"Mmnn…"

A soft groan was followed by the shifting of bedsheets as Sanary was slow to rouse from her late-day slumber.

Her body felt lethargic as she sat upright, spurred by the gnawing roil that was her empty stomach. She brushed her eyes with the back of her hands before looking over to the nearby nightstand towards the clock. The time was roughly was early evening.

I overslept by that long? She sighed, disappointed in her inability to go into the Labyrinth for the third day in a row. The first two days were understandable considering the commission deadline. But she'd planned to get some material farming done after a quick nap, only to find half the day gone.

There was no point in rushing to the Labyrinth at this hour, so Sanary decided to see if Master Bron had returned yet. She hoped he would have time to come up with a new Sword Technique for her with his current order completed. But first she needed food.

Getting to her feet, the swordswoman stretched her limbs and yawned before making her way towards her worktable. A pouch of boam laid open on the surface, its contents spilling out. She scooped the coins properly into the pouch and then closed it before she opened her door—

"Quit complaining and just get it inside!"

"But it's so mean…"

—and was greeted to a pair of voices that teetered on the cusp of youth coming from the corridors of the Second Floor. Sanary stuck her head beyond the door frame and spotted a pair of Guardian Beasts floating in the air at the entrance to Ariel's workshop. They were holding a box between them.

The Angel and Devil hailing from the Spirit World of Sapureth were both Guardian Beasts that looked to be twin girls. Both dressed themselves in leotards adorned with half of a heart split down the middle, but the devil had a set of bat-like pinions on her back while the angel had a pair of wings in her hair beneath a halo. They were naturally bonded to Ariel and Mariel.

"But Sis, is it really safe to keep this in the room?" Angel Dinah asked meekly while her crimson eyes clenched shut. "What if it hurts them while we're not here?"

"It's just bitter because it got broken, tossed out, and then lost when it tried to pick a fight." In contrast, Devil Dinah only had smugness in her voice as she looked down from the top of the box and inside. "Whine all you want. You're lucky that they didn't toss you into the water."

Sanary would have questioned what those two were talking about, if not for the sudden sense of familiar revulsion that washed over her. She went over and grabbed the box itself before they could slip into the room. Her suspicions were confirmed as she found herself staring at a box of random materials, upon the top of it rested an ore consisting of dark-grey and purple hues that dripped with contempt. "They found a Mystic Ore!"

"Finders keepers!" said the brutish devil as she brushed the girl's hand away. "We're the ones who found it, so we keep it!"

"You really shouldn't get near it, Miss Sanary," said the infinitely more polite angel. "It's really mad at the moment and saying things that aren't very nice, like how it wants to take off your head."

Sanary backed away. Since these two came from the Spirit Realm they had a different sense of perception and understanding, meaning they could put words to the raw emotions that she could feel coming from it. But even without that she knew that long-term exposure to unrefined Mystic Ore tended to cause issues. That was part of why it was difficult to work it into a weapon right after obtaining it.

Parista's flames allowed one to work around their rage. But that came at the expense of locking away most of its potential. Did Ariel or Mariel intend to immediately put it to use?

"Where did your master find it?" she asked the more agreeable of the pair. "What Floor?"

"On the Ninth Floor," answered the angel. "We were checking one of the built-in warehouses when we came across a flooded room with a Spell Axe—"

The devil clasped a hand over the angel's mouth to cut her off. "No blabbing! You wanna get yelled at again?"

Sanary watched as the devil forced her fraternal twin into the room and shut the door, leaving her to stew at the fact that the twins had gotten their hands on something troublesome. She could just imagine how smug they would be about getting ahead of her again, and it was almost enough to make her reconsider heading down. Almost.

Her stomach cared little for her own feelings on the subject and demanded sustenance. Loudly.

She made her way down the staircase and through the main forge room, avoiding the twins as they fiddled with some components. It seemed like they were comparing Fan Belts, probably for the interior of a drill. Caizo was busying himself with sweeping the floor as well, only giving her a slight nod in greeting.

