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It was just a feeling.
It wouldn’t be necessarily true.
At the very least, at least it shouldn’t be.
But there was this feeling dancing around Julian that the [Master of Shadows] quest might actually just absorb this weapon. He knew it was improbable, but if there was even a percent chance of it happening, he wouldn’t risk it.
“Sword… Junkie?” Cyrus and Hans once again looked at each other, confused as to why Julian suddenly stopped moving. Neither of them could approach, however, as they saw the somewhat conflicted expression on Julian’s face.
Should he do it? Should he lower the quality so that it wouldn’t be equivalent to an [Epic] grade weapon?
Julian lowered his hammer as his fingers once again started feeling the xylarion metal.
“Sword Junkie!?” Cyrus gasped as he saw that—how could he not? The metal should be scalding hot right now, and yet Julian casually placed his hand on it. He initially thought that Julian didn’t know what he was touching, but no. The loud breath that escaped Julian’s lips was enough for Cyrus to know that he knew exactly what he was doing…
…and he was angry. But why? Why would he be angry?
And Cyrus was right—Julian was angry, very much so. He was angry at himself, angry for even thinking of deliberately lowering the quality of the knife he was about to make.
“Hm…” The anger escaping his breaths almost became a growl as he tightened his grip on his hammer. How could he even have such a thought? Lowering the quality just because he feared that the Master of Shadows would take the blade away?
Never. He should never have a thought like that again. It would be a disservice to him and all the other things he has made—and most importantly, it would be a disservice to the metal he was holding right now.
If the Master of Shadows was indeed going to take any [Epic] grade weapons he would produce, even back here on Earth… then he just has to make sure that it won’t be [Epic] grade—it would be higher than that.
Julian quickly raised his hammer again, striking the metal and causing a ripple to blast through the entire forge, literally.
“What... what's happening!?” Cyrus rushed toward his drone as it began to lose control in the air. “What was that!?”
“It’s... the metal.” Hans, struggling to stay steady, looked like he might collapse any second as the ripple blasted through him. “Ze metal is singing to us—nein, it’s weeping. Weeping tears of joy."
“Huh?” Cyrus narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening. He was about to speak again, but another ripple hit him, blasting across his face. He felt it down to his pores, each clang of the hammer sending vibrations through his bones, almost as if they were resonating with the sound.
“These are...” Cyrus gulped, realization hitting him. “Perfect hits... on Earth?”
The gravity of Artemia and Earth were worlds apart, and of course, with Artemia’s game-like mechanics and magic, the physics between the two planets differed as well. The concept of [Perfect Hits] should really only apply in Artemia, where the laws of their world govern it. [Perfect Hits] weren’t just about hitting the metal perfectly; Artemia’s system would adjust and enhance the effects whenever triggered.
But here, on Earth, it didn’t make any sense at all. There was no governing god, no magic to manipulate or amplify reality. In short, it should be impossible.
Perhaps it was the sheer impossibility of what was happening that caused this strange ripple, a force that Earth itself didn’t seem to understand. With no magic to guide or adjust the situation, Earth could only react violently to what Julian was doing. The planet was confused, and this ripple was its way of trying to cope with something outside its grasp.
This was groundbreaking—there was no doubt about that. Yet it seemed like Cyrus was the only one who truly grasped the significance of what was unfolding before him. Then again, in the grand scheme of things, did it even matter? Because right now—
—more and more viewers were joining the stream by the second. And why wouldn’t they? Watching this incredible display was mesmerizing, but not necessarily for the reasons Cyrus initially thought.
Most of the viewers weren’t really focused on what Julian was doing at all. They didn’t care about the art of the craft, the perfection of each strike, or the impossible scenario unfolding with the metal. No, they were here for something else entirely. They were captivated by Julian himself.
The way his thick arms bulged with every hammer strike, the definition of his muscles under the dancing flames of the forge—he was a sight to behold. His glowing blue eyes, locked in one place, added an air of calm, almost making him seem like a stoic painting. And then there was his broad, muscular chest, partially exposed from his shirt, which had loosened with each swing of the hammer. But the most captivating part of all was his face—perfect, sharp, and effortlessly strong.
Why would they care about perfect hits when Julian’s face was more perfect? Of course, Cyrus was looking and thinking that from an agent’s perspective, understanding that Julian’s appearance was one of his biggest assets. And now, with each strike sending ripples through the air, blowing Julian’s hair back and revealing even more of his face, the viewers were hooked. They were eating it up. Eating it all up.
And their physical representation was right beside Cyrus.
“Amazing, truly amazing…” Hans was now on the floor, his old legs had already given up on him. His eyes. however, were still completely locked onto Julian.
Clang!
