Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?, Vol. 8

by Fujino Omori

  “Ahhh, damn…It really is a thing of beauty…”

  His eyes followed the series of hieroglyphs that were carved into the blade surface as a mixture of admiration and pain swirled within him. A dreary expression took over his face.

  The divine blade had nearly taken his breath away the first time he saw it.

  The weapon itself seemed to dim the moment it left Bell’s grasp. Welf had never been able to figure out why until he learned that it was Hephaistos herself who forged the blade.

  That was its true worth. The skill of a god had gone into its creation. A skill that was in a realm of its own.

  A fresh wave of admiration for the Goddess of the Forge rose within him as he held the weapon in his hand.

  “…All smiths go through a rite of passage before joining Hephaistos Familia.”

  “…Like a ceremony?”

  “Yeah. Every single one of us, no exceptions.”

  Returning the knife to its owner, Welf reflected on his own beginnings and explained how he had first met Hephaistos.

  He had run away from his birthplace, the Kingdom of Rakia, and was looking for a new country to call home.

  He had stumbled across a small town that specialized in metalwork and managed to get hired as an apprentice, when who should walk into his shop but Hephaistos herself. Not only that, but he caught her attention.

  After he accepted her invitation, she brought him to a room at her familia’s home and his rite of passage commenced.

  “All of us are shown one sword. Then we decide whether to join or not.”

  Just the two of them, alone in the room. Hephaistos had told him:

  “If you don’t feel it, go someplace else.”

  Then she’d opened the door to a back room. It was there.

  A single sword on top of a pedestal.

  The sight of that one weapon had sent chills down Welf’s spine.

  “—I was shaking. I could hardly believe that any human smith could ever make a weapon like that.”

  Remembering the sight of the blade forged by Hephaistos’s hands still gave him goose bumps.

  With her Arcanum power sealed and no other special Skills to speak of, the goddess had used pure, refined techniques to forge that blade.

  It was the sword all swords were judged against, the original, forged by the equivalent of human hands. The absolute apex of what people of Gekai could achieve.

  It was a divine work, a piece that truly belonged in the realm of the gods.

  “It’s the absolute. The best a human without any special Skill might hope to achieve.”

  Welf didn’t look at Bell. Instead, his gaze was cast out over the town as his words reflected the passion still burning inside his heart.

  He couldn’t help but smile as memories of what he saw that day came shining through.

  “I want to make a weapon that surpasses it.”

  Welf clenched his right fist just in front of his chest.

  Anyone who saw that blade instantly felt a connection with Hephaistos, a kind of love for her to make them want to learn from her and eventually surpass her. Made them want to reach out to the awe-inspiring goddess. Made them want to see themselves reaching her realm and finding out what lay beyond.

  It was a path far more difficult than anyone could ever imagine.

  By comparison, his journey was far more strenuous and challenging than Bell’s quests to catch up with Aiz Wallenstein.

  The boy’s goal was the Sword Princess—also known as the Kenki—a mortal who stood at the place where all adventurers wanted to be, among the best of the best. The place where Welf wanted to be was among the realm of the gods.

  It was a height that required far more effort and devotion to reach.

  Surprise started to appear on Bell’s face as he began to understand the depth of Welf’s ambition. The redheaded smith’s gaze was locked on his clenched fist.

  “…I want to make it…or at least I did.”

  Shadow covered his face as his head drooped.

  —“We as mortals can’t come close to forgin’ a supreme weapon without pourin’ everything we have into our craft.

  —“The dimwit you’ve got the hots for is on a whole other level. You won’t even reach her in your dreams this way.”

  The High Smith knew the limits of his ability.

  She, who stood at the top of the smithing world, was a monster in her own right recognized as Hephaistos’s leader.

  She, who knew his goal lay even further beyond, understood.

  But today, she’d driven that point home to a painful degree, as well as made it clear how much he wasn’t needed.

  After all, he was but one smith trying to challenge a god, dreaming a legendary dream. Was it absurd?

  Was it as Tsubaki said, and he would never reach his goal without taking advantage of the detestable blood in his veins?

  Without being a magic-sword blacksmith, would he ever be in the same realm as Hephaistos?

  “I…”

  Bell watched as Welf looked up at the dark blue sky of the labyrinth.

  The next day.

  Hestia Familia and Takemikazuchi Familia left the eighteenth floor.

  After spending a little bit of time in the middle levels recouping their financial losses from the fight against the floor boss and spending the night in Rivira, the joint battle party made it back to the surface just before nightfall.

  Some of them went to the Exchange; others went directly back to their gods to inform them about what had happened in the Dungeon. Everyone went their separate ways in Central Park. Welf went off on his own, walking through the city streets under the dark red sky.

  The buildings on either side of the street were filled with boisterous voices and well lit by magic-stone lamps. Adventurers, just back from the Dungeon, shared their stories of bravery with other patrons, staff members, or anyone who would listen. Bards used an array of instruments to fill the bars with upbeat melodies as listeners sang with jugs of ale in their hands. Even the prettiest women working at the bars got in on the act by dancing along with the music. Everyone was smiling, laughing, and having a good time.

