Academy’s Genius Swordmaster-Chapter 29: Gran Cappadocia (2)

Chapter 29: Gran Cappadocia (2)

The group gathered around Dydican at the center. Dydican, who had been feeling along the walls of the furnace, pressed a specific section firmly. The building seemed to vibrate slightly, and the floor on which the four people were standing began to gradually disappear.

“Wh-what is this?!”

Swoosh!

Startled, Marya quickly embraced Aselle. Creaking sounds were heard from all directions.

-Gugugugu…

The descending floor slowly vanished, completely swallowed by the surrounding walls. Dydican, watching their bewildered expressions, chuckled.

“It’s an elevator created using magic stones and a lever. The fastest passage connecting the underground forge.”

“Are there passages to other places too?”

“Yes. The locations are a secret, but there are easily dozens of them. While Gracia is the biggest client, we also receive requests from other customers.”

The elevator descended through a dark vertical shaft. The entrance they looked up at had already become as small as the moon. Only Cita’s pupils were sparkling like red gems.

Clang… Clang… Somewhere, the sound of metal clashing could be heard.

Gradually, their view became clear. A chilly wind rushed in.

“Welcome. To the largest forge on the island.”

The elevator, now out of the rocky passage, was descending along a framework of iron girders. The pupils of all three of them widened in astonishment. A sight they couldn’t have imagined unfolded before their eyes.

“What in the world is this…”

It appeared to be a space created by enlarging a massive cavern. Towering stalactites and stalagmites resembling houses were scattered around. Luminescent moss covering the cavern’s walls acted as a source of light.

Several stone-built buildings, about the size of houses, sprouted like mushrooms throughout the cavern. It looked more like a village than a forge.

Dwarves of all sizes scurried busily between the buildings. These were the underground craftsmen. Dydican spoke with a proud smile.

“Gran Cappadocia. This whole place is the forge. Most of the residents are dwarves, but there are a few of us from other races as well.”

In one corner of the village, bubbling lava gathered like a lake. Dwarves were pouring lava from specially treated buckets.

Thud!

Soon, the elevator came to a stop. Dydican looked at the three of them and spoke.

“Come on. Follow me. I’ll take you to the best blacksmith.”

Dydican pricked up his ears and glanced around. He shouted toward a distant dwarf carrying lava.

“Hey! Is Doron back today?”

“Dydican, you damn fool! Did you steal the Invisibility Enchantment Scroll? Are you behind that nonsense with invisible armor or something?”

The dwarf erupted in anger. All three of them looked at Dydican simultaneously. Dydican leaned forward, placing his index finger in front of his lips, and shouted again.

“There’s no way that’s true! Is Doron here?”

“How would I know? Now that the vacation is over, he’s probably sulking in his usual spot!”

The dwarf grumbled as he walked away. The buckets of lava he carried teetered dangerously. Dydican laughed snickering and turned his head.

“Well, it looks like the vacation is over.”

“Do you have different thoughts than other blacksmiths?”

“Well, of course. While it’s undeniable that our ancestors are legendary generals, stagnant water tends to rot. We must do our best to develop better techniques.”

Dydican nodded with a determined expression. Ronan was starting to find this mischievous character likable. The group following Dydican came to a halt in front of a massive cubic building.

“This… looks quite perplexing.”

Ronan scratched his head. The surface of the stone-built cube was so smooth that not even a fly could land on it.

They couldn’t even begin to guess how it was made. On top of the cube, a tall chimney reached all the way to the ceiling. Dydican spoke excitedly.

“Isn’t it ingenious? This is a work that Doron created when he was young. It was made about four hundred years ago.”

Aselle gasped.

“F… Four hundred years?”

“Yes. He’s probably the oldest among the dwarves living on the island.”

Considering that the average lifespan of dwarves was around three hundred years, this was truly astonishing.

The cube had only one wide door, without a single window. The moment Dydican opened the door, a rush of red light poured out like waves.

“Ah! My eyes!”

“It’s-it’s hot!”

“Eek!”

Ronan raised his hand to shield his eyes. The intense beam of light felt like it could burn his face.

In the red light, nothing could be seen. Dydican took a deep breath and shouted toward the source of light.

“Doron!! It’s guests!!”

Then, the light and heat gradually subsided. Ronan lowered his hand that was covering his eyes. A chaotic yet strange landscape appeared before them.

