[DanMachi/Percy Jackson] Prytaneum

Chapter 17: Refractions​ part 1

"Sorry," Crozzo said as he led the way into his forge. "It's a bit of a mess."

"No problem," I said, looking around. "I'm used to stuff like this."

The entire room smelled of iron and smoke. There were no dividing walls inside the forge, just a single open space for work. Dozens of tools glittered on the walls, shining dimly in the light of the open shutters—hammers, tongs, and a multitude of things I didn't recognize. The place was a bit of a mess, but the area around the anvil and fireplace were clear, and I could tell he'd been working from the misshapen object in the flames.

"Sorry," I said, looking at it. "I didn't know I'd be interrupting something."

"It's fine," He said, taking a pair of tongs and removing the shape and putting it to the side in a...something. "What brings you out here, though? You ask Wayland for me?"

His voice was hopeful, but I noticed that his shoulders seemed tense. For the life of me, though, I couldn't figure out why.

"Wayland's been helping me," I said, deciding to just tell the truth and see what happened. "I've been looking for armor lately and he's been giving me advice. I've ruined six sets in six days."

Crozzo whistled, looking over at me.

"Six sets?" He asked. "Who's? And how?"

"Um, well, the first was just the armor I rented from the Guild," I replied after a moment of consideration. But if he might be what I was looking for, well...better for him to find out now. "It got pretty banged up on the sixth floor and finally broke on the seventh. I went to Wayland for advice on what else to buy and picked up a set of armor from...Eloy, he said. It got me through the seventh, but broke near the end—Killer Ants again. It cost me quite a bit of money, so I tried to save a bit on the eighth and ninth, with armor from... Fabbri and Faure? I knew I was going to need to save up for the tenth floor, so I tried to hold back a bit...but the Goblins and Kobolds on those floors ruined both and bogged me down. On the third day, I bought your armor and it got me through the rest of the ninth floor, but it was in pretty bad condition. Today I went down to the tenth with armor Wayland recommended from a guy named Favarges, but it broke, too. I'm kind of hard on armor."

"Sounds like it," Crozzo muttered, looking at me differently. "I...hm, maybe I misunderstood, but how long have you been an adventurer?"

I paused for a moment, considering making something up—but no, if I wanted him to help me, he deserved to know what he was in for.

"About a week," I said.

"About a week," Crozzo repeated, shaking his head. "The tenth floor in about a week. I want to say that's ridiculous but...mm, no, if Wayland brought you out here, I guess it's probably not. Well, I guess the world is full of strange things. You want me to make you some more armor, then?"

Crozzo seemed pretty adaptable. I liked that.

"Not...quite," I said, shrugging off my backpack and opening it. The inside was filled to the brim with what looked like old, worn cloth. I tossed it to him.

"Orc Hide," He said after a moment's glance before starting to pull them out. "Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-three...twenty-three Orc Hides. How long...no, you said you only went down to the tenth floor today, didn't you? Are these all from today?"

I nodded.

"How many Orcs did you fight to get this many drop items?" He wondered, bouncing them on his leg as he frowned in consideration. "Or rather, I guess it's no wonder your armor broke, fighting so many Orcs. But what...?"

"I don't really understand all the details," I interrupted as he began to trail off. "But Wayland said it would be a good idea for me to make a contract with a smith and told me to bring my work from today with me."

"Ah," Crozzo said as if everything had abruptly become clear.

"This might be a bit abrupt," I continued, giving him a slight nod. "And frankly, it might be a lot of trouble for you if you say yes. But...if you don't might, would you be willing to form a contract with me?"

"Sure," He said as he began to push the Orc Hide back into my backpack, seemingly giving it only a fraction of his attention. "That's fine."

I couldn't help but blink once at that.

"Really?" I asked, abruptly uncertain. "You sure it's okay? I mean, you don't even know my name yet."

"Oh, that's right..." Crozzo said, frowning and looking up. "Sorry; I forgot my manners. My name's Welf Crozzo—what's yours?"

