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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Xrecker
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I immediately took Stormbringer to the dwarven blacksmith in the Demon Lord’s castle and had it melted down in the furnace.
“AAAAAGH! I will curse you even in death! Human scum!”
“Oh, the Doppler effect.”
The sword’s dying scream was quite dramatic, but I wouldn’t be hearing it again, so I ignored it.
Even a cursed magic sword was just a piece of metal. A dip in the furnace would take care of it.
Stormbringer, having narrowly escaped the treasury, was reduced to a lump of orichalcum within an hour.
“How would you like it forged?”
“Gauntlets first. If there’s any material left over, make some knuckles.”
“No problem. We can make it work with an alloy. I’ll make sure it’s top-notch.”
The dwarf, a seasoned veteran, seemed to understand exactly what I wanted.
A week later—
The refined orichalcum, mixed with tungsten and cobalt to create a super hard alloy, was reborn as a pair of gauntlets and knuckles.
While the sword’s ego had been annoying, its name was cool, so I decided to keep it, slightly modified.
Stormbringer became Stormbringer.
The tiger leaves its skin, and the magic sword leaves its name.
Thank you, Stormbringer…!
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The Demon Lord, perhaps mindful of my month-long deployment, left me alone for the week it took for the new weapons to be forged.
I spent the week resting, eating well, and enjoying myself.
While entertainment options were limited in this era, they weren’t non-existent.
For example, Tribal Wars, the trading card game I had played at the tavern, was a popular pastime across the continent. You could challenge anyone to a duel, and they would readily accept.
This applied to demons as well, so I spent my free time searching for stronger opponents, like a true warrior.
…Although I was soundly defeated by the Demon Lord’s demon beatdown deck.
Smart people seemed to be good at games.
Anyway, as I was enjoying my leisurely life in the Demon Lord’s castle,
Ozma, the Demon Lord’s daughter, suddenly came looking for me.
“Teach me.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know you went easy on me during our spar at the training grounds. I want you to fight me seriously this time. I’ve gotten stronger.”
Ozma bowed her head insistently.
I looked at Camilla, hoping for some help.
But she just shook her head.
Damn it.
No subordinate could refuse a request for a serious fight from their boss’s daughter.
And if I held back and let her win, she would just demand a rematch, claiming I hadn’t been trying.
I was trapped.
Ozma, sensing my hesitation, looked up and said,
“My father said he wouldn’t hold you responsible if I get injured during our spar. And I’m not asking this out of mere competitiveness. I want to test my limits before an important event.”
“What important event?”
“The annual inter-demon exchange. There’s someone there I need to defeat.”
Her eyes burned with determination. She wouldn’t give up, even if I refused.
I sighed and nodded. I had no choice.
“Alright. Then I’ll see you at the training grounds in an hour.”
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I changed into more comfortable clothes and headed for the training grounds in the courtyard of the Demon Lord’s castle.
The usually crowded space was empty due to the cold weather.
I walked past the Death Knights, who were engaged in their usual slash-fest, and reached the center of the training grounds, where Ozma and Vanessa were waiting.
I nodded in acknowledgement to Vanessa and asked Ozma, who was dressed in a white shirt, leather jacket, and leather pants,
“Have you been waiting long?”
“No, I just arrived. It’s rude to be late.”
Ozma then looked at Vanessa, who nodded and handed her a long, wooden staff.
It was a weapon I had never seen before.
As I examined it curiously, Ozma attached it to her hip.
“I recently acquired this weapon. It’s quite high-maintenance, so I usually have Vanessa take care of it.”
“I see.”
It wasn’t surprising that Vanessa, the Demon Lord’s Captain of the Guard, also acted as Ozma’s adjutant and, occasionally, her nanny.
Ozma then asked me,
“Are those gauntlets your new weapons?”
“Yes, these are Stormbringer.”
I proudly showed off my new white gauntlets.
The masterpieces, forged just yesterday by the dwarven blacksmith, looked incredibly sturdy.
The tungsten carbide used in the alloy had a hardness second only to diamond. And with a generous amount of orichalcum, a rare metal known for its mana conductivity, mixed in, they were practically cheat items.
Perfect for channeling magic.
While the gauntlets themselves didn’t have any special abilities, they were indestructible.
Ozma, seeing my new weapons, seemed relieved.
“Then I don’t have to worry about hurting you.”
“You’ll cut me in half if I fail to block your attacks.”
“Don’t be modest. I know how strong you are.”
Ozma dismissed my words, chuckled, and grasped the staff at her hip.
…I might actually die during this spar.
“Shall we begin?”
“Wait a moment.”
I stopped Ozma and asked Vanessa, who was acting as the referee,
“How much damage can I do to the training grounds?”
Vanessa looked at me in horror.
“Why are you assuming there will be damage?”
“There has to be a limit, right? I’ll try to be mindful of it.”
Vanessa looked around the training grounds.
“You can destroy the ground as much as you like, but don’t damage the buildings or the walls. Seneca would have my head.”
Okay, so no high-powered spells.
I decided to focus on hand-to-hand combat.
I also needed to test out my new Stormbringer gauntlets.
And Ozma, a typical frontline fighter, would be a good sparring partner.
“Suuh…”
I took a deep breath, absorbing mana from the atmosphere.
The mana flowed into my virtual mana furnace, which converted it into the four basic elements.
I channeled the wind element and activated Whirlwind Bone Cutter, a Quadra Spell.
A healing spell, originally developed to enhance the mobility of physically weak mages, had become a deadly weapon in my hands.
Well, it wasn’t uncommon for tools to be used for purposes other than their intended design.
“…So that’s how you’re going to play it.”
Ozma, seeing me activate Whirlwind Bone Cutter from the start, grinned, her competitive spirit flaring.
I felt a sense of déjà vu.
Our first encounter had started similarly.
“Are you both ready?”
Vanessa, holding two flags, raised them above her head.
Then,
“Begin!”
She swung the flags downwards, and Ozma drew the wooden staff from her hip.
I had been curious about that weapon.
As I watched, Ozma grinned and said,
“This weapon is from the dwarven kingdom of Nidavellir. The dwarf who crafted it, Nakamura, dedicated his life to forging unique swords.”
“…Swords?”
“Yes, this is a sword. A katana, to be precise.”
Click
What I had assumed to be a simple wooden staff was just a hilt and scabbard without a handguard.
The plain scabbard fell to the ground, and Ozma, holding a jet-black katana with both hands, assumed a stance and muttered,
“Sing, O Hellfire Katana…!”
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