The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 885

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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 885

“….”

Karun’s eyes grew cold, clearly displeased with Borgos’s words.

“That dwarf actually knows something.”

Unlike Karun, Valdemar nodded with a bright smile spreading across his face.

“Our nephew has integrity and a refreshing personality, so he’s reliable! Sometimes I think he’s better than me or my brothers! Hey, dwarf! You’ve got good judgment!”

He clapped his hands loudly, praising Raon for having many advantages over the other heads of houses.

“Shut your mouth.”

Karun struck Valdemar’s waist, reminding him they were before the Head of House.

“The Patriarch’s Hall isn’t a library—why do you always have to be quiet?”

Valdemar brushed off his struck waist without concern and wrinkled his nose.

“Ahem!”

Glen Zigheart let out a fake cough and subtly lowered his chin.

“So you trust the Gwangpung Corps Master to that extent?”

He narrowed his eyes as if uncomfortable, keeping his mouth covered.

“Indeed.”

Borgos stepped closer to Raon’s side and nodded.

“The Gwangpung Corps Master came to rescue this old man without asking any questions, despite having met me only once.”

His wrinkled lips trembled as he recalled when Raon had found him in the deepest underground chamber.

“Dwarves do not make friends easily, but once they do, they trust and follow for a lifetime. This young friend—no, my benefactor—is worthy of such devotion.”

Borgos spoke of a debt that could not be repaid even with a lifetime of effort, striking his left chest with his fist.

“Clan Chief! Well spoken!”
“We share your sentiment!”
“Just as Raon risked his life for us, we too can stake our hammers for Raon.”

Palentun and the other craftsmen cried out in agreement with Borgos, striking their chests in unison with their fists.

“A lifetime of trust…”

Karun fell silent with crossed arms, seemingly unaware that Borgos trusted Raon to such a degree.

“The friendship between dwarf and human? Hah! Magnificent!”

Valdemar let out an exclamation as if he had drained a bowl of ale, smacking his lips with satisfaction.

“Borgos…”

I gazed at Borgos, who stood with his chest thrust forward proudly, and gently bit my lip.

‘I never expected such trust from him.’

I had naturally known that Borgos and the craftsmen of the Grey Hammer Guild were grateful to me.

Yet because we each desired something from the other, I had assumed our relationship was transactional to some degree—a grave miscalculation.

Borgos and his craftsmen truly regarded me as nothing but their benefactor.

“I see.”

Glen Zigheart’s hands trembled slightly, and his earlobes flushed crimson. Though I could not discern the exact cause, it seemed he was forcibly restraining an emotion on the verge of eruption.

“Had you made remarks disparaging Zigheart, you would have paid an appropriate price. But this matter is different.”

He accepted Borgos’s position, closing and opening his eyes.

“Do as you wish. Should you choose to become a member of Zigheart, I shall accept it. Should you choose to depart, I shall accept that as well.”

Glen nodded, welcoming Borgos and the Grey Hammer Guild.

“Welcome, dwarves! Make my sword heavy yet thin, and supple!”

Valdemar stamped his foot as he described the form of the blade he desired.

“Haaa….”

Karun exhaled a long sigh and slowly extended his arm. His elbow swept heavily across Valdemar’s waist as he passed.

“Ugh….”

Valdemar, expecting it to be light as before, was struck with tremendous force and tumbled backward, his eyes rolling back.

“My apologies. He still lacks the qualifications to be an executive.”

Karun told Valdemar not to mind it and bowed his head to Borgos.

‘Ha….’

I watched Karun’s composed gaze and let out a hollow laugh.

‘In the old days, he would have caused a scene before Valdemar even had the chance.’

People could change this much.

Karun must have been angry at Borgos’s words about trusting him more than Zigheart, yet he showed no sign of it and instead maintained his courtesy.
It seemed possible only because he genuinely loved Zigheart.

“No.”

Borgos shook his head calmly, looking at the unconscious Valdemar.

“Working with dragon bone and scales is like a dream for craftsmen. We cannot simply forge anything from such precious materials. I intend to create equipment that best fulfills the user’s requests.”

He clasped his hands together, saying that since the materials were precious, it would be better to craft them custom-made even if it took time.

“Custom work will take time, and it will require considerable labor, but are you truly certain about this?”

Glen sighed softly, understanding the situation Borgos and the craftsmen faced and the worry it brought.

“Of course. Compared to what our benefactor has done for us, this is nothing at all.”

Borgos replied that he could do even more if Raon wished it.

“Besides, custom commissions benefit us as well. Just as with swordsmanship, there is no end to the art of hammering.”

He nodded, noting that it was an opportunity for both himself and the craftsmen of the Grey Hammer Guild to train.

“If you say so, I will gratefully accept.”

Glen lowered his gaze slowly, as if in agreement.

“If you need anything, just say the word. I will provide whatever support I can.”
“A craftsman needs only three things: a place to lay his body, flame, and a hammer.”

Borgos smiled with quiet confidence, saying those three would suffice. He appeared like a transcendent standing in the heavens through martial arts alone.

