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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuziro
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Gaining a new realization was great, but the problem was my size.
I’m not exaggerating; I was incredibly conspicuous.
Just look at me: a 185-187cm muscle-bound figure, a 140cm longsword at my hip, a pristine white uniform, a wine-colored half-cape, and a handsome face to top it all off.
How could I possibly blend in?
“This isn’t Assassin’s Creed. There’s no way I can be stealthy like this.”
I figured they’d assume I was still running errands, but even the collective intelligence of the Eldmias in my head couldn’t come up with a good solution.
It seemed unlikely that anything would change with time.
Still, I couldn’t give up.
I decided to visit Balkun Dmalli, the man who’d sold me this amazing sword at a friend’s discount, and continue pondering along the way.
Honestly… how should I put this?
It was about how well the mana flowed.
Should I compare it to electrical conductivity and call it “mana conductivity”?
Or maybe “mana flow rate”?
It was a bit cumbersome, but “mana transmission rate” seems most accurate.
Anyway, the sword was sturdy, but my survival this time was also thanks to its excellent mana transmission rate.
From my old sword, the one I threw at the demon in the abandoned dungeon, to this one, I’ve learned something for sure: Balkun is my lifesaver.
“They say a craftsman never blames his tools, but I’m no craftsman. I need all the help I can get.”
Of course, Eldmia, a man who knew how to show gratitude, couldn’t just ignore this debt.
Even amidst this chaotic day, I decided to run errands and kill time until I figured out how to deal with those leeches.
I’d hoped they’d try to contact me, but things rarely went as planned.
For about 20 minutes, I took detours on my way to the Dwarven district.
They followed persistently, but made no move.
The nerve of these guys, trying to track my every move and figure out who I’m meeting.
It was infuriating.
“Hmm? Aren’t you Gin’s friend? Right, Eldmia. Eldmia Egga, was it?”
As I arrived at the shop, racking my brain about what to do if Balkun wasn’t there, a familiar voice called out.
Balkun, with a pipe in his mouth, stood at the entrance to the forge inside the shop.
He’d spotted me first.
“Gin isn’t with you today? Looking for armor?”
The confidence in his voice stemmed from the belief that the item he’d sold couldn’t possibly be damaged already.
That’s what a true dwarf should be like.
“You have a remarkable memory, Balkun. I honestly thought you might not remember me.”
I wondered if he had a photographic memory or an unwavering dedication to his craft, but his answer was surprisingly simple.
“Haha. It’s hard to forget someone your size. And you brought Gin last time, so it’s even harder to forget. So, what brings you here today?”
“I came to thank you and have my equipment checked, just in case. You saved my life.”
“Oh? Could you tell me more? I’m very interested.”
True to his incredibly noble hobby of saving newbies with amazing equipment, he was intrigued by the story of his weapon in action.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell him much.
I couldn’t exactly say, ‘Your sword’s mana compatibility was perfect for beheading that cursed bastard, so I used a new technique and killed him.’
In the end, I just said I’d blocked a lot of magic with the sword, and it was still intact.
Since offensive magic and mana put similar strain on a sword, it wasn’t entirely a lie.
Fortunately, Balkun seemed more pleased by my genuine gratitude than the details of the story.
“Haha! Good! I’m glad my sword performed well, and I’m even happier that you came all this way to tell me. I like your attitude!”
“You’re practically my lifesaver. It’s the least I could do.”
“Haha! A warrior with such enlightened thinking! A young man with a commendable attitude! Let me see it! I’ll check it right away!”
Praise makes even a whale dance, and Balkun, now energized, took my sword with a grin and began his inspection.
Thanks to him, I had the chance to witness how a dwarf, who combined magic and alchemy, examined their creations.
Balkun held the blade for about 30 seconds.
Suddenly, the blade rippled like mercury and lost its shape!
“Wow! I’d heard they were made with magic and alchemy, but this is beyond anything I imagined!”
“You have mage friends, I see? Warriors who see this for the first time usually panic, thinking their weapon is broken.”
Chuckling, Balkun examined the undulating blade with a serious gaze.
“But if this is the case, wouldn’t it be enough to leave repairs to Dwarven craftsmen?”
“Hmm… I’m not sure if you’ll understand, but this is, in a way, the mana form of the sword. It’s like a person’s soul.”
