WeTried Translations

Translator: [IncomeElastic]

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◈ I Became a Blacksmith the Rankers Are Obsessed With ◈

Chapter 048

──────

Sage Artisan

* * *

A genuine triumphant homecoming.

Loaded down with the countless ores and the funding the imperial palace itself had sent.

Especially the most important cargo of all: the "mana stones."

We returned to House Dolores's estate.

The first thing we did was go looking for a site to build the new workshop.

But then.

"... Lionel, couldn't you just build it inside the mansion?"

Dolores called out to me, her face full of worry.

"Inside the mansion?"

"We were already building something big there, actually...."

"That was my workshop?!"

The huge building that had been under noisy construction for weeks now, off in a corner of the garden, right beside my small workshop.

I'd wondered what on earth it was.

Turned out it had been my workshop the whole time.

"Works for me."

A furnace, what people usually picture when they hear the word "furnace,"

is, more often than not, a blast furnace proper.

The kind of thing where molten iron pools like an ocean inside some massive vessel,

and you dump in whatever else needs melting.

Someday I'd have to build one of those myself, too.

But the furnace I'd been talking about this whole time wasn't anything that huge.

Put up something like that, and it heats the whole surrounding area.

Nice and toasty, slow-baking everyone nearby without them even noticing.

At night the sky itself turns red, and people living close by can't even sleep properly.

Would something like that really sit in a smithy right in the middle of the imperial palace?

Which is to say, even the palace's own furnace isn't a blast furnace proper to begin with.

Of course, I did get permission for that too, just in case.

I'll have to build one someday anyway.

What I'm building now is a "crucible furnace."

The kind that melts iron down to its absolute limit, turns it liquid, and lets you pour it into molds.

This, too, is a furnace in every proper sense of the word.

It's not built for mass production, no, but if anything, it can turn out better quality.

Thankfully, this kind can be handled just fine inside the workshop itself.

No heat leaking out to the surroundings, either.

Though inside, it's going to be hot as hell, obviously.

"Then, let's do that."

And just like that, the site problem was settled, simple as that.

We left the materials piled up beside the construction site and headed back into the mansion.

Honestly, right now, I'm exhausted.

Maybe it's from burning through so much mental energy these past few days, no, this past month and a half.

All I wanted was a little rest.

"Teacher!"

Ruby, whom I hadn't seen in a while, had filled out nicely.

No, it wasn't so much that she'd gained weight as that she was practically glowing with energy.

Two days off from magic training and she's back to full health, huh?

But then.

I noticed sweat beading along the back of Ruby's neck.

"... Have you been working out?"

"Yeah."

Ruby shrugged.

"It's fun."

"Yeah?"

She'd squeezed my forearm and, having apparently confirmed for herself that it actually worked,

Ruby seemed to have started exercising too.

"Read twenty pages, do push-ups, read some more, jump rope. Doing it that way makes it fun."

Interval training that alternates between mind and body, huh.

Now that's talent.

I'd been too busy with work to exercise at all.

"It's good for a mage to have physical stamina to back her up too. Well done, Ruby."

"Hehe."

Dolores stroked Ruby's hair.

After a quick goodbye, Ruby scurried back off to the parlor where the exercise equipment sat.

- Pitter-patter.

I wonder if she's going to turn into a total gym rat at this rate.

Well, getting healthy is a good thing.

I stretched my arms out wide and looked at Dolores as I spoke.

"So, how long until it's finished?"

"Hmm... I think it'll take about a month less than we planned."

"I see."

Guess I can spend that time getting other things ready, then.

I'll need to touch up the blueprints, shape some crucibles ahead of time,

and build the crucible furnace itself, too.

There's no shortage of things to do.

Just, not today.

"I'm going to go to bed."

The time for some honey-sweet rest had finally come.

* * *

Rest, my ass.

Today, too: an old man molding clay.

No wait, a young man molding clay....

Not even that, just some clay-slinging brat.

I'd spent the entire last month buried in clay.

You might think there's no way a little kid could build a furnace, but.

A crucible furnace, at least, is a comparatively simple process.

Genuinely manageable.

There's a separate reason I bothered getting blueprints in the first place.

Because every single blueprint carries its own particular circumstances.

