The Sub-Protagonist Is Retiring

91 – 088.Since ancient times, there have been two swords-1

All events in Baldur Mine are over.

As I escaped the mine with the support of René and Rin, who had joined in late, many dwarves greeted me.

A hero who not only rescued numerous people and their king, but also eliminated the culprit.

They each paid homage to me and made me a hero.

‘I’m not in a very bad mood.’

[It’s a given because he made an achievement that couldn’t be achieved easily.]

Six stalwart dwarves dressed in black gathered around and lifted me up.

As they carried my body on their shoulders, they marched forward with dignity.

For some reason, I felt like I had to be put in a coffin.

The way it was moved was strange, but it was a proper destination.

A tent built in a collapsed village. It was a duty tent with soft beds.

“I managed to come back alive and well despite being bitten by that bastard.”

“Ah, Lord Bormond was here too.”

“Can’t you see this leg?”

Bolmond lifted his leg, which had been torn off in half by Chaos.

His tattered leg was neatly amputated before he knew it.

They said they would completely cut it off and attach a prosthetic leg, but it seems that they were serious about it.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, I cut it without any frills. Now I have to go back to my forge and make a prosthetic leg.”

“Yes? Can you do night work on one leg?”

“It has a nose that can smell iron even without eyes, and a mouth that can wield a hammer even without arms. But don’t you think you won’t be able to do what you’ve been doing for thousands of years just because you don’t have one leg?”

“Sorry, I had no intention of disrespecting Mr. Ballmond’s skills. I just thought it would be a good idea to entrust the prosthetic limb to another skilled blacksmith since you have been through such a terrible thing.”

“Toot! I’d rather have my pet mole make it than have someone else make it. In the first place, my skills are the best in the world, so why leave it to someone else! You can make a prosthetic leg that can be used for a lifetime, but to make a prosthetic leg that will be used for about a hundred years and then thrown away? A waste of ore!”

“That’s right.”

The pride of the king of dwarves was sky-high.

Hagiya, if the blacksmith who created the first demonic sword had low self-esteem, it would be absurd.

“Then are you going to make it right now?”

“I have a lot of work to do, so I have to go. Furthermore… ….”

Bolmond takes out Polymorph’s magic sword that he has placed beside him.

He was looking down at the sword with a compassionate gaze.

“I have to hurry up and fix my broken baby.”

I once tried to destroy it because I didn’t like it, but now it seems to think of it as a child that won’t hurt even if I put it in my eyes.

‘That would be nice. Because he has a wonderful person as his father.’

[Mmm! Even though I have minor ill feelings, the fact that I am the father I respect the most in the world does not change.]

Dwarves and Ego Sword are father and daughter.

Although it is a little unfamiliar combination, family love always makes me happy.

That time when I was smiling and feeling that way. Ballmond reached out his hand towards me.

“In that sense, give me the demonic sword you are holding.”

“Yes?”

“I’m telling you in advance to avoid misunderstanding, but I’m not trying to get it back. In order to fix the broken demonic sword, he will also take care of yours here and there. Are you going to stay here for a while anyway?”

“That is true. Then I wish you well.”

“Come.”

I took out the sword from my waist and handed it to Volmond with the scabbard.

For a swordsman, a sword is a limb, so it shouldn’t be handed over carelessly, but if he’s the maker, it’s fine.

Just before my beloved sword left my hand. Prach threw a low word at me.

[Whoops… ! The moment I return to your arms, this one-handed sword will be reborn as a great sword, so be prepared!]

In an instant, the image of Prach with a bulging sword body passed through my mind.

It seems that my brain has been ruined before I knew it.

Kooung!

It was only after I put my head on the edge of the bed that I finally calmed down.

Ballmond was looking at me suspiciously, though.

“Please take good care of my sword.”

“That, yes….”

The meaning of becoming a greatsword must have meant that it would increase in volume as it merged with Polymorph’s demonic sword, right?

I decided to believe that.

…… God, please.

***

The next day.

Reconstruction of the Dwarven Village has begun in earnest.

At the same time, funerals were being held for the bereaved families and relatives of the Dwarves who died in Baldur Mine.

I was going to spend a comfortable day in the duty tent.

Before the funeral started in earnest, a dwarf in priestly clothes came to visit me.

“Vern, could you give me a minute?”

“Of course. What are you doing?”

