The old man kept mumbling curses from afar, voice shaky but nonstop.
"Crazy kid… damn demon… who the hell crafts shit like that…"
Then—
Bomp.
The burnt handle of the sickle popped loose and smacked him right on the head before dropping to the ground with a sad clatter.
The old man froze.
He slowly picked up the sickle. Or what was left of it.
"My… my forty-five year old sickle…" he whispered.
His knees gave out and he dropped to the ground, staring at it like someone just killed his dog. He rubbed the handle with his thumb.
"That thing's been with me half my damn life…"
Silence.
Then he grabbed a rock.
"YOU BASTAR—"
Gone.
Shun was already sprinting down the dirt path, He blasted straight back to the old man's house, nearly tripping over a fence.
"Dumdum! MOVE YOUR ASS!"
He grabbed his bag, yanked the reins, threw everything together in a mess and ran without looking back.
Shun wandered around the town for a bit.
Head down.
He felt… guilty.
Maybe. A little.
Also bored as hell.
Then—
"Psst… lad. Come here for a sec."
An old lady waved him over from her doorstep.
"You look hungry. I've got some food inside."
Shun stopped and looked at her.
Suspicious as fuck.
His eyes narrowed. This is how people die, he thought.
Before he could say anything—
Dumdum's ears twitched.
Food.
The bastard didn't even hesitate. He grabbed Shun by the reins and straight-up dragged him toward the house.
"HEY—"
Too late.
They were already inside.
Shun glared at Dumdum, pointing at his stupid face.
"Dumdum… you fuck. Do you have no sense of danger at all?"
Shun sat down at the dining table.
Stiff…
Guard up.
Dumdum was already beside him, mouth full, chewing like he owned the place.
"Oi—slow the fuck down," Shun muttered, but Dumdum ignored him and kept eating.
The old lady chuckled softly.
"You can eat. There's no poison in it."
"…That's exactly what someone with poison would say," Shun replied.
Still, his stomach betrayed him. He picked up the bowl and started eating.
Then the old lady spoke again, calm as ever.
"You caused quite a loud commotion earlier, huh."
—FUUUUUU—
Shun spat food everywhere, coughing as he shot up from his chair.
"SHIT—"
He grabbed the edge of the table, ready to bolt.
"Relax, lad," the old lady said quickly. "I'll get you some water."
She stood up like nothing happened and walked off.
Shun froze.
"…What?"
She came back, placed a cup in front of him, then sat down.
"Allow me to introduce myself," she said, smiling.
"I'm Merra. The chief of this village."
The old lady slid a glass of water toward Shun.
He didn't even thank her. Just grabbed it and chugged the whole thing down in one go.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
"—Haaah," he breathed out.
She watched him with amused eyes.
"It's surprising," she said, "to see someone your age already reach this place. And a blacksmith too."
Shun wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
"Eh… kinda. Sorta," he replied.
"Where did you come from?" she asked.
"…The Capital," Shun answered.
The old lady hummed.
"I see. The Capital of Verdancyrr, huh…"
She leaned back a little.
"Have you explored the town already?"
"Barely," Shun said.
She nodded.
"Every house here has a smithy," she said. "We're descendants of blacksmiths. All of us."
Shun blinked. "All?"
"All," she repeated.
She stood up and slowly walked toward the window.
"We came from the southern region," she continued. "Three hundred years ago. Our ancestors crossed the Dark Sea. All the way from the south… to the north."
Shun followed her gaze.
Outside the window stood a weathered statue.
A man holding a sword… Simple stance… Firm grip.
The old lady spoke softly.
"That man… is the one we were chasing. The greatest blacksmith this world has ever seen."
Shun frowned. "Chasing?"
"He forged the weapons of the Five Great Heroes," she said. "And then vanished."
Shun stared at the statue.
"…Huh," he muttered.
For some reason, his chest felt tight.