Inazuma swordsmith named Senko Muramasa

"strangeness……"

The amount of magic power fed back by the earth veins was much less than expected, as if it was blocked by something. After supplying the part that allowed Muramasa to appear in the world, there was not much left.

Even though this is not a node of the earth veins, the magic power that can be distributed is limited and still too poor.

There was more than one strange thing. The enhancement brought to him by the pendant was not reproduced on the battlefield, giving Muramasa the feeling of pure magic.

Is it that the ley lines lack elemental characteristics, or does it require some special conditions...

After a brief thought, Muramasa gave up thinking about it.

Becoming stronger has never been his top priority. Although he would occasionally be obsessed with being the "strongest", it was not to the extent that he would deliberately pursue it.

Connect the position to yourself to solve the magic power consumption required for daily actions.

As for the battle... apart from not using projections and Noble Phantasms, there are no changes.

Since there was no work to do, Cun Zheng cleaned up the room and then took tools to clean the warehouse and knife yard.

When I got outside, Hailing was nowhere to be seen, and the sound of prayers could be heard from the village in the distance.

"Is he being buried..."

Muramasa had seen many similar farewell scenes, and disturbing them at this time was not a good option.

Muramasa silently followed suit and prayed for the deceased, then returned to the busy work of cleaning up.

Clean up the garbage, sweep up the fallen leaves, put away the tools, wipe the dust...

I was busy until night fell and every household lit up the lights, and only then did I relax from the busyness.

"That's enough for now,"

Looking at the spotless warehouse and the cleaned house:

"Next, think carefully about your future life."

He pushed open the half-open door, went into the house, boiled a pot of water, and sat cross-legged on the tatami.

"Since coming here, there have been so many things to do."

"Now that I've settled down a bit, I finally have some time to think."

"First of all...where is this place?"

He originally thought that this was just another "lossbelt" or "history edited by humans."

"If this is a Lostbelt or a Singularity, then this place should be neon—whether it's culture, decorations, weapons, or even architecture."

I recalled what Gokou said about the "castle tower" and felt a bit dazed and funny.

However, there are many differences:

"After this old man appeared in this world, he was not given any commissions, nor was he given any knowledge that he should have been given."

"Also, there are no fantasy trees and no storm walls."

"It would be better to assume for the moment that this is another world."

"and……"

Tracing back his memories, the journey to the Fairy Round Table realm was as clear as if it were branded in his mind.

"This memory is so clear."

"It's basically saying that I wasn't summoned from Valhalla, but from that Lostbelt."

It would be better to say that this hypothesis is closer to the fact.

As the price paid for the concept of forging a holy sword, nothing should be left of that "Senko Muramasa."

"But I still survived, didn't I? So what should I be considered now... slag?"

"But after all, it doesn't make sense to treat blacksmiths as raw materials."

"Ah, it seems that there is such a thing. It's called sword sacrifice."

He made a few self-deprecating remarks and complained about the unreasonable client, and his thoughts gradually became clearer.

"Then, the most important thing is what happened after that, right?"

The village was digging in its memory, but could only recall the long and cold time in between.

"As expected, it still doesn't work?"

"There's no reason, no purpose... God is truly malicious."

"Or is it that you think I'm too tired, so you specially arranged for me to take a vacation?"

"but……"

Muramasa stared at the palm of his right hand, recalling the feeling of forging at that time.

The inner sea of ​​the stars, the furnace of the universe... the holy sword forged in that place, based on the experience of the "past", may also be projected.

However, Muramasa himself had no idea whether he could project the holy sword or whether even his body would be burned in the process.

but……

As long as there is no target or commission, it doesn't matter what will happen in this world.

As a forger, there is nothing I can resist from watching, playing with, and studying the Holy Sword of the Stars!

"Projection, start."

Azure energy swirled in his hands, and the magic power in the workshop was slowly gathered into Muramasa's hands. The temperature around him also rose as the concentration of magic power increased.

The oil lamps lit at night were blown away by the air currents caused by the flow of magic power. The only thing left in the room was Muramasa, which was covered in the blue fluorescent light of magic power, and the projection mold that roughly outlined its shape.

"It looks like a tin can that hasn't been taken out of its shell yet, doesn't it?"

The echo of the holy sword felt during forging has been reproduced in his mind and gradually outlined in the iron can in Muramasa's palm.

When forging steel, one needs to wait for the raw materials in the iron can to melt and take shape. Similarly, in projection, one needs to wait for the analyzed knowledge to become reality.

If it is an ordinary weapon, for a swordsmith who has been practicing for thousands of years, he can perfectly outline the required "sample" in just one breath.

But the one in front of him is completely different from those ordinary things.

After outlining a certain node, the magic power used for projection is no longer controlled by Muramasa's "output".

On the contrary, this sword is constantly "drawing" or "plundering" more magic power from Muramasa's body.