“A place to lay one’s body, flame, and a hammer….”

Karun smiled faintly as he looked at Borgos. A subtle hint of approval seemed to shine in his calm eyes.

“Understood. I promise you every convenience. You must have had a difficult journey getting here. For now, please rest and recuperate.”

Glen also nodded broadly, seeming to take a liking to Borgos’s character.

“Rest is fine, but we would prefer to begin work immediately.”

Borgos shook his head firmly.

“If we simply rest idle, I fear troubling thoughts will arise. It would be better to begin work at once.”

He bowed, saying he didn’t mind if preparations weren’t complete—he wanted to work first.

“…Yes, sometimes losing oneself in work is the better path.”

Glen exhaled softly, understanding what lay in Borgos’s heart.

“Then have the Gwangpung Corps Master guide our guests to Mirtan.”

He waved his hand, instructing them to escort Borgos and the Dwarves to Mirtan, where Zigheart’s master craftsmen resided.

“We’ll discuss the rest later.”
“Understood.”

Raon stepped back and bowed to Glen Zigheart.

“Let’s go.”

After paying my respects to Glen Zigheart, I left the Patriarch’s Hall with Borgos and the master craftsmen.

“Executives, investigate not only your own preferences but also the weapon forms desired by the swordsmen, then submit the findings to the Bi-Yeon Society.”

He truly intended to craft custom weapons for every Zigheart swordsman, issuing instructions to the executives.

“Yes, sir!”
“Understood!”

The executives, delighted at the prospect of obtaining swords forged from Dragon bone—masterpieces crafted by Dwarf artisans—left the Patriarch’s Hall with radiant smiles.

“Head of House.”

Karun stood before the platform where Glen Zigheart’s Jade Throne rose after all the executives had departed.

“Since the Gwangpung Corps Master’s achievements this time are substantial, I hope the reward you grant him will be what I mentioned previously.”

With those words alone, he dragged the unconscious Valdemar out of the Audience Chamber.

“What you mentioned before…”

Sheryl furrowed her brow, watching the door through which Karun had exited.

“Is it about promoting Raon to Master?”
“That would be it.”

Roen chuckled and nodded in agreement.

“Karun mentioned before that you should be elevated to the position of Patriarch, Young Master Raon.”
“You’ve changed quite a bit. But I understand.”

Sheryl murmured in amazement and let out a soft breath.

“The Raon I saw this time wasn’t the little brat I taught dual swordsmanship to. It’s strange—it feels like I’m traveling alongside a warrior more skilled and stronger than myself.”

She laughed, saying I would be more than capable of running the Patriarch’s Hall.

“Krhm!”

Glen Zigheart made no attempt to suppress his laughter now, lowering his hand to reveal his widely stretched lips.

“It reminds me of the former Head of House. That damned lazy fool actually raised his disciple quite well.”

Sheryl shrugged while observing Glen’s subtle smile.

“It wasn’t him—Raon grew up well on his own!”

Glen exclaimed that Rimer absolutely did not raise me, his brows narrowing.

“That’s true. He would have grown up well anywhere.”

Sheryl chuckled and nodded.
The memory of them quarreling in the past—one claiming the disciple came first, the other claiming the grandson came first—naturally brought a smile to her face.

“That’s not right either! Without Zigheart, he wouldn’t have grown so strong!”

Glen shook his head vigorously, as if eager to hear that I had grown well because I was his grandson.

“That’s right. He turned out so well because he’s the Head of House’s grandson.”

Sheryl soothed Glen by giving him the answer he desired.

“Hehehehe.”

Roen simply let out a delighted laugh.

“Hm!”

Glen, now satisfied, relaxed his expression and leaned back against the Jade Throne.

“But what is the Organization Master’s opinion on this matter?”

Sheryl lifted her gaze, curious about Glen’s intentions.

“The Organization Master, you say….”

Glen gazed toward the center of the Patriarch’s Hall where Raon had stood, closing and opening his eyes slowly.

“Yes. I believe the time has come.”

*

*

*

The moment Raon left the Patriarch’s Hall, he led Borgos and the craftsmen toward Mirtan Village.

“The heat here is certainly intense.”

Borgos smacked his lips as if he could feel the geothermal warmth simply from walking.

“Unusual for the Northern Region.”

He rubbed his thick hands together, expressing his approval. Both his temperament and abilities were befitting of a Continental Master Craftsman.

“The heat intensifies along this path. That mountain behind Mirtan Village appears to be a volcano.”

Borgos’s apprentice nodded while gazing at the mountain behind Mirtan Village.

“Indeed. There was a Red Dragon Turtle there as well.”

I nodded and spoke of the Red Dragon Turtle that had been absorbing geothermal energy before.

“Red Dragon Turtles favor lava and geothermal heat above all. If one reveals itself so openly to feed on the warmth, it must rival Hwaryangsan Mountain itself.”

Borgos chuckled, murmuring that he looked forward to seeing Balkan’s village.

“You’ll be able to see it soon enough. We’ve arrived.”

