Han leads us down the dank stone stairwell. A strong smell of iron and coal steeps in my nostrils, growing stronger the further down we go.

“Keep yer jaws off the floor, that’s all I’ll say,” she chuckles.

The stairwell suddenly opens out, leaving us standing at the edge of an impossibly-large room. A hall— is more like it. Towering black pillars line the way, going for what seems like miles. Braziers are sat before each pillar, all the way down to the end. Standing at the end is a tall statue of a heroic figure lightly clasping the pommel of a long sword facing down. Above it is a giant portrait of a beautiful young woman with long, braided blond hair and stern overseeing eyes. The painting doesn’t show her whole body, but I can still see that the woman in the portrait wears silver armor, polished finely if by only artistic touch.

“Somethin’ else, ain’t it?” says Han, clapping me on the back. “Forge’s over there, down where it ain’t takin’ up legroom.”

“This’s... all yours...?” I mutter.

“Used to take you straight to my shop on the main road. Till they shut me down, of course,” Han replies. “But I’ve gotten the last laugh in. Opened myself a new entrance, closed off the old. New owner of the place’s too stupid to figure it out.”

“A-And that painting there...” I say. “Is it—“

“Me? Was me, once. Is it that hard to believe?” she laughs. “May’ve gained a few since then, but ain’t no doubt that was me in my prime. Used to be an d‘venturer, y’know. Durin’ the good old days. Second from the top, before I retired.”

“And why did you?” I ask.

Han looks down with almost a somber expression on her face. But it doesn’t last long before she picks her head up again. “Stories’re best told in a bout of hard work,” she replies. She turns to Nora. “Kid, there’s a bench o’er that way. Hop on over there ‘n wait like a good lil girl.”

Nora looks timidly up at me, but does nothing. I guess she’s waiting for me to confirm.

“Don’t worry, you can still see me from there,” I say.

Begrudgingly, she nods and plods over to the elegant stone bench between two pillars.

Han starts again towards the smithing area, and I’m inclined to follow her as my only current source of information.

“So— what’ll it be?” she asks. “I ain’t gonna ask what it’s for, but in exchange I gotta know what’s yer fancy.”

“Um... a... a sword...? A sharp one, preferably...?”

“You don’t know fuckarse ‘bout swords, do ye,” she frowns.

“I know plenty— just not anything remotely useful to this situation,” I reply, which is completely true. I doubt any sword I’ve ever designed could possibly fit a single category.

“Hm— Well, you seem pretty weak.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“How ‘bout a rapier? The gentlemanly weapon.”

“Do you honestly take me for a gentleman?”

“Fair point, yer as rugged as can be,” she nods. “Doesn’t mean ye can’t never clean yerself up, just don’t ask me to wait so long. Short-sword’s the obvious choice, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be any more showy than the next few million of ‘em out there.”

“They’re that common?” I ask.

“Course they are,” she replies.

“I’d prefer something more... flashy, admittedly,” I mutter.

“Err... then...” She pauses with a hand on her chin. “Ah! I’ve got it! How ‘bout a Kui Blade?”

“What’s a Kui Blade?”

“The name comes from the island nations far south,” she replies. “Light, fast, an’ sharper than my father’s tongue after a night ‘o drinkin’. Only problem is it ain’t cheap to make.”

“How much?”

“Hundred thousand, give or take.”

“A hundred thousand—?!”

“‘Course, if yer fine with mediocrity, I’d be happy to—“

“Alright, I’ll take it,” I say.

Shouldn’t be a problem, right? I estimated the bag to be about three hundred thousand. But... that’s a third of my savings... Wait— and I don’t even know what the thing is...!

“Tell you what— You pay me after we’ve made the thing. Then you see if it’s really somethin’ ye’d bring to a fight.”

“Got it,” I nod.

“So, guess I should tell ye the story of Phoenix, yea?”

Beads of sweat drip down her brow as she shuffles a metal bar around in the forge. I’m a few paces back, watching warily for any sparks that jump out of the thing.

“Phoenix?” I ask.

