"Swish, swish—"
The broom swept across the ground as Stella thodically cleaned the dust outside the blacksmith shop.
The adventurers gathered nearby would occasionally glance at her, while those waiting in line for forging had grown bored enough to start critiquing her sweeping.
"Your stance is off, and you're not putting enough weight into it. Keep sweeping like that and your back's going to start hurting in no ti."
"You can tell she doesn't clean very often."
"#!"
Veins bulged on Stella's forehead as she tightened her grip on the broom—
And then… nothing.
She couldn't exactly start beating people away with a broom. If this were before, she would've kicked each of them without hesitation—but not now. Her current identity was a helper at the blacksmith shop.
What kind of helper drives custors away?
If she really did that, a pair of sandbag-sized fists would imdiately co down to "discipline" her.
"Hehe."
A snickering laugh ca from a rooftop not far away. Without even looking up, she knew—it had to be that bastard lga.
"Once I'm done with this, I'm going to kill every last one of you…" Stella muttered viciously.
As punishnt for ssing up the blacksmith shop, she and the Skyrim Team had been turned into Andre's laborers. Their job was to clean the area around the shop for one week.
She had always thought that phantom wouldn't have much emotional fluctuation, but when this blacksmith saw his house in a ss, he had gotten unexpectedly furious—giving each of them a "Whale-Slaying Punch." She hadn't even realized what happened before she was knocked flat on the ground.
Before Andre shoved a broom into her hands, her mind had been filled with a single thought:
What just happened?
Later, after so gleeful explanation from her fellow elves, she finally understood the situation.
Just her luck.
Who would've thought such a terrifyingly strong phantom lived in that house? She had only co because Luluwo invited her over for dinner—and sohow ended up walking straight into disaster.
She hadn't even gotten a single bite to eat before being beaten up by Andre!
The only consolation was that she only needed to sweep here for half an hour each morning. They could also rotate shifts within the Skyrim Team, so only one person had to do it each day.
Today was the first day—and of course, it was her turn.
Sure enough, lga and the other elves were watching her with schadenfreude, clearly enjoying the show.
"Just you wait—don't expect to lead you through the easy route anymore!" she said bitterly.
At that mont, excited voices ca from the blacksmith shop.
"Ohhh! My weapon's so much sharper now—whoa, it even has fire damage!"
Since Andre's arrival, such exclamations had beco common—so much so that people nearby were already used to it.
Stella glanced over and saw an adventurer receiving a greatsword from Andre. As he swung it, faint sparks flickered along the blade.
Weapon enchantnt? Looks like that lucky guy found a Fire Gem.
While exploring the Sein Dungeon, aside from forging stones, a small number of people had discovered gemstones nad after various attributes—Fire Gems, Poison Gems, and so on. At first, no one knew how to use them.
But now, by handing them over to Blacksmith Andre, weapons could be imbued with the corresponding attribute.
In Soul Gas, this was called "transformation," but in this world, people referred to it as enchantnt.
Stella rembered how, the night before, when people discovered that gems could enchant weapons, everyone had erupted into astonished chatter.
Why?
Because enchanted weapons not only wielded elental power—they didn't consu any mana!
This was yet another discovery that overturned common knowledge. Previously, while enchanted weapons existed in this world, using their elental effects required mana.
Without mana, enchanted weapons were no different from ordinary ones. Even if most consud very little mana, it was still a requirent.
But Andre's enchanted weapons had no such threshold. As long as you held the weapon, every strike could unleash elental power.
That said, the strength of a transformation scaled with the weapon's upgrades. At the initial stage, it wasn't very powerful—like that adventurer just now, who could only produce a thin layer of fla and a few sparks.
Want more power? Want your weapon to burn like a blazing inferno?
Then go collect more forging stones.
Previously, due to the lack of a blacksmith, so adventurers had stockpiled forging stones. Now they could finally indulge in upgrades—so had already pushed their weapons to 3.
"Finally, it's my turn." An adventurer handed over his weapon and forging stones to Andre.
Andre casually tossed them behind the house into a spot no one could see, then continued hamring the weapon in his hands as he said, "Co back tomorrow."
"Alright!"
Watching this, Stella couldn't help but complain internally.
Why does this blacksmith keep hamring the sa weapon? Ever since he arrived, he hasn't stopped!
She had assud that once adventurers handed over their weapons, Andre would imdiately start forging them.
Instead, he just tossed them aside and kept working on the sa weapon—one he seed to have been hamring for centuries.
Even more ridiculous—when adventurers returned the next day, he would sohow produce their fully upgraded weapons.
When exactly does he make them? Did I miss sothing?
