Prologue – Part 01
A katana lay across the surface, a naked blade with no scabbard, hilt, guard, or collar. After a ceremonial bow, the young man carefully grasped the tang—the part where the hilt attaches—and began wiping the blade with soft paper known as nuguigami. He wrapped the paper around the spine, not the edge, and slid it from base to tip, clearing away oil and debris.
Next, he took out some uchiko, a fine powder made from whetstone and wrapped in cotton, and lightly dusted both sides of the blade. Once evenly coated, he wiped the powder off with the nuguigami, sweeping away the last traces of oil along with the powder.
Though the blade appeared clean enough, he inspected it from different angles, then applied fresh oil with oiled paper, spreading it carefully across the edge and spine with precise finger pressure. He wiped off the excess, leaving the blade with a thin, glossy layer.
And thus the maintenance was complete. The blade now glowed with a muted sheen, carrying an unmistakable aura.
Exhaling softly, the young man began swiftly fitting the naked blade with various parts, starting with the guard and hilt. Cecily, who had been observing the whole process, could no longer follow the steps precisely.
The cluttered workshop was occupied by a furnace, hammers, and coal boxes. A beam of sunlight cut through the shutters and into the dim room, illuminating the motes of dust in the air. The only sound was the faint clinking of metal in the young man’s hands.
Cecily sat on a small stool, narrowing her fiery red eyes and holding her breath as she studied his sharp profile and hands.
Very strange, Cecily thought.
Whenever she watched a craftsman, her breath would slow, and even swallowing felt disruptive. She made herself fade into the background, as if it were her duty. Strangely, she found comfort in it.
The young man worked steadily. His work clothes were stained with soot, and his black hair was tied roughly behind his head. This was Luke Ainsworth, owner of Atelier Liza, a workshop quietly tucked away in a corner of the Independent Trade City. Though only seventeen, the way he sat on the ground and meticulously assembled the hilt showed a remarkable level of expertise.
“I usually keep up with maintenance,” Luke said, his right eye still focused on his hands, “but lately, it feels like I’ve been doing it more often.”
“Oh?” Cecily tilted her head, intrigued.
“That’s because you keep bringing trouble, Cecily Campbell.”
“Quit treating me like I’m a harbinger of doom,” she pouted. “Sure, you’ve helped me more than once, but I had to do my job. What do you want me to do?”
Cecily Campbell was a member of the Knight Guard, tasked with protecting the Independent Trade City.
Her attire included a breastplate that outlined her curves, a white waistcloth, and iron-tipped boots. A pendant, marking her status as a public servant, hung from her chest. Each piece of her outfit formed part of the uniform designated for the city’s Knight Guard. With few women in the corps, she had made several adjustments to better suit herself, but overall, she adhered to the standard design.
She thought back on the past few months—the expedition against a band of thieves who fought using Inhumans and demons, the flame demon rampage during the fair, and last month’s skirmish with Charlotte Firobisher and her retainers. Cursing the incidents themselves was one thing, but directing frustration at her, especially after being severely injured more than once, was unfair.
“I am perfectly justified,” Cecily said.
“Sometimes, it feels like you’re just using me for your own benefit.”
“As self-deprecating as it sounds, do you really think I’m clever enough to manipulate people?”
“You’re not, and that’s the scary part. You’re a natural airhead.”
Others often pointed out her no-nonsense attitude. But to call her a natural airhead?
“Can’t you do something about that sharp tongue of yours?”
“I’m just telling it as it is.”
“Always have something to say, don’t you?”
Luke shrugged. He sheathed the katana and pulled a toolbox closer, rummaging through it.
“So, when are you forging my katana?”
“Money,” came his short reply.
Cecily sighed. “I’ve already made my statement. I can’t back out now.”
“You did that to yourself.”
She had, indeed.
Her thoughts drifted to the recent Tri-Nation-One-City meeting, also known as the Valbanill Conference.
It was meant as an informal gathering of the continent’s leaders to discuss the worst Inhuman crisis in the continent’s history. Instead, it turned into a mess of political scheming and personal insults hurled directly at Luke. Cecily’s patience wore thin and she eventually snapped, making a bold proclamation.
“It will be me, wielding Luke’s katana, who will slay Valbanill!”
She reaped what she sowed. It was no exaggeration to say she blew herself up. Still, she didn’t regret a single word she said.
