Wandering Mercenary in an Open World

The dwarf didn’t miss the subtle change in Ruon’s expression.

“So, you didn’t know that the sword had awakened its ego?”

Ruon thought for a moment and replied.

“It had shown some signs before. But it only started to talk nonsense like this recently.”

“Really?”

A smile appeared on the dwarf’s wrinkled face.

The fierce aura that made him look like he would kill Strabo any moment was gone, and he looked at the holy sword with interest. A strong scent of a craftsman emanated from him.

“This is not something we can talk about standing here. Come in.”

The dwarf moved his steps toward the forge, and Igor hurried to Strabo, who was lying on the ground.

“Strabo, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Except for the difficulty breathing and the inability to lift my right arm!”

“Merciful mother-”

“Wait.”

Strabo’s thick palm covered Igor’s clasped hands, which were reciting a prayer.

“Not now.”

“What?”

“I have to look miserable so that father won’t be too angry. That’s why I took the hits on purpose.”

Strabo groaned and struggled to get up.

“Let’s go in quickly, friends. Father is not a patient dwarf.”

***

The orange light that came out of the dim forge illuminated the dark interior.

The white-haired dwarf, who was sitting on a chair without a backrest, spoke to the group.

“My name is Garan.”

The group also introduced themselves briefly.

They all knew that it was just a formal introduction for the upcoming conversation.

Garan turned his head to Strabo, who was sitting on the floor and rubbing his sore shoulder, and narrowed his eyes.

“Let’s put aside the punishment of that damn kid for now… Let’s talk about the sword first. What the hell did you do to make it so damaged?”

Ruon opened his mouth to answer his question.

He explained how he killed Salvador and got the skull dagger, how it became its current form with Tivela’s blessing, and how he gradually gained strength by killing the servants of the devil.

“…That’s the story.”

When the story was over, Garan, who had been listening quietly, unfolded his arms.

“What a strange case.”

He tilted his head slowly. To the right, crookedly.

“What the hell are you?”

Ruon couldn’t tell if the ‘you’ that Garan was referring to was himself or the holy sword, so he hesitated to answer.

Garan brushed his gray hair back and opened his mouth.

“…It’s rare, but not impossible, for an object exposed to a powerful force to awaken its ego. In your case, the sword must have been triggered by the goddess’s blessing. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

Ruon shook his head at the sudden change of topic.

Garan clicked his tongue softly.

“You are the first owner of that ego sword.”

He sighed and looked at the group, who were watching him silently.

“You guys don’t seem to know how big of a deal that is… Listen carefully. For an object that has just awakened its ego, the first owner is the one who inherits the will that will last a lifetime. It’s practically everything to them.”

Garan continued his story like an old man telling a mysterious folk tale.

“Do you know why there is a legend that an object with an ego chooses its owner? It’s because that object is looking for a new person who can follow the will of the first owner…”

It was an interesting story, but Ruon had a feeling that the story was going off track, so he cut in.

“Just get to the point, please.”

Garan coughed loudly and pointed at Ruon with his index finger.

“What the hell are you?”

He repeated the same question as before and narrowed his eyes.

“What kind of influence did you have on the sword, that it corrupted itself by absorbing the devil’s power so recklessly? This is not like a magpie following a swan and tearing its crotch…”

Ruon shook his head.

“I don’t know either.”

He said that, but in fact, Ruon had a vague idea of what influenced the holy sword.

…The completion of the story and the level up?

If the holy sword was influenced by his pursuit of strength to get out of this world, and it broke down by absorbing the power of the great devil too much, then it would make some sense.

Then Garan said.

“I’ve been rambling for too long. Let’s get to the main point… You want to restore the corrupted holy sword to its original state, right?”

Ruon nodded.

“Is that possible?”

Garan’s eyebrows wrinkled at his words. He turned his body and kicked Strabo’s chest with a thud.

Strabo screamed in pain.

“Ouch! Why are you hitting me?”

“You bastard, you didn’t tell them who I am until now?”

Kyle quickly pulled Garan away.

“Hey, calm down.”

He said that, but he also pounded his chest and shouted.

“I’m Garan. Garan Bolund! There’s no better blacksmith than me in Roverdook. This is definitely possible!”

Did I hurt his pride?

Ruon said to Garan, who was swaggering.

“I apologize if I sounded rude. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Hmm, really? Then it’s fine!”

Ruon gave a wry smile as he watched the dwarf calm down in an instant. He could see where Strabo’s simple personality came from.

Garan said.

“But I can’t do it for free. You look like a mercenary… You must know the rules of this business better than anyone.”

“I have enough money.”

“No, money is not what I want.”

That’s annoying.

Ruon sighed lightly.

He expected it to some extent, but it felt like a typical linked quest.

He hoped that it wasn’t a request to get some random materials from some monsters’ bones or horns, and asked.

“Then what?”

Garan answered with a serious expression.

“Pass the test of the furnace. Get the approval of the goddess, and if you’re the one who gave such a great influence to the ego sword… You should do that much.”

He said that, and Strabo jumped up and shouted.

“An unexpected trial of the forge! Are you doing this because of me? Because I brought a friend?”