His head flinched with each violent ripple. Hans had seen Julian's mastery before, through streams, but witnessing it in person was a completely different experience. It felt surreal, like something beyond reality. Why was it now, seeing it up close, that he couldn’t quite believe what was happening?
This was something else, something entirely different from anything he had imagined.
Julian wasn’t just a genius—he was a force, a monster capable of bending reality through sheer skill and precision. Each strike of his hammer seemed to warp the air around him, as though the world itself had to obey his will.
Of course, Cyrus and Hans knew they were just imagining it—how could something like that be happening? But even knowing that, it felt like the impossible was unfolding right before their eyes.
And neither of them knew exactly when it happened, but suddenly, Julian was done. The endless rhythm of hammering had finally stopped. Time had slipped away unnoticed, completely absorbed by the work in front of them.
Three hours. That’s how long it had taken. Three straight hours of hammering, perfecting every tiny detail. By the time Julian moved to grind the blade, it was so precise that it took him less than five seconds to finish polishing it.
The blade gleamed, it was an immaculate white, almost like milk. It was unlike anything either of them had ever seen before.
“Do you have a hilt ready for this?” Julian asked, approaching Hans with the finished xylarion blade in hand.
“Huh…?” Hans stammered, feeling utterly unworthy to even gaze upon the blade. As Julian offered it to him, he found himself instinctively pulling back, not daring to touch it.
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“A handle. You can fit one yourself if you want to,” Julian said, gesturing for Hans to take it. “You’ll be the one using it, so—”
"N—nein!” Hans shook his head vehemently, backing away quickly. “I wouldn’t dare touch it! Wait, bitte, just wait here!"
Hans scrambled off, returning moments later with a stick. But not just any stick. It was dark—no, not just dark, black. Incredibly so, as if it absorbed light itself.
“Zis hardwood is from a planet several galaxies away,” Hans explained, kneeling as he presented the piece of wood. “Ze gravity there makes life impossible for most. I vould be honored if you used it."
“...Okay.” Julian shrugged casually, then began shaping the wood into a handle. With practiced ease, he cut it and sandwiched it perfectly around the full tang of the blade. The fit was flawless, as if the handle had always belonged with the blade.
And finally, it was complete.
“Here’s your baby, Hans. Come and hold her.” Julian set the knife gently on the table. Both Cyrus and Hans approached it cautiously, almost mesmerized by Julian’s words, as though the knife was truly a living thing.
It might as well have been.
It was perfect—perhaps even more than perfect.
“Can you…” Hans’s voice trembled, his gaze shifting between Julian and the blade. “...carve your name on it?”
“No,” Julian said, shaking his head. “It’ll lower the quality of the blade.”
“No…” Hans shook his head even more vigorously. "It will… it will increase its worth beyond this world. Bitte, Master Julian… please!"
“Fine.” With a reluctant nod, Julian took the blade back and carefully etched his name into the hilt.
Hans’s breaths were shaky, and even after Julian handed the knife back to him, he was too afraid to touch it. Instead, he placed it back on the table gently, as if it might break under his fingers.
“I…” Hans clutched his chest, clearly overwhelmed. “...I don’t even know how I can pay you for this.”
“You don’t need to.” Julian smiled softly. “Just working with the xylarion was—”
“Woah, woah. Wait…” Cyrus quickly cut in, not letting Julian finish. “...I’ll handle the money matters, Sword Junkie.”
“100,000.” Hans breathed out, his gaze still locked on the knife. “I vill pay you 100,000.”
"What the fuck?" Even Cyrus was shocked, "I... I mean... wow."
“That’s… too much,” Julian said, a quiet hum escaping his lips. “I only provided the labor, Hans. I think even 1,000 Credits would be already too much. I can't possibly accept that kind of money when I only worked for... 3 hours?”
"Exactly, und even zat amount isn’t enough.” Hans whispered, closing his eyes, clearly still processing the gravity of the situation. “You deserve every bit of it und more. I vish I could give you more, but… zat’s ze most I can spend vithout getting approval from my granddaughter.”
“But—”
“And it will serve as a deterrent.” Hans scoffed, crossing his arms while shaking his head. “People need to know zat if zey vant a piece of ze Sword Junkie’s craftsmanship, zey’ll need to pay for it. Und it’s done. I’ve already sent ze credits to your bank. I’m not exaggerating, Master Julian, ven I say zis—zis knife is vorth more zan a million credits now."
“A million credits…” Julian listened to the hum of the blade once more. “...Can I ask how much the xylarion ingot was?”
“...You actually understand him?” Cyrus blinked, "I can't even understand the guy."
“I got it for 750,000 credits,” Hans said casually. “I got it at a discount thanks to certain connections.”
