Chapter 5 - Signs of Civil War (1) (1)

Early in the morning, Najin headed to the blacksmith shop.

It was not for any peculiar reason, but simply because his usual sword had become unusable. He had vaguely noticed it while cleaning up Tricksy's tavern; the blade had become completely serrated.

'But it's a bit strange.'

Until before he sorted out Tricksy's tavern, even during the swordsmanship training with Offen, it seemed to be in good condition. If there had been anything wrong with the sword, Offen would have said something.

'It doesn't seem right that it got damaged during a fight.'

It wasn't a poorly made sword that would become dull after facing a few insignificant thugs at the tavern. It was one of the best ones available at the blacksmith. Unable to find a reasonable explanation, Najin scratched the back of his neck.

"Sigh..."

If he just went there, Hogel would surely have a word or two to say. It was a sword he had received less than a month ago, and going back so soon made him feel a bit guilty.

"......"

Najin stopped in his tracks.

Lost in thought, he had arrived at his destination before he knew it. At the edge of Ivan's territory, right where it bordered Land Spider Horace's domain, on the line separating the areas, was Hogel's forge.

Clang, Clang!

The sound of hammering metal and...

Whoosh.

The rush of intense heat.

Najin let out a short breath and stepped into the forge. There, an elderly man was hammering away, his back turned.

"What is it, boy?"

The owner of the forge, Hogel, glanced back at Najin.

"Is it something again? It hasn't been long since you took a sword. Did Ivan ask for a sword this time?"

"Uh... no, that's not it."

Najin offered an awkward smile.

"Um, old man."

"Spit it out. Don't beat around the bush."

"About the sword you gave me last time."

Hogel glanced at Najin's waist.

Seeing his own creation tied there, the old man put down his hammer and lifted the corners of his mouth.

"It was quite a piece of work. One of the best I've forged in recent years. Why, is the sword cutting too well?"

"It seems like a defective product."

"What?"

Hogel's eyes widened.

Najin drew the sword and handed it to the old man. Taking it, Hogel's eyes widened even further. The once sharp and smooth blade was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a worn edge, as jagged as the old man's teeth.

"You, you..."

Hogel's hands trembled as he held the sword.

"How in the world do you use a sword to make it end up like this? Were you using it as a hammer?"

"Of course not."

Najin might have used the back of the blade a few times, but never for hammering. As Najin shrugged, Hogel examined the sword from every angle.

"This sword, it's only been a month since you took it."

"A month is quite a long time to use it."

"You crazy thing."

"Why are you cursing at me?"

"People who take swords from me use them for at least a year. If well-maintained, even longer. And you’ve worn out such a sword in a month..."

Mid-sentence, Hogel closed his mouth.

He stopped examining the blade. Something about the ruined blade caught his eye.

"Najin."

"Yes, old man."

"Have you ever lent this sword to Ivan or Offen?"

"No? Why do you ask?"

As Najin tilted his head, Hogel ran his finger along the blade. The sensation under his fingertips made him furrow his brow.

A swollen and finely cracked blade.

He knew well what this signified.

It was a common occurrence in the upper world but rare in this city. It happened when a swordsman capable of wielding Sword Aura was given a sword forged in an ordinary way.

"......"

Hogel silently glared at Najin.

In this city, only two people could wield Sword Aura: Ivan and Offen. If this boy hadn’t lent his sword to either of them, then it meant he had wielded the Sword Aura himself.

At his age? And in a place like this, without a proper master?

Frowning, Hogel turned away from Najin. Whether this boy was a genius who could wield Sword Aura or not, it was none of his concern. A blacksmith's job was to forge metal well.

Swish.

He rolled up his sleeves.

The thought of forging a proper sword for once brought a smile to the old man's lips. Hogel moved aside the tools he had taken out for sharpening and threw Najin's sword into a corner of the forge.

"Hey, what's that? Aren't you going to sharpen it?"

"Normally, I would sharpen it if it was slightly damaged. I’ll make you a new one, so just wait."

"Can't I just take one of those?"

Najin pointed at the swords hanging on the wall.

As Najin asked nonchalantly, Hogel made a face as if he had bitten into a bug. Is he doing this knowingly? Or is he really unaware?

"Why would I give one of those to someone who can wield Sword Aura? If I did, you’d ruin another sword in less than a month."

"Huh? Sword Aura?"

Najin blinked.

"How can I wield Sword Aura, old man? I don’t even know how to handle mana yet."

"Then why is the sword in this condition?"

"How should I know?"

If you don't know, then who does?

They exchanged such looks. Hogel was the first to turn away. It didn't seem like the boy was playing tricks on him, so he probably wasn't aware of it.

"Anyway."

Hogel increased the heat of the forge and muttered.

"This one’s going to be expensive."

This was the underground city, Artman.

A place where even a well-forged sword found no proper wielder. But if the client was a swordsman capable of wielding Sword Aura, the story changed.

"I’ll make it properly this time."

"Wow, so you’ve been giving me defective ones until now?"

So that's why they broke so easily.

As Najin grumbled, Hogel pointed a red-hot hammer at him.

"Shut your mouth and sit there before I use this to hammer something other than metal."

"Yes."