A distinctly delicious smell reached her nose the moment she passed through the kitchen door. Trish was cooking dinner for that evening, standing over the hot oven as it baked some sort of crispy bread to go along with what seemed to be the main course. That would be the shrimp seasoned with spices, its pungent aroma carried into the air by the wisps of steam still rising from each one of them spread across the cheesy crust of a porridge cooked to a golden hue that glistened off the lighting.

It might have been her stomach talking, but it was easily one of the most beautiful meals that Sanary had laid her eyes on.

Trish greeted her warmly after pulling her gaze from the oven window. "Good evening. Did you sleep well?"

"For the most part," Sanary answered as she moved further inside the kitchen. "What's all this then?"

"I found a sale on some ingredients and thought to make something a little luxurious for everyone since Master will be returning with the others," Trish explained. "It'll all be done in an hour or so."

Her stomach would prefer otherwise and made that fact known with an audible growl, much to the older girl's embarrassment.

Thankfully, Trish was well-mannered enough to not laugh at her. "Just give me a minute, and I'll make a sandwich to tide you over until then."

Sanary opened her mouth to say she could make one herself, but her stomach gnawed at itself in argument. She reluctantly took a seat at the table while her junior prepared a snack for her. "Sorry for the trouble…"

"Here you go." The younger girl gently set the plate on the table in front of her. The sandwich bread was baked, and she could make out cucumbers that had been brought in from one of the neighboring islands as produce along with ham. "Enjoy."

"Sorry for the trouble…" Sanary murmured, taking a seat at the table in silence until the younger girl gently set the plate on the table in front of her. The sandwich bread was baked, and she could make out cucumbers slices along with ham before she took a bite out of it. The moment she did, her taste buds began dancing in delight at the flavor of the condiments spread between the bread. So engrossed in the taste, it was only when she was halfway done that she realized that Trish was still watching her with a smile.

Her cheeks became as red as her hair as she looked away. She swallowed the mouthful she had and then tried to shift to a different subject. "So… how did you end up here in the Silver Guild?"

Trish quirked her head the question? "Hm?"

"I mean, how did you become an apprentice here?" Sanary clarified. She was probably the most tolerable out of all the other female apprentices, but other than her name and demeanor Sanary didn't know anything about Trish. There were no rumors like with the twins of her being a prodigy, and she wasn't related to someone famous. "It's fine if you don't want to tell me, but I realize that I don't know much about you despite being in the same guild."

"I don't mind telling you, but it's nothing really special…" Trish placed a finger on her chin as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. "My family lived in Seijent up until several years ago. Back then I was undergoing training to eventually become a proper lady to marry into nobility, at least before things got hectic and we ultimately decided to move to get away from the politics there entirely."

From what Sanary knew that was a foreign land far from here and one place where Summoners tended to come from when they needed to call forth Guardian Beasts. Things in other places tended to operate differently than here. And if there was a large class difference then it got even more complicated. "What do you mean by becoming a proper lady?"

"Things like needlework, cooking, sewing, art, and things like that." Trish turned her attention over to the oven for a pause and then back to Sanary. "Unlike how women tend to be seen here as being admirable if they were both strong and skilled with a weapon, something like that goes against the etiquette where I was raised. Noblemen usually like women that couldn't protect or provide for themselves, since that was their duty after all."

Sounds horrible to me, Sanary thought to herself. The City of Swords was a city of Craftknights. Female Craftknights were not as common as men, but they had nothing to be ashamed of and could take care of themselves. "Must have been a big culture shock then?"

"It was," she admitted. "My parents saw opportunities here for trade since the city is always in need of materials and goods, but I was completely out of my element. Everything I learned there didn't have the same value here, so I was left wondering what it was that I was supposed to do until I saw her."

Sanary raised a brow as she spotted the color coming onto Trish's cheeks as her smile suddenly reached her eyes. "Her?"

Her blush deepened. "Lady Rumari. She was holding a spear demonstration out in the plaza that day. The way she danced with her spear was the most beautiful thing I had seen. It was like artwork in motion, and I couldn't take my eyes off her."

Sanary knew just how beautiful a Craftlord in motion could be, and Rumari was known as the Elegant Spear for a reason. She had stolen the hearts of men and women alike with her majestic spearwork. At least before what happened three years ago.