“Once upon a time, when that lady in that picture was really me, there was a strong group of d’venturers,” she says. “Phoenix Knights, four young faces with a hunger fer justice, or some bull along those lines. One was Ben Dineur, handsome stud, and master with the lance. Second was Valentina Aquilina, a brash kitsune with a temper, and devil with a spear. Thirdly was Ginthakkhil Varquez, a—“

“Wait— Gin? He was a part of it, too?”

“Interrupt me again an’ I’ll pour hot coals down yer trousers,” she glowers. “As I was sayin’— Ginthakkhil Varquez was a brute of a young man with the heart of a bull and a unique soft spot fer tiny things. His axe could split a house to pieces in one hit.”

“I met Gin a few days ago,” I say. “Can’t imagine what he looked like back then.”

“Handsome too, in his own right, but the man had no interest in women till after the group came apart,” she replies. “Finally was their leader, Hanselle Duquis Von Gloria, a goddess in both beauty an’ sword-skill. She was known as The Tragic Hero; a noblewoman who lost it all to bandits as a kid. She came to this city with nothin’ but her father’s sword, an’ a will to put an end to all that’s bad.”

“I... had no idea,” I mutter.

“‘Course ye didn’t,” she chuckles. “Now, it wasn’t all sunshine n’ rainbows fer Hanselle there. She fell in love with a man who didn’t love her back. He somehow fell for that annoying lil tramp with the fox tail instead. The Tragic Hero took on a new meaning. Her companions left her one by one fer their own selves. She grew cold. Several years later she had an outburst. Ended up killin’ a newbie. Cuz of her rank she wasn’t sentenced to death— long as she never swung a sword again.”

“So... it was a forced retirement, then?”

“‘Forced’ don’t do it justice,” she huffs. “Her livelihood was taken from her. Came a whole new person to cope.”

Han silently stares down into the burning coals for a good few seconds.

“Ah, but who am I kiddin,” she continues. “I had a good run of it. Nowadays, this’s more my deal.”

She takes the long metal rod from the blaze and plops one end down flat on an anvil. She begins to hammer the rod for a good few minutes in silence. When she finishes, she takes the flattened metal and lays it back into the forge.

“Should be only an hour now. It’d take any other smith a week to finish one ‘o these,” she says. “Came to the right place, ye did. And I get a good day’s work in Jeul, too. I almost feel grateful fer that scrawny lil gape-skull Ratton, fishin’ you from the streets.” She again takes the metal from the forge. “Alright, little bird— Time for me to work my magic.”

It’s a katana. The Kui Blade, as she calls it, is nothing less than a samurai-grade katana, polished to a near perfect reflection. I swear, I turned my back for half a second and when I looked again she was done.

“Now don’t go touchin’ it yet, it’s still hotter’n hell,” says Han. “What’s with that look? Never seen a smithy in the act?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure they don’t work that fast,” I mutter. “What... exactly did you do?”

“Hah! Trade secret, little bird,” she grins. “Ah, but it ain’t done yet. Gotta make it yours, first.”

“Okay, so you engrave my name on it or something?”

“Gotta say you’ll pay me, first.”

“How long will it last?”

“Two— three hundred years? Longer’n your arse, I’ll tell ye that much.”

“It’s a big investment,” I say. “I’ll buy it for fifty-thousand.”

“Ninety.”

“Sixty-five.”

“Eighty. Final offer.”

“...Fine, I’ll take it,” I nod. “It’s... an investment, right...?”

“Up to you, little bird. Assumin’ you ain’t eaten alive up there on yer first day.”

“Alright. Make it mine, then I’ll pay.”

“A’ight,” she nods. “Stick out yer hand.”

I do as I’m told.

Before I know what’s happening, she makes a quick slice to the palm of my hand with the searing hot metal blade. A pitiful yelp escapes my lungs, and I leap backwards.

“Wh-Why the hell’d you do that?!” I burst.

“Look closely.” She points to the very tip, where a few drips of my blood congregate. But the drips slowly start to disappear, as if being eaten by the sword itself. Its blade begins to shine red.

“What’s happening?” I say.

“Soul-binding,” she replies. “It can still get stolen, but to anyone else—" She lets it drop to the floor. “—It’s too heavy to swing.”

“What, so... Nobody can use it but me now?”

“You’n anyone down the line that shares yer blood.”

“Ahh— An heirloom,” I say. “Well sure, if I do make it long enough to have any next of kin I’ll be sure to revere it as a family treasure.”

