Chapter 3: Gagiur’s Forge God
The steel city of Gagiur.
A metropolis of iron, built nestled at the foot of the colossal Vehinos Mine. At its center towers the Great Tree of Gagiur, a massive arboreal monument.
This is a holy land for blacksmiths—a place where materials from demons of all kinds gather. It is also a bustling hub of commerce. Aspiring smiths flock here, nobles and adventurers come seeking their weapons, and merchants follow, hoping to profit from this cycle.
Blacksmiths pour their souls into their craft, blending natural resources with demonic materials, casting them into molds, and hammering them in blazing furnaces.
Nobles and merchants assign value to these creations, trading and auctioning them.
Adventurers sell materials to merchants, entrust their spoils to blacksmiths, and commission weapons unique to themselves.
Amidst this whirlwind of ambition, one figure stands apart from the rest.
[The Master Smith]
A title bestowed upon those at the pinnacle of blacksmithing in this world.
And among these master smiths, there is an old man revered as the God of the Forge.
Gurba, the Forge God.
For the right price, he will forge weapons for anyone, never hesitating to bare the depths of his craft.
But his fees are exorbitant—so much so that, in practice, only royalty, grand dukes, imperial families, renowned nobles, and the highest-ranking adventurers—those who shape the world—can afford his work.
And yet, his divine skill justifies such exclusivity.
Although human, Gurba has lived an unnaturally long life. This year, he turns 330 years old.
In this world, lifespan varies depending on magical power, creating disparities even within the same race.
Considering that the average human lifespan is around 80 years—no different from Earth—his longevity is nothing short of abnormal.
Even in the annals of human history, few have lived as long as him—a fact that only adds to his reverence.
“Lord Gurba, this time—”
“Leave. I have no words for you.”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
Without even watching the nobleman scurry away with his newly forged weapon, Gurba lit his pipe and exhaled a slow stream of smoke.
Work. What was once a blazing passion had become mere routine. Years of waiting desperately for something—only to have every expectation shattered.
“Kid… In the end, you were the last one.”
A sigh laced with melancholy escaped him.
A blacksmith’s happiness takes many forms.
Creating the finest masterpiece. Forging more weapons than anyone. Achieving divine skill.
But for Gurba, happiness meant one thing—seeing his weapons wielded to their fullest potential.
Born into a family of smiths, he had held a hammer since before he could remember. With every strike, his heart burned, and he even felt affection for the weapons he created.
He devoted everything to honing his craft, pushing his skills to the limit.
And by the time he realized it, the weapons he forged had surpassed human capability.
If he crafted a weapon using demonic materials, the wielder would be implanted with the demon’s memories—losing their sense of self in the process.
The weapons he poured his soul into were beyond human hands, while those he made half-heartedly were revered as divine artifacts.
In all his years, only one person had ever been able to wield a weapon he forged with his full might.
The rest—whether nobles, warriors, or fools—praised the weapons he made out of boredom as his “greatest masterpieces.”
From his workshop perched on high, Gurba gazed at the Great Tree of Gagiur towering at the city’s heart.
Around its trunk, people swarmed like insects—all drawn to a single sword embedded in its bark.
A sword he had forged with everything he had.
“To whoever pulls this out… I shall grant them the right to inherit my craft.”
His weary murmur had spread across the continent like wildfire.
Brutes boasting of strength. Famous adventurers. Self-proclaimed reincarnated heroes. Promising youths. Even those hailed as “the Chosen,” destined for kingship—all came to try their luck.
Entire nations moved for the sake of a single blade.
Yet—
It remained unmoved.
Not a single soul appeared who could bear the weight of his legacy.
“Kid… Will I ever see my weapons truly alive again?”
Today, as always, only the unworthy gathered at the Great Tree.
Or so he thought.
■
The clang of metal echoed through Gagiur as always, the heat of furnaces permeating the air.
Amidst the thriving streets walked a lone girl with dull-colored hair fluttering behind her.
“M-Miss Irena…?”
“…Yes. How’s business?”
“Thanks to you, it’s…”
“Good. Keep it up.”
“…You too, Miss Irena— No, never mind. Excuse me.”
The girl exchanged stiff pleasantries with a street vendor before turning away, unable to bear the prying eyes surrounding her.
Everywhere she went, artisans and merchants greeted her—yet their responses were chillingly distant.