Trish took a shuddering breath. "In that moment, I found the epitome of what an elegant and refined woman should be and wanted nothing more than to become just like her. So, I threw myself into learning everything that I could about becoming just like her. And when Master Bron was willing to accept new apprentices, I gave it my all to meet his standards during the testing period. That's when I met Pratty and Caizo, since all three of us became apprentices at the same time."

In the end, Trish wasn't related to the Silver Master or a Craftlord. Nor was she a prodigy like the twins. She had become bewitched by the sight of the Elegant Spear during a time when she had lost all direction and decided to follow that path.

It was a sentiment that Sanary could understand wholeheartedly. She had known Rumari since she was younger, given the Elegant Spear was best friends with her older sister. But by that same measure she had seen how Rumari had fallen, much in the same way that her older sister had gone from being someone Sanary idolized so dearly to a mere shadow of herself.

She could only hope that Trish didn't make the same mistake that both of them did.

"EVERYONE, WE'RE BACK!" A familiar voice echoed from beyond the kitchen entrance—Razzy's, to be exact. Sanary shoved the last bite of the sandwich into her mouth before following Trish into the next room, where they spotted the youngest apprentice at the entrance along with Pratty. The little green Guardian Beast was nestled on top of her head while she had a smaller box in her arms.

"Welcome back," Trish said to them both. "How was your trip?"

"It was fun!" Razzy said. "We finished early with getting everything loaded, so Master allowed us time to explore and eat at the Wafflehouse. We wanted to visit the Lighthouse too, but it was closed."

"Master even gave us new techniques for the next round of the tournament!" Pratty added.

"As a reward for helping him?" Caizo guessed.

"No, that's not it." The two girls moved from the doorway as the red-headed smith came in, pushing a cart loaded with goods brought from the ship. His Guardian Beast was hugging his shoulder as usual. "He plans on giving everyone who needs it a new technique since he's finished with his current order. It's just that since the sailing was straightforward, he let me handle that part while he used the ship's workshop to prepare them for Pratty and Razzy."

"And what about you?" Sanary asked him as he parked the cart close to the entrance to a storage room at the back of the main forge, near several steel cabinets. "You didn't get a new technique?"

He shook his head as he opened the door and rolled the cart inside. "My current weapon is good for the moment. I'll instead be going with Pratty and Razzy into the Labyrinth tomorrow to help with gathering materials. Since the technique he gave them is a bit tricky, they'll need as much time as they can to make them and get accustomed to them."

Part of her wanted to bring up that he should be prioritizing himself before helping someone else. But his weapon was good enough to carry him through his next match unless he was unfortunate. And while his combat skills were still lacking by her own judgement, going into the Labyrinth to improve on that front was what he was doing. "In that case, you should be careful. Some monsters on the Fifth Floor down work in tandem better with each other."

His lips turned up into an appreciative smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Hm…Where is Master Bron?" Caizo asked after looking out the entrance to the room and finding it absent of life. "Did he not accompany you three back?"

Razzy shook her head. "No. He went to the Central Tower. He said that he wanted to go speak with the Craftlords about the Gold Guild doing something bad in Vance."

"A complaint?" Mariel's expression became somewhat more attentive. "What could be so urgent to warrant him going directly to the Craftlords?"

Pratty answered. "Get this: apparently the Gold Guild has been buying weapons from other smiths and then re-selling them overseas."

"…And that's a problem why exactly?" Ariel questioned, tilting her glasses up. "Even the Silver Guild purchases weapons from the smiths who have already finished their training and become independent. Master Bron does so with several who have reached the level of Master as well."

"She means he suspects that they've been approaching independent apprentices," Welf elaborated. "While Pratty and Razzy explored the island, we went around to various shops to get a look at their weapon stock as of late and purchased a few for testing. The quality of the weapons were substandard, and we suspect that they've been outsourcing apprentices to meet the increased demand due to the tournament."

Sanary felt a chill run up her spine at that. "How… can you be sure of that? That it's other apprentices they've been buying from, I mean?"

"It's the nature of the mistakes," Welf answered. "They look fine on the outside, but they'll break in the hands of people who don't know what they're doing or expect them to be to a higher standard. When we actually tested them, we found some swords lacked the ductility they needed to function, axes and knuckles that were too fragile because of the grain growth being irregular, and in some cases, you could tell they made mistakes in the heat treatment of the spears. Drills seemed fine according to Master Bron."

