Anagin Chronicles

Chapter 101. The Groom Tournament (3)

It was not a sudden decision.

To change the name of Beast Cleaver to Beast Devourer, and to add a new phrase—「And then I devour that beast.」—to its existing inscription.

Of course, it was not as if he had intended that from the very beginning.

When it broke against Periphetes, all he had thought about was repairing Beast Cleaver.

But it did not take long for him to realize that would not be enough.

The world was crawling with bastards stronger than Periphetes.

Devourer Erysichthon, Meleager the Immortal, The Great Warrior Atalanta, and the like.

Even if he repaired Beast Cleaver, it was obvious it would only end up breaking again before long.

What a pointless thing that would be.

To have it break again, not long after fixing it.

That would be the very definition of a pointless endeavor, and Anagin did not like pointless endeavors.

Then the answer was simple.

Go beyond mere repairs and reinforce it to become stronger.

Only then would it be able to endure the journey that lay ahead for Anagin.

And so Anagin began to consider how Beast Cleaver—no, Beast Devourer—could grow stronger.

A way for it to strengthen itself without the help of a master craftsman like Grumbal.

He could hardly keep running to Grumbal every time and asking for help.

It was quite a difficult problem.

But when he looked back on the past, there had been a method.

After shattering the Gate Shield with Giant’s Bed, he had absorbed the Yeom imbued within the Gate Shield—that was one example.

Beast Devourer would butcher beasts and absorb their power in the same way.

Of course, Anagin had no way of knowing whether such a method was even possible—but so what?

For now, he decided to just go for it, and soon came up with the phrase above.

「I skin beasts, slice their flesh, and sever their bones. And then I devour that beast.」

He poured into it his wish that Beast Devourer would butcher beasts and absorb their strength.

Though Anagin was not well-versed in magic, an inexplicable confidence welled up within him that it would somehow work.

Just as he had grown stronger by hunting beasts and eating their meat, he felt certain Beast Devourer could do the same.

Carried by the momentum, the moment he thought of the additional phrase, he also decided to change its name.

A name was identity; it seemed fitting to have a new name suited to its new function.

More than anything, Beast Devourer simply sounded cooler than Beast Cleaver.

But as always, the real issue was whether the enhancement would succeed.

Anagin waited for Grumbal’s answer.

Whether the phrase he had conceived could be engraved—and whether that function could truly be realized.

After a brief silence, Grumbal finally opened his mouth.

“I don’t know.”

“…Hm? You don’t know?”

At the deflating answer, Anagin made no effort to hide his disappointment. Was this guy a fraud? He called himself an expert, didn’t he?

Sensing the suspicion in Anagin’s gaze, Grumbal raised his voice.

“Whether a magical tool can be enhanced is something you only find out after you try! Anyone who makes promises lightly is the real fraud!!”

Judging by his reaction, it seemed to be the truth. Anagin nodded in understanding.

If the expert said so, then he should believe him.

“Then can you at least tell me the likelihood of success?”

“That depends on you.”

When Anagin looked at him as if to ask what that was supposed to mean, Grumbal hesitated briefly before answering.

He looked as though he found it troublesome to explain, yet the fact that he did so suggested he must have been in a decent mood today.

“Didn’t I say earlier? When time, history… a narrative accumulates in an object, its aura changes.”

“You said that’s why the inscription has to be engraved carefully. What about it?”

“If you’ve acted in a way befitting the phrase you intend to engrave, the chances are high. If not, they’re low.”

Grumbal warned that if, while wielding Beast Cleaver, Anagin had acted in a manner suited to the phrase he now wished to carve into it, then the probability of success would be high. Otherwise, it would be low.

“It’s similar to how even a fine warhorse becomes a plow horse in the hands of a country farmer. The value of an object can be determined by its owner.”

“I think I get the gist. If I want to engrave a grand phrase, I have to have lived up to it?”

Grumbal nodded, but Anagin merely nodded back without much reaction.

He even seemed somewhat indifferent.

At that, a faint curiosity flickered across Grumbal’s face.

”You’re calm. Are you confident?”