Here, the fire wasn't strong enough so they narrowed the chamber; there, they widened the bottom so ash could be cleared out more often.

Someone else had bad knees, so they lowered the height.

Honestly, there's no single right answer.

Every choice is just tailored to somebody's own circumstances.

Even a janky-looking design has its own reasons behind it.

So I spread out every Heir of Flame's blueprint printed in the manual,

and did my best to pick out and steal only the good parts.

Discarding everyone else's circumstances, keeping only what suited mine.

What came out of it is my ro (爐), a furnace. For what it's worth, the same character sits inside the word for "stove."

It's a catch-all term for any vessel that handles fire,

but I'll just call it the hearth from here on.

And building the furnace's hearth alone doesn't finish the job.

I also had to shape the crucible that would hold the molten iron, with my own two hands.

How many did I end up cracking, again?

[16]

Along with that report from Yuna,

- Scrape... scrape....

the last crucible, the vessel meant to hold the ingot inside the furnace, was finally done.

"...... Ah, I can't do this a second time."

Honestly, this whole process,

I got a little too greedy with it.

The crucible furnace, meaning every single thing that made it up,

the interior, the crucible, the anvil, all of it, I had a hand in every piece.

I never realized having plenty of money to spend could be this dangerous a thing.

Since I could spend it, I just kept spending it.

I ran myself ragged shopping around, no idea how many custom orders I put in all over the place.

And so, my massive workshop, only just finished going up yesterday.

A huge ore storehouse sat attached to one side, and the main building itself was my domain.

And inside it....

"What's the layout in here again, Yuna...?"

[Hold on.]

Along with the notes I'd written up together with Yuna,

─────────────────

[Workshop Interior List]

─────────────────

[Crucible Furnace]

└ Melts iron into liquid. Can be poured into molds; all sorts of things possible while it's still molten.

[Bloomery Furnace]

└ Feed it ore and it spits out iron; the resulting lump has to be hammered.

[Forge]

└ The usual one I always use.

[Custom Anvil]

└ Lowered out of necessity since I'm short. Quality's... not exactly passable, just forced myself to use it anyway.

[Bellows]

└ The channel that pushes air up under the hearth. This is seriously the key part.

[Ventilation Shaft]

└ The workshop's air hole. Without it, death.

[Cooling Tank: Water / Oil]

└ Splits between what needs to harden fast and what needs to harden slow.

[Sorting Table]

└ The spot where I lay out finished pieces and go clackety-clack over them.

[Crucible Rack]

└ Ten decent crucibles on hand. Once five are used, make more.

─────────────────

I lay straight down in the middle of the finished workshop.

"Finally done!!!"

The ceiling was high enough that my shout echoed and boomed.

I hadn't managed a single item on my original plan because of all this.

Once I focus on one thing, I just can't handle anything else, that's how I am.

Original plan, item one: enchant Dolores's gear.

Item two: make underwear.

Item three: ask her to show me what she's wearing.

[Tsk.]

... Item three, revised: make spare sets of underwear.

"Time to actually get started for real."

But there was still one final step left.

The workshop was all built now; time for its very first firing.

And the first thing I'd make with it was....

"A sign."

Might sound like a strange thing to make first, but.

『If you have raised a workshop of your own, then you must hang your engraving before its door. That engraving is your name itself, and the pride you carry in everything you forge.』

I wondered what kind of custom this even was, but.

『Every time you pass beneath it, it shall be your pride.』

"......."

For a second, reading that last line, I was hooked.

"Right, I am a dwarf, after all...."

Guess I should do what needs doing.

I decided to take part in the tradition.

I got up off the floor and picked up the tongs.

The Ignition Stone.

Up until now, it was simple: toss this in, and once the fire caught, step on the treadle to pump in oxygen, and that was that.

That's how it always went with the forge, up to now.

I grabbed a handful of charcoal and spread it thin across the bottom of the hearth.

- Tap.

I struck the Ignition Stone and dropped it in on top.

The fire caught almost instantly.

- Whoosh.

Red light climbed up the inner walls of the hearth.

And now.

I dumped in the whole batch of charcoal at once.

As much as the hearth could swallow, enough to bury the spot where the crucible would sit.