Garan growled at him.

“You’re not worth killing, you bastard. When have I ever let my personal feelings interfere with my work?”

“But still…”

“Shut up if you know it’s not true!”

Ruon spoke over the two dwarves’ shouting.

“Can you calm down a bit?”

His cold voice made Garan retort.

“The trial of the forge is a process of proving one’s strength to the great Duermur. If you pass the trial, all the dwarves in the world will recognize you as a true warrior, regardless of your leg length. They might even beg you to use the weapons they made.”

Ruon nodded readily.

“Fine. Let’s do it.”

“That’s refreshing.”

Garan smiled satisfactorily and asked Ruon without delay.

“Where do you take the trial? I don’t like waiting, so I want to get it over with quickly.”

“I’ll guide you, so wait outside. Get ready and go out.”

Ruon stepped out of the forge immediately and Kyle hurriedly followed him.

“What’s going on?”

“Didn’t you hear everything inside?”

“No, I heard it, but there was a gap in the conversation. Suddenly a trial? Why do you need a trial to return the holy sword?”

Strabo, who had been following behind with Igor’s support, said.

“…Dwarves consider it the greatest honor for a warrior who passed the trial of the forge to use their weapons. I think my father also made that condition for a similar reason.”

At his words, Igor frowned.

“…Don’t tell me the warrior who passed the trial of the forge is called the champion of Duermur?”

“Oh, Igor is smart.”

“Oh my god.”

Strabo gave Igor a thumbs up and approached Ruon.

“Ruon, this is not good.”

“What is?”

“You should tell Garan that you are the champion of Tivella and ask for a different price.”

Why is he like this too?

Ruon looked at Igor, who was looking up at him anxiously, and said.

“Did you forget what the goddess said? I’m not the champion of Tivella.”

“But… there’s no one more suited for that position than you. Really.”

Kyle, who had been watching him, muttered.

“It’s like trying to hold on to a cheating wife…”

As if his words were true, Igor seemed worried about what would happen if Ruon became the official champion of Duermur.

Ruon sighed lightly and said.

“Even if I pass the trial, I’m not the champion of Duermur. Of course, I’m not the champion of Tivella either. I’m just Ruon. Just like you’re just Igor.”

At his words, Igor seemed to feel something and bowed his head.

“…I was short-sighted.”

Kyle rubbed his nose at the sight.

“Hmm, Ruon, that was pretty cool just now?”

Strabo, who had been lying on the floor, also chimed in.

“Wow, that’s romantic. Ruon. If only my arm was fine, I would have wanted to write it down somewhere! By the way, can someone help me up?”

When Ruon closed his eyes tightly at the chaotic scene, Garan came out of the forge and said.

“Let’s go.”

***

The group followed Garan up the rugged road.

They stepped on the weeds that grew long between the smooth slabs of stone and reached a modest-sized temple.

Compared to the city’s splendid buildings, the temple looked very plain.

“I don’t know why you all followed when only this guy is taking the test.”

Garan snorted and walked into the temple first.

As they followed him, they saw a bald dwarf standing in front of a wide forge with flickering flames.

“…Garan? What are you doing here?”

He looked at Garan, who was walking ahead, and tilted his head, then turned his gaze to the group.

“Three humans and one dwarf… Strabo? What are you doing here?”

“Long time no see. Retol.”

The dwarf called Retol scratched his forehead awkwardly and replied.

“Y-yeah. It’s been a while.”

Garan explained to Retol, who seemed to need an explanation.

“I have a warrior who came to me for help, and he looked extraordinary, so I suggested him to take the trial of the forge. If he passes, I’ll help him with all my heart and soul.”

Retol noticed that the warrior Garan was talking about was Ruon and asked him.

“Are you a human warrior? Is what Garan said true?”

“Yes.”

Ruon answered briefly and walked toward the forge.

Retol asked.

“Do you know what happens if you fail?”

“I didn’t hear that part.”

“You’ll become a cripple.”

At that, Kyle, who was startled, shouted at Garan.

“No! This crazy bastard didn’t tell me the most important part!”

“You bloody bastard! How dare you yell in front of me?”

Retol spoke in a calm voice to the two men who were on fire.

“Shut your mouth. Don’t you forget that this is the temple of Duermur?”

As the atmosphere subsided, he lifted his head and looked into Ruon’s eyes.

“Aren’t you nervous?”

“Why, suddenly?”

Ruon smiled faintly.

If he had been trembling over such a trial, he would never have thought of aiming for the devil’s throat.

Live or die. It was just another fight for Ruon, who had gone through countless battlefields where only simple but cruel outcomes awaited.

“It’s been twenty years since a non-dwarf challenger.”

As he said that, Retol closed his eyes and licked his lips.

Then, with a sizzling sound, steam rose from the forge.

A red-hot hammer appeared through the scattering steam. The peculiar thing was that all parts except the handle were covered with flames.

“When you grab the handle…”

Before Retol finished his sentence, Ruon grabbed the handle of the hammer and said.

“It looks worse if you talk too much.”

At that moment, a huge heat and flame engulfed his body.