"Those are too easy to screw-up for anyone but a specialist," Ariel stated off-handedly. "Though I can see why you'd expect it to be apprentices responsible for the rest. Those types of mistakes only come from rushing things without understanding why they take time to produce. Someone who has access to techniques but not the knowledge of why each step of the technique is important, and so they neglect them in favor of mass production. A few minutes too long in the forge, not hammering when the metal is hot enough, etc."

The red-haired swordswoman began to comb her thoughts over the last two days. Had she cut corners in the process? She didn't think she did, but she also knew that there were times when she had to neglect giving her full attention to one blade while she was busy working on another.

Welf continued while she was deep in thought. "That was our suspicion as well. As you move up to Journeymen you learn how timing and temperature can affect a weapon more than the smiting it with a hammer. The weapons that were poorly made were also the most common ones, so we believe they devoted their actual manpower to more complex and expensive weapons. The things that tend to be custom ordered."

"Ah, that makes more sense." Mariel hummed. "The majority of shops in Vance have a contract with the Gold Guild and the number of people who would want a weapon would increase given the current tournament. More demand, more sales. But most people can't afford an expensive weapon and will settle for something they think is practical and cheap. And unless they have experience with smithing how would they know the internal problems?"

They wouldn't. Sanary brought a hand over her mouth as an unsettling weight fell into her stomach. It was a trade that was practiced over the course of a lifetime and even apprentices didn't spend their time looking at the inside of a weapon after it gets snapped in two. And if it broke on the battlefield where you needed it the most…

"Wystern's greatest selling point is that their weapons are good quality and can mend themselves," Trish said somberly in lieu of the current information. "Vance is a cape town that deals directly with Wystern and traffic flows through it constantly to the world over. Even if there are complaints, the merchants who buy them wholesale can simply state that the problem lays with the source—the Craftknights themselves."

"Yeah, that!" Razzy chimed in. "That's why Master wanted to take the issue to the Central Tower—in order to get them to stop before they ruin our reputation."

"They can't," Ariel pointed out factually. "The Gold and Silver Masters are known to be rivals, and we're competing against one another in the tournament. They have no way to prove his suspicions since the weapons weren't inspected before they were exported, and any brought in from an outside source could be seen as passing off a forgery… unless they had the Gold Guild's mark?"

Smiths usually applied maker's mark on a weapon they intended to sell. For independents it was something to mark them as personally responsible for their creation. For larger guilds it marked them as being a guarantee of quality. But apprentices didn't get touchmark stamps since they weren't good enough to have their weapons sold in the first place.

Welf shook his head. "We checked on all the ones we picked up, but there were no touchmarks on any of them."

"They can claim ignorance pretty easily then," Mariel said. "And with a Craftlord currently missing and the tournament on-going, I doubt the Central Tower can devote investigators to validate the claims. It's honestly the most opportunistic time to pull such a scam off, though in the long run it'll have a detrimental effect on the reputation of the Craftknights as a whole."

"I can't think of any apprentice who'd work with them willingly knowing that either," Welf said, scratching his head in frustration. "I think they tricked them into agreeing, so they probably don't even know what they've done."

Sanary clenched her fists hard enough to dig her nails into her palms until they were red. She recalled the man who had spoken to her and felt anger burning in her chest. That gold-tongued snake! If I had known, he was going to re-sell them I would have turned him down right away.

"Don't treat them like hapless victims that were preyed on." Ariel's voice was devoid of empathy. "A Craftknight knows their limits and what they can do, so they should know that they aren't good enough to sell weapons if approached. The only ones who would fall for it are those who are egotistical enough to think they're the exception to the rule. They hold as much blame as the Gold Guild for the damage it does to the reputation of Wystern and the Craftknights as a whole."

Ariel's words stabbed into Sanary's chest like a dagger. So much so that she excused herself, going back up to her room to get away from the words of condemnation being innocently slung at her. But the moment her red eyes fell onto the worktable where the proof of her sins lay… it all came crashing down upon her shoulders and brought her to her knees.

