Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?, Vol. 4 (17 page)

I swallow all the spit in my mouth and take that first step to finding the answers from Mr. Welf himself.

“Why don’t you…Why don’t you make magic swords, Mr. Welf?”

I can still remember how happy he was when I became his client.

If he would just make magic swords, he would have more clients and money than he would know what to do with.

He already has a famous name that would draw in people from all over. That’s the power of the Crozzo family.

I have to know the reason why he doesn’t even try.

“Well, there are a few reasons, but…”

His mouth curling into a grimace, he casts his gaze back into the flames.

“I
hate
magic swords.”

Then he starts to explain the reason why he despises them so much.

“Truth is, I told you my work doesn’t sell, but I’ve had a ton of clients…Nah, still do.”

“Eh……?”

“It’s so simple that it makes me sick. All these people see my armor and weapons in the shop, but once they see my signature, ‘Crozzo’…they come knockin’ at my door, beggin’ me to make a magic sword for them.”

Mr. Welf pumps more air into the forge, using a tool at his feet.

“They completely ignore
my work
, it’s all just magic sword, magic sword, magic sword…That’s all everyone other than you ever said. I know and realize I don’t have much experience, but…You know? It hurts.”

The slightest of wrinkles appears below his mouth, the only dark shadow on a face blanketed in an orange and red glow.

A magic sword that is said to be strong enough to burn away
the sea, probably the strongest ever. Everyone was after the magic swords of the Crozzo name, not Mr. Welf’s armor or weapons.

None of the customers who came to him looked him in the eye…Could they only see the value of the Crozzo bloodline?

All they saw were the magic swords.

“Um, Mr. Welf…How did, um, you know…”

“Yeah, things went downhill fast. Lots of yelling. ‘Get lost, you bastards!’ and ‘Who would listen to the likes of you?!’ I chased them all away.”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha…”

I’m lost for words; all I can give him is an empty laugh. However, I get it. I understand.

He’s angry at the people who wouldn’t give his armor and weapons any attention. Well, part of it could be that he’s angry at the Crozzo blood flowing within him.

I hear what he’s saying and I get it…But.

“Um…Is that the only reason?”

I feel like there’s something more.

He said he hates magic swords, but there has to be a deeper meaning.

“…”

An answer doesn’t come right away.

Taking his eyes off the forge, Mr. Welf walks over to his workbench and looks down at the Minotaur Horn. Picking up a chisel and hammer, he sets to work on breaking the horn in two.

After about fifty shrill impacts, the Minotaur Horn finally splits right down the middle. Setting the relatively larger half off to the side, he carries the smaller half back to the forge and sits down.

“Do you know why the Crozzo family can make magic swords in the first place, Bell?”

He pinches a piece of the horn with a special tool and thrusts it deep into the heart of the flames.

“I don’t…” I respond as I watch him move onto the next step in the weapon-making process.

“There was once an ordinary man named Crozzo. It was his
descendants who made his name what it is now. We call him The Ancestor. All this happened before the gods came down here.”

We call the time before the gods came to this world “the Old Age.” That era ended about a thousand years ago.

The Crozzo family history can be traced back that far?! Wow…

“The story goes that The Ancestor was a smith down on his luck. Nothing would sell. And of course, he couldn’t make magic swords. However, it’s beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s the one who started it all.”

A breath.

“The Ancestor risked his life to save a member of a certain species from a monster.”

“A certain species…?”

“A fairy.”

—“Whaa?!” My voice hits the floor in shock.

Mr. Welf smirks at the surprise on my face and continues his story with even more enthusiasm.

“The fairy did everything it could to save the life of the man who was bleeding out on the ground. It cut part of its body and gave him some of its own blood.”

“S-so that means the Crozzo family has…?”

“Yeah. We’ve got fairy blood in us.”

—Fairies.

Nymphs, spirits, elementals, jinn…Their mysterious race has many names here on Earth. Their population is extremely small compared to the other races.

