Early that morning, Najin headed to the smithy.

The reason was simple: his usual sword was no longer usable. He had first noticed something was off while dealing with Trixie's tavern a few days earlier. The edge was chipped all over.

'Still, it's a little strange.'

It had seemed perfectly fine during his sword training with Offen, before he dealt with Trixie's tavern. Offen would have said something if there had been anything wrong with it.

'And I can't really say it broke during the fight.'

It wasn't so poorly made that fighting a few bastards waiting in a tavern would dull it. He had taken the best sword in the smithy, after all. Unable to come up with a reasonable explanation, Najin scratched the back of his neck.

"Tsk..."

Old Hogel would have something to say if he just showed up like this.

He had received the sword less than a month ago. Returning already left him feeling a little guilty.

"..."

Najin stopped walking.

While he had been mulling it over, he had reached his destination: a smithy at the edge of Ivan's territory, right on the boundary where it met Horse the Spider's domain. Old Hogel's smithy.

CLANG! CLANG!

The sound of hammering iron greeted him, along with a wave of searing heat.

Najin let out a short breath and stepped inside. An aging man stood there hammering away with his back turned.

"What is it, brat?"

Hogel, the owner of the smithy, turned his head and shot Najin a sidelong look.

"What brings you here again? Doesn't seem that long since you took a sword. Did that bastard Ivan say he needs one?"

"Uh... that's not it."

Najin gave him an awkward smile.

"Well, sir..."

"What? Stop beating around the bush and say it."

"About the sword you gave me last time."

Hogel glanced at Najin's waist. Seeing his handiwork strapped there, the old man put down his hammer and broke into a broad grin.

"I put quite a bit of work into that one. Best blade I've hammered out in years. What, does it cut too well?"

"I think it's defective."

"What?"

Hogel's eyes went wide.

Najin drew the sword from his waist and handed it over. Hogel's eyes widened further as he took it. The keen, smooth, gleaming edge was gone. In its place was a blade worn down like the old man's teeth.

"Y-you..."

Hogel's sword hand trembled.

"What the hell do you do with a sword to leave it looking like this? Use it as a hammer?"

"Oh, come on. Of course not."

He had bashed a few heads with the back of the blade, but he had never used it for hammering. As Najin shrugged, Hogel turned the sword this way and that.

"I could swear it's only been a month since you took this sword."

"A month? That's plenty of use."

"You lunatic."

"Why are you calling me names?"

"People who buy my swords use them for years at a minimum. Take proper care of them, and they last even longer. You go through one of those swords every month, and you think that's nor—"

Hogel stopped midsentence and closed his mouth.

His hands, which had been turning the sword to examine it from different angles, also went still. He had spotted something on the ruined blade.

"Najin."

"Yes, sir?"

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

"No? Never. Why do you ask?"

Ignoring Najin's puzzled tilt of the head, Hogel ran a finger down the blade. He frowned at the texture beneath his fingertip.

The blade had swollen and developed hairline cracks.

He knew exactly what that meant.

It was something he had encountered often up above, but so rarely since coming to this city that he had forgotten about it. This was what happened when a swordsman who could wield sword aura was given a conventionally forged sword.

"..."

Hogel cast a silent sidelong glance at Najin.

Only two people in this city could produce sword aura: Offen and Ivan. If the boy hadn't lent his sword to either of them, that meant the brat had produced sword aura himself.

Sword aura at his age? And in an underground city like this, without even a proper teacher?

After staring at Najin with furrowed brows, Hogel looked away. Whether this brat was a once-in-an-age genius who had produced sword aura was none of his concern. A blacksmith only needed to hammer iron well.

He rolled up his sleeves.

A smile formed on the old man's lips at the thought of forging a proper sword for the first time in ages. Hogel shoved the sharpening tools he had brought out into a corner, then tossed Najin's sword into a corner of the smithy as well.

"Uh, what are you doing? Aren't you going to sharpen it?"

"It has to be salvageable before I can sharpen it. I'll make you a new one, so wait."

"Can't I just take one you already have?"

Najin pointed at the swords hanging on the wall.

At Najin's nonchalant question, Hogel looked as though he had bitten into a bug. Was he doing this knowingly, or did he really have no idea?

"Why would I hand one of those to someone who produces sword aura just to have it ruined? I'm saying I'll make you a new one rather than have you come back with another wrecked sword in less than a month."

