The remaining time before the storm passed with hasty preparations. Vivi crafted another two tips for new missiles, while the ballistics crew practiced with the singular existing missile. Vivi performed the job two hours faster compared to her first time, though the blacksmithing process was still arduous. She had ideas on how to improve the design, but for now, she crafted what she knew would work.

The missiles weren’t the only weapons Vivi wanted to improve and work on. She wanted to improve the ballistas themselves. She wanted to meet up with Civar to discuss skill wisps. Coshi was picking a mentor for her, whom Vivi would need to regularly meet with—all the while she still had her own swords to work on.

She just didn’t have time. Not while storm season was still ongoing, with two more storms even more concentrated than the first breaking near Shivenar’s walls. The surge crew, or hazard crew as Coshi called it, was currently laying ether sticks on the storm zones.

With the two missile tips finished and delivered to Patryn to be attached to shafts, the storms were two hours away from their forecasted time of breaking. Vivi should have already been there in case the storm broke early, but she still had one task remaining before she could depart.

Clad in her dress, Vivi knocked on the door of Grandpa’s smithy, located right across from the Lost Raindrop. It wasn’t really a smithy as much as it was a storage basement, previously owned by a brewery in another district. A narrow and steep stairway led underground beside the alleyway, as if Vivi was entering a shady black market.

Grandpa didn’t answer. Vivi knocked again.

No answer.

Vivi sighed, then summoned the spare key Lucas had given her in case of emergency. She calmly opened the door, avoiding loud noises.

A gentle scraping sound immediately reminded Vivi of home. The smithy was dark, exactly as Grandpa liked it, with thick air and temperature even hotter than the scorch of the facets outside. The forge crackled, emberstones filled with ether. Grandpa had asked for a bloomer furnace for smelting metals, but when the demons didn’t know what a bloomer furnace even was, Grandpa gave in and accepted modern technology.

Vivi stayed by the door, watching him work. Grandpa faced a complicated set of veins without safety glasses, a crochet hook in hand. Ether flowed from his core, into the ether root. He seemed to be working on the fourth root.

Vivi couldn’t help but admire. The veins were so impossibly tight, like a pure work of art. Compared to Grandpa’s current work, Blossom was barely an inconvenience. The four roots in front of him now would have easily created the strongest sword in Shivenar. Yet, a wave of terrified awe caught Vivi when she spotted loops within the fourth set of veins.

Grandpa intended to go for a fifth. Vivi couldn’t see a path for a fifth root at all. She squinted. Even then, she only saw tiny, barely conceivable gaps within the veins. The loops themselves were too small to fit a crochet hook through. There was almost no margin for error.

Vivi wondered if she could talk to Grandpa at all. She wouldn’t want to interrupt such a masterpiece. Even standing still felt wrong, like her presence could somehow ruin his focus.

While shaping a loop near the top of the fourth ether root, Grandpa’s brows suddenly twitched. He bit his lip, then shouted, “Fuck!”

A cling resounded as he tossed his crochet hook to the ground with force. He loosened the vise, grabbed hold of the masterpiece, and tossed it as well. The veins deformed, and Grandpa continued cursing.

Vivi’s mouth was ajar, confused. “What happened? You didn’t make a mistake?”

Grandpa paused, hearing her voice. He spotted her. “Oh, shit. How long were you there?”

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“A few minutes,” Vivi said. She stepped deeper and glanced at the veins on the ground. They were ruined from the impact now, but she still couldn’t see a mistake. “Why did you stop? It looked good to me.”

Grandpa sat down on his anvil, leaning down on his thighs. “The loop grew way too thick. It’s a goddamned disaster. My fingers feel sloppy, my lungs are weak. I can barely fucking focus.”

Vivi glanced again at the loop in question. Only when squinting, ether in her eyes, could she see even the slightest error. Perhaps a thirtieth of an inch—a level of precision Vivi wouldn’t have considered a mistake in her own work.

Horrifyingly, all of the other loops below it appeared mathematically perfect. Vivi couldn’t spot any errors at all.