Najin quickly shut his mouth and obediently took a seat.

"I'm Ivan's hound, you know. My efficiency might significantly be impacted with that sword. Are you okay with that?"

"Huh, shameless. Do you even remember how many swords you've taken for free up to now?"

"Just kidding, just kidding."

Najin shrugged his shoulders.

It was a joke in the first place, and this job was something that had to be dealt with without compensation. Mediating disputes between different organizations was obviously something his side should handle.

"Old man, can I borrow anything to wield for now? It's a bit rough to beat them up barehanded."

"You don't seem to mind that much."

"Well, if I have to, it's not impossible."

Hogel laughed as if it was ridiculous.

"For now, use this. The one I'm making will take some time to complete."

Hogel tossed a sword to Najin. It was an old and rusty sword that seemed to have been neglected in a corner of the warehouse for a long time.

"It's a bit heavy?"

"It's an old sword that Ivan used to use. It's heavier because of the different ore ratio. Still, it should be good for a while."

Sturdy enough, at least.

After saying that, Hogel focused back on his forging. The sound of hammering filled the forge.

Najin, leaving the engrossed old man behind, took a seat in a corner of the forge.

Then, carefully.

Najin pulled out a crumpled hat from his pocket. A postal worker's hat. It was a disguise that Najin often used to cover his face.

***

About an hour or two had passed.

The outside of the forge became noisy. Najin peeked out, lowering his head and rolling his eyes. Six burly men were approaching the forge with a swagger.

Men with scars openly on display, as if proud of being beaten up and stabbed.

Judging by their arrival from Horace's area, they seemed to be the Horace organization members Hogel had mentioned. Najin lowered his head and pulled the hat deeper over his face.

"Hogel, old man!"

A rough voice. The man leading the group raised his voice as he barged into the forge. Three men entered the shop, with three more outside.

"Have you prepared the tribute we talked about last time? You must have saved up a good amount."

Clang, Clang!

No matter what the man said, Hogel just kept hammering. The ignored man grimaced and kicked everything he could reach.

"Is this old fart deaf from all the hammering? Can't you hear me? Have you prepared the tribute? If not, we'll take all these swords."

He gestured to his follower.

The follower put down the box he was carrying with a thud.

"Hey, old man. If you don't hand over the tribute, we'll take all these swords. Got it?"

They continued their threats and chaos.

Eventually, they approached where Najin was sitting. Ignorant Najin, who was sitting with his head down and wearing a postal worker's hat, they laughed mockingly.

A boy wearing a postal worker's hat, head bowed down as if scared. To anyone, it looked like he was terrified. One of the men nudged the chair Najin was sitting on with his foot.

"Hey, kid. Don't you see the adults talking? Get lost, will you? So clueless."

The man raised his hand to hit Najin's head.

Once, twice, and a third time. The fourth didn't come. Najin had firmly grabbed the man's wrist.

"Hey, look at this. Lost all sense of fear..."

The man's words were cut off.

He couldn't move even if he exerted strength on his arm. His colleagues, unaware of the situation, jeered that even a kid was overpowering him.

"Hey, wait. Something's off..."

The man, whose wrist was caught by Najin, started sweating. The wrist he held started to hurt, turning pale from lack of blood flow. Just as the man bit his lip and reached for a weapon with his free hand...

Crack!

The sound of his bones cracking echoed.

"Aaaaah!"

The man's wrist twisted in an unnatural direction.

His colleagues, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, didn't react immediately. After a few blinks and breaths, they drew their weapons and shouted.

In the suddenly chaotic situation, Najin glanced around.

His gaze wasn't on the men in front of him but on Hogel, the owner of the forge. Receiving the glance, the old man took a brief look back and said sharply.

"Go outside to fight. Don't mess up the shop."

With that, Hogel continued hammering.

Najin twisted the man's wrist a bit more. With a scream and saliva dripping from his mouth, the man dropped to his knees.

"Seems like we’ll have to."

Twisting the man's wrist slowly, Najin tilted his head.

"Shall we go outside to fight?"

"You crazy bastard!"

As the men charged, Najin reached behind his back. At the same moment he gripped the sword hilt hidden there, he kicked the chair away and stood up.

Rip.

The sound of the sword being drawn from its scabbard and the slicing noise resonated simultaneously.

Slash.

The arm of the man swinging an axe at Najin was cut off, along with the axe handle, smoothly and effortlessly.

"Ah, my arm!"

A delayed scream, blood pouring.

His colleagues, who had rushed in, hesitated in shock. In that moment, Najin grabbed another man's face.

Then, crunch.

The man's head smashed into a shelf in the forge. The shelf dented, and the man's eyes rolled back. Dropping the limp body carelessly, Najin looked at the screaming man with blood and debris all around.

Blood sprayed everywhere.

A wrecked shelf.

A man screaming his lungs out in the forge.

"Eh, what a mess."

Surveying the near-chaos, Najin muttered and scratched his neck. This is messed up.

"I told you to fight outside."

Why don't they ever listen?

Clang!

Najin hit the screaming man's head with the back of his sword.

"Cough..."

The man's eyes rolled back.

Najin grabbed the now silent man's hair and dragged him outside the forge.

The remaining three outside.

One looked like the leader.

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