Snatching his Surgical Knife back, Mercer glanced at Bogard calmly.
"I'm going back to bed. Give me your answer after breakfast tomorrow. Don't come asking after that."
With that, Mercer vaulted over the railing and jumped from the top deck, landing on the warship's deck below.
Bogard leaned over the railing and watched Mercer return to his cabin, his expression shifting uneasily.
To a true swordsman, his sword was like his other half.
Just thinking about his "other half" being handled by some other craftsman—and possibly getting damaged if the man made one careless mistake—was enough to make him uneasy.
His gaze turned conflicted. Rubbing his right hand over his sword's hilt, Bogard grimaced.
"But this is a great opportunity, too. If that kid can really do it, my sword will be transformed."
A good swordsmith was hard to find, and a swordsmith capable of forging a famous blade was rarer still.
Even with the Marines' resources, swordsmiths of that caliber were few and far between.
A swordsmith might not forge a single famous blade in his entire life.
He might only produce a few works worthy of being passed down.
Thinking of Mercer's Surgical Knives, Bogard's gaze hardened. He clenched his teeth. "I'll take the gamble. You can't catch a wolf without risking your wife."
Back in his room, Mercer washed up in the bathroom and went to bed early.
Unlike Bogard, Mercer wasn't torn up about it. To him, forging a Good Grade Sword while in the state of Unity of Heaven and Man would only take more time and effort.
That was all.
The next day.
After breakfast.
"Castle Space. Residential Area"
"Creak!"
The stone door, carved with a crow motif, swung open.
Stepping inside, Mercer saw Perona still sleeping on the bed like a log. He