By the Grace of the Gods (LN) - Volume 15 - Chapter 10.1

Chapter 9, Episode 19: The Hunt Starts Tomorrow

After gathering my inheritance, I stepped outside. “Glen— Whoa.”

“Took you long enough,” Glen said, having built a veritable mountain of Undead monsters in front of the grave slimes. “These things are bottomless, no matter how many I crush. Give me the room from yesterday and the slime that washes you up, will you?” he requested, covered in blood from his fists to his toes. I could imagine how uncomfortable he was, so I helped him clean up so we could sit down and have a conversation.

“Thanks. I can finally relax,” he said, after the cleaner slime washed him up.

“You were covered in blood.”

“Soaked. Why are there so many Undead here anyway?” Glen asked.

The monster, of course. I’d have to explain that to him. “There’s a monster that’s been living in a manor in the center of the village for a long time now. That monster has the power to create Undead monsters. The other reason I came here is to take care of that problem.”

“Avenging your fellow villagers?”

“No, I wasn’t that close to them,” I said. “I thought I’d clean up the place while I’m here. And take home a few plants growing around here. Even better if I can fix up the house and make it a base of operations.”

“So I’ve got to punch more zombies...” Glen said, twisting his face in disgust from his experience today.

“I know. There’s something I found in there.” I took out one of the weapons from the basement. The shimmering, black-gold hammer was even bigger than the one Glen was using before. As soon as I saw it, I noticed this weapon exuding a sort of presence that reminded me of dad’s swords. All the weapons in the basement commanded deference, but this hammer was something else. I didn’t really have plans to use a weapon like this, though, and Glen’s way of fighting those zombies seemed like a health code violation.

“So, I thought you could try this out to replace your broken hammer,” I said. Even if it turned out to be a mediocre craft, it had to be better than punching zombies bare-handed. I was happy to lend it to him since he was helping me clear out the Undead.

When Glen saw the hammer, he seemed to sense something too. He solemnly took up the hammer and lifted it. He swung it a few times, with both hands then with one, a little slower than his usual movement, like he was test-driving the weapon. Then, he walked to the nearest heatwood tree...and swung with a powerful exhale. A section of tree bark the size of a wall caved into a massive crater.

“I don’t know if I should be impressed by your strength or the durability of the heatwood tree still standing... But you probably—” broke it again, I was going to say, before I saw Glen’s grin and the intact hammer in his hand as the dust of the impact settled in the dim lighting. “It withstood that impact?” I asked.

“This thing rocks! Where’d you find it?!”

“In this house. It’s one of my grandparents’ keepsakes,” I said.

“Keepsake? Who were your grandparents, anyway? This is adamantite, right?”

“You can tell?”

“Adamantite is just about the best material for making heavy weapons like this,” Glen said. “Even I know that. Actually, it was used to make my old hammer.” He took the broken hammer from his fanny pack with one hand. Upon closer inspection, the material looked very similar, except for a slight difference in color. “The difference in color is the difference in purity. The guy at the weapon’s shop I got this from said that adamantite’s too hard and durable to make things with easily, so they make an alloy with steel and other metals. They said their full-time blacksmith made this thing with the purest adamantite alloy they could make. He was bragging that there was no other weapon out there with purer adamantite. Now he wasn’t lying when he said that... But yours is purer, isn’t it?”