Biting her lip under their pitying gazes and hollow words, she walked forward with unwavering dignity.
“…Hey, that’s—”
“The lord’s daughter… Though who knows how much longer that’ll last.”
The residents whispered as they watched her go—
as if tiptoeing around a wound.
“They say the territory’s harvests are failing… Must be a heavy burden.”
“Still, we’ve got businesses here. If the lord’s unreliable, things won’t hold up.”
“I feel for her, but… Her father’s lost his mind, the land’s barren, and the other nobles won’t cooperate. It’s hopeless.”
“Well… Rumor has it a neighboring noble’s taken an interest. Maybe if she just…”
“Idiot! Don’t even say that!”
“She shows her face in town every day, so people still support her… But she’s just not capable.”
“A girl her age… Gagiur’s too much for her to handle.”
Their hushed voices dripped with gloom.
Words laced with thorns pricked at the girl’s back—far from the encouragement one might expect for someone who had grown up loving this city.
“…I know. I know all of it.”
Clenching her fists, she kept moving forward.
Because she had no other choice.
READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT LOCALIZERMEERKAT.PAGES.DEV
■
“Hmm… What should we do…?”
“Corpse King…? Is something wrong?”
After teleporting via Nifl’s magic to the mid-slopes of Vehinos Mine, I looked down at the clamoring steel city below, lost in thought.
Our group, Helheim, had set a clear goal—but we quickly ran into an obvious problem.
“We’re… broke!”
Yes. We had no money.
Thinking back, it made sense.
Since my resurrection, I hadn’t had a chance to earn any, and due to Helheim’s nature, we couldn’t rely on state rewards or selling demon materials.
My disappearance had halted Helheim’s functions, leaving Eljudnir with almost no reserves.
And then—
“King… Garm’s hungry…”
“My King! I could raze that city in a single day if you wish!”
This.
The ones who had reunited with me were all hopelessly out of touch with the world.
Well, to be fair, the men of Helheim were the ones best suited for handling such matters. The women, while extraordinarily talented in their own ways… were a bit complicated.
Nifl was sharp, but she refused to leave my side, making her the least worldly of all.
So, we were broke.
“Maybe earn some money in Gagiur…? Become adventurers or something?”
“For short-term earnings, that would be the most practical. However…”
“Yeah… Showing our faces is too risky, and wearing masks would make us look even more suspicious.”
If my past self heard me now, he’d probably say something like “Such is the fate of those who dwell in shadows—”
Ugh. Just the thought makes me cringe.
Shivering, I started descending toward the city.
“Maybe I should just ask Gurba for help… He’s gotta be loaded, right? Being a top-tier craftsman and all.”
Sighing at my own shamelessness, I racked my brain for ways to make money.
“Mufufu~ Leave it to me, my King! As the Empire’s Guardian Dragon, I can procure as much gold as—”
“Silence, foolish wyrm. Do you even understand our situation?”
“The cow goes moo moo—no wonder all its nutrients go to milk.”
“Hah?”
“Hrm?”
“Alright, alright, no fighting. Nid, shrink down and hop on my shoulder. If people see you, it’ll cause a scene.”
“Hah! See that?”
“Grr… Grrr…”
“Sigh… You two, so disgraceful in front of the King…”
With a frustrated growl, Nid’s body flashed—transforming into a 30-centimeter-long winged dragon.
Now resembling nothing more than a miniature drake—a common sight among nobles as exotic pets—he flopped onto my shoulder.
“Hmph! Fine. I shall claim the King’s shoulder as my sacred domain!”
Patting Nid’s head as she nestled in, we finally stepped into Gagiur, the City of Steel.
Before us stretched long lines of merchants and adventurers waiting at the gates.
After some hesitation (since robed figures weren’t uncommon), the guards simply waved us through with a “Move along.”
Nid, hidden under my hood, grumbled, “How dare they dismiss the King with a ‘move along’!” while irritably tapping my shoulder.
Pacifying her, we ventured deeper—where the Great Tree loomed even larger than before.
Visit the request page If there’s a Japanese Light Novel (LN) or Web Novel (WN) you’d like me to translate
When the donation goal progress bar above hit 100% one novel will be chosen for translation
| Table of Contents | Next* |
Support the Author by Buying the Original Books!