“Grandpa…” Vivi said. “What are you doing? You were supposed to craft swords to defend storm season. Not to go for attempts like these!”

Grandpa gritted his teeth, looking genuinely upset. “I did craft one quick piece of shit.”

He stood with a pained groan, walked over to a door at the back of his smithy, revealing an undecorated empty room. Vivi peeked in over his shoulders.

The ground was littered in failed sets of veins. Shiny growth of ether roots covered the floor like an infestation of veins. There were at least a dozen failed projects, some dun as early as the first root, some up to the fourth root. One reached all the way to the start of the fifth root when Grandpa tossed it away.

Vivi’s mouth hung open, staring at the mess. “Grandpa! What have you been doing?”

Grandpa picked something up from a wall stand with a frown on his face. He came back and closed the door, now carrying a dark mithril greatsword. A completed sword, one that seemed to have four runes.

“Here’s one,” Grandpa said. “Mass, strength, crush—all the power runes for maximum damage, and a sharpness rune to ensure that whatever it hits will be cut out of existence.”

Vivi’s balance shifted as she picked up the sword. She required ether just to hold it. And by adding ether into it, the sword would only get heavier. This was easily the clumsiest sword Vivi had held, but it was also the most destructive. Vivi felt chills, thinking about hitting anything with the sword.

Lucius admired it from her core as well. He saw ether, Vivi knew. This sword was probably one of the most destructive weapons Grandpa had crafted.

“Do you have a name for it?” Vivi asked.

“Feel free to come up with something,” Grandpa said. “That’s a heavy hitter, as was asked. I wouldn’t give it a name. It’s trash.”

Vivi didn’t know whether to frown or stare at him in astonishment. The veins in the sword were tight—of course they were. This was Grandpa’s sword. It was much better than anything Vivi had crafted so far.

“The demons will think this is a national treasure, you know,” Vivi said.

“And I’m not okay with that,” Grandpa said. “It’s a piece of junk, Vivi. I’m not asking money for it. Feel free to use it while I craft something better.” He picked up another root, tightening it in his vise. “Now, get out.”

Vivi crossed her arms. “Grandpa. We need a lot of swords. Not one masterpiece. If you’re crafting five-runed swords, make sure you can complete them.”

Grandpa matched the scowl. “You’re already a millionaire. We can fail as much as we want.”

“And what about storm season?” Vivi shouted. “Stoms are about to break outside city walls. Not just simple surges. Full storms. The demons are fighting with outside-carved swords!”

“Shivenar has stood for thousands of years with their shitty swords,” Grandpa said. “They’re not going to fall now.”

“This season is different,” Vivi argued. “The forecasters say—”

“Vivi,” Grandpa said, eyes fully serious. “I’ve been a runesmith for over fifty years now. My swords are at the point where blacksmithing becomes difficult from the sheer amount of ether roots inside the metal. But I’m still not even close to the limit of inside-carving yet. I’m not about to leave this world with swords like those as my best work.”

A pout found its way to Vivi’s face. We need swords, you know… We really need them.

Somehow, she found it hard to argue. “You’re going for six-runed attempts, aren’t you?” Vivi asked.

“Yeah,” Grandpa said. “Every legendary runesmith has their own signature sword. Qico crafted the Nameless Monarch, the dragonslayer. Hank has his own pattern. Randuin carved the Impenetrable Fortress, the best armor to exist.” He frowned at the four-runed sword in Vivi’s hands. “And what will I have? That excuse of a sword?”

“You invented inside-carving!”

That didn’t seem to satisfy Grandpa. “And I intend to be the best at it for a long time to come. Get out, Vivi, and leave me to work.”

She crossed her arms at him for a moment longer, biting her lip. Grandpa wouldn’t budge, she already knew.

Vivi walked away, slamming the door shut. That damned idiot!

Lucius appeared strangely amused. “I see where you got your personality now.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

“Nothing,” Lucius said with a funny grin. “He just reminds me of you.”

Vivi rolled her eyes. Whatever, Lucius. We have a storm to fight.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep