Chapter Thirty Seven: Rest is important

Bones… Bones… Bones…!!
I dreamt of bones. In my nightmare, I was seated before a king-sized feast, the table overflowing with food—only to find every dish was nothing but bones.
It was fitting, wasn’t it? That I would end up fighting bones with all my strength. At first, I thought skeletons were nothing to fear. The weak ones I fought in the beginning gave me a false sense of confidence. Never in my wildest thoughts did I imagine I would face the Prince of the Skeletons.
I only survived thanks to my black sword. Without it, the prince would never have stayed dead.
That black film that coats my blade… I think it’s magic. Undead can only be killed with specific forms of magic. If my sword has the same property, then doesn’t that mean it’s enchanted?

---
I didn’t wake early the morning after the battle. My body refused to move. By the time my eyes finally opened, it was already past ten.
Hunger gnawed at me worse than usual. Without even rinsing my mouth, I tore into stale bread and finished the leftover milk from yesterday. Warm meals no longer mattered to me—I had trained myself to survive on whatever I had.
My plan had been to march back into the cursed forest and settle my score with the King of the Undead. But reality stopped me cold.
My sword was chipped.
The edges looked as though rats had chewed through the steel. The blade that had saved me against the prince now resembled broken scrap.
“I can’t fight with this…” I muttered bitterly.
Challenging the King with a ruined weapon would be suicide. I would have to postpone my revenge.

---
I dressed in my farmer’s clothes before leaving the cave. My other clothes drew too much attention—they carried the aura of a Demon Lord’s cape. For once, I was relieved that people no longer scattered in fear at my presence.
The buckets outside were full from the rain. I carried them in, one after another, before preparing to leave.
“Are you hungry?” I asked Duddul.
“Rnn…” His low rumble told me no.
The crimson beast always grazed on the red grasses in the woods before I woke.
Leila didn’t visit that morning. She was either busy or still embarrassed by my careless words yesterday—telling her I liked her body. I only hoped she hadn’t taken it the wrong way.
In less than ten minutes, Duddul carried me through the gates. By now it was almost eleven, the busiest hour. Adventurers filled the streets, most eating their late breakfast—or what passed for breakfast and lunch combined.
Many here dreamed of riches, heading to the capital to dive into the great dungeon. Those who dared risked quests outside the protective barrier, carrying goods where monsters roamed freely. Such jobs were considered suicidal.
To me, it all sounded exaggerated. I had crossed the wilds and the Nightmare Forest myself. Monsters didn’t swarm like they claimed—they guarded their own territories. Only the careless stumbled into chaos.
I still hadn’t asked Leila about the strange, weak monsters I fought that caused such destruction. I’d do that when I saw her in the afternoon.
But first—my sword.

---
Everyone knows the best smiths are the dwarves. Their district lay in an open field filled with long metal vents jutting up from the ground. In its heart stood one massive building.
I guided Duddul straight into their territory. Bearded figures bustled everywhere, hammering, hauling, shouting.
I stopped the first dwarf who looked a little less intimidating than the rest.
“Excuse me, can you tell me where I can get my sword repaired?”
He was younger than the others, his beard shorter and frame less bulky. Standing from Duddul’s back, the height difference was almost comical.
“Haha!” The laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
The dwarf squinted up at me. “…Is something wrong? I just want to see the sword.”
“NO! Nothing’s wrong,” I said quickly, climbing down from Duddul before handing him my chipped weapon.
He studied it, frowning. “Hmm… This sword looks dead to me. Did you fight something stronger than you?”
He explained that equipment had to match your level. A level 50 sword against a level 60 enemy? Useless. The battle with the prince had destroyed it beyond repair.
“I think you should get a new sword. Since you’ve leveled up, it’s time.”
If only you knew, I thought. I hadn’t leveled up at all. Still a worthless adventurer at level zero.
He tried to recommend their finest swords, and I narrowed my eyes. Was he tricking me into giving up my blade?
Before I could reply—
“Aha! I found you!!”
A familiar, irritating voice rang out.
I groaned. “Why is she here…?”
Serila