“What is all this?”

The forge landscape resembled a nest woven from battle standards rather than tree branches. Weapons of all kinds, including swords, shields, daggers, and polearms, were piled up, filling the rectangular space.

At the center of the steel nest lay a large, white anvil. In front of it stood a small figure, wielding a hammer.

“The guests, you say?”

The small figure raised its head. He was a dwarf of diminutive stature. His round, white beard covered every part of his face except his eyes.

The dwarf known as Doron opened his mouth.

“Quite the anticipated guests, Dydican. To bring them directly to me.”

“Yeah, without this armor, I would’ve become a toast. It was the first time I saw such a swift sword.”

Dydican pointed at Ronan and laughed. Doron hobbled toward Ronan.

“Come here, let me see.”

Without a word, Doron took Ronan’s dark iron sword from him. He sighed when he saw the broken sword.

“Dydican, is this boy really my guest?”

“Yeah?”

“What… is this? Carrying around this trash and calling it a sword.”

Doron wordlessly threw the obsidian sword behind him. The sword, now in the huge furnace, melted into molten iron.

“Doron, What’s going on with this…”

“Let me see yours too.”

“What?!”

Doron checked Marya and Aselle’s weapons one by one. After each inspection, he let out a deep sigh. Then he threw their weapons into the furnace one by one. Marya and Aselle shrieked when they saw their melting swords and staff.

“My-my staff!”

“What kind of nonsense is this!”

Ronan chuckled. He picked up a short sword that had been rolling on the ground.

“It seems living in a cave for four hundred years can mold your brain in strange ways.”

Ronan approached Doron with confident steps. Since the dark iron sword was already rendered unusable, it didn’t matter. However, the rest of the weapons were clearly in good condition. Doron opened his mouth.

“It’s perfect timing. Since you’re holding a sword, give it a swing.”

“What?”

“Have you already gone deaf, young man? Swing it, even if it’s into thin air. Just do it.”

Doron urged with a tongue click. Ronan glared at Dydican with a look that could kill.

Dydican was signaling desperately through hand gestures that Doron meant no harm. Ronan, cooling his temper, sighed.

“Fine… I get it.”

“Alright, go ahead…”

Doron’s sentence hadn’t even ended when Ronan’s hand disappeared from sight. It was the Empire Swordsmanship’s First Stance he had learned in his first lesson.

The vertically descending blade tip came to a halt right in front of Doron’s pupils. Swish! A delayed sonic boom resonated and spread. Marya and Aselle covered their mouths.

“Ack!”

“Ro-Ronan! What’s going on!”

Even if their corneas were cut by the pressure, it wouldn’t have been surprising. If Doron had leaned his head forward even a bit, he would have undoubtedly been pierced. However, there was no change in Doron’s expression.

“This is…”

“How about that, kid?”

Oddly enough, it was Ronan who was flustered. He was alternating his gaze between Doron and the sword he had just swung. Doron put his hands on his hips and spoke.

“That’s what you call a sword.”

Ronan couldn’t say a word. The swords he had swung so far were on a completely different level. The sword was stable, and the sense of drawing it was as if he was writing on a piece of paper. The balance was perfect as well.

This was just a casual swing. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of swords like this. Ronan gently placed the short sword on the ground.

“…I have to admit.”

“That goes for me too.”

“What?”

“Dydican. Where did you bring this monster from? He’s definitely qualified to be my guest!”

Doron shouted excitedly. Seeing the exchange between the two, Dydican breathed a sigh of relief.

“I told you. He’s a no joke, really.”

“Want to try one more time? Come on, this time with this.”

Doron handed a longsword to Ronan. Without a word, Ronan executed his second sword strike.

This time, it was Navirose’s Rotating Sword.

Swish!

The strike was smoother than usual, cutting through the air. Doron grinned.

“Hmm? A familiar sword technique… Could it be, are you friends with that Navirose girl?”

“Friends? You know Navirose Instructor?”

“I know, I do. By the way, did you say instructor? Did my old ears finally go bad?”

“No, she’s an instructor at the Philleon Academy.”

Doron’s eyes widened. He stroked his beard a few times and let out a chuckle.

“Hehe, just as you say. Being stuck underground for hundreds of years surely blurs your sense of time. The girl’s an instructor, you say?”

“An instructor? Are you really talking about Navarose?”

Doron’s expression became mischievous. After stroking his beard several times, he let out a quiet laugh.