"Percy Jackson," I said.

"Percy, then," He said, nodding slowly. "Anyway, don't worry about it—this is convenient for me too, you know. If you hadn't said anything, I probably would have proposed something similar. Do you know why low-rank smiths make contracts with adventurers?"

"Wayland mentioned it," I replied with a nod. "It's because of the competition between smiths, right?"

"That's right," Welf confirmed. "For those of us who've yet to make a name for ourselves, getting loyal customers is a necessity. For me, in the past I've only ever sold one item and it was quickly returned. I believe in the quality of my work, but...the truth is, I don't want to miss this chance, either. After all this time, I never thought there would come a day when someone would actually say they wanted my work after looking at all the other options out there, so I don't want to lose you now. Even if I don't know you very well, I can say that much."

Welf flashed me a brotherly smile and chuckled quietly to himself.

"Besides," He said, lifting the crudely stuffed backpack and tossing it over to me. "The tenth floor in a week? It's clear you have potential—if I let you go, it's only a matter of time until someone else sees what the old man has and snatches you up, and then where will I be? I can't let this opportunity slip by. Whatever I might say about him, if Wayland the Smith is interested enough to bring you here, it's obvious you'll go far and someone will notice."

"Oh," I replied, grasping the situation and looking down as I caught the backpack. "I've put you in a tight spot, I guess."

"Nah," He answered, shaking his head. "Like I told you—you recognized my work. That's the best feeling in the world for a smith."

I nodded slightly, feeling a bit bad because it was mainly just luck. I'd been telling the truth about saving up for the tenth floor, which was why I'd been saving money wherever I could, buying the blander pieces of armor, the ones that hadn't been put on display. I'd found Welf's among them and it had caught my eye the moment I saw it, being pure white while most others were darker colors, but...truthfully, if not for Wayland, I wouldn't have even known his name, since I hadn't been able to read it.

But at the very least, I'd recognized its value while I was using it. It had survived the ninth floor, after all, and that was despite being light as a feather.

"Okay then," I said, making my decision. "If it's okay with you, then...what do we need to do?"

"We'll worry about the official contract later, but for right now?" He asked. "Why don't we shake on it?"

Welf held out his hand for me to shake, which I did despite the soot on them, and his smile went up a few notches.

"Should I just leave these with you, then?" I asked, looking down at the Orc Hides before remembering something. "Oh, that reminds me—I hope it's not an issue or anything, but I actually have a deal similar to this with the Miach Familia. They make potions instead of armor, but since they don't have any adventurers in their Familia, I provide ingredients for them. Is that...?"

"Shouldn't be an issue," He said, shrugging easily. "There are some drops that are useful for both potion-making and blacksmithing, but we'll work something out. I mean, take this stuff. Twenty Orc Hides is enough to keep anyone buy for a while, whatever they're trying to use it for. Is that a normal haul for you?"

"Pretty much," I said. "I filled up my backpack and then had to leave the rest behind."

"How many was that?" He asked, to which I could only shrug.

"A lot," I said.

"Then like I said, it shouldn't be an issue," He replied. "And it's always good to have a stock of potions and stuff with you. In fact, that's reassuring, because actually...if it's okay, can I ask you for a favor? I won't ask you to do it for free, of course; I'll provide you with all the equipment you need for free. But..."

I blinked again and couldn't deny I was tempted even before hearing what he wanted. Frankly, with Miach and his Familia providing potions, the only real expenses I had as an adventurer was my armor—and it was a big expense, because I'd needed to buy it every day. Honestly, I don't think Welf understood what he was offering, but I had told him what had happened to the rest of my armor. If he was willing to make armor for me like that, than even if I split all my drop items between him and Miach, I was pretty sure I'd still come out ahead. All I'd need to buy then were supplies, which cost basically nothing in comparison, and I'd still profit from the magic stones. I could save up for Hestia's sake, have more stuff in case of emergencies, and—

"Please let me join your party!" He finished, bowing his head my way.