“What…?” Julian’s breath hitched as soon as the number registered. Just for that single piece of metal? Then how much did New York actually spend on constructing the space elevator?
“What were you before you retired…?” Cyrus asked, now shutting off the stream as he stared at Hans.
"Vell, zat’s not important.” Hans waved his hand dismissively, letting out a hearty laugh. “Now come! I’m sure you’re both hungry! Let me cook something for you—”
“Grandpa!” Before Hans could lead Julian and Cyrus out of the forge, a gust of wind blew through the chamber, carrying with it a fiery voice, “What’s this alert from the bank about a hundred K being withdrawn!? You didn’t even bother—Oh.”
The sharp tone softened immediately when its owner caught sight of Julian and Cyrus.
“You… you didn’t say you had company over, Grandfather.” The woman’s demeanor shifted quickly, standing up straighter as she cleared her throat. “Who—Huh?”
“Hm?” Julian, sensing something, turned his shoulders in her direction just as the woman turned her gaze toward him.
“I recognize that voice…” Julian whispered, tilting his head slightly. [Cindy Solis from the hospital, Julian,] MEGAN chimed in, her tone cautious. [She’s the Exterminator, remember?]
“Yes,” Julian murmured. “Cindy Solis.”
“Julian Winters.” Cindy’s eyes narrowed as she scanned Julian from head to toe. “What… are you doing here? Are you here because—”
“Because I invited him.” Hans raised his voice, stepping in front of Cindy with his arms crossed. “Und don’t speak to our esteemed guests like zat, meine Enkelin."
“You… invited him?” Cindy stammered, her eyes darting between her grandfather and Julian. “Where… did the two of you even meet?”
"Vot do you mean?” Hans furrowed his brow. “You’re ze one who introduced me to ze Sword Junkie."
“Huh?” Cindy’s eye twitched in confusion. “What do you mean I introduced you? When did that happen?”
“When you left his stream on.” Hans shrugged. “I vas curious why you were so glued to ze screen. You’re usually out training, but zere you were, vatching ze Sword Junkie’s stream—"
“Grandpa!?” Cindy quickly rushed to Hans, covering his mouth. “That… that was part of an ongoing investigation!”
“Investigation?” Julian tilted his head. “You’re investigating me, Cindy?”
“I… was! Was!” Cindy stammered, quickly shaking her head. “I had to because of the strange circumstances surrounding the daemon’s death.”
“Oh…? What’s this now?” Cyrus leaned in, rubbing his chin as he soaked in the unfolding drama, “You were involved in a daemon incident, Julian?”
“Yes.” Julian hummed. “Cindy and her team found and rescued me.”
“‘Rescue’ isn’t really the word I’d use.” Cindy narrowed her eyes, scanning Julian from head to toe again.
“Wait… you’re Cindy Solis!” Cyrus’s eyes widened in realization. “You’re the guild master of the Phantom Brigade! Julian, she’s famous in the hunting world!”
“…The hunting world?” Julian tilted his head slightly. “You’re also involved with the Exterminators?”
“Ho…” Cyrus smirked. “My portfolio is diverse, Sword Junkie—I go where the money and fame are. Some Exterminators are sponsored by companies. It’s practically a sport now.”
“Excuse me?” Cindy’s eyebrows shot up at Cyrus’s words. “A sport? What do you mean ‘sport’? Tens of people die every day from daemon attacks, and you’re calling it a sport? Who even are—”
“It seems we won’t be having that dinner after all, Sword Junkie…” Hans interrupted with a soft sigh, shaking his head in disappointment as he positioned himself between Julian and Cindy. “...I would have loved to talk more, but—”
“I got it.” Cyrus winked, quickly guiding Julian toward the exit. “Let’s go, let’s go. This is a private moment now.”
“Oh…” Julian grabbed his cane. “...Thank you for letting me experience the xylarion, Hans.”
“No, no.” Hans shook his head with pride. “The pleasure was mine, Sword Junkie.”
“Hm…” Julian murmured as he and Cyrus left, leaving Hans alone with his granddaughter, who looked like she was about to explode. Fortunately, she just sighed, holding back her anger.
“What did you call him here for, Grandpa?” Cindy’s demeanor shifted the moment she was alone with her grandfather, her tone sharp. “You know I’ve been investigating him. I’ve been trying to recruit special people for the guild since we’re being left behind by the others.”
“And you said it wasn’t a sport.” Hans scoffed, shooting her a glance before turning back to the xylarion knife. “I don’t care about your investigations, Cindy. I called the Sword Junkie to make me a knife.”
“And why are you calling him Sword Junkie…?” Cindy’s eyebrow rose, her frustration building. “I don’t care about the Otherworld or whatever—it’s him I’m suspicious of. He was there when—what’s that?”