After some waiting, the charcoal began to catch.

And then.

- Creak.

The usual routine.

I climbed onto the treadle and started pumping.

If anything was different, it was heavier than before.

Couldn't be helped, I guess.

Looks like I'll need to put in some real effort going forward too.

- Fwooosh!

Air got sucked in under the hearth,

and as oxygen threaded through the charcoal, carving out paths for the fire, the flames grew even stronger.

- Creak! Creak!

If I stopped now it would cool, so I had to keep pumping.

If there was a difference from the forge I'd used until now,

it was that this fire had nowhere to run.

With the forge, the front was wide open, so half the heat just flew off,

but this one kept it trapped inside a narrow chamber, with the heat only able to escape upward.

And now.

I loaded the pre-cut ingot pieces into the crucible.

I picked it up with the tongs and set it right in the center of the hearth.

- Clunk.

And once I shut the lid over it too,

the heat trapped inside now had nowhere to go, and would just keep building on itself, hotter and hotter.

How long had passed, I wondered.

[Two hours]

For two straight hours, all I did was pedal like a madman.

[Are you okay, big brother?]

No, not okay at all.

Not even close. Absolutely not.

At this point, I finally understood why they're called Heirs of Flame.

Because you're literally, genuinely in front of fire all day long.

If this doesn't make you an Heir of Flame, what does.

"......."

I couldn't even speak, just kept pumping the treadle.

Even though the workshop was bigger now and had proper ventilation, it was still insanely hot.

That's just how a furnace is, I guess.

It's a thing that only does its job once the inside has gone insanely hot.

Until then, it's just Lionel getting smoked like a slab of meat.

- Drip... drip....

Sweat poured off me like rain, and the soles of my feet had already gone numb.

I carefully brought my eye up to the small hole I'd drilled in the lid.

Get too close and your eyebrows singe off.

"White."

It was so hot inside that the interior had gone nearly white.

Good.

The temperature's confirmed, at least.

The question is whether what's in there turned out the way I intended.

White light meant the temperature had already blown past iron's melting point,

and after two hours of pumping, there should've been plenty of time too.

- Clunk.

I flipped the lid open.

From a safe distance, of course.

"God, that's hot, seriously."

Even standing well back and reaching out to pry the lid off remotely, the heat was overwhelming.

After letting a little time pass, I stepped onto the treadle and looked down into the interior from above.

A black film covered the surface of the crucible holding the ingot.

Leftover burnt residue that had floated up and hardened.

I pushed a rod in and skimmed it gently off.

- Slide.

Underneath that.

"......."

a gleaming, pure-white liquid was revealed.

Iron could actually look like that.

It really could melt down that far.

And then the liquid's status appeared before my eyes.

─────────────────

[Molten Hematite]

[1.4kg] [Liquid]

─────────────────

[Composition]

[Iron] [99.28%]

[Carbon] [0.61%]

[Sulfur] [0.00%]

[Phosphorus] [0.09%]

[Stone Dust] [0.02%]

─────────────────

[Condition]

[Homogeneity] [A]

[Temperature] [Optimal for Pouring]

─────────────────

[Assessment]

Impurities have risen to the surface; the layer beneath is uniform.

Now is the best time to pour.

─────────────────

I hooked the rod through the crucible's handle.

- Slide.

The instant I lifted it, my arm buckled downward.

"......."

It's heavy, with the crucible's own weight added on top it's seriously heavy, but.

If I spilled this now, it would truly be the end.

If this touches skin....

[Don't think about that ㅠ]

Since I didn't want to end up as roast Lionel,

I held my breath and stepped down off the treadle.

- Slip.

Sweat ran down my forehead, and I had no free hand to wipe it.

"Hah...."

I stopped right beside it, in front of the rectangular mold I'd set out beforehand.

I'd shaped it into the exact form of a sign.

I slowly tilted my wrist.

- Trickle....

The white liquid streamed down, pouring into the mold.

- Hisss....

The mold hissed as though screaming from the heat, but I paid it no mind and poured out every last drop.

Pouring it all out wasn't the end of it, though.

If the crucible cooled as it was, it would crack right open.

So I set the crucible back inside the furnace,

closed the lid, and let it cool slowly.

