Danmachi: A Mage's Journey

"What are you here for?"

The rhythmic clanging of hammer against steel halted.

The tall, toned woman—rumored to be a half-dwarf from the Far East—turned slowly.

Her sharp, chiseled features and bronze-toned skin glistened with sweat. Her single visible eye, unhidden beneath a black eyepatch, scrutinized Akira curiously.

Despite her well-known status as a blacksmith, this woman was far more than a forge-dweller.

Tsubaki Collbrande, the famed blacksmith of the Hephaestus Familia, was also a Level 5 adventurer—someone who personally tested her weapons in the depths of the dungeon before deeming them worthy.

A powerhouse with calloused hands and unmatched strength, whispered to be the most powerful blacksmith in all of Orario.

"Excuse me."

Akira stepped forward respectfully, dropping a bulging sack of monster materials onto a nearby bench with a dull thud.

"Can I customize weapons here?"

The sack split slightly as it landed, revealing a massive green dragon horn, the size of a full-grown man's torso, along with scales, claws, and other valuable materials.

Tsubaki raised an eyebrow and said, "Hoh? Custom weapons, huh? You don't look familiar. Are you a new recruit? A low-level adventurer?"

Her gaze lingered on the dragon horn, more intrigued by the haul than the person at first glance.

Akira scratched his cheek and replied earnestly, "No, I've already leveled up to Level 2. I'm Akira, from the Astraea Familia."

For a moment, Tsubaki was silent. Then her expression lit up as she slapped her chest.

She said, "Why didn't you say so earlier?! I'll take the commission!"

With a booming laugh, she added, "I'm Tsubaki Collbrande, head blacksmith of the Hephaestus Familia and its captain. Just call me Tsubaki."

She paused, then squinted. "Wait a sec... Is there someone named Akira in Astraea's Familia? I thought they were mostly female..."

As if realizing her mistake, she added, "Sorry, I don't keep up with the latest gossip. I usually stay in my forge, working on equipments so I don't know what goes on in the outside world."

The cloth wrapped on her upper body clung to her skin due to sweat, making her cleavage prominent.

In theory, she should've been seductive but her laid-back, almost unkempt personality strangely neutralized the allure. If anything, she gave off more of a boisterous Amazonian vibe than that of a sensual half-dwarf.

Tsubaki picked up the broken one-handed sword Akira had brought along. Her practiced eyes scanned it from hilt to tip.

"Crude. Just a fine sword, but poorly maintained." She said bluntly.

"The edge is chipped, the tip's flattened, and these tiny fractures—magic damage. You've been using this thing carelessly."

As a skilled blacksmith that's been in the business for years, Tsubaki could easily tell from these clues that the adventurer in front of her had a general fighting habit and was the type who didn't care about the damage to their weapon when fighting.

Akira gave a dry chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

She added with a grin, "Forget it, it's your luck that you ran into me today. So, what kind of weapon and armor are you thinking?"

He glanced away awkwardly as her laugh jiggled... well, everything.

That casual laugh, combined with the way sweat trickled down her throat, gave her a wild, primal sort of charm. Her powerful physique rivaled even the goddesses in allure.

"A one-handed sword would be best. Durable. As for armor, something light—scaled vambraces should work." Akira responded, keeping his eyes level.

Tsubaki nodded, kneeling to inspect the materials.

"Hmm... this horn... green dragon, huh? Not bad at all. Did you take it down yourself?"

"Yes." Akira replied, lifting the damaged sword in confirmation.

"Solid work."

Tsubaki rose to her feet and strode into the back room, muttering, "Pity I'm running low on high-grade steel again... Guess we'll need that super-hard stuff."

The steel mined from the deeper dungeon layers was known to surpass other materials in purity and resilience. Depending on the floor, its grade could vary drastically.

"What kind of steel do you need? If it's urgent, I can head back down and get it." Akira offered.

Tsubaki waved him off casually. "What kind of smith makes the customer do the legwork? Relax. I'm Level 5, remember?"

In the next moment, she transformed from craftsman to warrior, strapping a freshly forged katana to her waist. No armor. Just her red hakama pants, a sleeveless top that exposed her navel, and a fearless grin.

"I'm heading to the dungeon myself."

Since the owner of the workshop was planning to go to the dungeon, Akira certainly would not stay here.

Akira, curious, followed her out of the workshop. Together, they walked toward the Tower of Babel—her strides confident and unhurried, even without armor.

Midway through the walk, Tsubaki tilted her head and said, "You ever think of buying a magic sword? I've got some prototypes I just finished. If you buy one now, I'll knock off some of the forging price later."

Akira shook his head and said, "Thanks, but I already know some magic. Using a magic sword would be kind of redundant for me."

"By the way, how much does a magic sword cost?"

"Oh? Still curious, huh?" She grinned and held up three fingers.

"Three million a pair. That's cheap, you know."

Akira chuckled awkwardly and said, "Hahaha... right. Super cheap."

Tsubaki blinked and said, "You didn't ask about my forging fee either."

Akira froze and asked, "Oh—how much?"

She leaned in close with a mischievous grin. "Around ten million."

Akira blinked, then exhaled in relief. "That's... actually fine."

Tsubaki looked momentarily disappointed by his lack of reaction. "Tch, not the shocked face I was expecting."

Still, she slung her arm over his shoulder with a hearty laugh and said, "That includes the steel, so it's a great deal. If you're good with that, I'll get started."

"Thank you, Tsubaki-san." Akira replied, smiling warmly.

"I'll be counting on you."

Her loud laughter echoed down the busy street, blending with the clang of distant hammers and the steady pulse of Orario's industrial heartbeat.