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Demons – Part 03

During their second break, Doris came to the conference room.

“Wait, Luke and Lisa are staying at an inn downtown?” Cecily asked in surprise.

“Yeah,” Doris said apologetically. “Actually, the sacred swordsmiths have gotten kind of competitive with Luke. Well, not him personally, but with blacksmiths in general. So, yesterday, they turned him away at the door. Luke, being stubborn, decided to stay at an inn near the workshop. This morning, he’s basically camped out in front of it. Lisa’s with him too.”

“No wonder I haven’t seen them around.”

Aw, I wanted him to see me in this dress. Cecily’s cheeks flushed when she realized what was on her mind.

“Hmm? What’s the matter, Cecily?”

“Oh, n-no, it’s nothing. So, you haven’t met up with Lisa yet?”

“That’s right,” Charlotte said. “I’d like to see her soon, but given the situation, it’s just not possible. But Zenobia,” She turned to her mistress. “Couldn’t you say something to the sacred swordsmiths?”

“I already did. But as inconsiderate as it might sound, I understand where they’re coming from,” Zenobia sighed. “The techniques the sacred swordsmiths use aren’t exactly commendable.”

Cecily blinked, glancing at the others. Charlotte and the rest seemed to know what Zenobia meant, scratching their cheeks awkwardly.

“Uh, what do you mean by that?”

“It’s rather embarrassing, but… their techniques were stolen.”

Stolen?

“There are various methods for forging katanas, but you know that the techniques for forging Sacred Swords are traditionally passed down only within the family, right?”

“Are you referring to Luke’s methods?”

“Yes. Mr. Luke Ainsworth is the legitimate successor.” Zenobia continued, “However, long ago, some people stole those techniques, made their own improvements, and turned them into their own method. That’s supposedly how the Militant Nation’s sacred swordsmiths came to be.”

“I-I can’t believe it.”

“But you see,” Doris cut in, “these are just allegations. There’s nothing about it in the official records, which makes things tricky. Those old sacred swordsmiths take a lot of pride in their craft, so even though deep down they know they stole those techniques, they never openly admit it. And that’s exactly why they’re so hostile toward Luke, the legitimate successor.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Zenobia apologized, and Charlotte and the rest of the girls did the same. Cecily didn’t know how to react. Charlotte’s group was one thing, but speaking with Zenobia sometimes made Cecily forget that she was the leader of an entire nation.

“Of course, I’ll speak with the sacred swordsmiths again myself,” Zenobia said, “but—and I know this is a bold request—I’m hoping the blacksmith could make an effort to meet them halfway. There are things that only the legitimate successor can convey. I should’ve mentioned this earlier, but things were so hectic yesterday that it completely slipped my mind. My apologies.”

“No, it’s fine,” Cecily said. She crossed her arms in thought. She more or less understood the gist of it.

But…

“I think it’ll be okay,” she said flatly.

Zenobia and the girls looked perplexed.

“Whether they stole techniques or not is a minor issue.”

“But…”

“Sure, there’s pride involved, but that’s trivial in the grand scheme of things. At least for Luke, his intentions go beyond petty concerns like that.” Cecily offered a small smile. “He just wants to forge a good sword for his goal. That’s all there is to it. I don’t think shallow pride can stand up to that kind of passion.”

The girls exchanged looks.

The capital of the Militant Nation was a city where work and life intermingled. Nearly every citizen was skilled in some craft, with artisans filling the streets during the day. The cold climate necessitated brick buildings rather than the stone ones seen in the Independent Trade City, and people dressed warmly. Judging by the commoners’ decent winter gear, it was clear this was a prosperous city.

Lisa was sprinting through the streets. Wrapped in a sheepskin cloak borrowed from the innkeeper, she carried another bundle under her arm. She weaved through the crowds, her breath visible in the frigid air, and navigated her way from the main street into the maze-like industrial district. After getting a bit lost, she asked a passing craftsman for directions and finally found her way past a spinning mill to her destination, the sacred swordsmiths’ workshop.

Even today, the sound of hammering iron echoed from within. Of the many chimneys, about half were spewing smoke.

Luke was at the entrance. Despite the freezing ground, he sat in perfect posture, back straight. He stared silently at the closed doors of the workshop. Though the forge inside roared, the doors themselves remained silent.

Watching him from behind, Lisa let out a quiet sigh. Blethyn said the Militant Nation’s meat dishes were amazing, but that was the least of her concerns now.

“Luke, I brought you some winter clothes. You’ll catch a cold if you don’t put this on.” She draped the fur cloak over his shoulders. He mumbled a soft “thank you” but didn’t move to put his arms through the sleeves. His eyes were still glued to the door.

Lisa settled next to him, crouching down and hugging her knees. The cobblestone felt like ice even through the fur, and she yelped.

“Could you tell me what’s going on now?” she asked, breathing into her cold, pale hands. “When did it start?”

How long had it been since the change appeared in his eye?