Now....

"Hurry up and wait."

As if I could just pull it out right after pouring.

I had to wait it out, slowly, until it cooled.

So.

- Flop.

I dropped flat onto the floor.

"......."

The stone floor was warm.

The one saving grace, maybe, was that lying down meant less of the hot air.

I looked up at the ceiling.

Sweat was still trickling down my temples.

I closed my eyes for a moment,

"Wake me in three hours."

after setting Yuna's wake-up call.

[Wake uuuup!]

I opened my eyes.

You're lying.

"That wasn't just one minute, was it?"

Did any time even pass?

My body wouldn't move.

Made sense, I guess, after two hours pumping the treadle practically inside a kiln.

"Ungh...."

I braced myself on my arms and pushed up.

My back was soaked. I could feel my shirt peel off the floor as I sat up.

I hate this so much.

"... Ah."

Only then did the mold catch my eye.

I staggered over to stand in front of it.

I held my hand a little way off it, testing the heat.

It was warm, moderately so.

Not hot enough to burn, just lukewarm.

Good enough.

I picked up the Earthborn Hammer.

This mold was a one-and-done deal.

The only way to get what was inside out was to break it.

- Clang!

One strike.

Cracks spread through the clay.

- Clang, clang!

Two strikes, three.

Debris crumbled and fell away.

And through it, at last,

a rectangular, dark, blackened lump was revealed.

"......."

You might ask, isn't iron supposed to be silver?

But that's genuinely the media's fault.

In reality, you have to scrub the hell out of that black surface just to get it silver at all.

The iron color we all picture is the result of that whole process, added on afterward.

I brushed off the debris and lifted it up.

I swept off the last bits of debris with a wire brush I'd had ready,

"... I won't sand it down."

I didn't particularly want to bring out iron's usual color.

Since it was my first time doing this, part of me wanted to leave it just as rough and plain as it was.

I picked up a metal file.

A flat iron bar with countless tiny teeth carved densely across its surface.

Push it against something and those teeth scrape away the metal little by little.

Basically just think of it as a giant nail file.

- Scrape....

I only used the file to shape the outline.

Once I'd filed the edges down and softened them just enough, it started to look reasonably like a sign.

A dark gray. The surface, bumpy and rough.

"Nice."

There was only one thing left now.

I took out a chisel.

Now that I thought about it, this was a first.

Every item I'd made so far had the Heir of Flame engraving carve itself in automatically; I'd never once engraved anything myself.

So this was the first time I'd do the engraving with my own hands.

"Kind of nerve-wracking."

- Tap.

I set the tip of the chisel against the sign.

and tapped it lightly with the hammer.

- Clang.

- Scrrritch....

The chisel bit forward, carving a groove into the sign.

Surprisingly satisfying, actually.

Like a series of crisp, staccato taps, I guess you'd call it.

Not just some "everything's secretly a rhythm game" theory of mine, this genuinely felt like a rhythm game.

- Clang.

- Clang, clang.

Slowly, the sun engraving began to take shape before my eyes.

I glanced sideways at the photo Yuna had pulled up for me and kept moving the chisel.

This was my own engraving, the one apparently carved into the sky of the 88th floor.

With a feeling like I was writing my own name for the first time,

- Clang.

The last stroke.

I traced the L and stopped.

"Hooo...."

I blew the debris away.

Against the dark background, only the carved grooves showed a thin gleam of silver.

"Rough."

The surface was bumpy, and the lines weren't exactly straight.

But.

"I like it."

The ugliest thing I'd ever made, and I liked it anyway.

『If you come to build a workshop of your own, you must carve your pattern and hang it before it.』

I understood the reason for it now.

It wasn't about showing off to anyone, it was a moment to reaffirm my own identity.

- Slide.

I picked up the now fully-cooled sign and got to my feet.

Then I walked slowly outside,

and stood before the workshop door.

Right above the doorframe, the first spot your eyes would land on if you looked up.

"Here, then."

I took out the four brackets I'd prepared beforehand.

Iron bent into a U shape, my plan was to hammer these into the doorframe and wedge the sign between them.

Couldn't just nail it in directly, the sign would crack, so this was the only way.