"Huh? Sword aura?"

Najin blinked.

"How would I produce sword aura, sir? I don't even know how to handle mana yet."

"Then why does the sword look like this?"

"How should I know?"

If you don't know, who does?

They both gave each other a look that said exactly that. Hogel was the first to turn away. The brat didn't seem to be making fun of him, so he probably wasn't aware of it.

"Anyway..."

Hogel muttered as he stoked the forge.

"I'm charging you plenty for this one."

This was Atman, an underground city.

Even if he made a proper sword, there was no one here to use it, so he had confined himself to ordinary blades. But things were different when his customer was a swordsman who could produce sword aura.

"Because I'm going to make it properly."

"Wow, so you've only given me defective ones until now?"

No wonder they kept breaking.

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

"Shut your mouth and sit there before I start hammering your head instead of iron."

"Yes, sir."

Najin promptly shut up and sat down meekly.

"Come to think of it..."

CLANG! CLANG!

Hogel spoke as he hammered the iron.

"I had something to tell Ivan. Since you're here, I can pass it along through you."

"Ivan? What is it?"

"Horse's men keep crossing the line lately. Not just hanging around the boundary, either. They've been barging right into the shop."

... Into the shop?

Najin frowned.

"As customers, or...?"

"If they came as customers, I wouldn't have brought it up."

The old man shook his head in disgust.

"They demanded protection money. Half my shop sits in their territory, they said, so shouldn't I naturally be paying them too? They went on threatening me... What a load of nonsense."

Ivan, Horse, Hakan—the old man had set up shop here long before those bastards started drawing lines across the underground city and playing at claiming territory. For them to pick a fight now over his shop being in the wrong place was simply absurd.

"Did they threaten you?"

"They did take a few swords. Then they added that things wouldn't end well for me if I didn't pay up."

"Huh."

Najin rubbed his chin.

"They've got some nerve. Seriously, what makes them so confident?"

This was indisputably Ivan's territory.

Naturally, the smithy was under his protection as well. That had been agreed upon after the civil war, and it had stayed that way for nearly ten years.

And now they were suddenly finding fault with it?

It could only be seen as picking a fight. Najin couldn't quite understand it. Hadn't Horse been thoroughly beaten by Ivan and driven back during the civil war ten years ago? There was nothing to gain by provoking Ivan.

'Besides, there must be a huge gap in their strength.'

Horse the Spider might be powerful enough to rival Ivan, but Ivan also had Offen on his side. Two swordsmen who had reached the level of Sword Expert. That wasn't a gap in strength they could hope to overturn.

"That is strange. I'll tell Ivan."

"Good. Now, on a separate note..."

CLANG! CLANG!

Still hammering, Hogel glanced at the clock.

"They said they'd come back today. Give them a beating before you leave. That's what I pay you lot protection money for."

"Can you afford me? I come pretty expensive."

"What?"

Najin grinned.

"I'm Ivan's personal hound, remember? Once you use me, your protection payments will shoot up. Are you sure you're okay with that?"

"Hah. You shameless bastards. Do you even remember how many swords you've taken from me for free?"

"I'm joking. Just joking."

Najin shrugged.

He had meant it as a joke from the outset, and this was something he needed to handle without payment. This wasn't a dispute between individuals. Mediating a conflict between organizations was naturally something their side had to step in and deal with.

"Sir, could you lend me anything I can swing for now? Beating them barehanded would be a bit much."

"I notice you're not saying you can't."

"If you told me to, I could."

Hogel laughed in disbelief.

"Use this for now. It'll take a while to finish the one I'm making."

Hogel tossed Najin a sword. It was old and rusty, as though it had spent years abandoned in a corner of the storeroom.

"It's a little heavy, isn't it?"

"Ivan used it back in the day. I used a different proportion of ores, so of course it's heavy. Still, it'll serve you for a while. It's sturdy, at least."

With that, Hogel focused on his hammering. The ringing clangs filled the smithy. Leaving the old man absorbed in his forging, Najin settled onto a chair in one corner.

Then he rummaged through his clothes and pulled out a crumpled hat. A postman's hat—the disguise he favored whenever he wanted to hide his face.

An hour or two had passed when a commotion arose outside the smithy.

Keeping his head lowered, Najin moved only his eyes to look outside. Six burly men were approaching the smithy with swaggering steps.

