Chapter 72: Just a Passing Blacksmith

The clash of the giant sword and the hammer exploded in the air.

Celia cowered in the shadow of a massive rock, watching the absurd scene unfold.

A giant sword, capable of crushing a carriage and its horses into pulp, was being held back by a hammer meant for repairing hoes.

It defied the common sense of physics.

However, considering the metallic gray sheen of Uncle Barton’s skin—a characteristic sign that his [Blessing of the Craftsman] was active—everything seemed to have a logical explanation.

Barton was not foolish enough to take the Flame Demon’s power head-on.

The seemingly simple-minded blacksmith had found the sword’s weakest point and used it as a fulcrum.

“Shift for me!”

With Uncle Barton’s roar, the burning giant sword was forced off its original trajectory, which had been aimed straight for Elent’s head.

The giant sword slammed into the clearing.

The ground shattered like a broken cracker, and lava squeezed out from the cracks, swallowing the surrounding rubble.

Elent was tossed several times by the air pressure from the impact, eventually stopping not far from Celia’s feet.

He lay there motionless, looking like a broken ragdoll.

He was not dead yet, though; his chest was still heaving.

Celia looked back at the battlefield.

Uncle Barton had actually come out on top in that clash?!

“Hmph? You have some strength.”

Ragner offered a word of praise. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he swept his giant sword horizontally. Deep red mana transformed into black flames, flowing along the blade.

“Since you are so eager to die, I will fulfill your wish first!”

The black flames climbed up the wooden handle of the hammer.

Even with the steel skin provided by his blessing, Uncle Barton’s arms began to emit blue smoke the moment they touched the black fire.

Although his physical defense was maxed out, his magic resistance was zero.

This was the limitation of a lifestyle class.

Just as the black flames were about to consume Barton’s entire arm, a silver light cut across the battlefield.

Boss Lady Lillian’s large scissors, usually used for trimming fabric, clamped onto that black fire snake.

Boss Lady Lillian possessed the [Blessing of the Tailor], allowing her to perceive weaknesses and snip connections.

In Lillian’s eyes, the flames were nothing more than a tangled mess of yarn that needed to be straightened out.

However, while the fire snake was cut, that was all it did.

In this high-heat environment, the severed black flames did not extinguish.

Instead, they split into two thinner black flames, bypassed the sharp edges of the scissors, and rushed toward Lillian.

“Oh no, this thing won’t stop being cut; it’s absorbing the surrounding heat to regenerate!”

The scissors in Boss Lady Lillian’s hands had already turned red-hot, as if they had just been pulled from a furnace.

A large section of the carefully styled bun on her head had also been singed.

“Lillian, let me help you!”

An arrow whistled through the air at that moment. The angle was tricky, aimed directly at Ragner’s eye.

But while it was still several meters away from the Flame Demon, the arrow spontaneously combusted in the high-temperature field and turned into a pile of flying ash.

In the distance, the Old Hunter Ariel lowered his wooden bow, his expression incredibly grim.

It was no use; he couldn’t deal any effective damage.

Although the villagers’ cooperation was seamless and their skill proficiency was ridiculously high—enough to be considered masters anywhere else—they couldn’t overcome the fact that their opponent was a stat monster.

It was like using a +10 wooden sword to hack at a tank. You might scratch the paint, but trying to pierce the armor was a fool’s errand.

Ragner seemed to have lost his interest in playing around.

“A good struggle.”

The Flame Demon General raised his giant sword high, and the distorted air began to converge frantically toward the tip.

The dark red mana gradually formed a whirlpool, and the humidity at the bottom of the river valley hit a breaking point.

He seemed prepared to clear the field.

“As a reward for your courage, I will burn you all to ashes together.”

Ragner aimed the giant sword at the group.

Barton held his scorched arm, Lillian gripped her burning scissors, and Ariel shielded his bow.

They were locked in place by that immense pressure, making it difficult to even move a finger.

Celia’s fingers brushed against the Holy Codex in her arms.

‘It’s a hassle, and I’ll probably be bedridden for three to five days afterward to recover, but I can’t just watch these villagers—who fixed my hoe, sold me fabric, and brought me wild game—turn into charcoal.’

Just as Celia was about to mobilize her mana and intervene, a piece of “charcoal” moved.

Elent, who had been slapped into the ground just moments ago, stood up. He gripped the broken sword that now consisted of only half a blade.

Elent had been watching.

In the moment when Barton parried the giant sword, Lillian cut the fire snake, and Ariel fired that arrow, a disturbance appeared in the mana shield protecting Ragner’s body as he maintained his large-scale destruction magic.

It lasted for only one moment.

An ordinary person wouldn’t have seen it; even Ragner himself might not have realized it.

But in the eyes of Elent, who possessed [Microscopic Perception], that loophole was as glaring as a searchlight in the dark of night.

The Priestess had once said that if one practiced [Microscopic Perception] to its limit, they could see the [Death Line]. With the [Death Line], anything that lived—even a god—could be cut down.

Elent had always thought that realm was far beyond him, but now, he could faintly see the point where all lines converged—the [Death Line] of this massive magical element.

It was like finding the gap between bones while butchering.

The muscles in Elent’s legs tensed, and he turned into a black blur.

He charged into the heart of the sea of fire, going against the heat wave that was enough to cook a person alive.

There were no extra movements and no flashy sword techniques.

There was only extreme speed.

By the time the two flames beneath Ragner’s helmet showed a look of surprise, the human youth he regarded as dust had already pressed close to his chest.

The broken sword pierced the [Death Line] located at the seam of the armor.

The gathering sea of fire magic instantly stagnated. Because the node was destroyed, the violent mana flowed backward through the Flame Demon’s body.

“How… is this… possible…”

Ragner lowered his head, staring at the blood-covered youth hanging from his chest.

“The villagers are strong.”

Elent lifted his head. His face was covered in blood and scorch marks, yet he cracked a smile, revealing teeth stained red with blood.

“Thanks to them, your movements lagged.”

Boom!

In the next second, the out-of-control mana exploded.

Orange-red light erupted from every gap in Ragner’s armor.

Elent was blown back by the force of the backlash, slamming onto the ground by Celia’s feet like a broken sandbag, after which he stopped moving.

Next to them, Ragner transformed into a miniature sun on the verge of exploding.

‘Seriously, if you can’t afford to play, don’t play. What’s with the self-destructing just because you lost?’

Celia watched the expanding sphere of light, glanced at the unconscious Elent by her feet, and finally sighed helplessly.

The young girl pulled the Holy Codex from her robes and flipped it open.

“Honestly, I just wanted to drink some Happy Water. Why does it have to be so hard?”

The girl’s slender fingers turned the pages of the Holy Codex.

Her emerald eyes reflected the fire filling the sky, her tone as flat as if she were discussing whether dinner needed more salt.

“Be a little quiet for me!”