If he relaxed even a little, he would be sucked directly into it and become the nourishment for it to take shape in the world. Muramasa could only try his best to control the speed of his magic output, but he no longer had the strength to stop.

"...I'm running out of magic power. Damn it, this guy is a glutton. He only takes in and never gives out."

The magic power that this position could provide was originally very limited, and the accumulated power of several hours had already been squandered by the sword in his hand.

The high-speed running magic circuits emitted a faint light on the surface of Muramasa's skin, which kept flashing during the tug-of-war between the blade and Muramasa.

"I need more magic power. Is there any way..."

The basic magic power needed for the present world began to be extradited into it. Between the race between life and death, eyes began to look around for a way to break the deadlock.

Food? No, there's only rice given by the villagers in the room.

I still cannot make use of the magic power around me.

The energy within the earth veins can be utilized through the battlefield, but the current efficiency is too low.

Really, it’s only when the situation becomes imminent that I realize that I don’t want to disappear just like that!

The Swordsmith of Another World: Chapter 6 "Magical Girl"

"Although I don't know if it will work, I have no choice but to give it a try!"

Hold the pendant in your hand and press it into the center of the array that guides magic power.

The little elemental power left in the pendant poured into the earth veins, and the gentle trickle that had previously been fed back suddenly turned into a tide.

As expected, I guessed right——

This old man is really slow. The "magic" of this world really needs to be guided by local power.

The ether particles lingering around were dyed deep purple by the newly added elemental force, and the body, which had been gradually thinning, also became solid again under the filling of elemental force.

However, the burning sensation brought by the medium of magic power did not fade away, and it spread from the palm of the hand to the shoulder, then to the collarbone, and even began to spread towards the heart.

"This is not good..."

Even if the problem of magic power demand is solved, the overload of the spiritual base and magic circuits in the body is still increasing.

The "projection" in his hand was like an opened vortex. Even after absorbing such a huge amount of magic power, it was still bottomless.

Muramasa could feel that the magic power was constantly constructing and fusing within it, piling up layer by layer to form a planetary weight.

"That's exactly what I (the old man) want—"

If you can't even wield a sword, how can you be called a top swordsmith?

It’s not enough, there are not enough raw materials.

Even if it was just a projection, the Holy Sword of the Stars required a sufficient amount of "human features" as material.

Therefore, the holy sword is also "calling" to the swordsmith who forged it.

It is the object that best reflects the appearance of the individual named "Senko Muramasa", and it is the object that best reflects the appearance of humanity in this "era".

It needs that to come into being.

Muramasa's hands trembled from the excessive flow of magic power, and his skin was dyed dark by the heated magic power.

Areas of the same color began to appear on the arm and expanded further over time.

The space was distorted by the magic power, and was dyed with a fiery red.

The red color was not from the magic itself, but from the erosion of another dimension, which was what Muramasa wanted to show the Holy Sword.

"Essence,"

He recited silently, and with each word, the mood in his chest suddenly expanded. The magic power turned the image into substance, gradually eroding the surrounding real space and turning it into his own mental world.

There is no life, only nothingness fills the world——

"Explanation."

Beacon——

The inherent barrier that was originally only deployed when the Noble Phantasm was activated was opened by the combined effect of the Holy Sword and Muramasa's own will.

Flames ignited in the infinitely deep void, and in a blink of an eye extended to the end of the horizon, dyeing the foggy sky dark red and illuminating the barren land of steel.

Countless blades stretched across the earth, condensing the memories and obsessions of countless days and nights. The serpent-like flames burned until the earth collapsed, engulfing each blade in flames.

"Let me see it for myself!"

I am so happy!

The blade at the foot shattered first, turning into a stream of light and merging into the holy sword in his hand.

Bang, bang, bang!

The sounds of shattering began to be heard one after another, and more and more weapons turned into molten iron and iron filings, flying towards the mold in his hand.

Countless blades across the earth, condensed with countless days and nights of memories and obsessions, all turned into the flesh and blood of this holy sword in an instant.

It is not enough. The will condensed in the forged sword is not enough to offset the weight required to borrow the holy sword.

The world itself became restless under Muramasa's own wishes, and the temperature rising as it was getting closer to completion was approaching the surface of the star.

Even when he was forging his own "Noble Phantasm", he had never experienced such a change.

Having come this far, neither his dignity as a blacksmith nor the holy sword in his hand would allow him to stop.

The desire to survive is at work, and above that is the swordsmith's obsession.

Since it cannot be completed by projection, adjust it in the way you are most familiar with.

"It's time to swing the hammer—"

"Haha... I knew you'd do this sooner or later, but you're more impatient than I thought, Onii-san."

A delicate and soft voice appeared out of nowhere, the ethereal tone carried a hint of divinity, mixed with indescribable sadness and doting.

Invisible sound waves pushed away the unbearable heat, forming a thin layer of frost on the wasteland of iron and fire.