Immediately, I felt my smile drop.

"Ah," I said, looking at him uncomfortably.

I'd thought about it, of course—teaming up with someone else. Eina went on about it at length; the dangers of the Dungeon, the risks, and the need for a party. Even without knowing the truth of my situation, her points were pretty good, too. Monsters in the Dungeon grew in strength as you went deeper down, but also in number, spawn time, and more. After a certain point, she said, it was impossible for a single adventurer to continue, because even if you were a match for opponents on a given level, you'd run into more and more of them. Monster Parties, Coliseums, Floor Bosses—the Dungeon had countless ways of endangering people.

And really, it was a problem I was already running into. I was stronger than anything I'd had to fight so far, enough so that I was more or less certain of my victory in a one-on-one fight. Eina had told me that taking a hit from an Orc was extremely dangerous for a Level 1, or even Level 2, adventurer, yet I'd managed to get hit a few times and get back up. I had Magic, Skills, and Developmental Abilities, too; even if I wasn't sure what about half those things did, I knew I was pretty well off.

But Despair was pretty good at living up to its name. What I could do in a one-on-one fight didn't matter much when I had to fight dozens or hundreds of monsters. The tenth floor was supposed to be when adventurers first encountered 'Monster Parties', situations where monsters spawned all around those who found themselves at a disadvantage or dead-end, but that had been normal for me from the beginning. And each floor was more difficult than the last, featuring greater numbers of stronger monsters. Thus far, I'd managed to get by with just being stopped for a time or having the best armor I could afford broken. But how long much longer would that last? Even if I got through the tenth floor, it would only be a couple more before I reached the Middle Floors, where Level 2 monsters began to appear. When would I reach a point where I couldn't just try and stand my ground or found a trap I couldn't just walk out of?

At some point, I was going to need help. I knew that. The truth was, I may have reached sixteen against all odds, but I didn't do it alone; I'd had friends and allies every step of the way. But they were gone now—maybe for good, maybe not, I wasn't sure. Whatever the case, though, they weren't here. I didn't have Grover to play his pipes and turn monsters into trees, didn't have Chiron here to give me another lesson, didn't have Beckendorf to forge me weapons, Clarisse to fight beside, Tyson to call upon. I didn't have Annabeth to explain things, to think of a plan, to watch my back. And I knew I still needed help. I knew that.

And I had options. Bringing along Level 1s was risky to the extreme, of course, but I had options. It's true that most Level 2s might not be interested in hanging around a seeming rookie, but I was more than met the eye. Eina had told me about the value of Magic users to parties, about those whose power could be used to decide a battle. With my spells and powers, I could likely find someone who was willing to give me a shot.

On top of that, I had Mrs. O'Leary, my friend. Eina had told me repeatedly that the Dungeon had no shortcuts—but that wasn't true, because I did. I could travel between floors with ease compared to everyone else, with the only limit being Mrs. O'Leary's stamina. I could travel to a specific floor and skip everything in-between if I wanted to and that was something invaluable in Orario.

Finding a group of a higher level that would be willing to let me tag along might be difficult, especially at first, but it definitely wasn't impossible. I could make allies, make myself useful, find people with interests I could help with. If nothing else, I was hardly the only adventurer in the Dungeon. I'd seen others, of course; all the time, really. Common courtesy in the Dungeon was to avoid other adventurers while at work, both to prevent getting in each other's way and avoid theft or worse—but people grouping up was far from unheard of. Odds were, I could make a party if I tried.

And yet, I hadn't.

"I'm honored," I said slowly, looking at Welf's bowed head. "But...I don't think that's a good idea."

Welf looked up quickly, the beginnings of a grimace on his face.

"Is it because—"

"It's not you," I interrupted. "Or your Familia or anything else like that. This might sound cliché, but it's me."

I dropped my gaze to the floor, mouth opening as I tried to form the words.