“The most loved of all the children.” “Children of the gods.”

Humans and demi-humans have many stories about them, but the one common thread is that fairies are the ones closest to the gods themselves.

“The Ancestor made a full recovery, like nothing ever happened. A full-blown miracle. However, after that day it was said that he could use magic despite being human…and he could make magic swords.”

Fairies are capable of so much that other races pale in comparison.

They’re magic users, like the elves. They can call forth flames,
summon wind, create their own ponds deep in the forests, and even produce precious metals out of thin air.

It might be accurate to say that their power rivals the gods’.

Basically, they can perform miracles.

“So did, did the Crozzo family become heroes…?”

“Nah, nothing like that. Good or bad, The Ancestor was just regular townsfolk.”

Fairies appear in many stories, especially stories about heroes—and many of those stories are based on truth. Gramps told me that.

The fairies in those stories use their power to guide the young hero, sometimes lending him strength, and using their power of miracles to help him fulfill his destiny when the time comes.

Usually, they impart magic on the hero or give him a powerful blade, not unlike what Mr. Welf just said. I even heard about a fairy who turned its own body into a weapon.

Fairies play a big part in heroic deeds of the main characters in each story, and are sometimes directly involved.

In the time before the gods, having a fairy on your side would have been the equivalent of a Falna today.

“The Ancestor died at a ripe old age, but his blood was passed on. It’s probably due to more fairy magic, but it’s still around today more than a thousand years later. The gods and goddesses who witnessed everything from above can tell that I’m a member of that line.”

It’s said that once the gods came down to this world, more fairies began to interact with other races. Be that as it may, most of them avoid us. I don’t know if they’re whimsical or too proud.

Gnomes are a race of fairy that lives alongside us very well. They may look like little old men and women, but their knowledge about jewels and valuable materials has made them a valuable part of our society.

Blessings from the gods and goddesses have made fairies less appreciated compared to the Old Age. However, their mysterious nature still captivates human and demi-human alike.

“Even though they had the fairy blood of The Ancestor within them, the first few generations couldn’t do much with it…That is, until a Crozzo received a god’s blessing. That changed everything.”

“…Skill?”

“Yep. One that let them make magic swords. Every member of the family acquired it the moment they received their blessing. Nothing to it.”

A hidden potential awakened within them as soon as a Crozzo family member received a Status.

Even after all this time, that fairy’s power is still at work.

“Li’l E already told you what happened next. Magic swords were much more powerful than anything else available, and the Crozzo family sold their work to their king.”

Mr. Welf explains that by this time they had become subjects of a kingdom.

To sum everything up, The Ancestor used fairy blood that was given to him in order to make magic swords before any family members received Falna. Then they became known as a family of magic swordsmiths because…that blood they all shared unlocked the ability to create powerful magic swords.

The source of the Crozzos’ fame comes down to the quality of their bloodline.

“They really lived it up after that, doing whatever the hell they wanted. Their swords granted the king’s armies unbelievable power; the compliments from the king himself and rewards for their work kept flowing in. They stuffed their faces with the finest delicacies, nearly drowned themselves in expensive ale…Smiths behaving like royalty—what were they thinking?”

Mr. Welf’s words trail off in hesitation, his eyes not leaving the flame.

Silence falls.

For the longest time, the only sounds in the workshop are those of the crackling flames in the forge.

“…The Crozzos got full of themselves. They forgot that they owed everything to the fairy blood in their veins. Started thinking that their Skill was their power, that magic swords were their right…Blinded by greed, they kept making more and more.”

—“So they were cursed.”

Mr. Welf speaks more clearly than he had all morning.

“The kingdom used Crozzo’s Magic Swords in war after war…earning the hatred of the elves in the process by burning down their homes…”

“I-I know.”

“It wasn’t just elven hatred they wrought, but that of the fairy who saved The Ancestor as well.”

“?!”

