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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuziro
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“Jekkiel, are you alright?”
“Wow… you really pushed yourself.”
Cutting the Ermetellen had taken a considerable toll… no, nearly all of Jekkiel’s mana.
He was now resting, trying to recover.
Like chicks discovering something new, Ruin and Demeri fussed over him, inquiring about his well-being.
“I’m fine. Just go outside.”
But Jekkiel had little patience for their concern.
He waved them away dismissively.
“Jekkieeel…”
Despite his clear dismissal, Demeri lingered.
Burdening him with work and feeling loyalty were separate matters.
Years of devoted service had ingrained a deep concern within her.
Sariel, observing from afar, chuckled at the scene.
“Tired from just that? The Sins aren’t what they used to be.”
“I’m not a Sin anymore.”
“Your attitude is commendable, though. Pushing your mana to its limits for a gift… even I wouldn’t have imagined that.”
Whoosh!
Sariel tossed a small vial.
Jekkiel caught it effortlessly.
A faint blue aura emanated from the potion, a calming presence like a tranquil lake.
“What is this?”
“It will help restore your mana. They say blood is best for vampires, but I don’t have any on hand.”
“Thank you.”
He downed the potion in one gulp.
It wasn’t much, and the taste was atrocious.
Some people craved solitude when tired, others seeked company.
Jekkiel belonged to the former group.
The remnants of the original Jekkiel’s consciousness seemed to agree.
He glanced at each of them in turn, a clear signal for them to leave.
Thankfully, they finally took the hint and left him alone.
“Haah.”
He placed a hand on his forehead, savoring the solitude.
His body ached, and a wave of exhaustion washed over him.
“I couldn’t do that twice.”
He muttered, then realized he wasn’t alone.
Someone else was there.
He turned sharply to identify the intruder.
He tilted his head in surprise.
It was an unexpected visitor.
“What brings you here?”
“Hello. Um, hello.”
It was Regita.
Usually vacant and unresponsive, today she seemed to have a purpose, lingering near him.
“I asked what you wanted.”
“Um.”
She hesitated, struggling to articulate her thoughts.
Not from nervousness or fear, but from a careful consideration of her words.
“Why. Why?” she finally managed.
“Why?”
Regita nodded.
“Why… are you making me a greatsword?”
Ah.
Her question was simple: why was he gifting her a weapon?
It wasn’t a difficult question to answer.
“Because it benefits me if you regain your senses.”
“Senses? Benefit?”
“Yes.”
“……”
Regita walked towards him and, without warning, began massaging his calf.
The unexpected action caught him off guard.
He couldn’t even pull away.
“What are you doing?”
“Benefit. Helping.”
She seemed to understand only that he was providing her with a “benefit.”
And this, apparently, was her way of reciprocating.
The method, however, was rather disconcerting.
Her massage was clumsy and forceful, threatening to break his leg.
He pulled her hand away.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“No. Benefit. Trying to help.”
“Tsk.”
He clicked his tongue and gently grasped her shoulder, massaging it with a controlled pressure.
A flicker of surprise crossed Regita’s face.
Strange.
She usually remained expressionless, even with physical contact.
“This is how much pressure to use. If what you’re attempting is a massage.”
“Ah. Is that so?”
He nodded repeatedly, and Regita finally stepped back, flexing her hand experimentally, trying to gauge the appropriate pressure.
“Um…”
“What?”
Regita paused, lost in thought, then reverted to her usual vacant expression.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
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It took two full days for his mana to recover, even with the potion.
The rune-isolated space offered no natural mana replenishment.
Still, the greatsword would restore Regita.
She would become a powerful ally.
It was a task that demanded his full attention.
Jekkiel straightened his clothes and headed towards Sariel’s workshop.
He stopped short, aghast.
“No!”
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sariel was diligently hammering the Ermetellen Jekkiel had carefully cut to size.
Sariel working diligently was a welcome sight, but Jekkiel’s shock was understandable.
He recalled Sariel’s earlier instructions:
—Naturally, the one who wields the greatsword must do the hammering.
“What are you doing?!”
Jekkiel rushed forward and grabbed Sariel’s arm.
Sariel simply stared back.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
A cold silence descended, then Sariel burst out laughing.
“Just kidding. I can handle the hammering myself.”
“Why did you lie?”
“Well, if I told you the truth, you wouldn’t have recovered this quickly, would you?”
“That’s absurd.”
“Not really.”
“Is there a justifiable reason why I had to recover enough to walk back here today?”
“Yes. There is. That’s why I told that little white lie.”
Sariel grinned, picking up the heated Ermetellen with tongs.
“This needs to be hammered today. You need to see this. How it’s made. Don’t you agree?”
“That was the reason?”
The sheer confidence of a master craftsman.
Somehow, Jekkiel found himself agreeing.
It was a valid reason.
KA-LANG!
Sariel resumed hammering.
Kang, kang-kang, kang-kang-kang-kang…
The sounds multiplied, not from increased speed, but from an increase in Sariels.
One, two, three, four… the workshop filled with copies of the craftsman.
One of the Sariels placed the heated Ermetellen on the anvil and bellowed:
“Strike with all your might!”
KA-LANG! KA-LANG!
The other Sariels swung their massive hammers, sparks dancing in the air.
‘That’s a good reason.’
The synchronized movements of the Sariels were a spectacle, a performance of artistry. Jekkiel felt a surge of gratitude for the unexpected display.
“Hey, Jekkiel!”
One of the Sariels called out.
Was there something he needed to do?
Jekkiel approached, but Sariel continued working, seemingly oblivious to his presence.
Sariel glanced at Jekkiel standing beside him and smiled faintly.
“That heart of yours… the one you’d offer for your beloved… is it still the same?”
The answer came without hesitation.
“Of course.”
“Good!”
FWOOSH!
Sariel smiled, and the coals flared, radiating intense heat.
Even the flames seemed to mimic a smile.
Sariel placed a hand near the flames, savoring the heat.
“The fire burns brightly. Every craftsman has this fire within them. Mine had been extinguished for a long time.”
“Hmm.”
“I thought it would never rekindle… I never imagined it would be ignited by the love of others.”
Her voice resonated, powerful yet clear.
“…I hope this greatsword serves you well. I’ll pour everything I have into it. So, burn others with that flame. Just as you burned me.”
The craftsman’s intensity was overwhelming, leaving Jekkiel speechless.
And then…
Sariel began to hammer once more.
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[Bro is getting hammered]