“Ye’d better,” she smirks. “C’mon, pick it on up now. Lemme see it in rightful hands.”

I nod and reach down. I slowly wrap my fingers around the ornate leather hilt. As I stand, I turn it on its end to eye its sharpness. Only, I can’t even see where the point meets. It’s like the blade’s edge goes on into infinity.

“I’ll call it... Wind-Slicer,” I say. “So sharp, it can cut the wind in—“

“You mock it, little bird. No moronic name you come up with can fit its majesty.”

“Well then... what do you suggest I name it?” I ask.

“Kuidanne, Mokui... Can’t name a sword like that without it startin’ or endin’ with ‘Kui.’”

“Ken...kui,” I say. “That’s it’s name. Sure.”

The red glow of the blade heightens before suddenly fading altogether. Etched near the thin guard is a column of this world’s runes.

“Ken...kui, eh? Ain’t from any language I know, but if that’s the name then that’s the name.”

“Yeah, I’m sure of it,” I nod. “Kenkui— harnessing the wrath of a thousand lightning strikes, it will lash out at—“

“It’s just a blade, kid.”

“O-Oh, okay.”

Han nods. She reaches behind herself and comes back with a long white sheath with golden trim.

“Alright, I know you didn’t just make that. Are you messing with me here?” I say.

“Seeing someone satisfied with my blades is what powers me,” she replies. “That’s why I was kicked off the main road. Stuck-up adventurers still wet behind the ears... criticizing things they don’t understand. Got no patience for ‘em.”

“And that’s why everyone thinks you’re a monster?”

“Eh? Ah, nah. That’s a different story,” she waves dismissively. “One I ain’t gonna tell now. Come back sometime an’ maybe I will over drinks.”

“I-I think I’ll pass.”

“Heh. Your loss, little bird.”

She takes a moment to look off to the side. I follow her gaze to the bench where Nora now lays, having fallen sound asleep.

“She yours?” she asks.

“I’m her guardian.”

“That didn’t answer the question.”

“I’m not sure. But I promised I’d take care of her.”

“Once upon a time, I would’ve wanted that kinda responsibility.”

“With Benny?”

“Once upon a time. Hell, maybe I could’ve if I didn’t pretend to be so oblivious. But... long as he’s happy, guess I can’t complain.”

“Happy...?” I mutter.

“He’s with the love of his life. Can’t take that from him now.”

She already knows, right...?

“Hey, How is she, the woman? I take it ye met her, too?”

Oh god. She doesn’t know.

“Benny’s wife... Valentina, she’s...” I hesitate. “She was murdered. Years ago, by the sound of it. I... thought you knew.”

She freezes. Her look is stern, but she’s hardly moving.

“Who did it?”

Her teeth are clenched.

“A man named Greed,” I say. “Or... what I was told. Benny’s already avenged her, though.”

Han says nothing. She stares down at the ground with an unchanging expression.

“U-Um—?” I begin.

“A shame,” she says, abruptly shifting her gaze. “Benny deserved better. After all the shit he’d gone through, no less.”

“B-But he does seem happy,” I continue. “He’s got three grandchildren. A-And he works a peaceful old farm an hour’s walk outside of the city.”

“Good. S’pose that’s good,” she murmurs. “Anyways... Benny ain’t the focus here no more. What’s yer goal?”

“Save lives, make some cash in the process,” I reply. “I thought you weren’t going to pry about me.”

“She have a weapon?” Han asks. She motions to Nora.

“Uh— y-yeah, she’s got one. Why?”

“What kind?”

“A dagger. It’s old, but— it saved my life once, so hopefully it can protect her as well.”

“Bring it here.”

After waking her, I help Nora off the stone bench. She tiredly rubs her good eye with a balled fist. She timidly takes my hand as we approach the smithing area. I pass Han the small dagger.

“This’s it,” I say. “I was given it by... a friend. I gave it to her to protect herself.”

“Looks familiar,” Han mutters, turning it in her hands. “Eh, prolly my imagination. Some precious metals went into this, though. I could fix it up, if ye want.”

“You would?”

“Course. Ain’t too big a deal. Gimme five minutes.”

