NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter 103: Life Began To Rush Forward
Raft Grimoire felt as though the once calm stream had transformed into a torrential flood, swallowing him whole.
It had been less than a year since he began his apprenticeship under Dubil, the dwarven blacksmith. Yet, Raft's skills had progressed rapidly. He encountered obstacles that felt like insurmountable walls, but they eventually crumbled under the relentless rhythm of his hammer.
The dungeons continuously provided iron and magic ores, ensuring he never faced a shortage of materials. Immersed in his craft, he rarely had time to dwell on the absence of Euphemia Grimwood.
Each day was a steady routine, his thoughts dominated by the fiery glow of molten iron.
How to strike, how to stretch, how to fold, how to cool.
Where to apply force, magic, speed, and precision.
Gradually, Raft's proficiency with magic-infused iron improved, to the point that even Dubil was astonished.
"Raft, you have talent. But it's not just that you learn quickly or that you're good with iron. It's not even about your ability to forge with magic or your efficiency," Dubil said.
"Do you understand what I mean?" he asked.
Raft, of course, did not. He simply continued to hammer iron, for that was all he knew.
"Exactly, that's it, Raft. You relentlessly hammer the iron before you. You never tire of it. You strive to do it better each time. If it doesn't work out, you try again, and again, and again—never shying away from the effort," Dubil said, his expression twisting into a strange smile.
The bearded, stern dwarf seemed to speak not to Raft, but to somewhere far away, in a different time and place.
"For us, that's all we need."
To Raft, it felt like a pardon, a release from a burden he'd carried since abandoning his life as a Yunofeliza, despite having committed no crime. The weight on his shoulders lifted.
If that was all it took, then he could manage.
If asked whether he loved blacksmithing, he would still say he wasn't sure. But if asked whether he disliked it, he would shake his head without hesitation.
Hammering the iron before him was not unpleasant.
Endlessly hammering it was not unpleasant.
When he improved, even slightly, it felt good.
Being told it was okay to continue—honestly, it made him a bit happy.
But it wasn't that simple.
Just hammering away was never enough in this world.
As soon as Euphemia Grimwood completed her demonstration of reinforced concrete, discussions about building a workshop near Dubil's smithy began.
The participants included Biante, the eldest of the Grimoire family, who was in charge of the construction, the human assistant Regalo, the eerily grinning nine-tailed fox spirit Kairine, the axe-wielder Jainos who had been exploring dungeons lately, the crafty kobold Iota Polo, Dubil, the master blacksmith, and inexplicably, Raft.
And of course, Euphemia Grimwood herself.
The strikingly beautiful girl stood at the center of the motley crew’s conversation, arms crossed as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“I see, so you start with the foundation? You dig the ground and create a base to support the walls...” Biante mused.
“Simply sticking rebar into the ground might not provide enough strength,” Regalo added.
“It's better to solidify the concrete with the rebar extending upwards, not just creating a foundation,” Jainos suggested.
“Indeed. By tying additional rebar to the protruding bars with iron wire, we can effectively assemble the rebar structure,” Iota Polo chimed in.
“We should calculate the required number of rebars. As for strength, we don't need to worry much. With the rebar embedded, the concrete’s weight should prevent it from collapsing,” Kairine remarked, unusually cheerful.
“Adding indentations to the magic iron rods is to ensure they grip the concrete better. Tying them with iron wire makes it easier. It’s a logical request, even if it’s annoying,” Dubil grumbled.
Discussions ranged from the number of horizontal rebars to the reason for mixing crushed stone with the ash to create concrete. The lively debate unsettled Raft, especially with Kairine's unnerving enthusiasm. Introduced without much conversation, Raft had little sense of who Kairine or Regalo were.
Yet no one seemed concerned about that.
Reflecting on it, the reason was simple. Regardless of who they were, they had all been drawn to Euphemia Grimwood—that much was clear. Therefore, their identities mattered little.
"Interesting, very interesting. But you’ve been quiet, Raft. Do you have anything to add?" Euphemia suddenly directed the conversation toward him.
Sitting in a circle on the floor, Euphemia happened to be right next to Raft. Her proximity forced him to meet her gaze up close, making him uncomfortably aware that he did not idolize Euphemia like Katarina or Kirina did.
"Uh, well... I think adding iron columns, not just rebar, would make the structure stronger," he suggested.
As he voiced his thoughts, Euphemia leaned closer, her long, shining golden hair swaying, and her well-shaped small lips curling into a smile.
"Why do you think that?" she asked, her face uncomfortably close. Raft realized everyone was now waiting for his explanation, without a hint of condescension.
"Well, when building houses, we use columns. Fixing the rebar to iron columns would make it sturdier... I think," he explained.
"Ah, you've thought it through, Raft. Well done," Euphemia praised, her beautiful smile almost stopping his heart. She patted his head with her delicate hand.
Raft's main thought was—this is bad.
For some reason, being praised and patted by Euphemia felt dangerous. If Katarina and Kirina found out, it would undoubtedly lead to trouble.
With that in mind, Raft simply muttered, "Uh, thanks."
The production of the iron columns—or rather, steel beams—was assigned to Dubil. In fact, most of the intricate components, including wagon wheels and other parts, were entrusted to him. Raft felt a wave of relief.
Raft lacked the precise skills needed to craft standardized parts. While he could learn, he preferred the rhythmic hammering of iron. It wasn’t so much out of laziness as it was a genuine passion.
“Well then, Raft, I’ll have you make the tools,” Euphemia said casually as the concrete construction meeting concluded, as if she were asking him to pass the salt.
“Tools?” Raft echoed.
“Yes, for the boar beastmen and the orcs we’ve brought along. They’ll need tools tailored to their sizes.”
It made sense. Raft, the other demonkin, and the foxfolk like Serena, as well as the minotaur-like Taurus tribe, could use human-sized tools. However, the orcs required something different.
“For someone as strong as Zonda, tools made from magic iron might be best, similar to how you’d forge weapons. Shovels, pickaxes, and rakes would be useful.”
“Um, what exactly are these tools?” Raft asked, puzzled.
“Hmm? Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen tools like these here. I don’t recall the corresponding words either,” Euphemia admitted.
“Really...?”
“Never mind. I’ll explain in detail. Your skills have improved since you made Katarina and Kirina’s knives, right? You’ll manage.”
Euphemia Grimwood smiled, a smile so reassuring it made the option of refusal vanish, despite the lack of any guarantees.
Once more, life began to rush forward at a rapid pace.
Days illuminated by the blinding light of glory lay ahead.
