[Name: ??? (Lost to time), Nora (Former)

  Condition: Battered (Dire Need of Repair)

  Rarity: Common Sword (8 ATK)

  Skill(s): Spirit Vessel

  Quest 1: Bind yourself to an owner

  -->Status: Complete

  -->Reward: Claimed

  Quest 2: Recover from 'Battered' condition

  -->Status: Incomplete

  -->Reward: Name]

  [A 'battered' bastard sword, useful for its ability to be wielded with both hands or just one. There appears to be more to this blade than meets the eye… Currently owned by Grail Initiate Romeo.]

  “It can’t be done.” Said the stout, bearded man. His voice resolute, “Try some other smith, Romeo,”

  “You mean it can’t be repaired?” Asked Nora’s new partner, “I don’t think it would be that hard for someone like you.”

  “I mean it’s not worth it.” Said Havel, turning away from Romeo and back to whatever kind of farm tool he was working on, “You’re better off with that old thing you call your training sword, not whatever this is.”

  Romeo frowned slightly at that dismissal, though he didn’t immediately argue. Instead he turned Nora in his hand and examined the blade again as if hoping that a different angle might somehow make the damage look less severe. Unfortunately the forge’s bright light only made the flaws more obvious. The rust along the fuller looked deeper under proper illumination, and the hairline fracture near the guard caught the glow of the furnace like a warning line etched across the metal.

  “Still,” Romeo said after a moment, “you haven’t even looked at it properly.”

  Havel snorted without turning around. The heavy hammer in his hand came down on the glowing metal resting on the anvil with a sharp clang that echoed through the workshop. “Don’t need to,” the smith replied. “I’ve been working steel longer than you’ve been alive. I can see the state of that blade from here.” Another strike followed, the sound punctuating his words. “Edge is ruined, tang’s probably stressed, and that crack by the guard means the whole thing could snap the first time you swing it hard enough.”

  Romeo’s grip tightened slightly.

  “So it’s damaged,” he said. “That doesn’t mean it’s useless.”

  “Damaged?” Havel finally turned then, wiping his hands on a thick leather apron as he walked over. Up close the man was even broader than Nora had expected, with arms like iron bars and a beard thick enough to hide half his face. He took the sword from Romeo’s hand without asking and held it up to the light.

  For a few seconds he said nothing.

  Nora felt strangely exposed under the inspection, as if the smith might somehow be able to see straight through the metal and into the consciousness trapped inside it.

  Havel tilted the blade once, then again, his thick thumb running along the cracked section near the guard. A low grunt escaped him.

  “This isn’t just damaged,” he said flatly. “This thing’s been through a war. Look at this fracture. Whoever owned it before you must’ve pushed it well past what the steel could handle.”

  ‘There appears to be more to this blade than meets the eye’ Quoted Nora from her description, for some reason her pride was hurt, even though she wasn’t actually a sword, ‘Tell him I have a “strange affinity with magic”. ’

  Romeo blinked at the suggestion. For a moment he simply stared at the battered blade in Havel’s hand, clearly debating whether he had just imagined the voice again. Then he lowered his own voice slightly and muttered under his breath, “I am absolutely not telling the town blacksmith that my sword has a strange affinity with magic.”

  ‘Why not?’ Nora protested immediately. ‘That’s a perfectly reasonable selling point.’

  Romeo rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Because” he replied quietly, “if I start saying things like that, he’ll assume I’ve been hit in the head.”

  Across from them, Havel had finished examining the fracture near the guard and was now peering along the blade’s edge with one eye closed. The silence stretched for several seconds before the smith gave a dissatisfied grunt and lowered the sword again.

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  “Steel’s exhausted,” he said. “Too many stress cycles. Whoever forged this originally knew what they were doing, but the blade’s been pushed past its limits. Reforging it would mean taking the whole thing apart, melting sections down, rebuilding the tang, resetting the edge… and that’s assuming the metal doesn’t crumble halfway through.”

  Romeo folded his arms. “But it could be done.”

  Havel gave him a flat look.

  “Anything could be done,” the smith said. “You could also rebuild a wagon wheel after it’s been run over by a herd of oxen. Question is whether it’s worth the effort when a new wheel costs less.”

  Nora took that as a personal insult.

  ‘Tell him the blade was once wielded by a legendary hero.’ she lied.

  Romeo did not even bother responding this time.

  Havel turned the sword again, the forge light reflecting across the rusted fuller. His thick thumb tapped the cracked line near the guard once more, producing a faint metallic tick.

  Romeo continued staring at the blade in Havel’s hand, clearly trying to think of a way to salvage the situation without embarrassing himself. Unfortunately, Nora had no intention of letting the matter drop.

  ‘Go on,’ she urged. ‘Tell him.’

  Romeo’s jaw tightened slightly. He kept his voice low enough that the smith would not hear. “No.”

  ‘You’re giving up already?’ Nora replied, her tone sharpening with theatrical disbelief. ‘That’s disappointing. I thought Grail Knights were supposed to have ambition.’

  “I do,” Romeo muttered. “They do.”

  Across from them, Havel was still examining the blade, seemingly oblivious to the quiet argument occurring two feet away from him.

  ‘Besides,’ Nora continued, pressing the advantage, ‘if he’s really as experienced as you claim, then surely he’d notice something unusual eventually. You’d just be saving time.’

