and shattered. They didn’t need to do this. There were countless, more effective ways to test the quality of a weapon. In fact, this method was the absolute worst, reserved for fools and brutes.
But for two artisans who had long surpassed the title of “master,” this was the most thrilling way to do it.
And the first turn was the shadow blacksmith’s.
And without another word, she brought her weapon down with a ferocious precision. But as soon as their blades met, a smile crawled on Julian’s face as he instantly knew that she held back—matching his level to ensure that their contest was about their weapons and not their strength.
Their blades clashed, and the chamber erupted with the resounding clang, the sound rippling through the air like a wave.
Julian felt the impact resonate through his entire body, each vibration telling a distinct story. It was absurd to think so, but to him, those vibrations spoke volumes—the story behind the shadow blacksmith’s strike.
The force behind the strike wasn’t driven by malice at all; the blade made of blood, however, was a completely different tale altogether—it was a weapon forged with pain, cruelty, and unimaginable sacrifice. Whatever methods the shadow blacksmith had used to forge her masterpiece, Julian knew they were anything but kind.
And as the vibrations finally stopped, the shadow blacksmith smirked as she pulled her blade back, swinging it through the air as if to flaunt its pristine condition.
But to her credit, not a scratch marred its surface, but the same could be said to Searadyn’s Veil.
And while the shadow blacksmith was checking her blood-forged sword, Julian simply raised his rapier without even checking it, ready to strike down at any moment.
The shadow blacksmith noticed this, causing her smirk to falter into a quiet scoff. She then placed her bloodsword sideways between her and Julian, ready for him to strike.
And so, it’s Julian’s turn—and unlike her, he did not bother to do anything else.
He swung his rapier down, the arc of his blade as precise as the shadow blacksmith’s. But unlike her, there was something else besides precision—there was fluidity. Not as a warrior who eradicates life, but as someone who creates things with his hands.
The shadow blacksmith’s face flinched ever so slightly as the clash between their blades caused a sound that was clearer, sharper… and purer than her strike. The sound hummed, echoing through the dark cavern, like a song almost.
The shadow blacksmith instinctively inspected her blade again, her fingers lightly brushing its surface. Meanwhile, Julian had once again already positioned Searadyn’s Veil, ready for it to be struck by her.
And once again, it was the shadow blacksmith’s turn. But before she could strike down, a smile crawled on Julian’s face.
“Thank you for being fair,” Julian said suddenly, his voice calm yet sincere, causing the shadow blacksmith to pause, “I know you could have pulled out a [Legendary] or even a [Mythic] grade weapon from your chest, but you didn’t.”
The shadow blacksmith’s smirk returned, the clicking noises escaping from her lips sounding slightly amused.
Clang!
She swung her blade down, and the resulting clash produced a tone eerily similar to Julian’s previous strike. But this time, however, it was as if the flowers heard the contact between the two blades. The flowers’ glow flickered, their light trembling in rhythm with the vibrations.
And even after another strike, neither weapon showed any sign of damage. The shadow blacksmith was saying something again, her clicking sounds sounded so profound, if only Julian could actually understand.
Well, whatever she was trying to convey, she didn’t seem to care that Julian couldn’t understand her. She repositioned her blade, holding it sideways in preparation for the next exchange.
And once again, it was Julian’s turn.
“Why are you even here?” Julian asked, his voice carrying a quiet weight as he raised his blade. A weight that seemed heavier than either of their strikes. He then glanced briefly at the cleaved coffin behind him. “You’re dead, like the corpse puppets we’ve been… ending. I can’t really imagine how someone… or something can control a being as powerful and majestic as you.”
Julian was not really hoping for a response at all. He brought his rapier down again, because as he said earlier, the only way they could actually understand each other was through their creations.
Clang!
The sound of the impact resonated differently again, as if infused with… words rather than force.
And the flowers answered once more—not just flickering, but blooming around them and filling the cavern with light. Their glow danced like an aurora across the cavern floor, creating a mesmerizing sea of colors beneath their feet.