They openly displayed their scars, as though getting beaten up and stabbed somewhere was a point of pride.

Since they were coming from Horse's territory, they certainly seemed to be the members of Horse's organization Hogel had mentioned. Najin lowered his head and pulled his hat down a little farther.

"Old Hogel!"

A gravelly voice. The man leading the group raised his voice as he barged into the smithy. Three men entered the shop, with another three remaining outside.

"What about the protection money we discussed last time? You've got a nice fat payment ready, right?"

CLANG! CLANG!

Whatever the man said, Hogel simply kept hammering iron. Treated as though he didn't exist, the man twisted his face into a scowl and kicked indiscriminately at whatever lay near his feet.

"Has all that hammering made you deaf, you old bastard? Can't you hear me? I asked if you've got the protection money ready. Didn't you hear me say we'd take every sword here if you don't have the cash?"

He gestured to the subordinate who had followed him in.

The subordinate set the box he was carrying on the floor.

THUD!

"Hey, old man. If you don't cough up the protection money, we're taking every sword here. Just so you know."

The men threw their weight around, making threats and causing havoc.

Before long, they reached Najin's seat. They snickered as they glanced at him sitting with his head lowered.

A boy with a postman's hat pulled low over his face. His head was bowed so deeply that he couldn't even meet their eyes. To anyone looking, he seemed terrified. One of the men nudged Najin's chair repeatedly with the toe of his boot.

"Hey, kid. Can't you see the grown-ups are talking? Get the hell out. Tsk, take a hint."

The man raised a hand and knocked Najin on the head.

Once, twice, then a third time. There was no fourth. Najin had clamped his hand around the man's wrist.

"Hah, look at this little shit. Have you lost all sense of fea—?"

The man never finished his sentence.

He strained his arm, but the boy didn't budge. His companions, unaware of what was happening, laughed and joked that he was being overpowered by a little brat.

"Hey, wait. Something's wro—"

The man whose wrist Najin held broke into a cold sweat. His trapped wrist was beginning to hurt. Cut off from its blood supply, his hand was turning white. Gritting his teeth, he reached for a blade with his free hand.

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!

The sound of twisting bones rang out.

"A-aaargh!"

The man's wrist bent at a grotesque angle.

His companions couldn't react immediately to the sudden turn of events. A few blinks, a few breaths—and only then did they draw their blades and shout.

Amid the sudden uproar, Najin glanced aside.

His gaze wasn't directed at the men in front of him, but at Hogel, the owner of the smithy. Feeling his gaze, the old man glanced over his shoulder and spoke briefly.

"Fight outside. Don't make a mess of my shop."

With that, Hogel went back to hammering.

Turning back, Najin twisted the wrist in his grip a little farther. The man let out a piercing scream, drool pouring from his mouth.

"You heard him."

Najin tilted his head as he slowly twisted the wrist of the man, who was now on his knees screaming.

"Shall we take this outside?"

"You crazy fuck!"

As the men rushed him, Najin reached behind his back. The instant he grasped the concealed sword hilt, he sprang from his chair.

CRACK!

Driving his knee into the face of the man whose wrist he held, Najin knocked him down and drew his sword. The hiss of the blade leaving its sheath and the sound of it slicing through flesh rang out together.

SHING! SLASH!

SLASH!

The arm of the man swinging an axe at Najin was severed along with the axe handle. All in one stroke, without the slightest resistance.

"A-aaargh! M-my arm!"

The scream came belatedly. Blood gushed out.

The subordinate charging alongside him faltered in alarm at the sight. In that moment, Najin's hand clamped onto his face.

Then—

CRUNCH!

He smashed the subordinate's head into a shelf in the smithy. The shelf caved in, and the man's eyes rolled back. Najin tossed his limp body carelessly onto the floor, then glanced at the man who was screaming over his severed arm.

Blood spattered everywhere.

A shelf smashed in the shape of a head.

And a man screaming loudly enough to bring the smithy down.

"Oh, boy."

Najin surveyed the utter mess and scratched the back of his neck, muttering, "Well, this is fucked."

"I told you we should fight outside."

Why couldn't they listen?

CLANG!

Najin brought the back of his blade down on the screaming man's crown.

"Guh..."

The man's eyes rolled back.

Grabbing the hair of the now-silent man, Najin dragged him along as he walked out of the smithy.