”It’s not exactly confidence, I’ve just done my best up until now.”

Unlike his usual self, Anagin adopted a somewhat humble attitude.

If this had been the old Anagin, he would have boasted that it would definitely succeed. But not now.

He no longer evaluated himself so lightly.

Too many things had happened last winter.

Memories of being utterly powerless, of making foolish judgments.

So Anagin refrained from judging himself rashly.

Of course, whenever he took on a task or made a choice, he steeled his will to succeed no matter what—but that was merely an act of resolve.

His self-assessment was another matter entirely. He would simply do his best and let the results speak.

Well, if asked whether he thought it would succeed or fail, his heart did lean toward success.

After all, he had spent all this time moving however the hell he pleased with everything he had, and beating the hell out of rotten bastards with everything he had.

If Grumbal’s words were true, perhaps Beast Cleaver really could become Beast Devourer. With fairly high odds.

Of course, that was only an assumption.

If it succeeded, great. If it failed, he would accept that it simply was not meant to be.

He had no intention of changing the way he acted just because of a sword’s evaluation….

After hearing Anagin’s answer, Grumbal showed no particular reaction.

He merely pressed his lips together and seemed to ponder something for a moment.

“So when will the sword be finished?”

“It’ll take some time, so don’t rush me. First, I need to keep heating it and fuse Beast Cleaver and the bronze club further into one.”

Anagin looked at Beast Devourer, blazing ominously atop the white-hot furnace.

It seemed they had not yet completely fused.

“After that, it needs to be quenched, and then I’ll engrave the phrase with this.”

From his work apron, Grumbal pulled out an old chisel and hammer.

It appeared he would use them to carve the inscription.

“Of course, it will be completed when the magical tool itself wishes to be completed….”

Near the end, Grumbal spoke meaningfully.

That a magical tool would be completed when it wished to be completed.

Well, it was not entirely nonsensical.

He had already heard more than enough that magical tools, to varying degrees, possessed their own will. In stronger cases, they even developed an ego.

‘Wait, then could Beast Devourer develop an ego too?’

At the sudden question that arose, Anagin pondered.

Would it be good or bad for a sword to develop an ego?

Not an easy matter to judge.

But Anagin soon found his answer.

Don’t think about that crap.

The sword was not even finished yet—worrying about that now was a waste.

It would be better to deal with the matters piled up right in front of him first.

And that matter was—

“Good, make it like this.”

Just as Anagin was about to leave the forge after finishing his business, he heard a somewhat familiar voice.

The tone was low, not very loud, yet carried a heavy weight that struck the ear clearly.

It was Thyreos of the New Argonaut Expedition Team, known for reinforcement.

With his eye-catching bulk, he was commissioning an item—not from Grumbal, but from another blacksmith.

“Make the shield thicker than the last one, and the hammer bigger.”

The man who had silently supported his comrades was gesturing as he detailed the specifications of his new weapons.

‘Ah, right. That guy got everything smashed by Periphetes….’

Thyreos, whose hammer and shield had both been shattered by Periphetes.

Perhaps that fight had left quite an impression, as he was ordering a shield and hammer far thicker and larger than before.

Considering that even the previous ones had been at the very limit of what he could properly handle, it was a bold choice.

Then again, he had been overwhelmed in his proud strength and beaten in a straightforward clash. It was no wonder it weighed on his mind.

As Anagin thought this and turned to leave, Thyreos, who must have felt his gaze, looked up and met his eyes.

In the middle of explaining his order, Thyreos suddenly fell silent, and an awkward stillness followed.

What the hell?

It was Anagin who first broke eye contact in the uncomfortable air.

He had nothing in particular to say and intended to leave the forge as he was.

However, it seemed Thyreos had other thoughts.

The man strode straight toward Anagin and began to speak.

“Could we talk for a moment?”

* * *

“I called you to say thank you.”

After following Thyreos, Anagin asked why he had been called over, and Thyreos answered like that.

Thank you.

Not understanding what he was being thanked for, Anagin frowned slightly, and Thyreos explained in detail.

“For saving me when I was about to be done in by Periphetes, and for saving me from Erysichthon as well.”

