Chapter 59

The Game Difficulty
Is Crazy

Blacksmith Felix.

Because he was of low status, he had no family name.

However, there was no one in Haven who did not know that name.

Among the guild in Haven where the best blacksmiths of the Wordsworth territory gathered, his skill was the most outstanding.

Many people sought him out.

Most of them were high-ranking nobles or extremely wealthy merchants.

They were not the type who truly understood the value of a sword, but Felix did not care.

If he used his natural talent to make swords at a suitable level, he could receive a pouch full of gold coins.

—A brat who is crazy about money and stains the name of blacksmith.

Sometimes senior blacksmiths criticized him, saying he was rotting his talent, but Felix did not even care about that.

Compared to the flimsy honor of a lowly profession, the gold coins placed directly into his pocket were dozens of times more useful.

That was why he intended to thoroughly use his talent again today as well.

So that one day, even without holding a hammer, he could live the rest of his life comfortably.

Thinking that, Felix clasped his hands together and bowed his head deeply toward the gray-haired boy standing before him.

“How may I help you, sir?”

The boy replied,

“I’m thinking of commissioning a piece.”

“Then please leave it to me.”

Felix showed confidence as he pretended to roll up his sleeves.

“From short ones to big and wide ones, just tell me what you want. I’ll make it with all I’ve got!”

“This size will be enough.”

The boy showed the sword he was wearing.

The moment Felix confirmed it was an ordinary longsword that could be seen anywhere, his eyes narrowed.

‘Oh my! I’ve been waiting for someone like you for a long time!’

From experience, customers who switched from an ordinary sword to a master-crafted one usually spent a lot of money.

It was their first custom sword, so no amount felt like a waste.

“Haha! This kind of sword is exactly my specialty. But the price won’t be cheap. Is that alright with you?”

At those words, the boy took out a money pouch from his clothes and handed it to Felix.

“I think that should be enough to get something usable.”

Felix peeked inside the pouch to check the amount, and his mouth stretched into a wide grin.

“How could it not be enough? Your sword will become my masterpiece!”

The boy smiled faintly.

“I’ll look forward to it. How long will it take?”

“If you enjoy Haven for about three days and come back, a truly magnificent piece will be waiting for you.”

“Alright. Then I’ll come back in three days. Oh, right. One more important thing.”

Just as he was about to turn away, the boy stepped closer to Felix.

“There’s something else I want to buy from you. Will you sell it to me?”

Felix’s face brightened even more.

After paying that much for a sword, the customer still wanted to buy something else. What a grateful client.

“Oh, just tell me anything! As long as you pay the proper price, I’ll sell whatever you want! Since you commissioned a sword, do you need a scabbard as well? Or maybe a shield?”

With an excited tone, Felix lifted items displayed in the workshop.

Then the boy quietly said,

“I want to buy something made by a blacksmith named Gotrel… will you sell it?”

Gotrel.

The moment he heard that name, Felix’s expression stiffened.

“Why are you looking for that man’s things?”

Gotrel, the incompetent blacksmith.

The name of Felix’s father, who died without leaving behind even a single sword in his lifetime.

In other words, the boy was asking to buy his father’s relic.

“Because I need it.”

“You seem to know he’s already dead, asking me about that name like this…”

“And I also know he was your father.”

Felix frowned.

He wondered why someone would want to buy the belongings of a dead blacksmith, but he did not think deeply about it.

There were all kinds of nobles in the world, and some collected ridiculous things as hobbies.

He simply brushed it off, thinking that collecting the belongings of dead people must be this noble’s hobby.

Felix quietly went inside and faced a hammer hanging on the wall.

The only thing his father had left behind.

Without the slightest hesitation, Felix picked it up.

It was a man who never once spoke a warm word to him while alive.

A father who died collapsing while hammering iron as if possessed was not someone Felix felt any attachment toward.

‘Don’t feel bitter. This is you being a father now, in a way you never managed while alive.’

With cold eyes, Felix placed the hammer on the shelf.

“Still, since it’s the only thing my father left behind, you’ll need to pay at least as much as you did for the sword.”

“Fine.”

The boy readily handed over another money pouch, took the father’s hammer, and left.

With an uneasy expression, Felix threw the lump of iron on the anvil into the furnace.

After leaving the Blacksmith Guild, Glenn’s expression was bright.

‘Everything is going smoothly.’

Perhaps enduring Baron Pebien’s chatter had worked as bad-luck cleansing.

What followed at the Blacksmith Guild was very close to Glenn’s ideal scenario.

The condition of the weapons and armor to be transported to Avenue was highly satisfactory, and at Felix’s forge, he had caught both rabbits he was aiming for.

One of them was the sword he commissioned from Felix. However, that sword was merely a backup weapon Glenn intended to use as a second option.

‘The one who will make the real sword I want is the owner of this hammer.’

Of course, Felix’s skill was genuine, and he would at least make a rare-grade sword for Glenn.

But that level of weapon was not what Glenn truly desired.

‘What I want is a legendary-grade artifact I’ll be with for the rest of my life.’