  Welf passed through the lively crowd without saying a word. No one said hello to him as he passed by on the edge of the street. It was as though no one noticed he was there.

  He hadn’t seen Tsubaki since their heated conversation.

  Her words, however, had never left. Still lingering in his ears, they dragged him into a whirlpool of anguish every time he let his guard down.

  “Dammit,” he groaned, and shook his head. He’d been asking himself the same questions over and over since last night but had yet to come to any conclusion.

  Despite the fact that, in the end, there was only one answer.

  Frustration on the rise as his spirits sank, Welf looked at his feet as he walked. His eyes did nothing more than trace the stone pattern of the pavement as it passed beneath him.

  He drifted to the west, the last rays of sunlight illuminating his jacket, when suddenly…

  “—Welf.”

  He heard a voice he couldn’t believe.

  “”

  Welf froze on the spot. Eyes widening, he quickly turned his head toward the voice.

  For a brief moment, he was sure something was wrong in his head, that he was hallucinating and it was just a figment of his imagination. But sure enough, he could see a faint outline in the shadows of an alleyway beside him.

  The shadows swirled as if swishing a cape in front of the motionless Welf and moved farther into the alley. An invitation, no doubt.

  Welf followed without any hesitation.

  Oi, it can’t be, why would—?

  He made his way through the narrow alleyway.

  More and more new questions filled his mind every moment, sending his thoughts into turmoil.

  Why would he be here?

  His pulse quickened. The thumping of his heart against his ribs was too loud to ignore. Anxiety threatened to over
whelm him as he pursued the cloaked figure even deeper into the winding alleyways of the city—until, finally, the shadow came to a stop.

  They were somewhere in the backstreets. Litter scattered about the road; lively voices drifted from the bars off in the distance.

  The cloaked figure turned to face Welf as he stood in a completely deserted and narrow path. Then it lowered its hood.

  “It’s been a long time, Welf.”

  The face of a middle-aged man who looked far older emerged from the hood. The unusually large number of wrinkles covering his face made his age difficult to determine. His brown hair, long for a man, was tied behind his head. His eyes spoke of years of hardship, trials, and tribulations. There was no luster, no strength in his gaze.

  Welf couldn’t believe what he was seeing as he looked upon the aged human who was a mirror of himself, showing what he would look like in a few decades. Then he spoke to him.

  “Old man…?”

  The person in front of him was none other than his real father. They had the same blood running through their veins.

  Wil Crozzo.

  Welf had severed all ties with him seven years ago. This man should be nothing but a part of his past.

  A citizen of Rakia, he was the current head of the fallen family of blacksmith nobility, the Crozzos.

  “Why are you here…? Why would you be here?!”

  “Does that need an answer, foolish boy?”

  Welf struggled to control his trembling voice. Wil cast his weary gaze on the young man.

  He clenched his jaw.

  Just as the man had said, the obvious answer was right outside the city wall. Thinking wasn’t necessary.

  Everyone knew about the 30,000 troops currently fighting with Orario’s Alliance.

  The man in front of him belonged to the army of the divine king who came from the West.

  Welf’s blood boiled as he pieced everything together. This man had snuck into the Labyrinth City as part of the Rakian invasion.

  Don’t tell me…?!

  The reason that Wil came into the city, the reason that he’d sought him out, the reason that Rakia wanted to attack in the first place.

  The young man’s father watched the expressions pass over his son’s face and stated his purpose.

  “Welf. Forge magic swords for us.”

  “…!!”

  “The Kingdom of Rakia, Lord Ares himself, has recognized the power of your magic swords. The ones that you forged for that pointless match between deities using our family’s gift.”

  The match between deities—the War Game.

  Just as his skill had attracted attention from the adventurers inside Orario, word of the incredible strength of Welf’s magic swords had spread to the Kingdom of Rakia. And now Ares had launched an attack in an effort to secure Welf’s powerful Crozzo Magic Swords for himself.

  “The only reason this war drags on is because of you.”

  That harsh truth hit Welf like a punch to the gut, the shock traveling through his entire body and leaving him speechless.

  Those magic swords had once elevated Rakia’s army to invincibility, allowing them to obtain unimaginable levels of glory in the days of yore. Now they wanted to regain that legendary status by invading Orario to reclaim him.

  Welf was floored by the level of Rakia’s obsession with Crozzo Magic Swords.

  “Of course, we’d been preparing to attack Orario for some time. However, once news of the War Game reached us, Lord Ares and our king decided to change our plans.”

  “…!”

  “Then it became my role to retrieve you…Come with me, Welf. With you and Crozzo Magic Swords by our side once again, Rakia shall regain her former glory.”

  Their deity had a thirst for battle. Welf figured that he most likely wasn’t Rakia’s only objective.

  However, the fact that the Kingdom of Rakia had raised an army of 30,000 and started an all-out war just for magic swords, and then sent this man to collect him, only added fuel to the fire burning in his heart. “Are you brain-dead?!” Welf practically spat the words from his mouth.

  The Guild was very strict when it came to monitoring the flow of capable warriors, so luring an upper-class adventurer out of the city was next to impossible—and climbing over the large city wall was no easy feat. Even if Wil managed to make contact with Welf, the full, outrageous strength of Orario’s adventurers would be there to bar his retreat.

