The forge blazed inside Hephaestus's workshop, bathing the room in red.
An unfinished longsword rested on the anvil, its blade gleaming in the firelight.
Hephaestus sat before it with a hammer in her hand, but she had yet to bring it down.
Her gaze rested on the sword without truly seeing it. It seemed to pass through the blade, through the walls, even through time itself, settling somewhere far away.
Tsubaki stood in the doorway with her arms folded, watching her distracted goddess with a deep frown.
She had been watching all morning. From sunrise until now, Hephaestus had lost herself in thought again and again.
Each time, she sat before the anvil with her hammer in hand, her gaze unfocused and her lips faintly curved. It was an expression Tsubaki had never seen on her goddess before, the involuntary sweetness and shyness of a girl thinking about someone she loved.
At last, Tsubaki could stand it no longer.
She entered the workshop and stopped beside Hephaestus, her voice carrying both exasperation and amusement.
"Hephaestus-sama, you're nothing like your usual self today. It hasn't even been half a day, and you've already spaced out seven or eight times!"
Hephaestus gave a slight start.
She turned to Tsubaki, confusion flickering in her uncovered eye before embarrassment quickly replaced it.
Her cheeks flushed, the color especially noticeable in the forge light.
Clearing her throat, she put down her hammer and straightened, trying to recover her usual bearing as the calm, composed, unsmiling goddess of smithing.
"Ahem. Did you need something?"
Her voice sounded a little strained. She was clearly trying to cover her embarrassment.
Tsubaki became even more certain that something was wrong with her goddess today.
Very wrong.
When had Hephaestus ever spoken in that tone?
When did she blush?
When did she let her mind wander?
She was the goddess of smithing. Ordinarily, she could spend an entire day absorbed in her work without the slightest distraction.
Today, she seemed like a different person.
"There is something I wanted to ask you, Hephaestus-sama."
Tsubaki's tone grew serious.
"What is it? Go ahead."
Hephaestus's voice steadied, though a little color remained in her cheeks.
Tsubaki took a deep breath and recounted the rumors that had recently been circulating through Orario.
"There's a story going around that the Astraea Familia members never faked their deaths to carry out a secret mission, like the Guild claims. People are saying they really died, then someone brought them back."
Hephaestus's pupil contracted.
"And…"
Tsubaki's expression grew more solemn.
"According to some of those rumors, the one who resurrected them was Genichi."
Hephaestus's uncovered eye widened, its pupil shrinking almost to a pinpoint.
Her hand tightened against the anvil until her knuckles turned white, her nails almost digging into the iron.
Countless thoughts flashed through her mind.
Genichi. Resurrection magic. Divine authority. Artemis. Ishtar.
And the words that had left her so restless.
"Hephaestus-sama? Hephaestus-sama?"
Tsubaki's voice seemed to reach her from far away, muffled behind thick glass.
Hephaestus came back to herself and looked at her, momentarily bewildered.
"Hmm? What is it?"
The corner of Tsubaki's mouth twitched.
She had drifted off again.
Tsubaki sighed and repeated her question.
"I asked whether it's true. Can Genichi really bring back the dead? Was he the one who resurrected the Astraea Familia members?"
Hephaestus was silent for a moment, then nodded.
"It's true."
Given that, how could she possibly underestimate him?
Tsubaki's breath caught.
Of course she knew Genichi was strong. Ever since he had begun making a name for himself in Orario, she had known there was something extraordinary about him.
But she had never imagined he was capable of this.
Resurrecting the dead belonged to a realm only the gods could touch.
Yet Genichi, a human adventurer who had been reincarnated as a devil only a few months ago, had accomplished it.
"Then…"
Tsubaki's voice was dry.
"Can he resurrect anyone? Or are there limitations?"
Hephaestus shook her head.
"I don't know. I haven't seen him use resurrection magic myself, and I haven't asked him about the details. But as far as I know, he did bring back all the Astraea Familia members who died. They're no different from when they were alive. They can eat, drink, and fight. They're even stronger than before."
Tsubaki fell silent.
Countless thoughts raced through her mind.
If Genichi could bring back the dead, what would that mean?
Fallen heroes could return. Families torn apart by tragic accidents could be reunited. Orario's strength could soar overnight.
But it also meant countless people would set their sights on him. Factions would compete to draw him to their side, and all too many would see him as a tool or a bargaining chip.
"Hephaestus-sama…"
Tsubaki's voice grew grave.
"This could become very complicated."
Hephaestus watched her in silence for a moment, then sighed.
"I don't know. Genichi is a complicated person. I don't understand his motives, his goals, or where he draws the line."
Tsubaki nodded without saying anything more.
"Tsubaki."
Hephaestus's voice stopped her.
She looked up.
The goddess's expression had grown serious, a strange light shining in her uncovered eye.
"Don't go spreading stories about Genichi. Especially anything about his resurrection magic. Keep that from reaching too many people."
Tsubaki paused briefly.
"Understood."
Hephaestus waved a hand.
"Go on. I'd like to be alone for a while."
Tsubaki turned and left. Her footsteps echoed through the workshop before fading at the far end of the corridor.
Silence settled over the room. Only the crackling forge remained, while the unfinished sword still radiated heat from atop the anvil.
Hephaestus sat before it, looking at the blade.
But someone else filled her thoughts.
Genichi.
His eyes, calm and deep, like a lake whose bottom lay beyond sight.
His voice, low and steady, carrying a force that made him difficult to refuse.
His faint smile, edged with danger, like a hunter's excitement upon spotting prey.
Her cheeks reddened again.
Biting her lower lip, she picked up her hammer and brought it down hard on the blade.
Clang!
Sparks scattered, and the sword trembled.
She struck again.
Clang!
And again.
Clang, clang, clang!
She kept hammering, as though venting something, or trying to escape it.
The hammer rose and fell. Sparks flew, and the blade shuddered against the anvil with each ringing blow.
She did not know why she kept blushing, why her thoughts kept wandering, or what she was waiting for.
She only knew that this young man was unlike anyone she had ever met.
There was no reverence in the way he looked at her, no fear, no attempt to curry favor. He looked at her as though she were an ordinary woman, someone he wanted to pursue.
That gaze felt unfamiliar.
It also unsettled her.
Hephaestus set down her hammer, leaned back in her chair, and tilted her head toward the ceiling.
Firelight flickered overhead like countless tiny eyes watching her.
(End of Chapter)
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