Chapter 297

Seeing how eager Tōtōsai was to begin forging, Inuyasha and the others decided it was time to leave.

They still needed to continue searching for the Shikon Jewel shards and Naraku’s whereabouts, and there was nothing they could really do to help here anyway.

Haruto did not try to keep them. He simply handed over some food he had prepared in advance.

There were Cake Pumpkins, White Apples, jerky made from Sea King meat, dried fruit made from Berries, and several other snacks.

After exchanging a few final words, Inuyasha turned and headed down the mountain first, with Kagome, Miroku, Sango, and the others following close behind.

Once they were gone, Tōtōsai grabbed Haruto and dragged him deeper into the volcano.

The stone beneath their feet grew hotter with every step, while the sulfurous smell in the air became increasingly intense.

After passing through a stone doorway that had been baked red by the surrounding magma, Haruto found himself staring at a forging chamber built directly above a lake of molten rock.

This was the workshop Tōtōsai used for forging blades.

The floor had been constructed from a special kind of volcanic stone. Even with churning magma directly beneath it, the surface was merely hot rather than scorching enough to burn through their feet.

At the center stood an enormous forging platform, its surface covered in hammer marks of varying depths.

On one side was a fire pit connected directly to the magma below. Crimson molten rock churned and bubbled inside, sending waves of heat through the room strong enough to visibly distort the air.

The other side held molds of various sizes, files, quenching tanks, and countless tools Haruto could not even name, each one polished until it gleamed.

Tōtōsai arranged the materials, then looked at Haruto with a serious expression.

"I’ve forged plenty of famous blades in my time, but this is the first kitchen knife."

"So use that fire control of yours properly. Not even the slightest mistake."

Haruto nodded solemnly.

"Don’t worry. Nothing will go wrong."

With that, he took out a large supply of food and stacked it nearby.

As long as he had enough to eat, he could replenish the energy he spent controlling the flames.

"Then let’s begin."

Tōtōsai picked up the meteorite ore from beyond the heavens.

Haruto immediately cast his Flame Compression Spell, wrapping the volcanic fire within his control.

For the next five days and five nights, neither of them truly rested.

It was the first time Haruto had witnessed firsthand what a swordsmith of Tōtōsai’s level was capable of.

Every material Haruto had brought came from a different world.

Yet after only a short examination, Tōtōsai could quickly judge its melting point, hardness, toughness, ideal forging temperature, and the best way to process it.

He knew which materials possessed conflicting properties and absolutely could not be fused together.

He knew which ones complemented each other and would become far stronger when combined.

He could even determine the precise proportions required to preserve the unique characteristics of several materials at once.

Tōtōsai planned every detail with astonishing clarity.

Haruto’s control over the flames, meanwhile, became the perfect support for his work.

For an ordinary swordsmith, controlling the forge temperature was one of the most difficult parts of forging.

Even a small deviation could ruin an entire batch of valuable material, never mind maintaining a precise temperature tailored to every stage of the process.

For Haruto, however, that was almost effortless.

Tōtōsai only needed to name the temperature he wanted, and Haruto could adjust the flames to match it almost instantly.

Even the violent volcanic fire became remarkably obedient under his control.

One of them was a master swordsmith who had spent centuries perfecting the art of forging, with an understanding of blades that had long since reached its peak.

The other could manipulate fire as easily as moving his own fingers, satisfying even the most demanding temperature requirements.

Working together, they gradually transformed the chaotic pile of materials through repeated melting, refining, folding, and hammering.

Impurities were stripped away.

The metal slowly took shape.

And eventually, the rough outline of a kitchen knife emerged.

Tōtōsai did not simply throw every valuable material into the forge.

Even the finest materials needed to suit one another.

After careful selection, he chose the Red Dragon’s fang as the core, the meteorite ore as the primary material for the blade, and Haruto’s own tooth to bind the weapon to him.

He also processed the Spiegel and embedded it into the handle.

Several smaller quantities of other materials were added to strengthen the knife’s toughness and durability.

What surprised Haruto most was that Tōtōsai also took the Melk Knife he had been using all this time and gradually melted it into the new blade during the forging process.

According to Tōtōsai, the Melk Knife had been with Haruto for so long that it had already absorbed his presence.

Fusing it into the new knife would make the finished weapon feel even more natural in his hands.

Haruto naturally had no objection.

For five days and five nights, neither of them slept.

Haruto consumed enormous amounts of energy maintaining the forge, occasionally stuffing food into his mouth to replenish himself, yet his control over the temperature never wavered for even a moment.

Tōtōsai pushed himself just as hard.

His eyes became bloodshot from exhaustion, but every hammer blow remained perfectly steady, neither too heavy nor too light.

From sunrise to sunset, from moonrise until the stars faded, the crimson light of the magma illuminated their constantly moving figures.