She should have known the offer had sounded too good to be true. But she had bought into those sweet words he'd said. And in doing so... she had hurt the reputation of her home and endangered people for mere boam.

How could she call herself a Craftlord candidate... or even think of taking up her sister's seat... when she couldn't see through such a simple trick?

[-|-|-|-]

Welf had expectations about the Fifth Floor. He had known that Stray Summons would appear in larger numbers. He had even considered Sanary's warning that they would work in tandem as well. So, he went in fully prepared to deal with them and help the younger girls so that they could gather materials and focus on their crafting.

He still found himself on the back foot as he realized he had still been underestimating the scale of it.

The cacophonous rattle of bullets hammering at steel had drowned out all other sounds. He was pinned into place by the gunfire as the three Gunnerheads rained fire from a distance while he blocked the shots with his blade like a shield. The individual bullets weren't exactly hard on his defensive buffer, but they had stopping power behind them and were fired fast enough that they could stagger him in quick succession and tear away at his aura.

The enemies attacked from afar, but they needed to confirm the location of their targets visually. That meant by hiding around a corner he could lure them closer and then cut them down. But if he didn't hold down the front the girls behind him would be overwhelmed.

"HOW'S IT GOING BACK THERE!?" he shouted over the gunfire, turning his head around and fixing his grey-blue gaze onto Pratty and Razzy as the two were in the midst of combat with a horde of Pumpkeenos. The younger girls were shifting around with frantic footfalls and hastened steps, bodies twisting in a sabre dance beneath the crystalline light as their weapons met with the bouncing feral fruit.

"JUST NEED—" Pratty ducked beneath a lunging maw that brushed past the tuffs of her hair sticking out of the horns in her helmet, swinging her Novice Knife ahead in the process. Sheathed in wind once more, even a grazing cut was enough to knock away the one that tried to catch her from below in the process. "—A LITTLE MORE TIME!"

The one that had been attempting to take off her head was then nailed from below with an uppercut as Razzy followed up, sending it flying off to the side. She then bobbed as a third tried to nip at her head, sailing over her small shoulders so closely that the tails of her bandana wiggled as it passed by. Not that she let the attempt go as she twisted her upper body and then shifted her weight to the back foot, swapping which was in the lead and snapping off a punch that drove her Novice Knuckles into its hardened backside.

The knuckle guard contoured to the shape of her hands was made of a Fire-Wind alloy that provided hardness while lowering the weight to allow for rapid punches. It didn't add much to her inherent strength, but that was probably what the electricity threading it from an Enchant Spark spell was for. The electrified punch sent it flying across the ground so fast that it skipped off the surface and into a wall. She let out an enthusiastic cheer as it dissipated while the Drop Item that represented the spark of its life was left behind.

That was when Kutty landed on another, snapping its engorged maw closed before it could clamp down onto her. He then delivered a haymaker that knocked it into another one trying to get Pratty. The fruits crashed into one another, and both dissipated as their flesh burst. He let out proud chuff before bashing his spiked gloves together and then turning towards the remaining ones, probably relishing the violence a little more than one would expect.

At least they're managing, Welf thought to himself while he still felt the rattle of bullets against his sword. That was when he felt the touch of Urus' voice in his mind warning him of danger. He twisted his head to the other side where he spotted a gout of flames rushing towards him before the Fire Spirit intercepted the foreign flames of the small trickster Oni that had decided to join the fray. "A GREMLIN'S HERE!"

Not even a second after his warning went out Pratty shouted, "WELF, BEHIND YOU!"

He turned to see a spearpoint lancing toward what had been the back of his skull. There had been a second one. With the gunfire still hammering at his weapon he couldn't maneuver the blade around to protect himself, but if he twisted his body just enough it would only impact his shoulder area—

"CHAIN SPARK!"

—a lance of electricity pierced through the Gremlin that had turned itself into a spear. Its rotund body crackled as it fell like a stone to the side, the electricity worming through its body that simply came undone.

That was when another mechanoid passed him. It had the appearance of a small mechanical aircraft with two wings to its side and one sticking up, anchored with round joints as some kind of propulsion system rocketed through the air. It then turned sharply and aimed towards the second Gremlin with an indecipherable noise as the two small adjustment fins that were beneath the thruster unfurled into legs. What had appeared to be the lower half of its core body extending beneath the nose spread wide to reveal they were hands equal the half the size of the lower body.