A gasp, or at least it sounded like it, escaped from the shadow blacksmith’s lips. Her eyes, softened as she looked down at the flowers—and for a moment, it seemed as if she was gone, away to a completely different place.
And as she returned, a whisper of longing remained in her eyes.
She said something again, her clicks much softer again, almost… wistful.
She caressed her blade again, but this time not to inspect it.
A smile crawled on her face, no longer of confidence, no longer of pride—it was just a smile, nothing else. She brushed her fingers across the blade, causing its surface to shimmer and ripple like liquid.
“Hm…” A small hum escaped Julian’s lips as he felt how much passion was in her touch, he even almost felt it himself. But as he stared at the blade which moved like water, it once again reminded him just how little he truly understood about the world of Artemia.
His own weapon, Searadyn’s Veil, was crafted with cold fire—a feat he had considered extraordinary. Yet, here stood a blade that defied the reality he knew.
Clang!
The shadow blacksmith struck Julian’s blade once more, the force reverberating through the chamber. Still, nothing happened.
Julian took his turn again, and then her; the two, locked in a rhythmic dance of strikes without violence or malice. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as their hands moved and their blades clung to one another, this was no longer a contest at all, it was a… duet.
And then, after what felt like an eternity, a new song whispered through the air—a crack.
Julian’s rapier.
It wasn’t Julian’s weapon that cracked. The sound was faint but unmistakable, a fragile imperfection, now spreading across its surface.
The shadow blacksmith’s clicking grew louder, her tone almost mocking as she stepped back slightly in excitement. But then, after a few moments, her pace once again softened as she approached Julian.
She then gently brushed her hand across Julian’s weapon, her movements almost apologetic as she caressed it; her fingers, trailing across its smooth surface. If she had been alive, tears might have traced down her face already with how curled her brows were.
Julian, however, only smiled even as he stared at the cracks.
And once again, it was his turn to strike.
He raised his damaged rapier and brought it down against the shadow blacksmith’s blood sword. The impact rang out, and the cracks in his sword scattered and multiplied… but it wasn’t only his creation that was damaged now.
A crack now also formed across the shadow blacksmith’s sword—or rather, it bled. Thick, crimson liquid seeped from the cracks in its surface.
Julian stared and listened to the blood dripping on the ground for a few moments. He then let out a small sigh as he placed his sword sideways.
“Let’s… just get this over with, then.”
And once again, perhaps for the last time—it was her turn.
The shadow blacksmith nodded silently, raising her own weapon as she prepared for one final strike. Her hollow eyes locked onto Julian’s, her expression still quite unreadable, but it was as if he could understand her now.
And with a loud click escaping her lips, she swung her blade down.
Clang!
As their blades met, Julian’s rapier shattered completely, splitting into two halves… and yet Julian did not look away at all, even as the other half of it flew across his face, slicing his cheek… he did not look away.
Even as the bloodsword sliced through his chest, he did not look away.
The wound wasn’t fatal, of course, but it was deep enough to make him stagger.
The blood sword didn’t fare much better, however. The crack along its edge spread rapidly as it moved in the air, and as soon as it struck the ground, the weapon completely snapped in half; the blood, scattering everywhere and even painting the ground and the beautiful flowers red… but the red did not last long.
It dried up almost instantly, turning brown… and then just turning darker and darker.
None of that mattered, of course. Because the winner was clear now; even with their weapons both destroyed, the winner was clear.
The shadow blacksmith won.
She looked at Julian, her wrinkled face filled with pride and… sadness. She was in pain. She was in pain upon seeing her weapon shatter, she was in pain upon seeing Julian’s weapon shatter.
And for a moment, they simply stared at each other.
“Ha…” And after a few more moments, Julian clutched his chest, his breathing labored as blood seeped through his fingers.
The shadow blacksmith glanced at her broken blade, then at Julian. Her expression now filled with respect.
She then nodded as she buried her hand on her chest again to pull out another weapon. But then… she paused as she saw Julian do something.
Julian raised his other hand, and there… the other half of Searadyn’s Veil stood completely tall… and whole.