After grinding the blade on a crystalline grindstone, Han douses it in a yellowish mixture. It’s then rubbed with some sort of cloth that when removed causes the metal to shine brightly. Han takes a moment to admire her handiwork before passing it to me with the pommel facing out.

“Hm— I swear I’d seen somethin’ like this before, though,” she says, scratching her chin. “Will ye be stayin’ here’n the Second Rung fer a while?”

“We plan to,” I reply.

“If I remember anythin’, I’ll let ye know,” she says. “An’ give the bastards up in their castle my regards. That’s all I gotta say. Now get outta my shop before I tear ye a new one.”

We leave without any further goodbyes. I tried to thank her, but she pushed me out the door before I could.

“Breathe in the fresh air,” I say to Nora. “All that coal down there can’t be good for your lungs.”

She does as I said. She then stretches, raising her arms and clamping her hands together over her head while arching her back.

“Ly—The knife’s been sharpened,” I say. “Did you see it?”

Nora takes my hand and nods quietly. We begin walking back towards the mouth of the alleyway.

“How are you feeling now?” I ask.

“Tired,” she replies.

“You sure do sleep a lot. Were you like this back with Esm— Err... N-Never mind.”

She yawns.

“W-Well, anyways... It’s finally time for me to register for the Adventurers Guild,” I continue. “...And I think I’ve come to a decision.”

Nora curiously looks up at me.

“Remember what we were talking about earlier?”

She nods.

“Good.” I pause. “...I can’t let you come with. You know I can’t. Not yet.”

Her grasp tenses on my hand.

“...That’s why I want you to train. I’ll find someone who can teach you how to use that knife. And only then can I in good conscience take you with me.”

“No...” she mutters, looking away. “I’ll go with you now.”

“You know you can’t do that,” I say. “I can’t let you come with me yet. I won’t. I care too much about you.”

“Th-Then I won’t let you leave!” she exclaims. She grabs my hand with both of hers now and angles her heels into the road, bringing both of us to a stop.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t care!”

“Well I do.”

“Well I don’t!”

“Nora... Please listen to me now.”

“No!”

I pick Nora up and begin to carry on. She tries to wiggle free but quickly realizes she isn’t nearly strong enough.

“Are you done with your tantrum?” I ask.

“Yes...” she mutters. “...Please put me down now.”

I set her on her feet. She takes my hand again, and remains silent for the rest of the walk.

“O-O-O-h-h dear— Ratton knew this day would come! The demon has finally sent someone to kill him—!”

“Not quite,” I mutter, striding past the cowering Ratton. When he realizes I’m not here to kill him, he scrambles to his feet and begins to follow beside me.

“Ahh— He thanks, he thanks, he does,” Ratton glimmers. “What for, then? What did Master go for?”

“Eh—? Oh, this,” I say, unclipping the sword and handing it to him.

“Gna-a-a!!!” he shrieks as the weight of it sends him straight to the ground.

“Heavy, yeah?”

“R-Ratton’s fingers—! Ratton is stuck!” he squirms. I lift it off of him and he immediately leaps backwards. I can’t help but laugh.

“Sorry. I just wanted to see if it really worked.”

“Why is Ratton always the subject of cruel games...?” Ratton whimpers.

Nora giggles. It surprises me, but I play it off as best I can in order not to draw attention to it.

“U-Um, So Ratton... Mind telling me which of these buildings is the guild hall?”

“The big one, yes. Impossible to miss. Right there, yes.” Ratton points down the way.

At the far end of the road sits a massive grayish stone structure with at least thirty stairs leading up to a colossal open pair of doors. It has a giant triangle roof and multiple pillars supporting it. It looks like the Parthenon on steroids, and there's a wide square tower on top of it.

“O-Oh, yeah— I knew that,” I mutter.

“Ratton is not welcome past this point, so I leave,” he says, dipping backwards. “They try to kill him, they do.”

“Then you’d better get out of sight,” I reply.

“Eek—! Yes, I go now.” He scampers off into a different alleyway, leaving Nora and I alone among the adventurers.

“Almost there,” I say.

“Carry me,” she mutters.

I again pick her up and place her in my arms. I throw my caution out the window. I shouldn’t push her too much, especially so soon after the trauma to her head she suffered. So if she needs me to carry her, I will.