I regret nothing.
She would seal Valbanill with a katana forged by Luke. Not Luke, but her. This held significant meaning for Cecily.
Valbanill, an Inhuman sealed away by a Sacred Sword centuries ago, had reportedly revived in recent years, becoming a major concern for the continental nations. Luke was one of the few blacksmiths who had inherited the techniques to recreate that divine sword.
But their connection didn’t end there. Luke harbored a deep-seated hatred for Valbanill, rooted in the death of his childhood friend, Liza Oakwood, who had once aspired to join the Knight Guard. When she died, she left behind a demon named Lisa.
Luke loved Liza, and those feelings likely hadn’t changed. The name of his workshop was a testament to that. Beneath his tough exterior was a surprisingly resilient man.
Cecily didn’t want Luke to be consumed by revenge for Liza. At the very least, it should be someone else—like her—who confronted Valbanill directly. Revenge clouds the mind.
But that was just an excuse. The truth was, she didn’t want to be left out. When she thought of Liza, she felt oddly restless, and a nagging sense of urgency filled her mind, compelling her to get involved.
“What are you doing?”
Cecily noticed Luke assembling several grips. He wrapped the hilt, fitted the metal parts, drove in nails, and sewed the guard, completing multiple of them—all without the blades.
“You can’t tell? They’re stock. For what those bigshots call Infernal Bladecraft.”
She immediately caught on. Lisa’s ability as a demon worked by generating a simple furnace and briefly revisiting the subject’s past forging experiences to create a katana with special effects. The necessary materials included jewel steel as a base and bladeless hilts.
The Demon Pacts that created demons was one of the contractual faiths forbidden by continental law. Lisa, a product of such a pact, was spared because her powers were deemed valuable. This ability, which was useful in the fight against Valbanill, was conveniently referred to as Infernal Bladecraft.
Luke assembled the hilts one after another, piecing them together like a puzzle.
“Since I met you, I’ve had to make more of these,” he grumbled on. “You know jewel steel isn’t cheap, right? You can only use them once. I’d like to be compensated for the expense.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but held herself back. “I get it already,” she sulked. “I owe you a lot.”
“Do you really?”
Cecily hung her head. “Am I more audacious than I think?” she asked gingerly.
She had no regrets about what she said. But lately, she had been thinking about one thing a lot.
She was painfully aware of her own inexperience. In the months since joining the Knight Guard, she had constantly been bailed out by others—Luke, Aria, Lisa. She had never resolved a situation on her own.
“Maybe I’m thoughtless.”
Doubt settled in her heart. She questioned herself repeatedly. Was her boldness just empty words, without any action to back it up? Taking down Valbanill sounded like trying to catch smoke with her bare hands. Did she truly feel the weight of her words when she claimed she would kill that beast? Was there any substance in her decision?
Was she merely spinning her wheels?
Metals clashed, and Cecily looked up with a start. Luke was staring at her. The noise had come from him tossing aside the completed hilts. She realized something. He had a sharp tongue, but he handled his forging tools with care. He was clearly irritated.
“You got down on your knees that one time,” he said. “I think it was during the fair.”
“Huh? Ah, yeah.”
That incident had taken place in the Independent Trade City’s Third District. During the fair, where people from all over the continent gathered, a man had transformed into a demon and seized the Infernal Blade being auctioned. Cecily had pleaded with Luke on her knees to save her.
“Luke Ainsworth, I’ll give you whatever you want. If it’s money, I’ll pay you until the day I die. If it’s my body you want, take it. If it’s labor, I’ll break myself working for you. I’ll give you everything. Just please… lend me your strength.”
“You said you’d do anything, right?”
Now that he mentioned it, she did. But why bring it up now?
“Anything?”
Bewildered, Cecily almost nodded, when it hit her.
Luke’s left eye, an artificial one, was lifeless, but his right eye held a rare intensity. He wasn’t teasing or mocking her. He was just staring.
Anything?
“For example—”
“If it’s my body you want…”
“Ah!” Cecily’s face turned crimson. “Aaah, no!” She jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair. “W-Wait a minute! Calm down, Luke. Let me explain! I was desperate back then, okay? I wasn’t thinking straight. I wouldn’t say I slipped up, but I might’ve said more than I should have. I-I’m not about to go back on my word. I’m not that shameless! I’ll work like a horse, pay you back in money or valuables. B-But if possible, could we, uh, handle this… properly, you know, with respect, and in a genuine way, following the right steps. I-I’ll do anything, yes, but still…”
Luke burst into uncontrollable laughter. “I’m just kidding. I’m not a savage,” he said, waving her off. “Don’t overthink it. You’re more simple-minded than that, aren’t you? If you took every little jab seriously, I’d be the one getting thrown off. That’d be a pain.”