Flaps were pulled back to reveal a pair of eyes and a wide mouth that made an unintelligible noise before it used its massive hands to grab hold of the remaining Gremlin by the sides. It then dragged it away before making a whipping motion to throw it forward to Razzy. The pint-sized pugilist delivered a powerful uppercut as she leaped into the air, its body practically contorting around her electrified fist before rocketing upwards and into the ceiling.

The Gremlin's body petered out of existence with a whimper and left behind its enclosing rope as a Drop Item that fell to gravity. Razzy caught it as it landed with one hand while the other gave a thumbs-up to her Guardian Beast. It returned the gesture.

Pratty finished with the last of the feral pumpkins as her Enchant Wind faded away before turning her attention to her own Guardian Beast. Her Summonite Gem shone with her intention to end things there as she pointed past their living shield to the remaining enemies. "KUTTY, STORM WIND!"

The Magical Beast proceeded to float forward while winding up his arm like a windmill. It was comical, but you could feel each twist pulling in more and more of the surrounding air, spooling and winding it tight. He then hopped off Welf's head like a rabbit, using it as a springboard to get over his weapon before the three Gunnerheads could readjust their targeting, and then thrust his fist forward. "KUUU!"

The Storm Wind was unleashed. Keeping its twist as it was whipped around, the air itself howled like a ferocious animal as it railed forward. Whatever method of floatation was keeping the mechanical soldiers in the air was overwhelmed, leaving them helpless as their steel frames were battered against the walls and ceiling and each other by the gale until it petered out. The mechanoids were left sparking and motionless on the ground before their optics blinked out and their forms dissipated with only a scattering of Small Bolts left behind.

Just like that the fighting came to an end. Welf kept his guard up as he inspected their surroundings, including the ceiling, to make sure that there was nothing else that would try to jump them. Then, and only then, did he allow himself to breathe freely and relax his defensive veil. "I don't think we can go further than this as we are now."

"Whaddya mean?" Razzy asked while holding out her pouch as her Guardian Beast deposited the scattered items that were dropped from their enemies. It already had a hefty weight to it, which said a lot about how they'd cut their way down from higher up in search of materials. "We handled them with no problems."

"Only because we had magic to speed things up," Welf corrected her as Urus nestled around him like a comfortable scarf. He brushed her flame-woven hair, a gesture that she appreciated as she leaned into it. "If it were just one or two at a time, it wouldn't be an issue. But this time they completely had us outnumbered because we couldn't deal with them fast enough."

The Stray Summons weren't individually a threat. Each one of them could deal with the assorted creatures on their own. The problem was both the number of enemies and the fact that they were working in tandem with one another.

The Gunnerheads always stayed furthest away and provided cover fire. When there was more than one of them, they would sync up and tactically fire in sequence, one after another, giving the others a chance to reload while keeping on the pressure. They could work around that by splitting up since they would do the same to not lose track of them, which created an opening if one of them doubled back to attack from behind or strike while they were reloading.

The problem was they were rarely alone. The Pumpkeenos had numbers and loved to attack from multiple sides. They demanded your attention, which left you open to getting riddled with bullets, which would then knock you over so they could dog-pile you while the mechanical soldiers reloaded.

That merited them operating with Welf holding off the artillery while they dealt with everything else since he was the only one with a weapon suitable to serve as a shield. But the girls' weapons couldn't dispatch the strays in a single blow or two without using magic to shore up their offensive power. And that burned through the limited charges of their Summonite Gems.

But then there were the Gremlins. The fire breathing annoyances with wicked sharp horns. They worked best in the midrange and loved to sneak up on them while they were busy with the other problems. The flames tended to obscure their vision and leave them open to others, not even counting the damage they could do.

Alone, they were manageable. Together, it cost them a lot of time, resources, and effort. So much so that Welf's supplies were almost spent, and the girls had a single use of their Summonite Gem left by his count. Not to mention the mental fatigue of all the continual fighting.