In the end, Stella could only attribute it to the peculiar nature of a phantom. With more and more adventurers coming, it was impossible for him to forge each weapon one by one, right?
So he must have so unique talent—or perhaps the dungeon itself was helping him.
Either way, this slight inconsistency didn't dampen anyone's enthusiasm. If anything, Andre's mystery only increased people's respect for him.
After all, the elves had already spread the story of him punching a Jyuratodus to death in a single blow. Everyone now knew that this cheerful, caring blacksmith was actually a hidden powerhouse.
Before, adventurers resting near the academy gate town worried that campfires wouldn't fully repel monsters—especially since there were no walls.
But ever since Andre arrived, everyone felt at ease, as if believing he would protect them if monsters attacked.
The rhythmic clang of hamring had even begun to give people a sense of security.
Honestly, that wasn't a bad thing—it might even give adventurers a sense of belonging.
anwhile—
"Ohhh, so that's how you apply force?" an elf crouched beside Andre, watching his every movent with intense focus.
Passersby couldn't help but stare at this unusually well-behaved figure.
Siva, an elven blacksmith and shield warrior, was trying to secretly learn Andre's forging techniques.
As he watched, he kept clicking his tongue in amazent. Even the smallest movent from Andre would surprise him.
"What exactly are you so amazed by?" Stella asked, speechless. "His movents haven't changed at all."
"You wouldn't understand as an outsider," Siva replied without even looking at her, completely absorbed.
Bang! Sparks flew with a hamr strike, and he let out another awed "Wow."
"…"
No matter how she looked at it, this was just ordinary blacksmithing.
What exactly was this "expert" seeing?
Stella gave up trying to talk to him. She set aside her broom—once she finished cleaning, she could leave.
Today, she planned to lead the elves to explore the Magic Academy.
"Heh heh…" Her expression suddenly darkened as she let out a cold laugh. "I was going to take you through the easy right path—but since you mocked … even if it costs my young bones, I'll make you experience hell."
A sinister aura radiated from her, making those nearby shiver.
She was about to fall into the dark path!
Mutual sabotage—that was the elves' version of "friendly harmony."
"Well, well, finished sweeping? Our cleaning master is finally off duty." lga jumped down from the rooftop, grinning as he tried to throw an arm around Stella's shoulder—only to have it slapped away.
"Go call Auntie. We're heading out."
"She's been ready. Just waiting for you."
This ti, the elf group was missing one mber—Siva refused to leave the blacksmith shop. Another group they had agreed to et at Lake Liurnia still hadn't shown up.
So they set off with their current team.
"Not too tired, right?" Wienma asked with concern when she saw Stella.
"I'm fine," Stella replied, softening instantly. She was the type who lted at even a little kindness.
But that softness vanished the mont she saw lga and Liznai.
Yeah… we're definitely taking the left route.
Perfect timing to test Luluwo's earlier theory about the "Crystal Elder." They should already be inside the academy—maybe they'd run into them.
With Stella leading and the weather clear, the elves finally took the correct path and soon arrived at the foot of Raya Lucaria Academy.
Carian soldiers still guarded the checkpoint, standing on high alert. Was it her imagination, or were there more of them now?
Either way, it wouldn't stop them.
Wienma stepped forward, casting magic at a soldier. Complex, mysterious runes lit up in the air as a "shooting star" shot forward.
She spoke the spell's na:
"Glintstone Pebble ×2."
Another, slightly familiar voice echoed at the sa ti.
Bang! Bang!
Two glintstone projectiles struck the soldier's head, instantly taking him down. The others stirred, drawing their swords and charging.
But at that mont, Wienma's attention shifted elsewhere—eting the gaze of an unexpected group.
"Oh?" The magic professor, Set, raised an eyebrow, surprised to see a familiar face.
"Wienma?" Even the taciturn Hades spoke, his deep voice muffled beneath a glintstone helm.
Tursey tilted her head, arms crossed. As the youngest professor, she didn't know the elf very well.
"Hey~" Roger greeted Stella cheerfully. She smiled back—those two were the only ones getting along.
"What are you doing here?" Wienma asked coldly, her gaze clashing with Set's, sparks almost flying between them.
Talk about enemies crossing paths.
"None of your business," Set replied sharply, tugging at his collar.
The tension thickened—so much so that even the Carian soldiers hesitated to approach.
"I see… you're after this academy's magic too? Can't wait to 'reform' it?" Wienma sneered, completely different from her earlier gentle deanor.
"And you? Still clinging to that ridiculous 'the older, the stronger' theory?" Set shot back.
The atmosphere grew heavier. The younger mbers couldn't even get a word in—Roger was already breaking into a cold sweat.
Then, suddenly, Tursey spoke:
"How about a competition… to see who clears the academy first?"
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