  The solution was to bring the 30,000 troops and draw out as many of the adventurers as possible. Most likely, the reason they were still fighting now was to buy enough time to get Welf out of Orario.

  The Kingdom of Rakia was willing to go to such lengths to reclaim the lost power of Crozzo Magic Swords.

  “Go to hell! Me, join you?! Dream on! I said good-bye to the family and Rakia a long time ago! There’s no reason for me to play along with your batshit insane scheme!”

  “Foolish boy, I was giving you a chance to come peacefully out of paternal mercy…”

  Father and son, locked in an intense stare down.

  The air was electric, but Welf wasn’t intimidated by Wil’s threatening words. Reaching for the swords strapped to his back, he curled his lips into a grin.

  “So then you’re going to kidnap me? Drag me away by force?”

  Welf was now aware of the other figures trying to conceal themselves in the darkness.

  He looked down to the alleyways, grinning as if itching for a fight.

  “We might be out of the way here, but not so far that people won’t hear a brawl. This is Orario—there’ll be no escape once they know you’re here.”

  Welf was Level 2. He was stronger than most of the people who lived outside the city, including the average member of Rakia’s army. His opponents would have to employ other strategies. Although the young man was genuinely surprised that they had made it this far without being discovered by the Guild, that also meant there couldn’t be many of them. It would take more than a few soldiers to overpower him.

  Welf held the advantage, as well as the hilt of his greatsword. However, Wil’s expression remained unchanged as he said to his son:

  “If you refuse to come quietly, my comrades within the city will set it ablaze with magic swords. Authentic Crozzos, at that.”

  “”

  The glint of the blade was a few celch out of its sheath when Welf’s hand came to an abrupt halt.

  His eyes trembled in shock as he yelled.

  “Don’t give me that shit! There can’t be any more Crozzo Magic Swords left in Rakia!”

  “Actually, yes, there are. Fifty of them were spared at the time of the fairy’s curse.”

  He continued by adding that Welf hadn’t been old enough to learn that family secret before Welf had left.

  A smile appeared on Wil’s face for the first time.

  Back in the days of yore, when Crozzo Magic Swords paved the Kingdom of Rakia’s advance with utter destruction, anything close to the battlefield—be it lakes or mountains or an elvish forest—became nothing more than piles of charred ash. That drew the anger of the elves and other fairies, who broke all the magic swords into useless fragments. Their last act was to place a curse on the family of blacksmiths who created them. Now, Welf was the only member of the family able to forge magic swords.

  However, there was no uncertainty in Wil’s voice when he claimed that several of the magic swords had survived the fairies’ purge and the curse.

  “The commanders were afraid of losing them, so they sat collecting dust all these years…”

  The smile still plastered on his wrinkled face, Wil reached inside his cloak and withdrew a blade.

  “This should be proof enough.”

  “!”

  The weapon firmly in his father’s grasp was, without a doubt, a magic sword.

  Welf knew in an instant what the red swirling energy inside its blade meant, and it left him speechless. The Crozzo blood in his veins knew how to recognize one of its own. This was
no bluff.

  “My compatriots each have one as well. If I give the signal or fail to return in due time, they’ll unleash hellfire on Orario.”

  Should the Crozzo Magic Swords be used inside Orario’s walls, the results would be cataclysmic.

  Just like the elvish forest and the fairies’ homes, this peaceful city would turn into a sea of flames, its buildings reduced to rubble. Countless civilian lives would be lost should that come to pass.

  Wil could see that his son understood the situation and narrowed his eyes.

  “You come with us and none of that happens. Nothing at all.”

  The elder Crozzo watched the fire disappear from his son’s face, and his smirk turned into an ominous grin.

  He then started speaking with unbridled joy, gradually breaking free from years of suppression with each word.

  “Welf, the Kingdom of Rakia will rise once again upon your return! And we, the Crozzo family, can once again bask in the glory of the old days! Money, status, fame—all of it ours!”

  “…!”

  “Lord Ares has given his word that he’ll restore our family to its rightful place if you agree to forge magic swords once again! Our family name will be heralded as it once was! The Crozzo family’s utmost desires will become reality, and I will see it through!”

  Wil let his emotions take over, a new light shining in his once-dead eyes as his long hair waved beneath the tie behind his head.

  The vigor in his eyes was very close to the brink of insanity. They twinkled abnormally bright in the dim light.

  Welf was overwhelmed by the devotion of a man trapped by his family’s obsession.

  The many wrinkles in Wil’s face bent and curved as he smiled in his son’s direction.

  “Make your preparations to leave Orario tonight. Bring all the magic swords you have in your possession to the storage facilities located on the southwest edge of the city at midnight…I shouldn’t have to remind you what will happen if you tell anyone, right?”

  Wil finished giving orders to his son before slipping back into the shadows.

  The other figures in the alleyways also retreated, but some stayed close enough that Welf could still feel their presence. He was being watched.

  Welf stood there, staring after his father until he disappeared. His hands clenched into trembling fists.