“Nothing else, I came to ask if you would be willing to attend the funeral.”

“A funeral?”

“Yes. Vern-sama thinks that if such a person, the hero of our Dwarves, shines on his face, it will be of great strength to many people.”

“Will it be okay? On the contrary, I think some people will resent me for not being able to save them earlier.”

“There are no fools like that, so you can rest assured. Above all, Bern’s attendance was the hope of the bereaved family. I just came to convey that meaning.”

“I see.”

I couldn’t see where René, Lynn, and Lewen had gone, and Frach, who was my usual companion, had also left my side.

The only existence by my side is chaos, but I couldn’t openly call out the culprit behind this incident.

For this reason, I am currently in a very leisurely and bored state.

It didn’t seem bad to attend the funeral and comfort them even though there was nothing to do.

“Okay. Please guide me.”

“Yes! You can follow me.”

Leaving the bed I had grown fond of, I leisurely strolled through the streets.

The duty tent I was beholden to is in the middle of the village, so on the way to the funeral home I had the opportunity to see the village’s reconstruction.

The dwarves are pounding their hammers hard on top of the building.

They moved briskly and built a new building in the place where it had collapsed.

“The dwarves here are all very talented.”

“Thank you for your words, but architecture is our basic skill. If you can’t do that, you can’t go anywhere and call yourself a dwarf.”

In a fantasy world without heavy equipment, dwarves were building buildings at a much faster rate than modern construction sites.

I was at a loss for words when I said that hand movements, which would be called divine in modern times, are basic skills.

I don’t know if he used magic at least, but how can I not admire how he made it with pure skill?

It was to the point of wanting to take the dwarf and entrust him with building a house if he hid himself on a remote island in the future.

“Bern-sama?”

“Oh, sorry! I lost my mind without realizing it.”

“Ahahahaha! You did. Then would it be all right if I continued guiding you?”

“Yes.”

After walking along the street, we finally arrived at our destination.

The place I arrived at was not the funeral home I knew, but the graveyard near Baldur Mine.

It is said to be a cemetery for those who die in unexpected accidents that occur in mines every year.

Since this accident also happened in a mine, the funeral was scheduled to be held at the Baldur Cemetery.

“Thank you so much for coming to my funeral… !”

“You don’t have to thank me that much. I just came to show my face.”

“But… ….”

“Treat me as a normal attendee. Please.”

Waved his hand at the Dwarf, who was bowing down to express his gratitude, and asked him to raise his head.

I couldn’t do anything for those with severe mutations.

I couldn’t help but feel strange when I heard a greeting of thanks on a board that wouldn’t be strange even if I heard resentment.

“Okay. Then, priest, I will be in charge of Vern from now on, so please, priest, conduct the funeral.”

“Yes.”

As the Dwarf priest who guided me left, the representative of the bereaved family accepted the baton instead.

He explained the funeral procession and traditions on behalf of the priest.

“We Dwarves basically hold a funeral by cremation. In the past, there were many people who wanted to become one with the land, so they preferred burials, but now the trend has changed.”

“Why?”

“In the case of burial, only the tombstone is erected and it is over, but when it is cremated, bone powder remains.”

“There seems to have been a custom of putting bone meal in a container and storing it carefully.”

“No. We use bone meal to make weapons!”

For a moment, I doubted my ears.

You make a weapon out of bone meal left over from cremation?

The idea was beyond unique and bizarre.

“Dwarves are a race that loves smelting and minerals. A weapon made from the bone meal of a dead man is his new look!”

“Well then, among the dwarves, those who often wear weapons…… ?”

“There is a high probability that they are family. Oh! Just in time, there is a good example there.”

A dwarf pointing at someone with his finger.

In the direction he pointed, there was a dwarf woman with twin swords wrapped around her waist.

“This is Mr. Glare, who lives next door to me. The red black that Ms. Glair has is her ex-husband, and the blue black is her ex-husband.”

“Uh uh….”

“By the way, Mr. Glair and her husband are famous for their golden hair. If you look at the hilt, it’s pretty worn out, right? It is proof that Mr. Glair is having a hot night with his husbands.”

An elf who reverses genders, a perverted orc who likes panties, a lintel undead, a snow woman who rides a yeti like a sleigh, and now a dwarf who sticks her sword in.

Damn it, why is there no top among the different races in this world?