Blacksmithing Is Child’s Play for a Dark Mage - Chapter 112

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 112
Rant’s lips curled into a grin in an instant.
“Heh heh heh. You noticed?”
“With Dark Magic that potent, how could I not?”
It was Dark Magic pouring out without any attempt at concealment.
The density alone differed from two years ago—deeper, heavier, weightier. Tay had recognized it the moment they’d met before the castle gates.
In two years.
Rant had become a 4th Class.
Terrifying!
What sort of realm was 4th Class? Most domains’ chief mages spent their entire lives stuck at 3rd Class.
Even Pesart of Gehenna Viscount’s castle had been 3rd Class. Yet this small creature had vaulted clean over that barrier in a mere two years.
For reference, Tay himself was still 3rd Class. It was a scene of the student surpassing the master—a reversal of the natural order!
‘The bastard. I always suspected he was a genius, but did I ever think he’d be THIS brilliant?’
Tay regarded Rant anew.
True, the mountains of Black Magic Grimoires Tay had procured for him would have served as a foundation. But no matter how excellent the materials, reaching 4th Class in two years was an impossible realm without talent.
‘What in the world is this creature’s house?’
He’d said he came from a noble family of distinguished bloodline, a high-ranking house. He’d mentioned receiving all manner of education from childhood.
‘Come to think of it, that curse wasn’t ordinary either.’
That curse which had driven a person to madness and tumbled them into the slave trade—where would such a vicious curse come from on an ordinary household child?
Something reeked of an abyss one shouldn’t touch.
Well, it would surface someday. It wasn’t something to worry about now.
“You’ve grown well. My chief Black Mage.”
“Only natural, my lord.”
Rant shrugged, his mouth curling with undisguised satisfaction.
“So. Where are the Black Magic Grimoires?”
“……You’re something else.”
The returned lord’s first duty became unpacking a bundle of Black Magic Grimoires to present to his disciple.
* * *
After spending several days in the domain recovering from his travels.
Tay set out immediately for Harundel Castle.
But the moment he took to the road, admiration escaped him.
Rant and Kael had clearly done outstanding work over those two years. A road ran cleanly from the Maker Barony straight through to Harundel.
The road laid with broad, kiln-fired bricks was absolutely magnificent.
It was a different world entirely from the muddy earth roads of this age, where a single rain would turn everything to mire and wagon wheels would sink deep.
Flat, solid, and straight—a Brick Road. This was the very taste of civilization!
‘Excellent. This is infrastructure. The first step of building a city.’
Of course, since Tay traveled by Carriage anyway, it made little practical difference to him.
Yet the feeling of riding across a road built with his own money was like the satisfaction a building owner felt passing their own edifice—deeply gratifying.
Thus traveled, he arrived at Harundel.
But.
Harundel was already teeming with extraordinary crowds.
Just how crowded?
The town that had formed outside the castle walls was overflowing with people.
A brief note on custom.
In this age’s great cities, property values differ on either side of the castle walls.
The inside is more expensive. Moreover, certain districts inside are exclusively for nobles.
It’s not location-based value—it’s castle-based value!
Naturally, the Outer City is home to commoners and the lower classes. Or those of modest means among the middle tiers.
With a single wall dividing them, both living space and social station cleaved neatly apart—an extremely blunt real-estate class system.
But.
Harundel is a great city exceeding a million souls.
And even the city outside such a metropolis’s walls is overflowing with people?
It was because of the victory celebration that crowds had poured in so heavily.
To be precise, it was the soldiers, attendants, and merchants following them—all brought by the nobles attending the victory celebration—that made the numbers swell so.
One noble moves, and dozens to hundreds in their retinue move with them.
Merchants circling those retinues’ purses number just as many. A single celebration meant an entire city hitting peak season. It rivaled a holiday beach resort in midsummer.
‘If Kael hadn’t bought properties in advance, this could have been a disaster…….’
Finding a room in this throng? The inns had long since sold out, and a single shed could command any price they demanded.
Just as regional representatives keep a house in the capital city.
Tay’s roots were in the Maker Barony, but he’d bought a property in Harundel some time back.
That had been two years ago—specifically, it was something he’d purchased and secured during the year of his expedition.
Real estate truly required foresight! Who would have thought that house bought back then would shine so brilliantly in this very moment. A round of applause for Kael’s prescience!
Tay headed directly for the gates of Harundel Castle.
“M-Maker Barony’s lord, I greet you!”
The guard was startled and quickly composed himself, then immediately let Tay pass.
But from that moment on, murmurs rippled through the surroundings.
“It’s the Maker Barony’s lord!”
“The Skeleton Lord……”
“Is that really……?”
Soldiers and civilians alike whispered and craned their necks. Eyes fixed on him like arrows from every direction.
Skeleton Lord.
Indeed, somewhere along the way, Tay had become known by that epithet.
