Chapter 630: A Legendary Weapon

The silence between them was comfortable enough, broken only by the sound of boots on packed earth and the distant call of birds.

"By the way, Benjamin, who is this individual, Tamar, and what is she to you?" Katana finally quit the eccentric shaking and asked.

The question came out carefully, as if she had been turning it over since the name first left his mouth.

"Ah, she’s..." Benjamin’s tone stayed easy. "Tamar is Heka’s elder sister. She has short raven hair and silver eyes, and is just adorable when she pouts and nags."

A calm smile sat on his face as he spoke. The kind of smile that came from remembering something fond.

He continued: "Their elder sister, Sara, suddenly appeared here last week and disappeared like nothing happened, so I felt Lotus was involved and had sent Tamar here last night. Those girls can be quite clingy~"

Katana’s blush deepened.

She looked elsewhere — toward the nearest cluster of trees, toward the horizon, anywhere that was not Benjamin’s face.

Her eyes moved restlessly, settling on nothing, finding no safe place to rest.

"So... Benjamin has that kind of relationship with her...?" Katana’s words were quiet, but the open trail carried them clearly.

"What are you talking about? You also have that kind of relationship with Benjamin." Erica’s eyelids drooped in a look of mild, pointed disbelief.

Her voice was flat and dry, as if she were stating something obvious. The morning wind tugged at the hem of his green hair, pulling it sideways.

"Eh?! No, that was clearly a misunderstanding!" Katana waved both hands furiously in front of her. Her fingers spread wide, palms out, pushing the accusation away. "We are not like that!"

"We all saw you both kissed after... whatever had happened in your room." Erica explained, voice even.

She did not look away while she said it. Her gaze stayed fixed on Katana’s face, steady and unhurried.

"Eh? The misunderstanding is even deeper than I imagined!" Katana put a palm over her face, the gesture shielded and defeated. "I and Benjamin were trying to make this sword yesterday, that’s all. Nothing else went on."

Her fingers pressed against her forehead, hiding her eyes and the blush, hiding everything she didn’t want them to see.

"...And the kiss...?" Erica asked.

[I don’t know... is that all he thinks about?] Katana’s internal frown was almost visible in the way her mouth tightened behind her hand.

The question hung in the air between them, unanswered, waiting.

[They’re talking as if a certain Benjamin kissed Katana yesterday. Is this a misunderstanding I should get involved in? Probably not, since it’ll be troublesome.]

Benjamin decided to let the sleeping dog lie.

He kept walking. The breeze ruffled his light brown short hair and had the faint scent of open grass and distant woodsmoke. His expression remained neutral, his pace unchanged.

"Tamar is... one of my many, many lovers, I’m afraid."

He said this instead, the words delivered with the same calm smile he had used for the earlier explanation.

The tone was light and playful, as if he were sharing a small, amusing secret.

But Erica and Katana both jolted on the word "lover."

The easy rhythm of their steps broke for half a second. Their bodies stiffened, their feet stumbling slightly on the earth.

Unease moved across both of their faces in different shades — Erica’s sharper, more controlled, the flicker of something that might have been surprise or might have been something else entirely.

Katana’s warmer and more flustered, the blush that had finally begun to fade rushing back in full force.

"Haha, she is even pregnant now, even if it doesn’t seem that way at glance." Benjamin concluded.

His voice carried no weight or gravity, just the casual tone of someone sharing an unimportant fact.

[Tsk. She was just joking, after all.]

[Ah, Benjamin, I fell for that one.]

The thoughts belonged to Erica and Katana respectively, arriving at nearly the same moment.

And yes, as anyone watching the exchange could see, Erica had once again forgotten Benjamin’s gender.

The androgynous face and the soft features—all of it had done its usual work, erasing the truth and replacing it with whatever assumption was most convenient.

They reached the edge of the city proper while the sun was still climbing.

The open fields gave way to the first real streets, the noise of people and carts rising around them in layers.

Voices overlapped, wheels creaked. Somewhere ahead, a vendor was calling out prices for fruit.

The city swallowed them whole, the quiet of the trail replaced by the busy hum of too many lives happening at once.

Katana separated from the androgynous duo with a quick nod and a still-pink face.

She turned toward the weapon shop district, holding Fudō, her steps quick and purposeful.

***

The old druid’s shop smelled of old wood and the faint green sharpness of living plants kept in the corners.

Shelves of scabbards and maintenance tools lined the walls, arranged with the careful order of someone who had spent a lifetime organizing the same small space.

Swords hung from hooks, daggers rested on velvet cloth. Everything had its place.

The old woman herself was as small as ever, with her silver eyes.

Her age was written clearly in the lines of her face and the careful way she moved — slow, deliberate, as if every step had been considered before it was taken.

But her hands were steady when Katana laid the sword on the counter. Just the sure grip of someone who had been handling weapons for longer than most people had been alive.

"Oh, my word..." The old druid widened her aged eyes at the sight of the katana.

She leaned forward, her silver gaze fixed on the blade, and a low sound of disbelief escaped her throat.

Katana was flashing and gloating over it with the unrestrained pride of someone who still could not quite believe the weapon was hers.

Her shoulders were back, her chin was up. The blush had finally faded, replaced by something brighter and more confident.

The dark blade, the wavy temper line, the thin gold veins that seemed to hold their own quiet life — all of it sat under the shop’s lamps like something that did not entirely belong to ordinary morning trade.

She asked: "From which dungeon or demon castle did you pick this up, Katana dear? In my very long life, this is the second true legendary-grade weapon I am seeing. Do you even understand what this is...? Since you are gloating far too much."

Katana’s expression shifted from proud to curious.

She rested her fingers lightly on the white-and-silver handle, feeling the smooth surface under her palm. "What do you mean ’true’ legendary grade?"

The old lady’s silver eyes continued to scan the weapon.

Her gaze moved slowly from the tip of the blade down the gold-traced fuller to the handle and back again.

"You see, what makes a weapon normally legendary is in the story surrounding it. If it was used by a god-king, then it is legendary. After absorbing magic and blood for a long time, it is certain to be destructive. It makes it legendary-grade... but it is not the true legendary-grade, as the ranking system dictates.