“My new baby.” Hans finally lifted the xylarion knife from the table, his fingers brushing over the cool blade. “Hold it, but be gentle.”
“Julian Winters made this?” Cindy’s eyes narrowed as she felt the almost weightless blade in her hand. “Wait… this is xylarion metal. Grandpa!?”
"Ja."
“Why did you turn it into a kitchen knife!?” Cindy shouted, exasperated. “You told me you were going to have someone turn it into a Phasing weapon! Grandpa!? And why would you even use a knife to cook!? Why don't you just use a Thread Slicer!? You know, those things that vibrate and can cut meat like it's water that all the restaurants use!?”
"Trust me, meine Enkelin…” Hans scoffed again, crossing his arms. “...This is better.”
“Better!?” Cindy’s frustration boiled over. “How can a kitchen knife be better than a weapon that could cut through a daemon’s shell!? What were you thinking!?” She wanted to toss the knife away, but knowing its value stopped her. “Where’s the rest of the metal!? I’m hiding it from you from now on!”
“You’re holding it,” Hans said with a smirk.
“What?” Cindy frowned. “What do you mean I’m holding it? This is just a kitchen knife. Where’s the rest of the metal?”
“All of it was used for that.”
“What?” Cindy’s mouth dropped in disbelief. “A single ingot of xylarion can make several weapons, Grandpa. What do you mean—”
And then it clicked on her. The weight of the knife was almost non-existent, and yet it was there. But it shouldn’t be there at all since it was made with xylarion, the only weight she should actually be feeling was from the handle… and yet she was feeling the weight of the blade too… which should be impossible according to its size.
“No…” Cindy’s eyes widened as she looked up at her grandfather, her expression one of pure disbelief, "No way."
“Yes.” Hans’s smirk only grew wider.
Cindy gulped, walking over to the forge press. Without warning, she swung the knife across the press.
“What are you—” Hans started, but before he could finish, the damage was done.
He rushed over to snatch the knife from her, checking it for any sign of damage. Of course, the knife was flawless. His beloved forge press, however, was not.
They both heard it. A creak, followed by the large forge press splitting clean in half and collapsing to the floor.
“No way…” Cindy gasped, her reflection visible in the smooth, impossibly clean cut. “...Julian Winters made that? Just… who is he? Can I have that knife, Grandpa?”
“No.” Hans quickly hid the knife behind his back. “Not only can you not have it, but you also need to pay for that forge press—do you have any idea how rare it is!?”
“Grandpa…” Cindy was hardly listening, her mind racing. “...Can you get more xylarion? Bring… bring Julian Winters back here!”
"Vot do you think he is, a circus performer?” Hans waved his hand dismissively, gesturing for Cindy to leave. “Ze Sword Junkie doesn’t cater to people who don’t appreciate his greatness. Und do you think I can just summon xylarion out of thin air?"
“Tell your contacts I’ll buy it!” Cindy pleaded as she kneeled and hugged Hans’s leg, desperation creeping into her voice. “Please, Grandpa… you’re one of Germany’s Master-rank Exterminators… you can get more!”
“I’m retired, girl.” Hans clicked his tongue. “Now go, shoo! Leave me vith mein new baby."
“But—”
“I said shoo! Don't you have that tunnel back down on the Below to handle!?”
"What the!? How would... and we're not even sure it was a daemon attack just yet!"
Unbeknownst to everyone who watched the crafting of the blade, however, they have actually witnessed history being made. If taken to Artemia, the xylarion alone would ensure an [Epic] grade weapon, it didn’t matter what the result was. But with Julian’s hands…
…everybody who watched the scene unfold in front of them has actually witnessed the birth of a [Legendary] weapon.
Now, whether or not it would have actually been taken by the Master of Shadows if it was registered as [Epic] grade, well… Julian will never know.
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“Cyrus, you’ve signed an NDA contract with me, correct?”
“That’s… correct. Why are you asking me? MEGAN should confirm all of that.”
Outside Hans’s revolving house, Cyrus was a little taken aback by Julian’s sudden question as they were floating down the Topside.
“So, anything I tell you in secret would be kept a secret?” Julian once again asked.
“Pretty much. I’ll be in jail and lose all my reputation.” Cyrus shrugged, “Why…? Are you about to tell me a super duper secret?”
“I have a quest for a Unique Class.” Julian then revealed so casually. After all, since he was going to be spending a lot of time with Cyrus following him around in Artemia, there was no use in trying to hide it from him. And most importantly…
…Julian has finally decided to actively finish the [Master of Shadows] quest once and for all. He can’t accept any more crafting requests without finishing it first.
“Oh…” Cyrus blinked a few times, continuing to float down as he glanced at Julian.
“...I already knew that. It’s so obvious.”
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