The Immortal Genius Spearman

Chapter 97

In the blacksmith sector of Miltobern, there was only one topic on everyone’s mind:

When would the endless hammering, echoing day and night, finally come to an end?

Nine days had passed since the first strike of the hammer rang out.

“Wow, it’s finished!”

“It’s finally done!”

The people, who had been holding their breath as they watched from outside Torrel’s forge, scattered in all directions, shouting with excitement.

Damian, who had stayed by Torrel’s side throughout the nights, couldn’t help but smile as the corners of his lips turned upward.

A smile of satisfaction.

A journey that had lasted a full nine days.

Seven of those days had been spent just smelting the Amantatium.

Torrel had broken two hammers in the process and struck the metal thousands of times.

His palms were covered in thick calluses, and his hands were so torn from hammering that they bled profusely.

“…It’s complete, Sir Damian.”

Holding the finished spear, Torrel approached where Damian stood.

Though the blade had yet to be sharpened, the weapon’s craftsmanship was already astounding.

“You’ve worked hard.”

“Would you like to try holding it?”

Damian nodded in response to Torrel’s question and took hold of the spear.

The spearhead was straight and elongated, with a short cross-shaped blade protruding from its lower part.

“It’s designed to catch and snatch the enemy’s weapon. I couldn’t make it longer due to the shortage of Amantatium.”

“This is more than enough.”

Damian smiled brightly.

The spear’s design was exactly as Damian had requested. Moreover,

“There must have been a significant shortage of Amantatium. How did you manage to make it in one piece?”

“I mixed it with other minerals. While Amantatium is notoriously difficult to smelt, it blends well with other minerals, retaining its strengths.”

Although the spear felt slightly heavy, the weight seemed to increase its destructive power.

With a firm grip on the spear, Damian stepped back and swung it lightly.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

The Amantatium spear spun rapidly in Damian’s hands, slicing through the air with a sharp sound.

Feeling the vibration of the spear in his hand, Damian tightened his grip on it.

Smack!

Watching Damian’s masterful spear techniques, Torrel swallowed hard.

Although he knew Damian was a soldier, he hadn’t expected his spear skills to be so exceptional.

Torrel asked nervously.

“Does it… please you?”

“Absolutely. This is the finest spear I’ve ever held.”

Damian grinned widely.

The spear Torrel had created was truly extraordinary.

Not only did it have the right weight and balance, but the faint, resonant vibration felt when Damian infused it with mana hinted at its potential.

With this spear, he felt he could wield it with full force against the Empire’s forces.

“Now, shall we have it appraised? It’s time to clear your name completely.”

“Yes!”

Torrel, who had been so serious and focused during the work, now looked considerably more cheerful.

‘Finally…’

For the first time, Torrel felt like he wasn’t alone—he had someone on his side.

When he completed the Amantatium spear, he made a vow.

As long as this man didn’t abandon him, he would remain loyal to him.

“Oh.”

Torrel suddenly seemed to remember something and turned to Damian.

“Sir Damian, if it’s not too much trouble… could you give this spear a name?”

“The spear’s name? Shouldn’t you be the one to name it, Mr. Torrel? You made it yourself.”

“But it was your commission…”

“What does that matter? Please, go ahead and name it.”

“Then…”

Torrel pondered for a moment.

“I’m not good at naming things, so I feel a bit embarrassed. Can I name it based on the impression I had when I first made it?”

“Of course.”

“…Leviathan.”

“Leviathan… That sounds familiar?”

“It’s the evil dragon created by the demon Lucifer. The deep purple hue of this spear, which at times appears black, made me think of a demon.”

Furthermore, the elongated spearhead resembled a dragon with its mouth closed.

“And this engraving near the center of the blade reminds me of an eye.”

“…Now that you mention it.”

An evil dragon.

Damian’s smile widened.

It was a name that perfectly suited the path he was walking.

“Leviathan… Leviathan… It’s a good name.”

Damian smiled contentedly, clearly pleased with the name. As he carried the spear out, he spotted Diel waiting outside.

“Please have it appraised.”

“Yes. But… even to my untrained eyes, this seems like an incredible weapon.”

Diel, gazing at the softly glowing Leviathan, was genuinely impressed.

Was this really a weapon forged by human hands?

‘I’ve seen many weapons in my time… but this is on a different level.’

Diel turned to Damian and said,

“You’ve received quite the gift.”

“It was all possible thanks to you, Miss Diel.”

“Thank you for saying so.”

With a faint smile, Diel headed toward the professional appraiser with her staff.

And then,

“Shall we go get something to eat? It’ll take some time for the appraisal anyway.”

“…Yes!”

Damian walked away with Torrel.

As Torrel left the forge, many people gathered around, their eyes reflecting a variety of emotions.

Some still looked at him with contempt, as if he were a criminal, while others gazed at him with apologetic expressions, acknowledging the past wrongs done to him.

But more importantly,

“…Incredible.”

“Did he really smelt that Amantatium? It couldn’t be 100% pure, right?”

“No way… Even Meister Wiltron’s sword was only about 80% pure.”

The strength of Amantatium depends on how thoroughly the impurities are removed.

Even removing 50% of the impurities results in a material far superior to ordinary steel.

Regardless, they now viewed Torrel with renewed respect.

Whatever the purity,

“…Are we witnessing the birth of a new Meister in Miltobern?”

