Altanato’s Forge.

The path leading there was a pitch-black cavern.

『Are we even going the right way…?』

Naiad’s voice trembled with unease.

Clay silently scanned the area around them.

Fwoosh!

Suddenly, the torches lining one side of the wall flared to life, bathing the surroundings in firelight.

『Something feels… wrong.』

It wasn’t a line you'd expect from a Demonic Sword, but Clay agreed with Syltanaro’s impression.

“Shadows.”

The shadows cast by the flickering torches rose like monsters from the walls. Clay instantly readjusted his grip on the sword.

GRAAAAH!

One shadow lunged at him—and Clay, waiting for it, struck.

CLANG!

“!”

The blade didn’t cut.

『My lord!』

Syltanaro cried out, alarmed. Clay quickly stepped back as the shadow pursued, matching his retreat.

Clang! Clang!

No matter how many times he swung, the shadow remained unscathed.

“Syltanaro! Endure it!”

Crash! Clang! Clack-clack-clang!

Clay stopped retreating and charged forward instead, hacking fiercely at the shadow.

It still didn’t slice.

‘But I’m pushing it back!’

If the blade couldn’t cut, he’d wield it as a bludgeon. Clay drove the shadow back step by step with raw force.

『Clay! What are you trying to do?!』

Naiad shouted in panic. Even if pushing the enemy was possible, it consumed immense stamina. It couldn’t be sustained for long.

Grit!

But Clay didn’t stop. He struck again and again, driving the shadow back until—

Smash!

He reached his target and shattered one of the torches with his sword.

『What the—?!』

Naiad’s voice cracked in alarm at the sudden burst of flame.

Grrr—!

At that same moment, the shadow that had been exchanging blows with Clay dropped to its knees.

Screeeee!

And then it collapsed and vanished without a trace.

“This is the trial.”

Clay swept his gaze over the extinguished torches and the spots where the shadows had once stood.

“One shadow per torch.”

Lining the walls were countless torches—and from each, a corresponding, growling shadow.

Like the flame and anvil of a forging process.

“Altanato only applies his craft to materials that can withstand tempering.”

And now, such a test stood before them.

“Just reaching his forge can crack or shatter you. In the worst case…”

『Do not worry, my lord.』

Syltanaro spoke calmly.

『I will fulfill my role.』

『Wait! I—!』

Naiad, suddenly realizing she was being tested too, shrieked.

『What am I supposed to do?! I can’t even get out of here!』

“Help Syltanaro.” Clay answered simply, “She might not be able to endure this alone.”

『Damn it all…!』

That was all Naiad could mutter—a feeble resistance.

“I’m sorry to burden you both. But I swear I won’t spare myself either.”

Clay looked ahead at the threatening shadows blocking the path.

“Let’s go.”

He stomped forward, charging into the darkness like a spear.

♧

Donon, a nation south of Yaphenon.

Rich in mineral resources, Donon had grown steadily by supplying iron ore to Yaphenon. Though not a brother nation to Krata, it had maintained strong ties with the Holy Alliance and risen to be a considerable power.

“What the hell is this…?!”

Now, Donon was collapsing—completely and without resistance.

“What is that thing?!”

A body made of blood, burning crimson red—

A creature that could only be described as a blood demon was decimating Donon’s forces.

“Graaagh!”

“GUH—!”

“Please, someone—!”

Those who encountered him were drained of blood in an instant, reduced to brittle husks that crumbled underfoot.

“How pitiful.”

Vlad.

The Blood Lord who fueled his power with pure slaughter—he advanced until every living thing was gone.

That’s why he was called a calamity. No other word fit.

“So… they call him the Demon King.”

Devouring the blood of tens, then hundreds, Vlad muttered to himself.

“King of the oldest beings…”

A creature thought never to return once Elhaen had risen to power was now walking the world again.

“Fascinating.”

In the past, there had been no chance to face one another. Or rather, it had been impossible.

The ancient gods were bound in balance across their territories.

Until Elhaen shattered that balance, none of them could move freely.

“Heh… heheheh…”

Now, Vlad roamed the continent, committing massacres and stealing blood. And he was delighted.

“Gh—ah?!”

Soldiers who rushed in were cleaved in half by his blood-forged blade. A knight who leapt from above to strike him was caught mid-air and drained dry.

Every puddle of blood that hit the ground dried the moment his feet touched them.

All blood in the area belonged to him.

Survival? Impossible in his presence.

“D-Damn…”

Tahren, the lord stationed at Donon’s northern wall, stumbled backward, overwhelmed.

“M-My Lord!”

“We can’t win! He’s a monster!”

“We have to retreat!”