"We'll take what we have and go back to the 4th Floor," Welf decided. "I'll use my last Amulet to avoid any unnecessary fights until we make it to the Teleporter at the exit of the 3rd Floor and get back to the surface. If we still run into trouble, Urus can use her spell to help clear a path."

Urus' Burst Flare essentially burned everything away that couldn't withstand the heat. Unfortunately, that seemed to include the Drop Items. Those seemed to break down into their elements in a similar way to how the forges did to materials. They weren't sure why, but considering their purpose here was to gather materials it made using Urus' primary offensive spell a last resort for when they needed breathing room.

"But I heard there's a Teleporter on the 6th Floor," Pratty said. "If we make it to that one then we won't have to go back through this floor and can go deeper next time."

Welf shot the suggestion down, pointing to both of their weapons as he did so. "Except we don't know the layout of that floor or what else we might run into, and those weapons are being pushed to their limits. At the very least you both need a backup set of weapons, ideally the new ones Master Bron gave you the techniques for. There should be enough materials between the two of you to make them, and once you have those it should be easier to get through here and push down further."

The two younger girls visibly weighed his words on a scale against their desire to keep pressing on. They wanted to see what else the next few floors had ahead of them, or if they could find treasure tucked away that could increase their chances of success. The fact that Ariel and Mariel had already made it as far as the Ninth Floor didn't help given their competitiveness.

Zantek made an indecipherable series of noises as it hovered over Razzy. Her brows scrunched up before she rubbed her chin and nodded. "I guess you both have a point."

"It would be a shame to break my knife because I went too far," Pratty conceded as well, patting the weapon in its sheath. It might have been a simple weapon, but it was the first she made as a Craftknight and so she had a lot of pride in it for holding up for so long. "We'll head back then."

A consensus was reached, and the silvery flame of an Amulet danced as they made their way back up to the Fourth Floor.

Unlike the floor beneath it, more structures laden the interior as the abandoned dwellings now housed the strays who had claimed them as their own. The path to the exit required they ascend over an elongated and upraised apartment, winding over what would be the rooftops as it eventually curled around from the right side of the outer walls to the northern section. There they could descend to the ground level and make their way to the other half.

That half of the Fourth Floor was largely empty as it was meant to be a massive transportation passage and so it was far vaster. The Amulet had burned itself away, so Welf had been expecting to find threats that needed to be dealt with before they proceeded upwards. But when he arrived, he only found a familiar red-haired swordswoman stepping off a Rejuvenation Pad that went inert.

Sanary regarded the three for a moment before addressing him. "You're heading back now?"

"Yeah," he said, eyes flickering over to the grip of the weapon slung on her back. "It'd be careless to push forward to the Sixth Floor with their current weapons. Since they've collected enough materials to get started on their new weapons, we'll do that instead. Did you receive your technique for Master Bron?"

She gave a measured nod. "I should have enough to cover the Fire, Wind, and Water components. All I need now is a lot of Lightning to serve as the primary element, so I decided to use the pad here and then take the Teleporter down to the Sixth Floor and go from there."

"Lightning as the primary element?" He tilted his head in thought for a moment. Lightning Elemental Ore was typically found in the remains of strays from the same world that the Gunnerheads and Zantek came from. "That's rare in a sword."

"Why's that?" Razzy asked.

Sanary answered. "The primary ore influences certain aspects of the weapon, but Lightning is a bit more unusual due to how it's normally used to bind the other three together. All the weapons beyond the basics use a certain ratio of it, but only Drills use it as a primary element commonly."

"One of the Masters from the Silver Guild has been trying to make a functional sawblade sword since it helps with the transference of kinetic and electrical energy, but that's still a work in progress," Welf added. The number of deliveries he'd made to and from the guy while working for Bron had left them acquainted with one another. "But it's primarily used when you're alloying the other elemental ores together since it affects how they interact with one another. I can guess that the weapon will be far sturdier on top of being harder with a keener edge, but it should supplement the lack in ductility so that it won't snap as easily."

"It'll cut well and last long in the hands of someone as skilled as I am." There was no levity in her voice even as she boasted of the potential of the weapon she could make. It didn't suit her, to be honest.

He regarded her tone for a moment before asking, "Are you okay?"

The question left her gaze to rise from the floor, meeting his own. Then she broached a question. "Say... what do you think the value of a weapon is?"

