Damien stepped into Hephaestus's office, and the goddess immediately looked up with a crooked smile.
"Well, well, well. Look who finally remembered I exist," she said. "Too busy bedding girls left and right to come visit me?"
Damien chuckled. "If you wanted my attention that badly, you only had to ask. I wouldn't refuse a beautiful woman like you."
"Oh?" Hephaestus raised a brow. "Now you're flirting with me too? Maybe the rumors about you being a ladies' man aren't exaggerated after all."
Damien bowed slightly, like a proper gentleman. "What can I say? I appreciate women. Especially beautiful ones, Goddess Hephaestus."
She laughed. "If you were serious, I might've actually fallen for those sweet words."
"I am serious," Damien replied easily. "I see a future of greatness ahead of me, and I'll need powerful allies, lovers, and goddesses by my side. In that future, there's always a place for you."
Hephaestus snorted. "You won't be saying that once I show you how ugly my right eye really is."
"Nah," Damien said calmly. "I'm not that shallow. I care more about what's inside. Though honestly, you're not lacking on the outside either. Truth be told, I stand where I am now largely because of you. If you hadn't supported me at the beginning of my journey, I might never have reached this far."
Hephaestus went quiet for a moment, studying him.
"…I see," she said at last. "Maybe one day I'll show you my eye, and we'll see if you really mean that." She gestured to a chair. "For now, sit. Tell me why you're here."
Damien nodded and took a seat across from her.
"I lost my weapons," he said. "My twin daggers. You saw what happened during the War Game. They were special to me. I want replacements. Something similar, or maybe something stronger."
He paused, then smiled. "Preferably forged by the greatest smith in the world."
Hephaestus leaned back, crossing her arms. "So you want me to make you a weapon." She hummed thoughtfully. "Why not ask Welf? As much as it annoys me to admit it, his potential surpasses mine. My weapons excel in durability, balance, handling, even growth. But Welf… if he matures properly, he could create weapons far beyond mine."
She continued, more serious now. "I can't use my divine power in forging. Welf can pour his soul into his work. The Crozzo bloodline is monstrous when it comes to mortal craftsmanship."
"I thought about that," Damien said. "And I know he'd do it if I asked. But I know Welf too. He hates making magical weapons now. As his friend, I won't force him into something he despises."
He looked her in the eyes. "That's why I came to you. I need a weapon that grows with me. Something I can trust with my life. I know you'll make that."
Hephaestus exhaled slowly, then nodded.
"Fine," she said. "I don't usually take commissions from people without exclusive contracts, but I know you'll be a loyal customer."
She leaned forward. "However, I want something in return. Talk to Welf. His refusal to forge magical weapons is misguided. Weapons aren't just tools of destruction. They can protect too. He's stagnating. Wasting his talent. I won't stand for that."
Damien nodded. "I'll try. I agree with you. His talent is too great to rot away."
He stood to leave, but Hephaestus spoke again.
"Wait. We haven't discussed the price."
Damien smiled. "Whatever it is, I'll pay it. I know it'll be worth it."
He left the office, the door closing softly behind him.
Hephaestus stared at the spot where he'd stood, then sighed.
"…How troublesome," she muttered. "For some reason, his words actually make me feel things."
Her fingers brushed her eyepatch.
"What a shame," she whispered. "When he sees this… he'll never want me."
...
The moment Damien stepped into the Hostess of Fertility, the atmosphere shifted.
Every eye in the room turned toward him.
Adventurers, waitresses, veterans of the Dungeon, all of them gave subtle nods of respect. None dared call out to him. None tried to strike up conversation. Damien Ardent had long passed the point of being just another adventurer. He was a celebrity in Orario, and more than that, a name that carried fear. A warrior whose presence alone made people measure their own worth.
He moved through the tavern without pause, heading straight for his usual spot.
Welf was already there.
Damien stopped beside the table and smirked. "Well, well. Look at you. Drinking hard liquor with money I made you."
Welf burst out laughing. "What can I say? That was my last bet ever, and I'm damn glad it paid off. You have no idea how much this changes things for me."
He reached into his coat and placed a heavy pouch of valis on the table. "And don't even think about refusing this. I know you're richer than I'll ever be, but I won't feel right if I don't give you your cut."
"Oh? Is that so?" Damien said calmly.
He picked up the pouch, weighed it in his hand, then tossed it right back at Welf.
"Then consider this an upfront payment."
Welf blinked. "Upfront payment? For what?"
"For the magical weapons you're going to make for my familia," Damien said casually. "What, you thought you were done working? No. Use that money. Open your own shop. Stand proud as Welf Crozzo and make the equipment you've always dreamed of."
Welf's smile faded. He sighed heavily. "Damien, you know I don't want to make magical swords. Ever."
"Why?" Damien asked. "Because you're afraid they'll fall into the wrong hands? Do you think my hands are wrong?"
"No," Welf replied immediately. "I'd make one for you without hesitation. You're my friend. You saved my life. But not for the public. Never for the public."
"My familia isn't the public," Damien said firmly. "And weapons won't stop killing people just because you stop making them."
He leaned forward slightly. "What you need is a code. A line you won't cross. Unlike before, you have backing now. You have me. You have Hephaestus. I'll make sure no one ever forces Welf Crozzo to forge something he doesn't want to."
Damien's voice lowered. "You decide who gets your weapons. People you trust. People who won't use them for cruelty. Your work can be the reason good people survive."
Welf clenched his fists. "I don't know. I made a vow. I just… I don't trust myself. The thought of something I forged taking an innocent life… it haunts me."
"Hestia has recruited new members," Damien said quietly. "People I care about. People I want alive."
He continued, unwavering. "Loki Familia dives deeper into the Dungeon than anyone. They fight monsters that erase parties overnight. Weapons save lives there. They aren't tools of slaughter, they're shields against extinction."
Damien met his eyes. "The goddess of smithing herself believes you're more talented than her. She said it. Without divine power, your raw skill surpasses hers."
He gestured vaguely. "The Red Light District is mine now. I'll give you a prime location. A real workshop. Not Crozzo Smithy. The Welf Shop. Grand. Respected. You forge weapons only for those you deem worthy."
His tone softened just a bit. "Use your talent to protect adventurers who walk into the Dungeon every day knowing they might never return."
Welf stared at the table, thoughts crashing into one another. After a long silence, he exhaled.
"…I'll think about it," he said. "Only because it's you."
Damien smiled. "That's all I ask. I know you'll make the right choice. And when you do, a lot of people will owe their lives to Welf Crozzo."
He stood up. "Now then...I've got somewhere to be. So Take care Welf"
Welf nodded. "Yeah. You too."
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