  Romeo resisted for another few seconds. Then Nora shifted tactics.

  ‘Or perhaps you’re worried he’ll laugh.’

  Romeo’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  ‘I mean,’ she continued, her voice dripping with feigned sympathy, ‘it would be quite embarrassing if the mighty Grail Initiate Romeo was afraid of sounding silly in front of a blacksmith.’

  Romeo’s grip tightened.

  “…You’re doing that on purpose,” he murmured.

  ‘Doing what?’

  “…Provoking me.”

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  The silence that followed lasted just long enough for Romeo’s patience to finally collapse. He straightened slightly, rubbing the back of his neck as if preparing to say something he already regretted.

  “Havel,” he said.

  The smith glanced up from the sword with mild impatience. “What?”

  Romeo hesitated for half a second.

  Then, against every better instinct in his body, he continued.

  “There might be… something unusual about that blade.”

  Havel raised one thick eyebrow.

  “Oh?”

  Romeo immediately regretted opening his mouth, but Nora’s expectant silence behind his thoughts made retreat impossible.

  “…It might have some kind of magical property.”

  The forge went quiet except for the soft crackle of the furnace.

  For a moment Havel simply stared at him.

  Then the smith slowly looked back down at the battered sword in his hand.

  “Enchanted blades are priceless artifacts, boy.” Said the smith, unamused. “Anyone with sense wouldn’t let a relic fall to such a pathetic state.”

  Romeo held the smith’s gaze for a moment after that remark, then slowly exhaled through his nose. “Right,” he said quietly, the word carrying the faint edge of someone who had just had his pride stepped on. For a few seconds he seemed ready to let the matter drop, but Nora could almost feel the stubbornness building behind his eyes.

  “I’ll prove it,” he said at last.

  Havel looked unimpressed. “You’ll prove a cracked lump of scrap metal is a priceless relic?”

  Romeo stepped forward and took the sword back from the smith’s hand before the man could protest. The motion was calm, but there was a quiet firmness behind it that made Havel pause rather than resist. Once Nora was back in his grip, Romeo turned slightly away from the forge, lowering his voice so the smith would not overhear.

  Are you sure about this? he asked internally.

  The question caught Nora slightly off guard. For a moment she did not respond, then realised he was directing the thought toward her. ‘About what?’

  About… whatever this magical property is supposed to be, Romeo clarified. If I try to channel mana through you and the blade snaps in half, I’ll look like an idiot.

  Nora quickly pulled up the system window in her mind, rereading the description of the skill she had obtained earlier.

  [Skill: Spirit Vessel]

  Something about this object is odd… Despite its apparent inanimate nature, those holding it claim to hear voices. Perhaps this phenomenon is due to its strange affinity with magic.

  The phrasing was vague, but the key line stood out clearly enough. Strange affinity with magic. If the system itself acknowledged that property, then there had to be some mechanical basis for it. In the game, most enchanted weapons functioned as conduits for mana, amplifying spells or stabilising energy flow through the blade. If her new skill worked even half as well as the description implied, she should at least be able to handle a small amount of energy without disintegrating.

  After another moment of silent calculation, Nora answered with as much confidence as she could muster.

  ‘I’m confident.’

  Romeo was quiet for a second longer.

  Confident, he repeated internally, the word sounding less like reassurance and more like reluctant acceptance. Then he turned back toward the blacksmith.

  “Havel,” he said, raising the sword slightly.

  The smith folded his arms, clearly expecting some kind of performance. “Go on then.”

  Romeo adjusted his stance, shifting his feet slightly on the stone floor of the workshop. The posture changed him in an instant, the casual village boy disappearing beneath the disciplined habits of someone who had spent years practicing martial forms. His grip on the hilt settled into a controlled two-handed hold, the blade held over his head.

  Romeo inhaled slowly, focusing the way his instructors had drilled into him a thousand times before. For a brief moment nothing happened, and then a faint glow began to gather around the hilt beneath his fingers. Wisps of pale lilac light seeped from his palms and flowed along the metal like mist drawn toward a current. The mana spread carefully across the battered blade, tracing the fuller and curling around the cracked steel without resistance. Rather than dispersing into the air the way raw mana sometimes did, the energy clung to the weapon with surprising stability, forming a thin luminous sheath that hummed softly in the quiet forge. Even through the rust and fractures the flow remained smooth, the lilac aura pulsing faintly as if the sword itself were guiding the current through its structure.

  With the energy stabilised, Romeo stepped forward and brought the blade down in a single controlled arc. The motion was clean and deliberate, the sort of fundamental strike drilled into initiates from the first day of training, but the mana coating the weapon magnified the movement in a way neither of them had fully expected. As the sword cut through the air, the lilac aura flared and released a sharp burst of pressure that rushed forward like a sudden gust of wind. The force scattered loose ash from the forge floor and sent a ripple through the hanging tools along the wall. Even Havel’s thick beard and hair shifted back slightly under the gust before settling again as the energy dissipated.

  The smith stood motionless for a moment, the faint echo of the strike still lingering in the workshop. Then he slowly lifted a hand and rubbed his beard, his eyes narrowing as he looked between Romeo and the battered blade now resting at the end of the swing. After another second, he gave a small, thoughtful nod.

  “…Alright,” Havel said at last. “I’ll repair it.”