Evil’s End Martial God Chronicle

Later, he told me that when he ran his hand over his face that morning, it was puffed up like a swollen gourd.
One eye was so swollen it could barely open.
The back of his head hurt too.
It hurt so much he felt like going home and just lying down.
But he couldn’t.
Dragging his aching body, he finally made it to the furnace, where I was already outside, looking around.
I was looking for the swords.
When I spotted Yeomhwa, I flinched in surprise and then walked over.
“You okay?”
“I’m sorry.”
“…What?”
“You’re looking for your swords, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I left them here yesterday, but they’re gone.”
“I was taking them home and got them stolen. I’m sorry.”
“You took them home?”
“When I saw the swords, they were made so well that I thought leaving them here would risk them getting stolen. You must have left them here because you trusted me, and yet… I’m sorry.”
When I listened to him and looked at his face, I could guess what had happened.
I felt unnecessarily sorry.
I’d only left the swords here because I couldn’t be bothered to haul them around.
If someone took them, I’d just make more.
The storage was full of failed swords anyway.
The ones I made yesterday weren’t even meant as gifts.
They were practice pieces I made before making Grandfather’s.
The real work was supposed to start today.
From today on, I was going to pick the very best blade out of what I made, carve the formation pattern onto it, forge the new divine sword, and give that to Grandfather.
“It’s fine. Those swords were ones I didn’t care if someone took.”
At my words, Yeomhwa jumped.
“H-how can you say that? The swords I saw yesterday were perfect. How can swords like that be ‘ones you don’t care if someone takes’? I’m sorry!”
He thought I was saying that just to cover for his mistake.
Apparently, that moved him.
What kind of narrow-minded way had he been treating someone this magnanimous?
His eyes welled up.
It felt like some sort of misunderstanding was snowballing, but seeing his face, I just smiled.
He was a good person.
I murmured under my breath and took his hand.
Return the energy to the meridians, calm the soul and soothe the wounds.
Blood cut off, form restored, origin returned and life renewed.
The moment I suddenly grabbed his hand, his shoulders tensed.
Was I going to hit him? He squeezed his eyes shut.
Instead, a pleasant sensation rose from our joined hands, and a cool energy wrapped around his entire body.
Feeling that refreshing comfort, he opened his eyes—and his vision came into sharp focus.
“Huh?”
One eye had definitely been swollen shut just a moment ago.
What was this?
In that instant, he realized I’d done something to him.
“W-what did you do to me?”
“I know a bit of sorcery. I used a little healing art. How is it? Do you still hurt anywhere?”
“Huh? N-no. The painful spots… they don’t hurt at all.”
“That’s a relief. And don’t worry about the swords. They were ones that could disappear.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. So you don’t have to feel bad. I’m the one who left them here. It’s not your fault, Yeomhwa.”
At my words, tears spilled from his eyes.
“I treated someone this kind so terribly. I’m sorry.”
“Huh? When did you treat me terribly? I don’t remember that at all.”
He didn’t say anything more.
Even if he said it, I obviously wasn’t going to acknowledge it.
Starting today, he’d decided he was going to do everything he could to make things convenient for me.
I tilted my head as I watched the determined look settle on his face.
 
*****

That evening.
When he saw the sword I’d made “properly,” Yeomhwa was horrified.
It was a sword so perfect that he thought even Master Smith Cheon—supposedly the greatest among the Three Great Artisans of the Central Plains—couldn’t bring a blade to this level.
He stared at me with a look of reverence.
But I, the one who’d reforged the sword, looked unsatisfied.
“This isn’t it.”
Not it?
Startled, Yeomhwa asked,
“Surely you don’t mean you don’t like this sword, right?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
He was younger than me, so I’d decided to speak comfortably with him.
“Huhhh? Y-you don’t like this sword?”
“Why? Do you like it?”
Was that really a question?
There wasn’t a single place in the Central Plains where someone wouldn’t covet this sword.
Even Master Hye Gwang of Shaolin, who supposedly had no worldly desires at all, would snap his eyes open and rush over if he saw this.
It was that perfect, and yet I supposedly didn’t like it.
What, was I planning to make some legendary divine sword out of a storybook?
Or was I just messing with him?
He looked at me with that suspicion, but that didn’t seem to be it.
If I was serious, then he was curious.
What would a sword more perfect than this even look like?
“If you like it, take it. It’s a gift.”
Lost in his thoughts for a moment, Yeomhwa blinked, wondering if he’d misheard, and asked again.
“…Sorry? What did you just say?”
“I said that sword’s a gift. Take it.”
For a moment, he just stared at me blankly.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
I could make swords like that as much as I wanted.
If I felt like it, I could knock out hundreds of them—just ordinary swords.
Ah, I should mass-produce them here and hand them out to the fighters of True Martial Sect.
If a smith like Yeomhwa admired them this much, the fighters would be over the moon, right?
I’d just found the perfect gift to send back to True Martial Sect.
“Really, I can have this?”
I nodded.
“The hilt’s been destroyed, and the scabbard won’t fit, so you’ll have to make those yourself. Can you handle that?”
“Huh? Y-yes! Of course! Th-thank you!”
He stared at the sword again and again, full of awe.
A sword this magnificent was his.
And he made himself a promise.
He was going to become the kind of artisan who could make swords like this.
So that one day he could become someone as amazing as Jeok Wigang.
 