The shadow blacksmith froze, her hollow eyes narrowing as she stared at Julian’s raised rapier. For a moment, there was confusion on her face.
But then, slowly, the realization dawned on her. Her clicking speech shifted into something exhilarating—something that almost sounded like laughter.
It wasn’t the cruel, mocking laughter that Julian had heard earlier. No, this was something else entirely. Her frame quaked lightly, her form trembling as the laugh echoed faintly in the cavern.
And then, tears—bright red like the liquid from her blade—trickled from her eyes.
And soon, her laughter quieted, replaced by a serene smile as she raised whatever remained of her sword.
But of course, there was nothing there, only a trail of blood that dripped from her hand. And yet, her face held no bitterness, only acceptance. She stared at Julian, her gaze so gentle that it cut through Julian even more so than her sword.
She understood it now—Julian’s words.
And because of that… she finally spoke,
"This whole while, I believed it was I who wielded restraint—yet lo, thy blade, halved and wanting, hath labored under incompleteness."
Julian froze for a moment, startled by her response. All this time, she could speak?
"I am outcrafted," she continued, "and outwitted. As it must be, for such is the nature of the craft."
Julian stared at her, but after a few moments, he let out a small hum and smiled, “And I was wrong too—you are the best blacksmith I have ever met.”
"And thou, young one…" She replied, her voice clear and gentle for the first time, "...art the finest I have encountered. And believe me, child, I have encountered many."
“Thank you. I truly did enjoy this, not knowing whether my sword was truly better.”
"Thou jest. It was not even a contest."
"Well..."
"And now, thou art destined to become as I am. Take heed, young one—let not the darkness consume thee. Embrace the shadow, but never the dark.”
“What’s…your name?” Julian asked, his voice filled with a gentleness equaling that of the shadow blacksmith’s.
“Erin,” she answered with a faint, bittersweet smile. “And yours?”
“Julian Winters.” And with those words, Julian gripped his rapier with both hands and raised it high. And as he did so, Erin closed her eyes and looked up. The two stood frozen for a moment, like a painting almost.
The two of them, shrouded by the aurora beneath their feet.
And then… Julian breathed out.
The rapier sliced cleanly through Erin’s shoulder, the blade cleaving through her flesh and bones—well, it wasn’t that hard at all. There was no resistance, her flesh was almost sand, and her bones paper.
Erin didn’t scream or flinch. Julian reached out to catch her, but there was nothing left to hold.
Her body… it simply crumbled, her form disintegrating into fine ash that scattered through the air. Her smile disappeared last, etched into the darkness before being absorbed by it.
It will, however, now forever exist in Julian.
“Hm…” Julian stood still, staring at the empty air where Erin had been. He felt a weight in his chest—not grief, but a quiet understanding. He then looked at his hand, the ash melting and completely disappearing.
He didn’t really have time to contemplate, however, as the flowers that lit up the cavern began to close. One by one, their light faded, wrapping the room in the familiar embrace of darkness.
[Congratulations on clearing all the labors, Julian Winters.]
That’s it, then?
Well, of course, it might seem quite simple now—but Julian’s Otherworld body had actually almost died several times in the course of doing this quest…not to mention he had also almost truly died.
[The Master of Shadows is now proceeding to grant you the abilities of the Shadow Blacksmith.]
The words appeared in front of Julian, their glow cutting through the darkness. But before he could even process them, the world around him… completely vanished.
He was no longer in the cavern.
Julian found himself suspended in an empty void, surrounded by nothing but the vast, endless space of… nothing.
But soon, that nothing turned into a scenery of war.
“Where… am I?”
[LAST CHAPTER] <-----> [NEXT CHAPTER]
AUTHOR NOTES
...Do you know the fight between Boros and Saitama?
Yes. This was the blacksmithing version of it. LOLOLOL
But ack, there was barely any dialogue in this chapter. But I hope I wrote it well enough T_T. Please do holler up if you notice any mistakes... this chapter took longer than expected.
Comments
Manpapper
Thanks for the chapter