Luke’s gaze stayed fixed, but as if he had been waiting for her question, he finally spoke.

“I’ve felt something was off for a while, but I only clearly noticed it recently.”

“It’s not because of smithing work, is it?”

Losing an eye wasn’t uncommon among swordsmiths. Working so close to a thousand-degree forge often led to blindness. Luke had already lost his left eye, but that was due to the price of a Demon Pact. It wasn’t just damaged; the entire eyeball was gone. Now, his remaining right eye was losing its vision.

But Lisa suspected this wasn’t caused by ordinary smithing.

“It’s because of Infernal Bladecraft, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Luke confirmed with a sigh.

I knew it, Lisa thought, glancing up at the overcast sky.

Lisa’s demonic ability was known as Infernal Bladecraft. Using a furnace she summoned, the user could forge a single blade, created by drawing from the user’s past experience. Each sword, however, could only be replicated once. Swords created this way could also be imbued with special properties, like “heat” or “wind.”

Although not widely known, Infernal Bladecraft came with a cost. The demon sacrificed its own flesh, while the practitioner consumed their own soul. The demon’s flesh served as a binding agent, maintaining the sword’s structure, while the user’s soul became the source of the blade’s special powers.

“Why?” Lisa’s voice trembled.

But their situation was a bit different. Luke had been carefully limiting the amount of flesh and soul consumed so that the toll wouldn’t manifest outwardly. At least, that’s what she had been told. This was why Lisa didn’t show any noticeable signs of her flesh being worn away. There was only a faint sense of “consumption,” but no visible changes. It was also the reason why swords forged through the Infernal Bladecraft were fragile.

“We’re already in this together, remember? We swore we’d lose everything together.”

That was the vow they’d made the day they swore to reseal Valbanill. Though they’d spoken of loss, it was supposed to be symbolic. Just words.

But that wasn’t the case. Luke had lied. He himself was actually sacrificing his soul. And now, it was manifesting as vision loss.

“I even tried wearing glasses,” Luke muttered with a bitter smile. “But they didn’t help. The problem’s deeper than that.”

Since it was his very soul that was being whittled down, vision-correcting tools like glasses were ineffective.

“Something worse than blindness might be waiting in the future.”

Lisa turned to him, horrified. Losing his sight was only the beginning. If he kept using Infernal Bladecraft, his body would deteriorate even more.

“I’ve been using it too casually because it was handy, but to think it would cost me my sight.”

Why was he still lying?

“Stop lying already!” Lisa shouted, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. “You must’ve felt it. Even if you didn’t know exactly what it was, you had to have sensed that you were losing something. But you still kept using it!”

Finally, Luke turned his one good eye toward her.

“There were times I had no choice but to use it.”

He wasn’t wrong. There were countless battles they’d only survived because of Infernal Bladecraft. Even before Cecily had joined them, they’d faced enemies that would have killed them otherwise.

But still…

“Why is it only you who has to pay the price?”

They had promised to share the burden.

Luke said nothing. But Lisa already knew the answer.

“You didn’t need to protect me!” she cried.

She knew. Despite his gruff and stubborn demeanor, deep down, Luke was kind-hearted. No one knew that better than her, after watching him closely for the past three years.

“Why? You’re such an idiot, Luke. A huge idiot. A complete idiot.”

She knew he was an idiot—a complete, utter fool—who would go so far to protect a demon made with the flesh of his childhood friend.

As she sobbed, a hand reached out to wipe her tears away.

“Yeah, I might be an idiot,” Luke said softly.

The touch of his fingertips against her damp cheeks felt both cold and warm at once.

“Still… I’ll keep using your ability.”

Lisa lifted her gaze in utter disbelief. His remaining eye met hers, steady and unflinching.

“When it’s necessary, I won’t hesitate.”

“No! I don’t want that!”

“I don’t care about what you want. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”

And then suddenly, out of nowhere, Lisa felt the world go silent. The relentless clang of smithing from the workshop had stopped entirely. It felt as though there were only the two of them left in the world. Of course, she knew it was just an illusion.

“I have so many things I want to protect now. And you’re one of them.”

She already knew, but hearing the certainty in Luke’s voice hit her like a wave.

“Please… let me keep doing what I do.”

What am I even doing? Lisa wondered.

It wasn’t what she wanted, but Luke had always been there for her—watching out for her, protecting her. He’d sacrificed so much of himself for so long. And here she was, crying, making a scene, causing him more trouble. She was forcing him to beg.

What am I supposed to do?

What had been lost could never be regained. So, what was the next step?

Luke said to let him keep doing what he did. He counted her among the things he wanted to protect. If that was true, then her role as his apprentice was clear.

Lisa stood up. The door to the workshop was right in front of her. She rushed to it and pounded on it furiously with her fists.

“Excuse me! Please, open up!” She didn’t hold back. Blood began to drip from her knuckles, but she kept pounding. “Let us in! Please! I’m begging you. Open the door!”

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Lisa stumbled into the workshop.