Chapter 49
Engraving patterns on a sword is a fairly common practice, setting aside the matter of spell formulas.
Just because a sword has patterns engraved on it doesn't make it sturdier or sharper, nor does it make it significantly heavier or lighter.
Ah, of course, its weight does change slightly—within the margin of error—and so does the sword's balance.
So why engrave patterns, or apply decorations, to a sword? Put simply, it's probably because they look cool.
This isn't meant as mockery, however; appearances are surprisingly important.
If you compare a warrior holding a plain iron sword with one holding a sword adorned with flowing patterns, the latter will usually look more formidable, though it depends on the situation.
Compared with a plain, undecorated sword, one with an excellent design can also affect the wielder's state of mind somewhat.
And that slight change has actually influenced the outcome of battles more often than one might think.
It has something in common with the war paint applied to rouse one's own courage.
In short, what I'm saying is that I'm also bragging about being good at decorating swords.
However, even when I entered a decorated sword in a competition, I couldn't beat the smith regarded as the best in the Rudoria Kingdom.
I was so focused on mastering swordsmanship back then that I didn't think much of it, but looking back now, it still bothers me quite a bit.
Even now, I don't think I could beat the work of that dwarf master smith.
Well, putting that aside, I'm a smith who entered a decorated sword and took second place in the fairly large kingdom of Rudoria.
Therefore, arranging and engraving the designated patterns accurately, with the connections required of a spell formula, was far from easy and gave me an incredible amount of trouble—but it was possible, at least.
Kaushuman was trembling silently as he looked at the completed magic sword.
With emotion, joy, and frustration.
The finished product, forged entirely from scratch as a magic sword rather than made by engraving a spell formula onto a mass-produced sword and checking whether the magic activated, was something I was proud of, too.
He was moved by seeing it before him and delighted that a magic sword had taken shape, yet frustrated that he hadn't been the one to forge it.
I understood and sympathized with all those feelings, but I'd poured every last bit of my energy into forging the magic sword, so honestly, even talking felt like a chore.
To confirm its quality and balance as a sword, I had already swung the magic sword several times.
You can't call something finished without checking it.
However, that was only a check of its quality as a sword; I hadn't yet channeled magic power into it to check its quality as a magic sword.
That was because I thought that part—and that part alone—was Kaushuman's role.
This magic sword was completed because he and I met.
But it was Kaushuman, not me, who drew the fate that brought us together.
Therefore, he—and he alone—was the right person to be the first to wield this sword as a magic sword.
Four years had passed since Kaushuman and I met.
All four of those years were packed into this magic sword.
With trembling hands, he gripped the hilt and channeled magic power into the sword.
The patterns—the spell formula—engraved in the blade lit up, and its edge became wreathed in flames.
The flames gave off enough heat to affect the steel blade, but the restoration magic engraved to prevent the magic sword's blade from warping restored both the blade and its heat-weakened edge to their original condition.
Actually, Kaushuman and I had disagreed over how to deal with warping in the blade.
Since he was a novice with swords, he apparently thought restoration magic, which was kinder to the wielder, was the more rational choice.
I, on the other hand, argued that anyone using a magic sword ought to have the skill to match it, and insisted that the blade be protected with magic that increased its hardness.
Naturally, each method had its advantages and disadvantages.
For example, a sword engraved with restoration magic doesn't actually have a stronger blade, so if it takes a heavy impact all at once, the spell formula for the restoration magic itself might warp and break.
With the method of protecting the blade by increasing its hardness, if, while blocking a sudden attack, the magic failed to activate in time and the blade were warped even slightly, there would be no way to repair it, and the warping would gradually accumulate.
Both had their pros and cons, so which was better would probably depend on the wielder's preference.
Well, I could repair warping in the blade myself, so either method was fine by me.
Putting that aside, I still preferred protecting the blade by increasing its hardness, but I couldn't deny that the magic that wreathed this blade in flames and the restoration magic fit together perfectly.
Kaushuman slowly swung the flame-wreathed sword.
His stance was frankly awkward, and his grip was so loose that I had no idea when the sword might slip free, so I quickly hid behind something.
Risk management is important even when you're tired.
I wasn't so tactless as to say anything to him right then, but scary was scary.
Watching Kaushuman, who wasn't a swordsman, practice his swings was frightening, but he looked so genuinely delighted and happy that I couldn't help feeling envious.
Ah, I wanted to forge my own magic sword soon, finish it, and grip and swing it.
He had already selected the spell formulas to be engraved according to my wishes, and their arrangement had been settled perfectly.
Of course, my physical and mental strength were completely depleted now, so I'd probably sleep as much as I could for several days and get started in about a week.
Right now, I was looking forward to that day so much that I would probably have trouble resting easy.