"I'm, uh...I'm bad luck, I guess," I told him, doing my best to smile. "Everyone who ever fought alongside me is dead. Because of me, really. Because I wasn't fast enough or strong enough or smart enough to save them. Even...someone I really cared about died saving me and, uh..."

I shook my head. Hestia had told me not to reveal my skills, for fear of the attention it might draw, but even if Welf had seemed like the type to tell anyone...it might be a good thing if this particular detail got out. If everyone thought I was cursed and avoided me, well...they might not be wrong.

"And I have a skill, too," I said, smile dropping before I put it back on. "It's not much of one, really; nothing good. It's called Despair and what it does is...well, it draws monsters to me. A lot of them; more than I can count. Every day they swarm me and that's why my armor keeps breaking and why I get so many drop items. But it'd be bad for everyone around me, I think. I know that the Dungeon isn't a safe place, but even so, given the choice between dying alone and getting anyone else killed, I—"

I shut my mouth, stopping myself before bowing my head towards Welf.

"I'm sorry, Welf," I said. "I really do appreciate the offer, but I think it's best if I remain a solo adventurer. I hope that doesn't mean we can't continue to work together, but if you'd rather find someone who's...not me, I'd understand."

Welf didn't answer immediately. He hadn't interrupted after I began talking, had simply watched me with interest, calmly listening to my words. In a way, I kind of appreciated that, along with the chance to say what I felt. But after watching me for a minute, he finally spoke.

"That sounds like a pretty lonely way to live," He said at last.

I didn't answer.

"I'm usually alone, too," He said. "You've seen it, right? Where they put my armor on the eighth floor? In a box at the back, like it's garbage. But it's not. You know that, right? You were the one person to wear it, so you must know."

There was an almost pleading quality to his voice that practically demanded a response.

"Of the three sets of armor I wore down to the eighth and ninth floor, yours was the only one to last," I said. "The only set of armor in the last six days that I wore into and out of the Dungeon."

He smiled at that, looking relieved.

"Nobody is willing to party with me, either," He said. "That's why I asked someone like you, from outside my Familia. Normally, low-rank smiths like me would work together to enter the Dungeon and gain experience. Do you know how important the Blacksmith Ability is for us smiths?"

I nodded.

"Wayland told me," I said, seeing the issue. "And the only way to get it is by leveling up."

"Yeah," He replied. "The best way to do that is by working with others, but I can't, at least not with my Familia. It kind of feels worthless to brag when you managed the same in a week, but I've gone as deep as the tenth floor alone. I'm actually pretty strong, you know—at least among Level 1s, I should be among the stronger ones. But it's slow going, especially when I've made so little progress with customers; as a smith, I'm being left behind. And I hate it. Do you know why?"

"Why?" I asked, curious despite myself.

"Because I want to get better," He said. "As a blacksmith, I want to get better and better. I want to make things that people look for, that they can rely on. Isn't that what a smith's armor and weapons are supposed to be? Things that people can bet their lives on. That the armor I made for you saw you through the Dungeon, but that it was ruined fills me with shame. I want to make something better than that. For what I've left behind and what I'm striving for, with my own hands and skill, I want to make something that lasts and remains."

He took a deep breath and bows towards me again.

"And especially after what you've said, I want to start by making something like that for you," He continued. "Even if my skill as a smith isn't up to the task yet, I...no, rather, until such a time as it is, can I please join your party? Until I can make some good enough equipment, I'll take its place."

"I..." I tried to begin before trailing off awkwardly, unsure of how to deal with his words.

Welf smiled slightly without raising his head.

"And if it makes you feel better, you're not the only one who's cursed," He said, pointing his thumb at his chest. "My name is Welf Crozzo, from the family of cursed blacksmiths. So we might as well be cursed together, right?"

I took a deep breath and scratched the back of my head as I exhaled. This was a horrible idea, but...

Ugh. Was it possible that I was weak to sob stories?