Reincarnated as an SSS-Ranked Blacksmith Who Refuses to Forge Weapons Chapter 176. The Eccentric Genius

The silence that ca after Veldway’s words lasted too long. Greg had high hopes for this eting, but he did not expect Veldway to casually greet Lylia and ignore everyone else. Greg wondered if the man even knew there were other people in the room because he was staring at Lylia so intently.

"Veldway," Lylia said, and her voice sounded both relieved and sothing else that Greg couldn’t quite put his finger on. "Do you rember ?"

"Of course." Veldway’s tone made it sound like this was the dumbest question he’d ever heard. "Training session forty-seven, about six years ago."

"You couldn’t do a proper counter-thrust against my defensive structure, so Rosalina made you do it over and over for three hours until your arms were shaking."

"You threw up after working so hard. There was partially digested bread and what looked like chicken in the vomit, but it was difficult to tell what the exact seasoning was just by looking at it.

There was a beat of complete silence.

"That’s very specific and also very uncomfortable," Lylia said in a flat voice. "Did you really have to bring up the vomit?"

"You wanted to know if I rembered you, so I showed proof that I did. Was that not the answer you wanted?" Veldway tilted his head to the side, perplexed. "Social protocols say that showing a detailed mory of shared experiences builds trust."

"Did I get it wrong?"

Greg and Elwen looked at each other, and they both looked confused. Hilda had sat down hard on the bottom step because she was too tired to stand anymore, and she was watching the conversation with wide eyes. None of them thought such an event would happen.

"No, you’re right. I just..." Lylia took a breath and seed to get back on track. "It’s nice to see you, Veldway."

"We have been looking for you."

"That much is clear, since you are in my safe place. Taking into account random portal glitches, the chance of accidentally finding this place is about 0.003%." Veldway stood up in one smooth motion, and the sword across his lap stayed perfectly balanced even though he moved. "The fact that you brought friends ans the occasion isn’t a social visit."

"There are usually fewer people at social visits, and they take place in places with better lighting and snacks. There is not enough light or food in this room."

Greg thought it was ti to step in before this talk got even weirder. "Hello, it’s a pleasure to et you... My na is Greg Greyson. These are my friends, Elwen and Hilda. We ca here because we need your help."

Veldway finally looked at Greg, and for the first ti, his face showed sothing other than mild confusion. It was an evaluation, the kind of look soone gave when they were trying to figure out if you were worth their ti.

"Greg Greyson, the Warhamr Saint. A reincarnated being who won’t make weapons and who made a lot of household items with an SSS rank. And in charge of the Brotherhood of Peace right now."

Greg blinked. "How do you know all of that?"

"Information can get around, even to pocket dinsions. Occasionally, the living weapons outside interact with weapons from the outside world."

"They talk about what they know and compare what they’ve been through. Your na has gone before you." Veldway stopped for a mont and then said, as if it were an afterthought, "They think your philosophy is funny."

"A group of people who are more philosophical are arguing about whether household items can be weapons if they are used in a violent way, and the conversation got very heated... After the two spears started showing their points of view by hitting each other, they had to be split up."

Greg said, "I don’t know how to feel about that."

"Most people don’t know how to feel about most things because it’s a basic problem with how people process their feelings."

Without being asked, Veldway walked past them and up the stairs, making the group follow. They ca back into the fake adow, where the fake sunlight felt almost wrong after being in the chamber below.

Hammy jumped right over to Veldway and started to chirp with excitent. The man looked down at the sli with what might have been interest.

"A sli with a hamr in it... Now, that’s intriguing."

"The hamr’s magical signature suggests that it was made before the Fall, maybe in the First Age. You should have a professional look at that, I am not qualified because slis are not my area of expertise."

Greg said, "We didn’t co here to talk about Hammy," trying to keep the conversation going. "We ca because there is a problem."

"A big one! We were told you might be able to help, and lives are at stake."

"People’s lives are always at risk... That’s just how life is..."

"Things are born, they die after that, and the universe keeps getting more disordered until it reaches heat death."

"This conversation would go faster if you were more specific, because I don’t like vague generalizations." Veldway sat down in the grass with his legs crossed and put his sword next to him. "Tell about your crisis with as few emotional appeals as possible. I don’t like emotional appeals because they make decision matrices harder to use."

Greg took a deep breath and put his thoughts in order. This wasn’t the dramatic begging for help he had in mind.

He would give Veldway facts because he wanted them. "Two weeks ago, a woman nad Agatha Crowbane made sothing called the Calamity out of three things that are not allowed, which are the Voidsilver, Chaosweave Alloy, and Calaminite."

"The Calamity is a machine that takes in weapons and the people who make them. It is now three hundred feet tall, can fly, and is going to ridian!"

"It has already ruined Mistfall and Ironhaven! Many people have died, so right now... We have to stop it as fast as we can!"

Veldway’s face showed real emotion for the first ti since they had t him. "Of course it’s Agatha."

"When you discussed a weapon-based construct, I should have known. For decades, that woman has been obsessed with proving that she is better than everyone else."

"Did she talk for a long ti about how art needs to be destroyed and weapons are the best form of art?"

"Yes, actually," Lylia said. "Do you know her?"

"Sadly. About thirty years ago, we trained with so of the sa masters."

"She was unbearable then, and it seems she is still like that." Veldway picked up a piece of grass and looked at it with the sa level of interest that most people save for old artifacts. "She used to spend hours arguing that making things without violence was a waste of talent."

"I told her that being aggressive was her way of making up for being average. After that, she hit in the head with a hamr, but it missed. I figured out the path and told her that even her violence wasn’t right."

Elwen said, "That must have gone over well."

"It didn’t. She dared to make sothing. And I won."

"She said the judges were unfair. I gave them mathematical proof that they weren’t, but then she tried to ruin my workshop."

"I moved to a pocket dinsion." Veldway pointed to things around them. "This pocket dinsion, to be exact. It’s been three years, two months, and about seventeen days since I got here."

"It could take a few hours more or less, depending on how you asure ti in spaces that aren’t standard."