“Ah, right.”

Anagin replied shortly, without much emotion.

It was somewhat unexpected to hear thanks, but perhaps because of what had happened with Pais, he felt little in response.

Of course, he had not acted expecting gratitude in the first place, so he did not feel slighted either.

He had intended to deal with Periphetes from the start, and Erysichthon was not much different.

That said, there was no reason to refuse the thanks outright, so Anagin accepted it casually. There was no need to reject it.

As Anagin nodded and was about to leave, Thyreos added one more thing.

“And I’m sorry.”

“…What are you sorry for?”

“For failing to properly protect the kids.”

It was a blunt statement without a detailed explanation, yet Anagin instinctively understood what he meant.

He was probably apologizing for not being able to stop Pais from being locked in the underground prison. Or perhaps for failing to prevent the bullying.

“…Forget it. It’s already over. And if you’re going to apologize, don’t do it to me—do it to the brats.”

“I will.”

Thyreos of Reinforcement answered calmly.

That was somewhat unexpected.

Anagin had thought he might bristle or look displeased.

‘No… maybe this is the natural reaction? The guy’s as solid as his build.’

For a moment, he recalled Thyreos standing firm at the front lines, faithfully fulfilling his role based on the Blessing of Reinforcement.

The gratitude and apology he had just offered both seemed entirely sincere.

At this point, Anagin decided to accept it all without fuss—both the thanks and the apology.

“Fine, I’ll take it. That’s enough.”

“Is there anything you want in return?”

Once again, an unexpected turn.

It seemed Thyreos did not intend to settle things with mere words; he was prepared to offer something tangible.

Intrigued, Anagin asked,

“What, you’ve got something to give?”

“If you need help, or information—anything I can provide.”

Anagin did not think it was a bad offer.

If someone was insisting on giving something, there was no reason to refuse. He was simply curious.

“Why?”

He asked because he did not understand why Thyreos would bring it up himself. Judging from what he had seen of Chiron Tower so far, it was a little surprising.

Thyreos replied as if it were obvious.

“You can’t repay a life saved with mere words. That becomes a debt, and debts must be repaid.”

It was a more straightforward reason than Anagin had expected, and he rather liked it.

That was reason enough to be convincing, and it sounded like Thyreos would accept most reasonable requests.

Anagin began to think. What could he ask for? And what should he ask for?

Thyreos was only one of the many disciples at Chiron Tower, but still, he was a member of the New Argonaut Expedition Team.

One of the disciples Chiron kept a close eye on.

Just how far could he push this? But there was nothing in particular he desperately wanted right now. Hm….

Come to think of it, Thyreos was on good terms with the other members of the New Argonaut Expedition Team, too, wasn’t he?

With Irida of the Wind, Tramachus of Flame, and Lynceus of Farsight.

“Ah.”

A short exclamation escaped Anagin as something good came to mind.

A few seconds later, he asked,

“Do you happen to know about the Groom Tournament?”

“Lady Atalanta’s?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I know the general details. Irida and Tramachus are planning to attend.”

Irida made sense—she was her younger sister—but Anagin asked why Tramachus was going.

“He said he’s following because Lord Meleager is going.”

“And you?”

“I will not be attending.”

“Then could you attend and take me with you?”

“? Why?”

Until now, Thyreos had answered favorably, but for the first time, he showed a hint of wariness. And quite openly, at that.

He seemed to suspect that Anagin intended to participate in Atalanta’s Groom Tournament.

Even if he had saved their lives, that was asking too much.

Thyreos was clearly misunderstanding him in an unpleasant way. Anagin cleared it up.

“It’s not like that, so don’t worry.”

“Then what is it for?”

Just before answering, Anagin recalled Ponytail’s warning.

Not to go around carelessly spreading the information he had been told.

Information was a reporter’s lifeblood and property, and he had been especially warned because it had been shared with him in trust.

……But so what?

Anagin told him that Erysichthon had sent someone to Atalanta’s Groom Tournament.

And a few hours later—

“Hey, you son of a bitch!”

Ponytail, thoroughly betrayed, shouted at Anagin.

It was summer.