"The value of a weapon?" It was an odd question to ask suddenly, but he could tell it was an answer she wanted for some reason or another. So, he gave it some thought before answering confidently. "I think what determines the value of any tool, weapons included, is its purpose and how well it can fulfill it."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at it this way: we usually craft our tools and weapons for a reason and drive that reason into every swing as we give them shape. That is our pride as smiths, right?"

She nodded.

"A tool is created with a purpose, and being able to carry that purpose out gives its existence meaning." He reached down to his side where his hammer was and brushed the head. The metal seemed to let out a slight din as he did so. "In that way, living up to its purpose validates it. It gives it meaning and something it can find joy in. And in that, it gains value to the smith, the tool, and the user."

Her mouth opened slightly to respond. But words that were meant to escape didn't. Instead, she shook her head before turning around and making her way toward the Teleporter.

Since they were heading in the same direction, they followed her to the Third Floor where it was operational. They allowed Razzy to go first. Then Pratty once it was good to go again. It was only when they were waiting for it to finish charging for Welf that Sanary finally spoke again.

"…That scam earlier," she began softly. One of her hands found its way to the opposite arm, and she rubbed it back and forth as if there was an itch that needed to be scratched. "You said that you felt like the apprentices had been tricked into it. I've been thinking about how that must have happened."

He shifted his body in her direction, giving her his full attention rather than the device. "You have?"

She nodded. "I think… they were approached by someone who told them the things they wanted to hear. The things they always had doubts about. Things that made them proud to hear. And so, when they were asked to provide the weapons so that they could be preserved for the future in a collection, they saw it as reaffirming what they desperately wanted to hear."

Welf took in her words and his brows deepened as he let them stew in his mind. "…I see. That would do it. Apprentices tend to be insecure for good reasons. We never know if we're really good enough, always having to doubt ourselves. I can only imagine how elated I'd be if someone set those fears aside and how grateful I'd feel to know someone respected my work enough to want it."

Her fingers clenched the fabric of her sleeve. "That's right. I think that if someone told me that, then when I was forging those weapons with the thought of them being preserved, the weapons themselves would have been born for that purpose. And if you found out they were going to be sold, you'd feel like you betrayed not only your principles but the weapons themselves. You wouldn't be able to call yourself a Craftknight after that, would you?"

He wouldn't. That weapon might be functional to a degree. But it would not have been born to be used as a battlefield weapon, nor to protect the one who wielded it.

"So…" Sanary licked her lips before looking him in the eyes. "If you were one of the people who got tricked and learned about it later, what would you do so that you could feel proud of yourself again? So that you could feel worthy of being called a Craftknight again?"

He took a deep, measured breath before crossing his arms. "…I would do whatever I could to make it right. For the weapons themselves and those who'd be relying on them. Because I have to live with myself and the knowledge of what I've done in the end."

"…Wallowing won't do anything for anyone, will it?" Her voice came out at a slightly higher pitch and her body quivered. "That's right. If you're a Craftknight, then you should fight to get them back. That's the least you should do so that you can look at yourself in the mirror instead of whining about it."

Her words carried a certain resolution within them that he could make out. Like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "Sanary. Were you—"

"If you're going to accuse me of falling for a trick like that then I'm going to be mad," she warned him. But there was no hostility in her words or posture, even as she gave him a slight push towards the Teleporter. "After all, if I had done so do you think I would have sat around moping all this time?"

"…No." He raised his hands placatingly and with a playful smile as Urus silently watched the display between the two humans. "I can't imagine that someone as fiery as you would."

"You're darn right I wouldn't." She put on a wry and confident smile. "So rather than worrying over something that would never happen, focus on yourself. If you get overconfident in that weapon you have now, then I'll get ahead of you even before we meet in the Tournament."

"I suppose you're right." He shrugged and stepped onto the Teleporter, priming it to head to the First Floor. After he finished entering the information and it began to stir, he turned back and said, "Just remember that it's okay to ask if you need help with anything. Rivals or not, we're still members of the same guild."

"I'll consider it if I need help in the future. But thanks for the offer."

A genuine smile came across her face right before the light of the Teleporter flared and the two went their separate ways.