Nora burrows her head into my neck. Her cat ears tickle my nose a little. I swear, it almost sounds like she’s purring as well. If she really is so close in behavior to a cat, then it’s no wonder she sleeps so much. It’s honestly adorable.

The gateway is guarded by two men in matching silvery chainmail. They do little more than give me a sharp look as I pass through, however. Once inside, I’m greeted with a pristine open corridor with high ceilings and intricate marble flooring. The hall is giant, and could probably fit more than a few thousand people if they all stood at arm’s length from each other. At the far end and up against shining wooden walls is a long line of blue-uniformed women behind a shared countertop that spans the entire width of the place. There are several adventurers around, and about half of the receptionists appear to be occupied. I walk up to the closest free spot, manned by a brown-haired woman with a yellow-striped blue cap, and introduce myself.

“My name is Cyr,” I say. I carefully set Nora at my side. “I would like to register as an adventurer.”

“Certainly,” the woman bows. “Weapon of choice?”

“Kui Blade,” I reply.

“So a light-class, yes?”

“If that’s what it’s called.”

“Alright, if you could please print your full name here,” she says, sliding over a paper and inkwell.

“Is Cyr just fine?” I mutter.

“I’m sorry, but a secondary name is required for the contract,” she says.

“Um...”

“This cannot be changed, so if you write the name on this contract then that is what your name will be. I can withdraw it for now to give you time. Is this okay?”

Alright... it’s time to think. Screw whatever I was in my old world. That name doesn’t matter. Only ever caused me trouble, anyways. I’ve got to come up with something this world will remember. Something charming... something fierce... something stylish and cool all in one...

“My full name...” I mutter, “is Cyrus Avette.”

“Wonderful. Now if you could please—“

“Oh, right. Gotta... write it...”

Dammit, now I just sound like an idiot. Oh well. No going back. I sign the paperwork and take an involuntary step backwards. The name sounds stupider and stupider the longer I think of it. I cringe at the mistake I’ve made.

“Perfect,” she smiles, taking the paper and folding it in half. “Now please place two hands on this.” The woman pulls up a strange wooden device with some sort of melon-sized bluish gemstone and sets it before me.

“What, just like... Touch it...?” I mutter.

“Hold your hands on the crystal,” she replies.

I do as I’m told. The crystal is cool to the touch as I rest my palms on its bluish face. When I do, a small white light appears at its center. The crystal begins to grow warm.

“Alright, you may remove your hands now,” she nods. I do, and again take a step back. She narrows her eyes as she begins to gaze into the spherical object. “Hmm... Why is it always so fuzzy...? I swear, I only have problems with this one.”

A hand claps my shoulder, and a young man steps in between me and the desk. I peek around him as he slams a fist down on the top of the ball.

“Hey, what’re you— Oh...?” The woman tilts her head. “Huh, it’s fixed.”

“Brute force can solve much,” he says, turning to me. “Are you a new recruit?”

“...Y-Yeah,” I mutter.

This guy looks kinda familiar. I sure haven’t seen him in this world, though. Makes me wonder if he’s actually from my world. He’s undoubtedly Japanese, a trait I’ve yet to see on anybody else here. He’s young, probably eighteen. He’s got this black feathered hair and a pair of piercing eyes. But it’s really his outfit that draws my attention. It’s almost like...

“Cyrus Avette—“ begins the woman before me. She’s still studying the crystal, but I can’t quite see anything other than the small white light at its center. “That’s... strange. Wh-What?! Class C off the bat?!”

“Huh? Is that good?” I mutter.

“It’s... it hasn’t been done in quite a while!” she awes. “Not even Vice-Admiral Pierce began that high! ...U-Um, pardon me, s-sir.”

“Vice-Admiral... Pierce...?”

“Me,” the young man beside me grumbles. His placid look is gone, replaced with a cold gaze. “Just don’t get cocky. I am still a thousand ranks your senior. I could kill you in an instant.”

He turns his back to me and walks away. It’s then that it all clicks into place. The sword on his back only confirms it. Though he’s 3D now, and his mannerisms are way more soured than expected... there’s no mistaking that Vice-Admiral Pierce... is none other than the very character I helped design. Pierce, the haughty wisecracking teen is standing before me in the flesh.