To make such a sword, Glenn had prepared three soul fragments imbued with the lingering thoughts of wraiths.

And to handle them, he had come to Haven in search of a blacksmith.

‘Gotrel.’

A tragic man who earned the nickname of an incompetent blacksmith because he failed to leave behind even a single sword while alive.

Yet in the original story, he became a ghost and eventually completed the one sword he could never finish.

That sword was praised as one of the finest blades in Gray Eden.

Glenn wanted that sword.

That was why, after gathering the necessary items to meet the deceased Gotrel, he headed to a monastery on the outskirts of the city.

More precisely, his destination was the cemetery attached behind the monastery.

Creeeak—

Opening the monastery’s main gate, Glenn entered without hesitation.

Soon, a middle-aged priest opened the chapel door and greeted him.

After quietly observing Glenn’s hair and eyes, the priest removed his hat and bowed respectfully.

“You are of the Wordsworth bloodline. Welcome to Haven Monastery.”

Glenn replied with a smile and soon informed the priest that he had business in the cemetery behind the monastery.

“I did not expect the young master of Wordsworth to have ties to Haven’s cemetery.”

Though he looked slightly puzzled, the priest guided Glenn to the entrance of the cemetery.

“Then may God’s blessing be with you.”

After making the sign of the cross, the priest left, and Glenn remained alone in the cemetery.

A small hill.

Gravestones neatly aligned.

And the red sunset falling upon them.

At dusk, the cemetery created a rather striking view.

It could almost be mistaken for a well-maintained park rather than a burial ground.

After a brief moment of appreciation, Glenn walked deeper into the cemetery.

After several minutes of checking each name engraved on the gravestones, Glenn stopped in front of one.

“Found you. Gotrel.”

A shabby gravestone with only the name, date of birth, and date of death engraved.

Looking at it quietly, Glenn could guess what kind of person Gotrel had been to those around him while alive.

‘The fact that his son sold his relic without hesitation says it all.’

Clicking his tongue, Glenn placed Gotrel’s hammer, his relic, in front of the gravestone.

Then he opened the Lunatic Inventory and took out a magic potion and a quill pen.

‘Ah, this inventory is insanely convenient.’

Unlike rummaging through a backpack, simply wishing for an item brought it into his hand.

Enjoying that convenience, Glenn began drawing a large magic circle centered around Gotrel’s gravestone.

Worried that a priest or nun might see him, he hurried his hand.

A magic circle that should have taken an hour was completed in just thirty minutes.

“Phew.”

Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, Glenn let out a sigh.

Fortunately, no priests passed through the cemetery while he was drawing such a conspicuous magic circle.

Glenn stood up, stretching his stiff body.

“Ugh… drawing magic circles by hand every time is exhausting. Maybe I should recruit a mage scholar or a companion.”

Every time he felt these small inconveniences, he could not help but think about recruiting companions.

Even though it was a single-player RPG, Gray Eden was a game that required forming parties with NPCs to clear.

“Enough complaining.”

After clapping his hands to refocus,

Glenn drew the final stroke, completing the large magic circle.

The completed magic circle activated, emitting faint blue particles of light.

The spell Glenn had implemented was Luidanes’s Soul Mausoleum.

A magic created by Luidanes, a great archmage and adventurer who discovered countless dimensions such as the spirit world and the realm of souls, to meet the soul of his wife who died young from an incurable illness.

Two things were required.

An item the soul had used while alive, and the grave.

That was why Glenn had paid a considerable amount to purchase Gotrel’s hammer from Felix.

“Let’s make this quick.”

With an excited expression, Glenn grasped Gotrel’s hammer at the center of the magic circle.

Blue magical particles forming the circle wrapped around Glenn.

Soon, his vision turned completely white.

Silence flowed through the empty cemetery.

A strange air brushed against his skin.

The cool wind that had blown through the monastery cemetery was gone.

Glenn slowly opened his eyes.

Before him lay a faded gray-white world devoid of color.

“Looks like I arrived properly.”

Glenn raised an eyebrow.

This place was the world of souls.

More specifically, it was the Soul Hall, where the souls of the dead were said to stay briefly before being guided by God.

Glenn looked around.

Wide streets and rows of cube-shaped houses.

Countless souls wearing robes passed by him indifferently.

Everything was translucent gray-white, but the Soul Hall was not much different from a human city.

‘It was probably set up this way to help the dead adapt to the soul world by mimicking the living world.’

Either way, the blacksmith named Gotrel that Glenn sought should be somewhere in this quiet, desolate world.

Normally, the effect of Luidanes’s Soul Mausoleum would have teleported him directly to Gotrel.

But since it was a half-complete spell implemented through a magic circle, it seemed he had been sent to a random location nearby instead.

‘Guess I’ll have to walk.’

Glenn shrugged.

It would not be hard to find a blacksmith’s soul, since such places were obvious. It would just take some walking.

Glenn took out a black hood from his inventory and pulled it over his head.

Then he naturally blended into the flow of souls moving through the streets.