- Clang, clang!

I drove all four brackets into the doorframe,

and between them....

- Slide.

- Click.

It slotted into place with a satisfying click.

I stepped back a few paces and looked up at it.

On the dark iron plate, a sun with only its carved lines left silver, and a grid beneath it.

"......."

This was my workshop.

[Congratulations, big brother.]

"Thanks."

A workshop that's really, truly mine.

If my first workshop had felt like moving into a place someone else had built for me,

this time, from the design to the layout, I'd overseen every part of it myself.

It really, powerfully felt like my own workshop.

The night had deepened without my even noticing.

"Time to go to bed."

Feeling proud, I gave the sign a couple of pats and headed back inside,

- Pat, pat.

when.

- Ding.

something appeared before my eyes.

─────────────────

[Certified Blacksmith, Lionel's Workshop][★★★☆☆]

[Heir of Flame]

─────────────────

[Crucible Furnace][★★★★☆]

[Bloomery Furnace][★★★☆☆]

[Forge][★☆☆☆☆]

[A human-made thing. Recommend replacing eventually.]

[Custom Anvil][★☆☆☆☆]

[A human-made thing. Recommend replacing eventually.]

[Bellows][★★★☆☆]

─────────────────

"......?"

I froze for a moment, staring at the thing floating in midair,

along with its scathing assessment of my workshop's interior layout,

an assessment that put its finger precisely on the human-made items I'd deep down despised and had been deliberately looking past,

and I felt a little vindicated even as I felt thrown off.

[An engraving has been hung above the workshop door.]

[This place is hereby recognized as an Heir's workplace.]

[★★★☆☆] [An Heir of Flame raises their own ground, with their own two hands.]

[Title Acquired: 'Master of the Smithy']

[Reward]

A reward?

A reward, what?

The second achievement, following the crafting of 2-star gear.

I was just staring into the empty air, wondering what the reward could be, when.

- Bang!

Inside the workshop, along with the sound of the furnace's lid blowing off,

- Whooosh!!

flames shot straight up.

"What the fuck?!"

The flames began engulfing the entire inside of the workshop.

I tried to get out, but red light started seeping up through the cracks in the stone floor beneath my feet,

then climbed straight up the walls.

- Whoosh, whoosh,

"Wh-what is this?!"

The ground itself was giving way, and the flames closed in on me.

I spun toward the door on reflex, but....

- Thud.

The door slammed shut.

Flames surged up in front of it, streaming up and down along the doorframe,

and the exit was sealed off.

"Yuna!"

[I, I don't know what this is...! The coordinates... something's wrong....]

This was the first time I'd ever heard her say she didn't know.

"What about the coordinates, what's wrong with them?!"

[Big brother.]

[I can't get a lock on the coordinates.]

Shocking news.

This is insane.

The flames climbed all the way to the ceiling, and the whole workshop drowned in a wave of fire.

I couldn't keep my eyes open, so I shielded my face with my arm.

It wasn't hot, though.

Which was even stranger.

- Whooosh!

As I crouched there desperately, arm still over my eyes,

the fire slowly... began to die down.

What had been climbing the walls sank back down,

and seeped slowly back into the cracks in the floor.

"......."

I slowly lowered my arm.

The workshop.

My furnace, the human-made anvil I'd secretly wanted to throw out, the human-made forge I'd secretly wanted to throw out.

It had all come back, and I was in my workshop again.

"... What the hell is going on...."

Then.

- Footsteps.

A footstep sounded behind me.

"Maman?!"

Of course, it had to be Dolores who saved me.

Still slumped on the ground, I slowly turned my head,

"......?"

But unlike what I expected,

there stood a man.

About my height.

But with a bushy beard and an intensely gruff, cantankerous look about him,

shoulders twice as broad as mine, forearms as thick as three of my thighs lined up in a row.

And, crucially, in his hand,

he held a hammer.

"......."

And then.

- Ding.

[Reward]

Along with the reward notification for the achievement,

"Heir of Flame!!!!"

The man's eyes blazed red,

[Encounter with a Sage Artisan of Old]

"What in the world do you think you're doing?!!"

I,

"...... huh?"

I....

had come face to face with a dwarven ancestor.

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