And with every strike of the hammer, the kitchen knife carrying both of their efforts gradually approached completion.

When Tōtōsai finally brought the hammer down one last time and flattened the final imperfection in the blade blank, even the waves of heat inside the workshop seemed to fall still.

The kitchen knife resting on the forging platform looked almost absurdly ordinary.

There were no elaborate engravings.

No dazzling glow.

It was simply shaped like a classic Chinese cleaver.

The blade was a muted silver-gray, its lines clean and smooth without a single unnecessary decoration.

The handle had been forged as one seamless piece and felt warm and comfortable in the hand. The only ornament was a small diamond-shaped purple crystal embedded at the end of the grip—the core of the Spiegel.

The knife was so plain that if it were tossed into a pile of ordinary kitchen tools, hardly anyone would bother giving it a second glance.

Haruto was not surprised.

That was Tōtōsai’s style.

Even Tessaiga, the blade he took the greatest pride in, looked like nothing more than a chipped, rusty old sword whenever its demonic power was dormant.

"Don’t get excited yet. There’s still one last step."

Tōtōsai wiped the sweat from his face and placed the kitchen knife back into the forge.

Then he walked to the side and carried over a large vat.

The moment he removed the lid, a bone-deep chill poured out.

When it collided with the furnace heat, fine frost immediately formed in the air.

Inside the vat was a liquid glowing faintly blue-white.

Tōtōsai had used a special method to liquefy the Holy Snow Crystals, producing a solution specifically for quenching.

He took a deep breath, pulled the glowing red knife from the forge with his tongs, flipped his wrist, and plunged the entire blade into the Holy Snow Crystal liquid.

SSSSSS—!

The moment the red-hot metal touched the icy solution, thick white steam erupted upward and swallowed the entire workshop.

Cold and heat collided violently.

Small cracking sounds echoed through the mist while the blade trembled faintly beneath the surface, releasing a clear metallic hum.

The quenching process lasted for the time it took an entire incense stick to burn.

Only after the white mist slowly dispersed did Tōtōsai finally remove the knife.

The blade remained a simple matte silver-gray.

The only visible difference was the razor-cold gleam now running along its edge.

Yet when held, it carried a perfectly balanced warmth instead of the biting cold one would expect from something freshly quenched.

Tōtōsai carefully wiped the blade clean.

Then he extended the kitchen knife they had spent five days and nights creating toward Haruto.

"Try it."

His eyes were filled with anticipation.

"Don’t let the plain appearance fool you."

"This knife can change into whatever form you want."

"One blade can serve as an entire set of kitchen knives. It all depends on how you use it."

Haruto’s heartbeat inexplicably quickened.

He reached out and accepted the knife.

The moment his fingers closed around the handle, an indescribably strange sensation spread through his entire body.

It did not feel like he was holding a cold piece of metal.

It felt almost as if he had gripped his own wrist.

There was no sense of separation between him and the blade.

The knife felt like part of his body—connected to his blood and flesh, responding directly to his thoughts.

Haruto could even clearly sense a cheerful vibration coming from the blade.

He tightened his grip and moved his thoughts.

The instant the idea appeared in his mind, the diamond-shaped purple crystal in the handle gave off a faint glow.

The broad blade immediately began to change.

Its wide profile narrowed and lengthened, becoming slender and light.

The edge turned thin and sharp, transforming into a boning knife, while faint flame-like patterns appeared across the metal, elegant without becoming excessive.

Haruto changed his thoughts again.

The boning knife transformed once more.

The blade thickened and widened, becoming heavy and solid, radiating a sense of brute force.

It had become a cleaver made specifically for chopping through animal bones.

Within only a few breaths, the knife shifted smoothly between a slicing knife, fruit knife, chef’s knife, and sashimi knife.

Every transformation happened without the slightest delay.

It responded entirely to Haruto’s will.

His excitement became impossible to suppress.

After thinking for a moment, Haruto took a Red Dragon bone from storage and tossed it into the air.

Holding the knife, he watched the bone descend and gave the blade a casual swing.

There was no harsh clash of metal against bone.

No resistance whatsoever.

The edge passed through the Red Dragon bone as though slicing through soft tofu.

With an almost inaudible crack, the incredibly hard bone split cleanly in two lengthwise while still in midair.

The cut surfaces were smooth as mirrors, revealing even the finest internal patterns.

Not a single drop of marrow splashed out.

"What a knife!"

Haruto could no longer contain his delight.

The smile on his face widened as he repeatedly ran his fingers along the handle, feeling the resonance between the weapon and his own blood.

He was completely satisfied.

The knife was even more perfect than he had imagined.

It fit him better than he could have hoped.

With a kitchen knife like this in his hands, Haruto was certain he could create food even more delicious than before.