---
She bounced up to me, speaking nonstop. “I saw you heading this way, so I followed. But wow, red dragons really are amazing—I lost sight of you even though you weren’t going that fast.”
Annoying as she was, she could be useful. Her deception magic was powerful. Perhaps she could pry the truth out of this dwarf.
I put on a smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”
She caught on quickly. When I asked for her help, she agreed with a smug grin.
“Okay, but you owe me for this.”
She turned to the dwarf. “What do you plan on doing with that sword?”
“Stop it, you fool!!” I hissed. Just asking him wouldn’t change anything—I expected her to weave her magic.
But to my surprise, the dwarf answered earnestly. “The sword is really dead. You can ask other blacksmiths if you want.”
Serila smirked at me. “Was I useful, or what?”
“Useful..? I didn’t tell you to just ask him. Can’t you deceive him into spilling his thoughts? What kind of deception expert are you?”
Her expression darkened. “Are you saying my magic is useless?”
We whispered so the dwarf couldn’t hear.
“I know you don’t think highly of me, but just trust me,” she whispered fiercely.
I sighed and let it go.

---
The dwarf tried again to sell me a sword, but I dismissed him. “Not really. I got over a hundred swords yesterday from fighting undead skeletons. One of them is taller than me.”
His eyes widened. “You fought the undead!? But you’re only a level—”
I quickly clamped a hand over Meila’s mouth before she exposed me.
The dwarf’s interest sharpened. “These swords… Did any of them have red or black lines in the middle?”
“Yes. The toughest skeleton had a red-lined sword with matching armor. The prince’s sword and armor were black.”
The dwarf trembled with excitement. “Amazing…”
He begged to see them, offering to introduce me to his master, the famed blacksmith Dambador.
Even Serila's eyes lit up. “You have to meet him!”
I reluctantly agreed. The dwarf, Kango, gave me a card with directions to their underground workshop.

---
Before leaving, Meila’s stomach growled loudly.
“…Hungry?” I asked flatly.
“Like hell I am!” she snapped, but her embarrassed face betrayed her.
She asked to come with me. I agreed, seating her behind me on Duddul. Her chest pressed into my back every so often, and each time I shut my eyes, recalling the softness from before.
On the way, she confessed her debts—50 gold coins spent on deception clothing to maintain her fragile magic. Without it, she would be useless.
I had scolded her harshly, but her trembling voice silenced me.
“…I’m sorry. I can’t use magic at all. I shouldn’t have ridiculed yours.”
She said nothing, and we rode in silence until the mountains.

---
Serila followed me into my room despite my protest. She sniffed around curiously.
“It’s somehow not what I expected. It looks like a real room.”
“Of course it’s real.”
She grew somber when I explained Leila had crafted it all herself. The comparison stung her.
To distract her, I revealed the two enchanted bags—one filled with stones, the other with swords.
Her disbelief was plain. But when we counted them together, her shock turned to awe.
By the time she collapsed on the floor, breathless from counting, she stared at me wide-eyed.
“How in the world is a zero-level man like you able to defeat all these monsters?”
I only smirked. “Come to think of it… maybe I am a hero.”
After more teasing and food stolen by her, we returned to town with the bags. At Wrok’s shop, the stones fetched a total of 128 gold coins. He handed me fifty up front, promising the rest after his trip to the capital.
Without hesitation, I pressed the bag of coins into Meila’s hands.
“Here. Use it to pay your debt.”
She froze. Tears welled in her eyes. “You’re giving me all this? Why? What did I do to deserve it?”
“You’re Leila’s cousin. Leila means a lot to me. That means you do too.”
She broke down crying. Wrok had to bring her towels.
When she finally calmed, I gave her the bag of swords. “Take these to Dambador. Tell him to forge the best blade he can. And tell Kango I’m sorry I couldn’t bring the two swords I mentioned.”
“I will!” she promised, dashing off with new purpose.

---
Now empty-handed but lighter at heart, I headed to the inn to rest—and to wait for Leila.
She’d be furious if I told her about the loot before selling it. Better to let her see only the gold.