Akira came to a halt, his boots making a soft scuff against the stone.

Slowly, he turned his head, casting a wary glance over his shoulder. His sharp gaze scanned the alley he had just exited, eyes narrowed with quiet tension.

After a few seconds of silence, he exhaled deeply and allowed his shoulders to relax.

Looks like that troublesome god didn't follow after all. She has followers nearby watching over her—why not just have one of them step in instead?

Akira clicked his tongue inwardly. He wasn't sure if that so-called goddess was truly incapable of reacting in time, or if she was simply baiting him to act.

Maybe she genuinely believed the guardian shadowing her would be able to block the flying bottle in that split second. Either way, it was a ridiculous risk.

With such thoughts swirling in his mind, Akira turned and began walking along Northeast Street, heading deeper into the second district's industrial zone.

His pace was steady, but his thoughts were a tangle of annoyance and curiosity. He replayed the moment over and over again, trying to discern any subtle ploy behind Freya's actions. Still, he found no answer.

After more than ten minutes of weaving through the network of alleys and wide stone roads, Akira finally arrived at his destination.

He stepped up to a familiar wooden door and gently pushed it open.

The hinges creaked softly, and above the entrance hung a metal emblem—the insignia of the Hephaestus Familia. It caught the sunlight, flickering like a faint flame suspended in the air.

The interior was warm and metallic, the scent of iron lingering in the air.

Just as Akira was about to look around, a bold, hearty voice rang out before he could even make out the figure in the haze of forge-smoke.

"Hey! Took you long enough!"

The voice boomed with infectious energy, echoing throughout the workshop with a commanding presence. It wasn't just a greeting—it was a declaration that shook the very walls.

Sitting calmly in the center of the room, a female craftsman raised her head, her one visible eye locking onto him with a mix of amusement and anticipation.

She waved him over with a grin and said, "You're early this time, huh—'Morning Star'?"

Tsubaki wore her usual blacksmith's outerwear, but her strong abdomen and shoulders were still exposed, as if she were completely unbothered by the heat or danger of wayward sparks. One could only wonder if her skin was impervious to fire itself.

Though Akira had grown fond of the alias he'd earned at the Denatus, old habits and fresh knowledge had a way of surfacing.

Without thinking, he blurted, "Shouldn't I be calling you Cyclops?"

Tsubaki Collbrande, standing before him, was no mere blacksmith. As the captain of the Hephaestus Familia and one of the most accomplished craftsmen in all of Orario, her name commanded respect.

Yet despite her reputation as a "dwarf," Akira couldn't see it. Tsubaki was tall, towering, and broad-shouldered. Not once did she resemble the petite dwarves he was familiar with.

Even the dwarf girl in Astraea Familia was barely over 140 centimeters—Tsubaki, by contrast, seemed built for both war and forge.

"Gah! Sorry, that one's on me."

Tsubaki immediately held up her hands and gave a sheepish grin, scratching her cheek with a finger.

"I'm not too fond of that monster-like alias, to be honest. Just call me by my name."

Then she added, as if eager to change the subject, "Still, I didn't expect you to get so famous in Orario already. Even Hephaestus-sama herself is paying attention to you."

"…Is that so?" Akira blinked, slightly surprised.

"Well, that's an honor."

He'd never met Hephaestus before. As one of the rare gods who genuinely participated in their familia's work, Hephaestus seldom appeared in public unless it was absolutely necessary.

She was a true artisan, a deity who earned reverence not through presence, but through creation.

The Hephaestus Familia didn't compete in war games or send their members delving into the Dungeon to conquer floors.

Yet they held an unshakable position in Orario—a powerhouse supported solely by the unmatched prowess of its craftsmen.

That status, undeniably, stemmed from the goddess of the forge.

Tsubaki didn't take offense to Akira's indifference. She understood.

For adventurers and most civilians, the deep, almost reverent admiration craftsmen had for Hephaestus was difficult to comprehend.

Akira respected the goddess, yes. He admired her for her ability to forge weapons that grew alongside their users. But she was not his goddess. She had never bestowed him with blessings or aid. His devotion lay elsewhere.

To Akira, there was only one god worthy of his unwavering faith—Astraea.

"Well then, let's take a look at the weapon I've prepared." Tsubaki declared with obvious pride.

She gestured toward a long object resting beneath a thin cloth atop a side platform.

"I think you'll be more than satisfied. I made sure it meets all your requirements."

At her signal, Akira stepped forward and pulled the cloth aside himself.

As the fabric slid off, the weapon underneath was revealed—gleaming, beautiful, and deadly.

For a moment, Akira stood still. A faint golden light seemed to shimmer before his eyes, refracted from the blade's polished surface.

The weapon was longer than the one-handed sword he had used before, its presence commanding.

The blade was thick at both ends, gradually tapering toward a narrow, piercing tip. The edge caught the light with an elegant ripple—like flowing silver water.

The steel was solid and dense, casting a soft silver-white sheen. Intricate patterns of gold were embedded across its surface, enhancing both its aesthetic and structure. Two slender blue streaks traced across the handguard, which was capped at both ends in gold.

A small gem rested at the sword's heart. It flickered faintly.

It was the very gem Akira had harvested from the Treasure Tree and handed over to Tsubaki.

The hilt, crafted with careful attention, was white tinged with dark blue, its thickness gradually increasing from base to end—a perfect grip, resistant to slipping.

"This is a special weapon, rated second-class by Hephaestus-sama herself." Tsubaki announced proudly.

"And it's the best I could produce under all the limitations."

She rubbed her thumb and index finger together, a silent sign of her grievances.

"Between those merchants in Rivira selling garbage steel and the stuff I dug out myself, none of it met the top standards. I couldn't push it to indestructible quality—but for you? This will carry you all the way to Level Five."

Forging steel that rivaled the hardness of rare metals was already a monumental task.

But to shape it into a weapon that was both durable and beautiful? That was the work of a master.

"And I also added a touch of mithril."

She narrowed her visible eye slightly, her grin widening.

"I remember your old sword—just from looking at it, I could tell you like to channel magic through your blade."

"This alloy has high magical conductivity. It'll drastically improve the sword's resistance to magical attacks, especially from mid-tier monsters and up. And when you imbue it with your magic, the amplification effect should be noticeable."

Though Akira hadn't mentioned that detail to her directly, she had already deduced it.

That, more than anything, proved she deserved her reputation as one of the greatest blacksmiths in the city.

"That's why I'm calling it a special weapon. Even a small amount of mithril makes a world of difference."

"As expected of Orario's top smith." Akira said with genuine appreciation.

"This is… really impressive."

He picked it up, feeling the reassuring weight settle naturally into his hand.

The balance, the grip, the design—everything was perfect. Except for the flashy colors, he had no complaints at all.

With his right hand, he raised the blade and brought it close to his face, letting the gleaming steel reflect his dark eyes.

"…Does this sword have a name?" He asked softly.

(End of Chapter)

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