‘No. Not Lord of Death or anything, but Skeleton Lord……’
Tay clicked his tongue inwardly.
If a nickname had to stick, it could have been something cooler—Lord of Death, Master of Darkness, something that absolutely radiated presence.
But it had to be Skeleton Lord. It lacked a certain dignity!
‘And now I have ghouls too……’
He didn’t just summon skeletons. He commanded ghouls, centaurs, and all manner of undead—a comprehensive living department store of death—yet his epithet had stuck on skeletons alone.
This was how terrifying first impressions were. A brand image stamped early would follow a man his whole life!
“Master! Skeleton Lord is certainly an honest epithet! It says exactly what you see! There’s nothing false about it! Ahahahaha!”
The voice on his shoulder chirped away with obvious delight.
“That’s the problem. It has no style. No panache whatsoever.”
-Contractor. A nickname is given by others, not chosen by oneself. Resign yourself to it.
Ars spoke dryly from the shadows, cutting through to the bitter truth. The accuracy of it only irritated him more.
In any case, Tay made his way to his residence.
Upon arrival, servants came pouring out to greet him.
They were servants Kael had hired in advance. Everything—cleaning, bedding, all of it—had been prepared in anticipation of the lord’s arrival. Classic Kael. When it came to getting things done, there was none better on the continent.
‘Good. First, I’ll unpack. Then wash. Maybe get some rest.’
Two years of expedition, then a month of forced marching. Even riding in a carriage the whole way, the accumulated fatigue hadn’t gone anywhere.
A warm bath, then sprawling out on a soft bed……
He was just mapping out such pleasant plans for rest.
A messenger arrived from Harundel Castle.
It was a summons to report to the castle immediately.
‘Good grief—why is everyone in such a rush~’
He hadn’t even bathed yet!
He hadn’t even lain down on a bed!
The moment news of his arrival reached the castle, a summons came flying. This was worse than a company phone call the moment you tried to leave work!
But when the Harundel Marquess called, one’s complaints had to be swallowed in silence.
Tay, muttering under his breath, tidied his appearance and headed back to Harundel Castle.
* * *
The very place where he had first met the Harundel Marquess.
It was to the study located in the highest tower of the lord’s residence that Tay was guided.
He climbed the spiraling staircase, round and round.
For all its pretense as the study of the city’s ruler, the accessibility was dreadfully poor. He found himself missing an elevator.
Though there was reason enough for it. Height meant authority, and a defensive advantage, and the finest view of all.
At last, the study door opened.
Upon entering, his eyes fell on a beautiful woman gazing out over the city from the window.
It was Harundel Marquess Grimoire Arcane Spell Elfin, her profile silhouetted against the light.
One of the empire’s foremost transcendents, standing at the window overlooking her own domain—that silhouette alone completed the picture of a perfect painting.
Indeed, a being of superior standing drew dignity from mere posture.
It was also simply that she was remarkably beautiful.
‘And here I am stuck with “Skeleton Lord.”‘
Tay felt a pang of regret as the epithet crossed his mind.
He offered a proper, respectful bow according to protocol.
“I greet Your Grace, the ruler of Harundel.”
“It has been a long while. Do sit.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The Marquess turned from the window and gestured him toward a seat.
She raised her hand lightly.
A soft, shimmering sound.
A summon descended from somewhere and brought him tea.
A fairy.
About the size of a human palm?
Semi-transparent wings fluttering, hovering in mid-air—a creature that looked like it had stepped straight out of a storybook.
Yet this tiny thing seemed to be wielding magic.
It drifted over with a teacup and pot as large as its own body, then carefully poured the steaming tea with evident care.
‘Well. Rather charming, actually…….’
A summoner who commanded entire legions of monsters from beyond dimensions had entrusted his tea service to something this delicate.
One couldn’t ask a steel giant to pour tea, after all—so it made a certain sense.
But this gap, this contrast, had a peculiar way of unsettling the heart.
He felt the dialogue box on his shoulder preparing to open its mouth.
‘Hold it. Please, hold it.’
Tay clamped that mouth shut by sheer force of will. If something like “Master! That fairy looks crispy enough to fry up!” spilled out, it would be a complete diplomatic disaster!
The Marquess settled into the seat across from him and slowly began to speak.
“Indeed. Your performance in this war was certainly intriguing.”
“You’re too kind. I’ve also heard the accounts from the return—that your summons overwhelmed the enemy’s high sorcery.”
It was no mere courtesy.
The Summoning technique that had absorbed a strategic carpet-bombing spell from a Class-6 mage through sheer volume—rumors of it had already circled the continent.
Yet the Marquess accepted the praise with measured calm.
“That was only possible because you thoroughly collapsed their rear guard.”
And the Marquess took a sip of tea, then continued his explanation in an unhurried tone.
War itself.
Set aside schemes and military strategy.
In the end, it was a contest of who possessed more resources.
The Black Mage Is Too Easy a Blacksmith
Author |
Automaton G
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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