*****
The trainee smiths who’d stolen the swords from him crafted beautiful hilts and scabbards for them and presented them to certain people.
SRRRNG—
“Oho! What a splendid sword.”
“Hahaha. Are we really allowed to accept such a fine blade?”
They said that, but the three of them couldn’t take their eyes off the sword.
They were Process Overseers of the Main Artisan Court, the office that handled the practical affairs of the Heavenly Forge inside Heavenly Martial Castle.
Normally, it should have been the smiths of the Heavenly Forge who handled day-to-day operations.
And their chief should, of course, have been Master Smith Cheon, head of the Heavenly Forge.
But Master Smith Cheon and the smiths of the Heavenly Forge couldn’t care less about administration.
Their interest started and ended with iron and furnaces.
They didn’t care what happened with anything else.
Because of that, the Heavenly Forge was always full of problems, and eventually Heavenly Martial Castle decided enough was enough and created a higher office to manage it.
That was the Main Artisan Court.
The staff of the Main Artisan Court was made up of people who had once worked as smiths.
If you didn’t understand smithing, you couldn’t handle smithing affairs properly.
Thanks to that, the Heavenly Forge finally started to run smoothly.
The people at the Heavenly Forge were thrilled not to have to care about any of the other work.
Most of the Main Artisan Court staff did their jobs properly, but not everyone.
Among them, the corruption of the very people who should have been the fairest—the Process Overseers—was the worst.
They took bribes in exchange for raising smiths’ ranks.
That included trainee smiths.
A trainee who wanted to become a full smith but didn’t have the skill would give them bribes and become a full smith anyway.
They didn’t care what kind of bribe it was.
All that mattered was that their desires were satisfied.
“Hahaha. I happened to need a sword, and look how well this worked out. I’ll put it to good use.”
“I’ll be putting mine to good use as well.”
“I’ll be looking forward to the next examination.”
At that “looking forward to it,” the trainee smiths’ faces lit up.
They’d attacked Yeomhwa because they couldn’t stand the sight of him, and it turned out to be a blessing instead.
They did feel a little guilty, so they decided they wouldn’t bully him anymore.
After all, they’d achieved their goal of becoming full smiths.
And that was how the swords stolen from Yeomhwa ended up in the hands of the Main Artisan Court’s Process Overseers.
 
*****
On his way back to the lodging,
Yeomhwa thought back over everything that had happened that day and stroked the sword in his hand.
Too perfect, yet not perfect.
Perfect to him, but not perfect to me.
Fingering the sword like that, he headed for the lodging—when, in the distance, he saw Process Overseers walking along, laughing loudly and chatting happily.
Not wanting to run into them, he turned to take a different route—then stopped when he saw them take out swords and examine them from every angle.
The blade looked familiar.
He hurried [N O V E L I G H T] toward them.
The Process Overseers, who’d been enjoying themselves with the swords, jumped when he suddenly approached, then coughed awkwardly as if embarrassed.
“Ahem! What do you want?”
“That sword… where did you get it?”
“This sword?”
“And what business is it of yours if you know?”
“This is our sword. We have no reason to tell the likes of you anything, so beat it.”
The fact that they were shouting like that in flustered tones made it obvious they’d gotten them as bribes from someone.
And Yeomhwa already knew.
He knew the Process Overseers took bribes from trainee smiths, then promoted them to full smiths.
He’d never done such a thing—not once. That was why he still hadn’t been promoted.
His fellow trainees had already become full smiths and were working.
He could let other things slide.
But not when it came to my sword.
“That belongs to a guest of Heavenly Martial Castle. Please return it.”
“You little bastard? This sword is ours. You must be confusing it with another sword.”
“There’s no way I’m mistaken! Just looking at the blade, I can tell it’s his sword! Changing the hilt and scabbard isn’t going to fool me. Please return it. I have to return it to him.”
I’d said it was fine, but for Yeomhwa, it was anything but fine.
“Return it. If you don’t, I’ll file a formal complaint with the higher-ups.”
“You brat! Watch your mouth! I let you be, and now you’re crossing the line!”
“Do you not know we can throw you out of the Heavenly Forge as soon as tomorrow? Step back! This is your last warning.”
Even after the warning, when he showed no sign of backing down, the Process Overseers called out to someone.
“Hey! This man is threatening us!”
They called out to a Guard Corps trooper who happened to be passing by.
The Guard Corps were the ones who maintained order and security inside Heavenly Martial Castle.
“We’re Process Overseers of the Main Artisan Court, and this man has a grudge against us and is doing this! Remove him at once!”
After confirming the Overseers’ identity, the Guard Corps troopers turned to Yeomhwa.
“They say they’re frightened. Step away.”
“This is a misunderstanding! All I need is for them to give me that sword they’re holding.”
“You bastard! Why are you so obsessed with our sword? If you want one that badly, make your own!”
“He’s obviously taking out his frustration over not becoming a full smith the last time around! Arrest him at once.”
“If you don’t, we’ll file a formal complaint. We’ll say the Guard Corps, who are supposed to uphold order, are instead protecting a criminal!”
“The Captain of the Black-Tortoise Unit is my older brother! I’ll be telling my brother everything that happened today!”
The Black-Tortoise Unit Captain was a mid-level officer who managed the Guard Corps troopers and the practical commander of the unit.
At the mention that the Black-Tortoise Unit Captain was his older brother, the Guard Corps troopers glanced down at the Overseer’s nameplate.
Engraved on it was the name Dong Pyeong.
The Black-Tortoise Unit Captain’s name was Dong Gwang.
“Why are you looking at my nameplate? My brother’s name is Dong Gwang. Your Guard Corps Captain.”
Once they confirmed the matching family name, the Guard Corps troopers hurried to tie Yeomhwa up.
“Hold still!”