Clearly, he’d meant to cheer her up with some teasing. Cecily appreciated the thought, but there had to be a better way to do that.
“Still, the way you freaked out just now was hilarious. So, wait, if I approached you properly, respectfully, genuinely, following the right steps, it’s okay? Hah, good one. Over my dead body. Hey, why are you holding that sledgehammer?”
A sledgehammer was a smithing tool with a long wooden handle and a hammer attached to the end, used for striking and elongating heated iron. Although not its intended use, it made for a handy weapon to crack open a person’s skull.
“It’s not exactly a handy tool, you know.”
“Shut up, you lech!”
Face burning with anger, Cecily raised the sledgehammer high with both hands.
“Huh?”
But it was heavier than she expected, and she lost her balance, falling on her backside.
“Ugh, that’s not fair, Luke Ainsworth!”
“Relax. You’re behaving erratically.”
Luke casually took the sledgehammer from her. “You need to treat a craftsman’s tools with more care. My bad. Now, cool your head.” He extended a hand to help her up. “By the way, is your hand fully healed?”
“Yeah. No after-effects from the burn either.”
“That’s good.”
With Luke’s help, Cecily got to her feet. With nowhere to direct her anger, she puffed out her cheeks.
The sledgehammer was really heavy. It made sense, considering it was used to hammer tough iron.
“Does Lisa always use something this heavy? That’s incredible for someone so small.”
If she recalled correctly, Lisa’s job was to strike the iron with the sledgehammer. Lisa was only chest-high compared to Cecily, with slim arms. Even though she was a demon, her build and grip strength were likely no different from a human’s.
“There’s a trick to it.”
Luke effortlessly lifted the sledgehammer as a demonstration. His right hand gripped the middle of the handle, while his left held the end. He spread his legs to brace his body, and in a smooth motion, raised the sledgehammer high over his head. Rather than forcing it down with brute strength, he let the sledgehammer’s weight do the work, striking with precision. He repeated the motion a few times, each swing identical to the last.
“It took Lisa three years to get the hang of this. Strength and stamina matter, sure, but accuracy and consistency are more important. She used to practice swinging it whenever she had free time.”
Cecily watched in awe, letting out a quiet sound of admiration.
What Luke had just shown was like a perfected combat technique. When she swung a sword, she followed a similar set form. Whether slashing or thrusting, she refined it through repeated training and applied it in combat. What Luke demonstrated—and what Lisa had mastered—was undeniably a well-honed technique in the same sense.
“You’ve got a great assistant.”
“Yeah.”
Luke’s reply was curt, but Cecily caught the pride in his voice.
Regardless of her intentions, the demon Liza Oakwood had left behind for her childhood friend now devoted herself to supporting Luke of her own will. And for that, he was deeply grateful. If only he could express it more clearly.
“So about what you said,” Luke began.
“Hmm?”
“If you really meant what you said about doing anything—if something ever happens to me, I want you to take care of Lisa.”
The unsettling request came out of nowhere that Cecily didn’t know what to say.
“What?”
“Never mind,” Luke said, turning away. “Forget I said anything.”
“You’re not making any sense, and I don’t want to make sense of what you just said either. Either way, I definitely can’t promise something like that.”
“You’re right. So forget it.”
But it wasn’t that easy to forget. What was he trying to say? Did he think something would happen to him in the near future?
“It’s almost lunchtime. Shall we go?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.”
Luke abruptly ended the conversation. Cecily, sensing his forceful tone, had no choice but to drop the matter.
“But like I said, I’m not backing out of my promise. If there’s anything I can do for you, just say the word. N-Not anything, though. As long as it’s not creepy.”
“Stop blushing. You’re creeping me out.”
“Y-You perv!”
She hit his shoulder hard, but instead of being in pain, he chuckled. “Perv? Really?”
Embarrassed, Cecily tried to hide it by smacking him on the back a few times before ushering him outside. “Come on, let’s go.”
His ominous words lingered in her mind.
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