“What about the giant blade? The wide and long one.”

“That? Fungus Blade, Uruza. It’s a masterpiece that fits within ten fingers of my life’s work.”

Doron explained the story of creating Navarose’s Fungus Blade. He mentioned how he thoroughly studied all of Navarose’s swordsmanship, including Aura, before accepting the commission to craft her weapon.

“It’s not just Uruza. I’ve also crafted the Grand Duke of Grancia’s sword, Pale Road, and the lance of the former Imperial Knight Commander Aston, Eskamon. Ahh, my mind is finally starting to work again.”

“Does that mean you make weapons tailored for each individual?”

“That’s right. Every warrior has a different fighting style, and naturally, the way they handle weapons is different too. Hey, how about you give it a swing?”

“Me? You mean me?”

Marya pointed to herself with her finger. She shrugged her shoulders once, then picked up two short swords similar to the one she used.

“…Sure, I’ll give it a try?”

Doron nodded silently.

Swish!

Her unique and sharp sword cut through the air with a sound reminiscent of the wind whistling through rocks. After swinging it about twenty times, Marya’s eyes widened.

“Wow… What’s this sword? Seriously, it’s so good!”

Her reaction was like watching Ronan earlier. It was the first time she had encountered a weapon so light yet perfectly balanced. Doron looked at Marya’s arm with an interested expression.

“The force is much stronger than it looks.”

“Th-thank you… By any chance, do you have any plans to sell the weapons displayed here? If you negotiate with your higher-ups…”

“Hey, the right weapon for you isn’t a short sword.”

“What?”

Doron tilted his head. As he rummaged through the pile of weapons, he pulled out a greatsword. It was smaller than the one used by the second-year senior, Braum, but it still looked substantial.

“You want me to use this?”

“That’s right. Give it a swing.”

Marya held the hilt of the greatsword with a somewhat startled expression. It was her first time wielding such a large sword, so she didn’t feel comfortable with it.

“Huuh…!”

Marya managed to assume a stance and swung the greatsword.

Whooong!

The brisk strike tore through the air. Ronan rounded his lips and exclaimed in admiration.

“Oh. Definitely.”

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Ronan nodded. Although her stance was a bit awkward due to not properly learning how to handle a greatsword, the speed and stability with which she swung the sword were on a different level compared to wielding dual swords.

Marya was equally surprised. She felt that if she got a little more used to it, she could handle it like an extension of her own limbs. Ronan asked.

“Then, what should I swing?”

“It’s not about the type of weapon for you.”

“Then?”

“It’s about the material. I wonder how many types of materials in the world can withstand your dual sword.”

Doron let out a sigh. Ronan’s strikes were faster than any he had seen before. He began to dig through the accumulated experience.

“Could it be Mithril after all…? No, maybe Orichalcum would be better. I wonder if there’s any Alloy-Forging Iron left…”

“I don’t care about the price. After all, I’m not the one paying.”

“I never cared about the price to begin with. If you had been concerned about that kind of thing, you would have gone to those shabby workshops up in the upper district. Hm, what would be the best? How about making it out of a monster’s exoskeleton or scales…”

“Scales?”

The moment Ronan heard the word “scales,” a flash of insight illuminated his mind. He suddenly started stripping off his coat and began shaking it to dislodge its contents.

“Ro-Ronan… What are you doing?”

“Just wait. I’m sure I kept it somewhere…”

From the coat, which had more than eight pockets, all sorts of objects were bouncing out. Half-eaten biscuits, crumpled socks, jingling coins, and so on… Finally, Ronan found what he was looking for and burst into a triumphant laugh.

“I found it.”

Ronan approached Doron, clutching what he had found. Doron was still muttering to himself, lost in thought about the material.

“No, no. Blue Wyvern scales are too bouncy. Then, what about…?”

“Doron, how about this?”

“Hmm?”

Ronan extended his hand. Doron grinned.

Thin pieces resembling fragments of something were placed on Ronan’s palm. Their appearance was as beautiful as black pearls, dark and elegant.

“What is this…?”

Despite working as a blacksmith for over four hundred years, Doron had never seen such a material. Ronan petted Cita while smiling.

“This is from the shell that Cita hatched.”

“Hatched?”

Cita nuzzled Ronan’s hand. Doron’s eyes widened.

“From a shell? Are you serious?”