Chapter 130 Blaire’s Lair: The Incompetent Weaponsmith

“Ow…” The woman muttered, caressing her hip. The fall was quite sudden, providing her with no time to react. However, she couldn’t allow the visitors to continue waiting. Clutching her hip, she somehow walked forward in pain.

Four eyes peeked through the cracks in the door.

The woman, realizing her fall had been witnessed, reddened in embarrassment. She slowly opened the door, only to see a crimson-eyed man and a muscular man standing at her doorstep.

Their eyes contained disappointment and ridicule, which caused a pang in the woman’s heart. Such negative emotions towards her arrival… she couldn’t stand it.

*

‘What the fuck…’ Arthur muttered internally, observing the woman’s appearance. Not only was she incredibly clumsy, her clothes were somewhat tattered and covered in dirt, while her hair was disheveled.

With an unkempt appearance such as hers, Arthur did not have high hopes. High Guardian Nux hadn’t mentioned the specifics, but Arthur still hoped for someone who didn’t seem so useless at what they practiced.

‘A weaponsmith…’ Arthur muttered internally, glancing at the debris around him. So, they were the metals and iron from the forging of certain weapons. However, observing their state, the metals did not seem to hold any value.

A great weaponsmith or a blacksmith could preserve the value of metals even after forging a weapon using it.

However, the woman–Blaire, clearly seemed unable to do so.

“Welcome,” said Blaire, her cheeks crimson. She stood by the door, motioning for the two to enter by flailing her arms. Her voice was high-pitched, and her hands were somewhat muscular–probably to the nature of her profession.

Her skin was quite dark and contained several burn marks. With dark pink hair and a tattered jumpsuit designed for smithing, she seemed somewhat competent, on second glance. Although, it still wasn’t what Arthur expected.

The two visitors entered the smithy.

Arthur’s hair swept back immediately due to the heat that permeated across the smithy. The wind was strong, and contained sparks of flames he constantly had to brush off of his clothes. Randy’s expression crumpled.

His constitution, however, assisted in withstanding the heat.

The interior of the smithy was rugged, and crafted using uneven, gray bricks. The anvil and forge were placed in the center of the smithy, while the tools were strapped to the wall on the right.

A single window, along with the front door, provided the entirety of the smithy’s ventilation. The window was dusty, covered in cobwebs and what seemed like ants.

The tools of the smithy were quite basic, and involved hammers, tongs, chisels, and a few others.

Randy’s skin became piping hot in seconds, but he resisted the urge to exit the smithy. A smithy was bound to contain unparalleled heat, especially if the blacksmith or weaponsmith was involved in forging mana artifacts.

The heat required to heat the metal and the coldness required to quench it was incredible, but were two extremes of opposite natures. The blacksmith needed to be incredibly resistant to such rapid changes in temperature.

Arthur simply coated his body in a thin layer of mana.

“I apologize for making you wait so long,” said Blaire, emerging from the pile of metals. Arthur scrunched his eyebrows, as he hadn’t noticed her enter the smithy after his entrance. Blaire’s stealth was obviously at a different level.

Noticing Randy’s condition, Blaire’s eyes widened slightly. She hesitated before flicking her wrist. In an instant, a black cloak crafted using a thin, rubber-like cloth covered Randy’s body, causing his expression to loosen.

His muscles–including his facial muscles–relaxed.

“What is this?” Randy asked, caressing the cloak with a stupefied expression.

“A cloak forged using a material from the 63rd floor,” said Blaire with a troubled expression. She draped another cloak on her body, gazing meaningfully at Randy. “Make sure not to rip that cloak… Nux gave it to me a long time ago.”

Randy nodded.

“Do you need one?” Blaire inquired, turning to face Arthur, who shook his head.

“Shall we get to the point?” Arthur asked, motioning to a nearby bench.

“Ah, you can sit,” said Blaire, letting out an embarrassed chuckle. Her demeanor seemed meek, as if she found the interaction awkward. Arthur guessed she was not accustomed to visitors.

Or just social interactions, in general.

Arthur and Randy took a seat on the bench, which was an assortment of various bricks piled atop each other. As soon as Randy’s buttock landed on the bricks, he shot up. He caressed his buttock.

“Hot?”

“Yeah…” Randy replied. He sat again, but this time, draped the cloak over his rear. Blaire’s expression worsened, as if she was worried about the stains that might remain on the cloak after use.

“I’m Blaire.”

“Randy.”

“Arthur.”

Once the short introductions were over, Blaire took a seat on a nearby bench, crossing her legs and resting her chin on her palm. Her elbow rested on her inner thigh, and a thoughtful expression hung on her face.

“We’re here for an explanation about–”

“Why Erk got arrested?” Blaire finished the sentence, giggling. Instead of nodding, Arthur and Randy glanced at each other, shocked. They were here for an explanation about Nux’s relationship with Heather…

Wait, Erk, the bull Guardian, had been arrested?

Noticing their changes in expression, Blaire’s expression progressively darkened. Eventually, her smile faded. “Did you guys… not come here for that explanation? But Nux told me… shit, he said that was a secret.”

Blaire mumbled a few curses under her breath, berating herself for revealing such a secret. Erk’s arrest was entirely confidential, and was not revealed to even mid-rank clans. ‘How could I forget…’

“We’re here for an explanation about Nux’s relationship with Heather… And how she became an administrator of the system.”

“Administrator?” Randy raised an eyebrow, finally realizing where Heather’s power originated from. Arthur’s information was shocking, but it was to be expected. Such power was difficult to obtain without mana, and without sufficient training.

Heather’s fists contained power, but her movements were not fluid. The strength–at the time–seemed genetic.

So, an Administrator…

It only seemed reasonable in Randy’s mind.

But how was Arthur aware?

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