The twin-bladed axe in Conrad's hands gleamed faintly with an ominous red glow. Flames danced along its edge as he swung it down with a ferocious roar, his face twisted into a grimace of pure violence.
Aldric reacted instinctively. He reached to the wall beside him, snatching down a heavy two-handed sword just in time to intercept the descending strike.
Steel clashed against steel with an ear-splitting shriek as the flaming axe scraped along the sword's edge, scattering sparks in all directions.
The overwhelming force of Conrad's attack pressed down relentlessly, driving Aldric's arms toward his chest.
With a deft backward step, Aldric skillfully diverted the force, letting the momentum slide past him. He could feel the axe slicing through the air, creating violent gusts that tugged at his clothes.
Raising his sword again, he met the incoming blows from multiple angles, his movements steady yet fluid, each motion precise and efficient.
Lieutenant Conrad's style looked crude at first glance — wild, heavy swings with little regard for defense — but hidden beneath that chaos was a strange rhythm, a savage elegance that made his every strike unpredictable and deadly.
Whether it was due to an activated skill or some special enchantment within his weapon, the air around the axe shimmered with heat, distorting the space around it.
The twin-headed axe flashed up and down in rapid arcs, growing hotter and brighter with each motion until it blazed like molten metal. Red light streaked through the forge like fiery comets, and Aldric could only rely on his polished swordsmanship to stay alive.
His heavy sword moved in disciplined, measured strokes, keeping a tight defense that left no opening. Though it seemed he was being forced back, in truth, he remained calm, composed, and even had the awareness to glance at Vittoria to make sure she hadn't joined the fight.
"Vittoria," Aldric called out between clashes, his voice firm but composed, "this is between the two of us. Don't interfere."
He knew her position was delicate — after all, Conrad was technically still part of the EU's local military forces — so he preemptively kept her out of the confrontation. Dwarf master Gloin, meanwhile, had taken his apprentices and retreated far to the back of the workshop, gleefully watching the brawl unfold.
Vittoria exhaled in relief. She had no love for extremist officers like Conrad Vasilevsky, but as an EU native, she couldn't openly attack one of her own country's soldiers.
Aldric drove his sword into the ground, bracing it upright. Using the leverage of the earth beneath his feet, he intercepted one of Conrad's heavy horizontal swings. The weapons clashed with a thunderous crack, sending a spray of sparks through the air. The sword — forged by the dwarf master himself — held firm, though a deep gash now marred its once flawless blade.
Using that moment, Aldric pushed off the ground and sidestepped around Conrad, grabbing two straight-edged military sabers from a nearby rack. Crossing the blades in both hands, he slashed in a blur of motion. The twin sabers whirled like streaks of silver lightning, cutting through the air with a whistle sharp enough to split the heat of the forge.
In an instant, steel and fire intertwined. The clang of metal rang out again and again as the two combatants traded deadly blows. Blades flashed, blood splattered — the bitter scent of iron mixed with the acrid smoke of burning coal.
Conrad quickly lost the advantage at close range. His heavy axe, built for sweeping power, was ill-suited for such tight combat. His arms and torso bore several fresh cuts, crimson staining his uniform.
Roaring in fury, the lieutenant's muscles bulged grotesquely, his body swelling larger as if under the effect of a battle skill. He ignored his wounds completely, charging forward to trade blow for blow.
Aldric's sabers struck his flesh — but instead of cutting deep, it felt like hacking into something rubbery, almost bulletproof. The resistance forced Aldric to break away rather than risk a direct exchange.
Taking advantage of the opening, Conrad staggered toward the doorway. Two players who had been waiting outside rushed in to catch him as he stumbled, barely able to stand. He gave Aldric a long, venomous glare, shook off their support, and turned to leave.
"Blood decides life and death — only the strong survive!" Aldric called out behind him, quoting the motto of the Novora Academy to mock the defeated officer.
Conrad's steps faltered for a brief moment. But he did not turn around. Instead, he simply quickened his pace and left, his two companions glaring daggers at Aldric before following their beaten leader out.
Vittoria, who had silently witnessed the entire battle, finally spoke. "You said you were a political commissar? Does Cathay's army still have that position?"
Aldric returned the sabers to their places, their edges chipped and scarred, and smiled faintly. "Just a joke. That position was abolished years ago. I was in the command department at the academy."
But my teacher was a real commissar — taught me for eight years. I even minored in political theory and ideological guidance, he added silently in his heart.
The dwarf Gloin came forward, pulling Aldric's battered two-handed sword out of the ground. He inspected the blade carefully, running a rough thumb along the deep gouge left by Conrad's axe. His apprentice, familiar with the dwarf's habits, quickly brought over the two sabers Aldric had used, presenting them respectfully.
The dwarf sniffed the air, examined the metal, and muttered as he worked, "That axe was forged from Infernal Steel. If my craftsmanship weren't as excellent as it is, that sword of yours would've shattered. The wielder reeked faintly of sulfur — not much, but enough to activate the runes on the axe. If any of those strikes had hit you, the wound would've been cauterized instantly and infected with infernal flame poison. You wouldn't be standing here right now."
Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, Gloin extended a hand. "Anyway, let's settle accounts. Three weapons — eighteen gold coins total. I'll waive the small change. No need to thank me."
Vittoria gave an exaggerated shrug and secretly messaged Aldric through the player chat: 'No way around it. This shorty's three favorite things in life are smithing, drinking, and counting money. If you don't pay up, it'll get ugly fast… I've only got five silver coins left. Do you have enough?'
Fortunately, Aldric was fairly well-funded at the moment. He didn't hesitate to pull out eighteen gold coins and place them on the table. "Money's not the issue," he said coolly, "but I want every weapon restored to its full condition. Otherwise, I'll walk right outside and tell everyone this junk came straight out of Master Gloin's forge."
Without missing a beat, Gloin scooped up the gold and tucked it into his apron pocket. "Deal! You don't need to threaten me — I'd never let anyone walk off with a half-finished product anyway. Wouldn't want anyone thinking I've lost my touch."
"And this leather armor," Aldric added, removing his own damaged chest piece and handing it over, "I'll need your tanner to repair it too. Price isn't a concern."
Gloin tossed the armor and the weapons to a nearby apprentice. "Simple work. No problem. Now, when are you bringing me your teacher's sword?"
"I'm not sure," Aldric replied honestly. "Master Gonz is still in the city, arranging a meeting with Count Anthony. I don't know exactly when he'll return, but it won't be more than a week." He met the dwarf's eyes, his tone sincere. "But I need your information now. It's important."
Vittoria, fully aware of their agreement, added immediately, "Gloin, tell him. I promise we'll deliver the Witcher's sword to you personally."
The dwarf squinted suspiciously, looking between the two of them. After a long pause, he sighed. "Fine. I'll trust you — but if you're lying, I'll hammer your shield flat and turn it into a frying pan!"
He rummaged through his cluttered workroom for a moment before handing Aldric a sealed envelope. "Here. This is the order I got. Deposit's already paid. Delivery address is a warehouse in the slums. The items themselves are… unusual. Doesn't look like they're meant for the city guards."
He glanced around cautiously, lowering his voice. "Between you and me, this stuff isn't meant for humans at all. But gold's gold. If they're paying, I don't care if it's for trolls or orcs. I've already packed my things — ready to leave anytime."
Then, catching himself, he waved a hand quickly. "Ahem — I didn't say anything, alright? Must've been hearing things!"
With that, the dwarf staggered off toward the back of the forge, humming a tuneless melody as if nothing had happened.
(End of Chapter)