“Could it be that Torrel, who used to be just an apprentice blacksmith… possesses such skill?”

As they watched Torrel walk away with Damian, many people couldn’t help but comment.

Whatever the case, Torrel had now become one of the most renowned blacksmiths in Miltobern.

—

It was common knowledge that the Kingdom of Spanian had been trampled underfoot by the Empire and had become their puppet.

However…

“Kiaran, sir!”

Edmund, who usually didn’t make a fuss over anything, came rushing in.

Kiaran frowned as he watched the frantic Edmund approach.

“What’s going on?”

“A secret messenger from the Kingdom of Spanian has arrived. Please take a look at this letter.”

The letter in Edmund’s hand was stained with blood.

It seemed that the messenger had been attacked while trying to escape from the palace.

Kiaran snatched the letter and began to read it.

“…Those crazy bastards.”

As he read, Kiaran’s expression twisted in anger.

His hand holding the letter began to tremble.

Edmund swallowed hard and asked cautiously.

“What… happened?”

“It seems the Empire has finally made up their minds.”

“Are we talking about war?”

Edmund’s face grew serious.

Signs of this had been visible for some time.

They had simply been wondering if the Empire would initiate war while other kingdoms were still standing strong.

But…

“The Kingdom of Spanian is urgently requesting an alliance and support.”

In other words, the Kingdom of Spanian intended to draw their swords against the Empire once more.

They had already fallen once, but there was now only one reason they would choose to fight again.

‘It means they are in a position where they have no choice but to fight or face annihilation.’

The Empire had crossed a line, and crossed it thoroughly.

Otherwise, this situation would not have arisen.

Kiaran let out a small sigh.

He then pulled out a sheet of paper from his drawer and began writing rapidly.

“Edmund, send this letter to the royal palace immediately, as fast as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Edmund dashed out, Kiaran quickly put on the uniform hanging on the coat rack.

He would have to raise the army as soon as the response from the palace arrived.

Kiaran bit his lip.

“Damn Imperial scum.”

So, this is how things are going to unfold.

Cursing the Empire under his breath, Kiaran hurriedly moved somewhere.

—

90% purity.

Its hardness was such that it could destroy steel in a single strike without even using magic.

“…Did I do that?”

Naturally, the people around him were in an uproar.

The sword he had previously crafted with Wiltron’s help had a purity of 80%.

But now, the Leviathan he had made alone had a purity of 90%.

“It seems Meister Wiltron was actually a hindrance, haha.”

“W-what are you saying!”

Holding a beer mug, Diel let out a low chuckle.

Torrel, flustered by Diel’s words, waved his hands frantically, but Damian intervened.

“Let’s give credit where it’s due. Honestly, isn’t your skill much better, Mr. Torrel?”

“I-it was just luck.”

“Yes, let’s say it was luck. But you know that even luck only favors those who have the skill to begin with.”

Damian gulped down the beer in his mug.

Now that everything was over, he planned to return to his unit tomorrow.

Damian turned to Torrel and said,

“You’re going to have a lot of people bothering you for a while. Push them away, but if it becomes too much, don’t hesitate to ask Miss Diel for help. She will handle any problems you can’t.”

“Hah… Are you giving me more work now?”

“Why sigh when you’ll just pass it on to your employees?”

“Do you have any idea how busy I am? If anything goes wrong with the 6th Corps’ supplies, that devil of a corps commander might tear me apart.”

The devilish corps commander… She must be referring to Kiaran.

Well, with her, that’s certainly possible.

Damian silently sympathized and refilled his beer.

As they continued to drink, the atmosphere grew more relaxed, and they began to have honest conversations they normally wouldn’t have.

Moreover, the three of them were of a similar age, so it felt like the walls between them were coming down faster.

“Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes, I’ve been away from the unit for too long.”

“Isn’t that almost enough to get you disciplined? Hahaha.”

Diel’s words made Damian chuckle awkwardly as he nodded.

“I’ve been gone for too long. I need to hurry back.”

But the time spent here had been well worth it.

He had gained Torrel, and also…

Damian glanced at the Leviathan, tightly wrapped in brown cloth.

‘This alone is an enormous gain.’

The unexpected battle with the Imperial general had given him an idea that had led to such a wonderful result.

Even as he came here, he had thought it might be a bit too early.

But…

‘Everything… seems to be moving slightly faster than I anticipated.’

He might have to move up his plans as a whole.

After spending an enjoyable time with the two, the next day arrived.

“I’ll keep in touch.”

“Thank you so much. If it weren’t for you, Sir Damian… my life would have been completely ruined. You’re the savior of my life.”

Torrel spoke his heart out, and Damian burst into laughter.

“Don’t be too grateful. I’m going to work you hard from now on. There might come a day when you’ll curse my name.”

“Never.”

Leaving behind the confident Torrel, Damian returned to his unit.

And then…

“…What’s with this atmosphere?”

Returning to the Caion unit, Damian found a tense atmosphere that left him bewildered.

And just then…

“You’re back?”

“What’s going on?”

Damian asked as he saw Leonhark approaching.

The atmosphere around the unit was very different from usual.

Leonhark replied,

“There’s an order for the entire 6th Corps to stand by. It seems… the Empire is preparing to make a serious move.”

Hearing this, Damian’s gaze turned cold.

‘…Already?’

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