His guards around him screamed in panic. Tahren gripped his sword tighter.

“S-Still… I can’t just run! He’s wiping our nation off the map! At the very least, we have to buy time for His Majesty and the capital’s people to escape!”

He turned to his soldiers.

“Hold him off! No matter what—!”

Slice!

His head flew off.

The stunned soldiers saw it—

A crimson slash flying from afar, slicing not just their lord’s neck, but dozens of lives beyond it.

“Ah… ah…”

The soldiers' sanity shattered.

“Run for your lives!”

“Shit!”

“Aaaaaaahhh!”

As the troops broke and fled, the unarmed civilians—already in the midst of evacuating—were caught in the chaos and trampled underfoot.

Falling. Crushed. Dying.

This was a true hellscape.

“If only the Hero… were here…”

Amid the calamity, the only thing the people could do was cry out their regrets for the savior they had lost.

“Khuh… Hero…”

“Dammit…”

“No one else would have saved us…”

What was Krata—the leader of the Holy Alliance—doing?

With Yaphenon lost and Donon collapsing, Krata remained silent.

“We should’ve saved him.”

Late regrets fell like ash over the city.

“We should’ve saved the Hero…”

A distant, sweeping slash from the Blood Demon silenced their voices in an instant.

♧

Huff, huff…

At the end of the cave.

Clay, having destroyed the final torch and driven back the last shadow, stood catching ragged breaths.

“Gh…!”

His body was a wreck. Against shadows that could not be cut, he had no choice but to keep swinging the Demonic Sword like a blunt weapon.

The unrelenting impact numbed his hands and arms, and the shadows’ blows hammered his body.

But he wasn’t the one most damaged in the end.

Crack…

A piece flaked off the edge of the sword.

The relentless battering had taken a toll on Syltanaro’s durability, equivalent to surviving decades of war.

“Syltanaro. Are you all right?”

『…Yes.』

A short answer, spoken after a long silence.

But there was a faint, fading breath of life in her voice.

『“Yes”? What are you even saying? You’re barely holding together!』

Naiad gasped between breaths.

『I helped as much as I could, but those shadows were beyond what anyone could’ve imagined. At this rate, her durability is—』

Severely diminished.

Syltanaro was now on the verge of breaking.

【So, you’ve arrived.】

Then the voice returned.

【I didn’t expect you to make it this far.】

『What the hell?! So you did intend for us to die on the way?!』

Syltanaro shouted, furious after the ordeal.

『We were practically shattered by the time we got here! What would’ve been the point if we broke?!』

【If you broke, that would simply mean your material was lacking.】

Altanato’s reply was calm.

【Let me ask you, blade-bearer. Your sword could have been sacrificed. Were you truly prepared for that?】

“No.”

Clay’s eyes sharpened.

“Not at all.”

He had never intended to sacrifice his sword.

【Then how did you make it this far?】

There were moments when Syltanaro had nearly buckled.

At those times, Clay had chosen to attack with the base of the blade—where it was less worn.

The hilt-end strikes could have snapped the sword. The shortened reach could’ve left him vulnerable.

But he had still done it.

“Because I knew this isn’t where it ends.”

He gripped the sword tightly, voice steady.

“She brought me this far while fulfilling her role alone. Now it’s my turn.”

【I see.】

Altanato’s voice lowered into a resonant rumble.

【You were someone who once lived by conviction.】

There was a trace of doubt in his tone.

【But that was a past version of you. What brought you here was nothing but remnants of that former self.】

“So what? You don’t approve?”

【No.】

Altanato’s low, powerful laughter echoed.

【I see it now. Something must have twisted you. Something that hollowed out your “goodness” and filled it with hatred.】

Rumble…!

At the end of the cave—

The massive door blocking Clay’s path opened.

【In this trial, I judge only one thing: the strength of the material.】

Altanato made his declaration.

【And the strength you’ve shown… is sufficient.】

Clay stepped through the opened doors.

【My judgment is done. What follows is up to you. Welcome to the Forge of the Ironmaster.】

The chamber—

Inside, multiple furnaces poured molten lava from the ceiling like waterfalls. A colossal iron workbench, anvils, and a hammer crafted from the trunk of a whole tree awaited him.

Step. Step.

Clay slowly walked deeper inside, scanning the space.

He had never set foot in this legendary forge—not even during his time as a Hero.

Clang!

The entrance sealed shut behind him.

From the shadows of the chamber, someone emerged.

“…I’ve been expecting you.”

An enormous man—far beyond any ordinary dwarf—stood before him. Ten feet tall, with an uneven red beard and eyes glowing with searing heat.

“I am Altanato—the blacksmith who will temper your hatred.”

(End of Chapter)

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