“Fairies love to be at one with nature. They surround themselves with it. The magic swords scarred their mountains, scorched their ponds, annihilated their forests…Just like the elves, the fairies were chased out of their own homes.”

This was the source of the elves’ grudge, just like Lyu said.

Did Crozzo’s Magic Swords become the fairies’ sworn enemy, like how the elves swore revenge on the Kingdom of Rakia?

“The elves took out their anger on the country. But the fairies, their grudge was with the Crozzos.”

“…”

“And then, just before another battle like any other, all of the magic swords crumbled without warning. Never-been-used magic swords, fresh out of the forge. It goes without saying that the kingdom lost that battle without its greatest weapons.”

“Did the fairies do that?”

“I’m sure of it. At the same time, the Crozzos lost the ability to make magic swords. They were cursed by the fairies.”

So that’s what it means to be cursed…?

When did my shoulders get so tense?

“The kingdom lost over and over after that. The Crozzo family took the blame and was stripped of nobility. That’s the fall from grace. By the time I was born, there was nothing left from the old days.”

From heaven to hell. You reap what you sow, I guess…

That explains the Crozzo family’s fall into ruin.

But, wait. Hold on a second…

“You said that the Crozzos couldn’t make magic swords, right? But I’ve heard you can, Mr. Welf…?”

“Yeah. I can. No clue why.”

Maybe the effect of the curse wore off, or maybe the fairies were satisfied with their revenge. There might also be something special about Mr. Welf.

Even though the reason is unclear, the one thing that he’s sure of is that he’s the only Crozzo who can make magic swords right now.

But Mr. Welf ran away from home and broke free from the Crozzo family…He says that he was nothing but a wanderer when Lady Hephaistos found him.

“I know they were trying to restore the family name, but I’m grateful to my old man for cramming all these forging techniques into my head. Thanks to him, I learned the joy of creating something useful.”

My body feels a few degrees warmer. I’ve completely lost track of time, but Mr. Welf seems to know what’s going on. Sensing the right moment, he pulls the drop item out of the forge and places it on the anvil.

Although the piece of Minotaur Horn is still in its original shape, it looks like it could melt at any moment, glowing red like that.

“Probably because I didn’t hate it. I didn’t hate being a shop hand, working alongside my old man and his tools in a workshop covered in soot.

“That feeling the first time I struck metal…” he says in a voice so quiet I have to strain to hear him.

A wet sound reaches my ears at the same time.

“However…once they realized I was good at it, my old man forced me to make a magic sword. He said it was to return the Crozzo family to glory.”

Mr. Welf takes a deep breath as he grabs a hammer with his right hand.

His lips go flat into a straight line as his eyes open wide.

This is the first time I’ve seen him like this—Mr. Welf’s smith face.

I hold my breath.

“…Make
a tool
the king would appreciate, is what he was saying. But he left that part out.”

A moment later, Mr. Welf brings the hammer down on the Minotaur Horn with incredible force.

“It’s not the same. Weapons aren’t like that, not even close.”

The impact of metal on metal sends a shock wave of sound through the room. The forging has begun.

Mr. Welf hits the drop item with his hammer as if he’s trying to drive his thoughts into the material.

“Even political tools are no reason to get excited. But weapons, they become part of their wielder.”

A series of shorter, more precise strikes sends out a new chorus of high-pitched echoes throughout the workshop.

All of the strength he’s built up in the Dungeon makes each blow much stronger than that of a normal man.

“No matter what desperate straits someone is in, they must always be able to count on their own weapon. From the moment they grip the hilt, it becomes an extension of their arm.”

He starts mixing strong hammer blows with short strikes, the rhythm of the echoes changing every moment.

The material lengthens with the heavy impacts; the quick hits adjust the shape.

He doesn’t wait for me to respond to him. He just keeps talking as the hot object beneath him takes a new form.

“It’s our job as smiths to make weapons that last.”

His passion for reliable armor and weapons is pouring out of him. It’s almost as if Mr. Welf himself is on fire.

It’s pure devotion to his craft.