I raised my hand and pointed toward the low but sturdy entrance of Mirtan Village.

Clang!

The moment we stood before the village, the air itself seemed to shift.
A scorching heat like molten lava flowing through the surroundings, accompanied by the endless, ear-splitting ring of hammers.

“Hmm….”

Borgos nodded quietly as he observed the Smithy at the Village Outskirts, from which the dull sounds emanated.

“Still rough, but there’s passion in it.”

A faint smile crossed his face, clearly pleased by the hammer strikes of the young craftsman concentrating within the Smithy.

The dwarves and craftsmen of the Grey Hammer Guild, hearing the hammer strikes ringing out from various places, seemed to brighten for the first time since leaving Hwaryangsan Mountain, breaking into genuine laughter.

‘Truly, a blacksmith is a blacksmith.’

Seeing how the gloomy atmosphere had lifted with just the sound of hammering, I realized these people bearing the title of craftsman were no accident.

“Balkan is up there.”

I guided the now-energized Borgos and the dwarves toward Balkan’s Smithy at the summit of Mirtan Village.

The craftsmen, their emotions heightened by the hammer strikes and the heat enveloping the village, moved quickly with their cheeks flushed.

‘Hmm?’

I narrowed my eyes as I peered into the interior of Balkan’s Smithy.

‘Is there someone else here?’

I sensed another presence besides Balkan coming from deeper within the Smithy.

“Master.”

I called out Balkan’s name and knocked on the steel door.

Clang, clang, clang.

Before I could even take a breath, the Smithy door swung open roughly, and Balkan appeared with his face flushed red as though he’d been drinking.

“Raon! Why are you so late!”

Balkan furrowed his brow, complaining that I’d only sent word I was coming but never showed up.

“My apologies. Something came up along the way.”

I apologized and lowered my head.

“I’ve been looking forward to it so much because you said you’d bring dragon bone, and yet—huh?”

Balkan was clicking his tongue when he spotted Borgos standing behind me, and his eyes widened.

“Dwarf! How did you end up here…?”
“One thing led to another, and here we are.”

Borgos said the story was long and offered a bitter smile.

“Hmm, something must have happened.”

Balkan read the look in Borgos’s eyes and furrowed his brow deeply.

“Well, since I’ll be staying here as a tenant, I suppose I should keep it brief.”

Borgos nodded curtly and recounted everything that had transpired.

“Huh…”

Balkan seemed unaware of such circumstances and fell silent, his eyelids twitching.

“It’s fine now, so you don’t need to make that face.

Borgos asked him to treat him normally and lowered his chin.

“But….”
“I’ve seen your blades many times, but this is my first time seeing a workshop. Isn’t it a bit cramped for a Continental Master Craftsman?”

He threw out a joke first, as if to lighten the mood.

“The size of a workshop doesn’t matter to a craftsman.”

But the answer didn’t come from Balkan—it came from deeper inside the Smithy. A familiar voice. It was Kuberard, another Continental Master Craftsman.

“Kuberard? Were you here as well?”

This time, Borgos widened his eyes in surprise.

“Just as you were summoned by Raon, I was called by this fellow.”

Kuberard let out a long sigh, saying he had come in response to Balkan’s request for help.

“He was so persistent. Anyone would think he’s still an active craftsman.”

He shook his head, saying he received ten letters a day.

“W-what ten letters! I only sent eight!”

Balkan snorted, telling him to count his numbers correctly.

“Enough idle talk. Now show me those supposedly magnificent materials. I’m exhausted from listening to that fellow’s drunken rambling while waiting.”

Kuberard tilted his chin, eager to get to work.

“Understood.”

I nodded lightly and called Dorian forward from the back.

“Bring them all out.”
“All of them? Won’t it be a bit cramped?”

Dorian shook his head as he looked around the Smithy.

“That road should be fine to drop it off at.”
“Understood!”

He nodded and reached into his spatial pouch.

Crash, crash, crash, crash!

Dragon bones, teeth, horns, and scales poured endlessly from the spatial pouch.
The bones were massive and abundant, befitting an ancient dragon, so not only did Balkan’s front yard fill with dragon remains, but the Central Avenue of Mirtan Village was also completely covered.

“There… there was this much?”

Borgos’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Red, Black, Gold? Three dragons?”

Kuberard’s jaw trembled with astonishment.

“It’s not just three in number. Two of them are ancient dragons. The bones are deeply infused with pure mana!”

Balkan’s weathered eyes gleamed with anticipation at the mere sight.

“The Zigheart swordsmen will soon send their requests. Since materials are abundant, please craft the finest masterpieces you can create.”

I expressed my gratitude and bowed deeply with my hands clasped together.

“Then we’ll need some preliminary work to warm up our hands.”
“Right. I can already see exactly how to do it.”

Balkan’s and Kuberard’s eyes came to rest on the Heavenly Sword and Soul Reaper Sword respectively.

“Let’s start with your sword first!”
“Starting with yours seems best.”

The two men, both friends and master craftsmen, spoke in unison and licked their lips in anticipation.

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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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