It sounded a lot like an insult, but Kas still managed to suppress the urge to punch someone.
Watching the shaman grind various mineral grains in a mortar, he couldn't help feeling puzzled.
There was no doubt about it: he was making an alloy.
Kas didn't know the exact process for making black steel, but he figured it probably didn't involve annealing. Cold working would be far too labor-intensive for manual forging, so black steel was likely made by mixing in special minerals.
But Baize could use witchcraft...
He was asking the spirits within the minerals to transform themselves. In theory, he only needed to mix several ores in the right proportions to get a tougher metal.
Were there two kinds of charlatan shamans, then? The practical sort like Baize, and the abstract sort like Hadi?
Perhaps noticing Kas's strange look, Baize said without lifting his head:
"Have you ever seen weapons forged by dwarves, Kas?"
"War Chief Gona wields a rune-forged warhammer made by dwarves. That weapon... is powerful."
Kas could only describe it that way. The two-meter-long heavy weapon was a terrifying instrument of war, designed for cavalry.
If you ever came face-to-face with a Woolly Rhino over two meters tall at the shoulder, its thick, armor-like hide covered in long hair, your best bet was to lie down and wait to die. After dodging its horned charge, you could only pray its hooves wouldn't come down on you.
But if that Woolly Rhino carried a ferocious rider wielding a long-handled hammer that could easily pound a person into mincemeat...
You'd better pray you could fly, and fly fast. Otherwise, a javelin would be through your throat in an instant.
Kas had used the War Chief's rune warhammer once. With a single light blow, he'd felled a massive oak... and then the shaman had dragged him into a hide tent and given him a thorough scolding.
"That's right. The dwarves' smithing is second to none. Even the Blood-Forged Black Steel plate armor the Black Ember Tribe has labored so hard to make can barely withstand attacks from powerful rune weapons..." Baize narrowed his eyes, his gaze turning exceptionally sharp.
"At first, we thought dwarf runes possessed powerful magic. We captured quite a few dwarf rune-smiths and learned the secrets of runes from them. That did improve the properties of our Blood-Forged Black Steel, but it could only match rune gear made by mediocre smiths.
"Later, we learned that when dwarf smiths wanted to forge powerful rune weapons, they would apply to their guild headquarters for a metal called Radel.
"The Black Ember Tribe spent two hundred years searching for the rune-smiths' main guild and for rune-smiths who could obtain Radel, but those rats who burrow underground were hard to find. We never managed to get our hands on it."
"So you started trying to forge Radel yourselves?"
"Mm... According to the rune-smiths, adding Radel to metal greatly increases its capacity to bear magic. Every race has some uniquely powerful weapons, but only dwarves can mass-produce weapons capable of beheading a dragon in a single strike. That's all thanks to Radel."
"The Larona Clan searched the entire world for minerals. Apart from a few extremely rare and powerful magical crystals, we never found a metal like Radel... one that could replace Blood-Forged Black Steel."
Baize let out a long sigh and gestured toward the various instruments on the round table:
"As you can see, these are all alchemical instruments from the southerners. I'm the first shaman to use alchemy to search for a substitute for Radel.
"Before me, my teachers always stuck to the traditional method, hoping to create Radel through the right combination of metals."
But why are you telling me all this?
Kas was baffled. In my past life, I was a humanities student, the kind who got carried away by "I reckon" theories. I spent all day fantasizing about traveling to Terra, then saving the world with my literary and martial prowess.
I don't mean holy Terra. I mean stinky-foot Terra.
Physics? I don't know a thing. Chemistry? All I can say is one nitrate, two carbon, three sulfur.
"I don't really understand why you're telling me all this."
"I believe you can help, Kas." Baize's gaze was unwavering.
"But I don't know anything." He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He couldn't just find a horse and go off to battle—and besides, this horse had two broken legs.
"You can..." Baize lowered his voice. "The spirits told me you'll help me fulfill the Black Ash's long-held wish."
He rummaged beneath the round table, pulled out a book as thick as a brick, and shoved it into Kas's arms.
Just as Kas had insisted on becoming his student, the teacher now turned fierce:
"Read! You're not going anywhere until you find a lead on Radel!"
Kas's mouth twitched. He felt like he'd been tricked. Pulling the book from his arms, he saw that the cover bore the crooked Rishiman words for Alchemy Apprentice Introductory Manual.
He opened the table of contents.
1. Alchemy and the Art of Alchemy
37. The Subjects, Content, and Methods of Alchemical Research
73. The Nature of Alchemy
89. Notes for Alchemy Apprentices
102. Common Alchemical Recipes
104. Bashkui Alchemist Association
134. Recommended Advanced Alchemy Academies
200. Author's Afterword
In short, the book's purpose was to hoodwink beginners, praising the importance of alchemy and promising that mastering it would bring wealth, power, and a perfect life.
"Shaman Baize, do you expect me to read an introductory book and come up with Radel? Do you have anything more advanced, like the principles of alchemy or its philosophical implications?"
Based on what Kas had learned in his past life, he'd start by understanding three or four tenths of the hardest principles, try applying them to real problems, then go back and review.
Judging by this book's contents, it could only produce clueless lab idiots who fretted over whether adding one extra milligram of solvent would ruin the final product.
"No. Figure it out yourself."
Baize had shown his true intentions at last. Sitting beside Kas with his arms crossed, he stared at him with eyes as round as copper bells.
He didn't care that he couldn't do it. He reckoned Kas could.
"Keck Bloodfire invited me to a feast..."
"He invited Morse Ironbone. Your werewolf wife is safe. No one will touch her."
With things put that bluntly, Kas had no choice but to grit his teeth and give it some thought.
[Project: Transmutation Status: Ongoing Inspiration: How would a Barbarian with nothing but muscles in his head know alchemy?]
That night, the longhouse hall was bustling with activity. Keck, seated at the head of the table, was growing impatient. He truly admired Morse Ironbone, after all. Every member of the Rishiman People knew the legend.
But he wanted even more to speak with the son of his blood-oath brother—to ask Kas how he'd been all these years, whether he'd been bullied in the tribe, and when he'd be holding his coming-of-age ceremony.
He waved over Kulan, who was listening to a poet recount a legend. Though young, the earnest and loyal warrior had already shown the potential to take Blackheart's place.
"Hasn't Kas arrived yet?"
"The Black Guard said he's still listening to the shaman's lessons. He might not be able to attend the feast."
"Damn lessons. Baize doesn't know a damn thing about the shaman's path." Keck cursed, waved off the agitated Kulan, and drank alone in silence.
He'd already given up on pursuing Radel. It was impossible. The shamans were delusional, hoping to ease the curse on the tribe by reducing the lives sacrificed to the Blood-Ash Furnace.
It was true that many children died before they were born, and some young warriors suffered from sickness and pain, coughing all day and even spitting up blood. But Keck didn't think it was a curse.
It was a kind of transformation. Only in the harshest conditions could the Rishiman People grow stronger.
He drank alone, planning which region to raid for more lives to satisfy the Blood-Ash Furnace's eternal hunger.
To hell with Radel. All that time wasted. If they captured more sturdy southerners, the Black Ember Tribe could flourish just the same!
The feast had ended when a shaman's Black Guard suddenly came up beside him and said in a low voice:
"Radel has appeared."
Keck's pupils trembled like the ground in an earthquake. The cup in his hand crumbled to dust.
"Baize?"
"Your blood-oath brother's son, Kas."
Before you continue