“I understand perfectly. So, to repair it, you have to fix the body, not the soul. This process only fixes the magic-related aspects.”
“Exactly. Conversely, the magical aspects can only be repaired this way. We call it the ‘schematic circuit,’ but it’s not important for ordinary people.”
For a moment, I wondered if this technique could be used to destroy Dwarven equipment in combat, but seeing that even a master craftsman like Balkun needed 30 seconds to prepare, it seemed impractical.
“Hey! What are you doing showing off your skills here?”
Captivated by the fascinating display, I was lost in thought when a strangely pre-pubescent voice startled me.
Turning around, I saw a young dwarf strolling into the forge, hands casually tucked in his pockets.
Despite his youthful appearance, his adventurer’s gear and bare, hairy feet indicated he was of a different race.
It was a halfling, a race I’d only heard Asirye mention, and read about in fantasy settings back on Earth.
“What are you looking at? Never seen a half-foot before?”
Of course, the term “half-foot,” derived from their half-human size, was a purely human perspective and a highly offensive racial slur.
“To be precise, I’ve never seen a Pulling who calls themselves a half-foot.”
Having received Asirye’s excellent education, I couldn’t use such discriminatory language.
I gave a roundabout answer, and he suddenly straightened up, offered a polite bow, and said:
“My apologies, you’re a learned individual. There are so many ignorant fools in this world. Hey, shorty! You should’ve put up a sign if we had such a distinguished guest!”
“The little brat’s at it again.”
Contrary to my amusement at his behavior, Balkun simply rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.
“Hey! I came in because I saw some weirdos lurking outside and was worried something was up, and you’re yelling at me? Yelling?!”
“What’s outside?”
“There’s something. Four human idiots who think they’re perfectly disguised as commoners. I thought they were going to light the forge with the laser beams shooting out of their eyes.”
He mimed holding his hands in front of his eyes and wiggling his fingers, likely imitating flames.
He was quite the character.
But his words weren’t so amusing.
“Ah, they’re there because of me. I seem to have caused a misunderstanding.”
Distracted by the spectacle, my worries resurfaced.
The halfling, with a puzzled look, asked,
“Because of you? Oh! I’m Shadowfoot, by the way. It’s an alias, of course, but I’ve used it for so long it’s practically my real name. Nice to meet you!”
“Nice to meet you, Shadowfoot. I’m Eldmia Egga. I hear it’s a great honor among Pullings to be called by a title rather than a name. You must be a skilled scout.”
“Oh my god! Shorty! It’s a dragon! A dragon has manifested in the form of a noble, with such wisdom!”
Asirye’s teachings were truly invaluable.
He said that while patting my calf like an adult praising a child.
Balkun, seemingly used to such behavior, clicked his tongue but focused on examining my sword, his brow furrowed.
“Well! Jokes aside, you’re quite the rare find! A delightful encounter! I’m so glad I came here today! As always! Hahaha!”
“It’s also my first time meeting a Pulling in person, so this new encounter is quite delightful. Are all Pullings as cheerful as Shadowfoot?”
“If all Pullings were like him, the demons would’ve gone back to their territory out of disgust.”
Judging by Balkun’s reaction, it seemed unlikely.
But the hyperactive Shadowfoot just laughed.
“But those guys outside don’t look friendly at all. They don’t seem like ordinary thugs.”
“You’re right. They’re all bastards who need to be dealt with, but I haven’t found a good way to do it, so I’ve just been leading them around. That’s how I ended up here.”
“Dealt with? Those four?”
“Haha. What good would four be? I need to take out their base.”
“Hahahaha! Magnificent! Just as manly as you look! I’ll help you!”
“Hahaha… What?”
I couldn’t help but ask back with a dumbfounded expression.
Shadowfoot slapped my knee and replied cheerfully,
“I said I’ll help! It’s rare to meet such a delightful human friend, and if that shorty is showing off his skills and checking your weapon without hesitation, you, Egga, must lead quite the interesting life! I’ll help! We just need to tail them back, right? Sounds fun!”
“Here we go again.”
Oh my god.
This guy’s energy and pacing were impossible to keep up with!
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[Time for battle!… with a midget helper…]
The charisma on Eldmia is through the roof.