Welf Crozzo

**Residence of the Hephaestus Familia, Hephaestus' Personal Office**

"At the end, he wouldn't speak," murmured Tsubaki, with a somber expression as she absentmindedly played with a small hammer she had taken from the desk.

Hephaestus sighed deeply, leaning back in her chair. "You know very well how your brother is. Once he decides to be stubborn, even if the sky and earth fall, he won't say a word."

The goddess massaged her temples, clearly frustrated. Despite the long "interrogation," they hadn't been able to get anything useful from Pyrion, just complaints and groans.

"Tsk, I told you, Hephaestus," Tsubaki replied with a tongue click, crossing her arms and giving a disappointed glance. "You should've let me hang him from the ceiling. A little extra pressure, and he would've sung like a bird."

Hephaestus gave her a tired look, raising an eyebrow. "Tsubaki, no matter how much he deserves it sometimes, hanging him from the ceiling is not a valid interrogation technique... nor is it appropriate."

"Well, I can't promise I won't try it next time," Tsubaki responded with a mischievous smile, though her tone suggested she wasn't entirely joking.

"The only thing we've confirmed is that something happened at Freya's residence," Hephaestus murmured, thoughtfully eyeing the hammer on the desk in front of her. "And whatever it is, Pyrion doesn't want to talk about it."

Tsubaki nodded, her expression more serious than ever. "Yeah, and knowing Freya... that's not a good sign."

Hephaestus let out a long sigh as she massaged her temples, her frustration clearly visible. Finally, she let her head drop to the desk with a soft thud, as if she wanted to hide from the reality that was weighing down on her.

The revelation that Freya might have gotten closer to Pyrion than she would like caused her a sharp headache. As a goddess, she knew Freya far too well. She understood her desires, her behavior, and most of all, her obsession with Pyrion.

Since Pyrion had grown and become the man he was now, Freya's interests had become more obvious. That look the goddess of beauty gave her adopted son was unmistakable, and it only added to the discomfort she felt.

Hephaestus sighed deeply, letting the thoughts that tormented her take shape in her mind. "Pyrion... my little boy... someone who has never had experience with women. Innocent and tender as he is, if he falls into Freya's hands..."

"So what do we do, Hephaestus?" Tsubaki didn't share the same thoughts as Hephaestus, but she didn't agree with the idea of someone like Freya taking her precious brother either.

Hephaestus slowly opened her eyes, her gaze now more tired than before. "Sigh... For now, there's not much we can do. All we can do is keep an eye on him and avoid more encounters between them."

Tsubaki raised an eyebrow, clearly unsatisfied with the response. "Is that it? You know how Freya is. If she's set her eyes on Pyrion, she won't stop just because we try to keep them apart."

"We'll do what we can..." Hephaestus muttered, frowning and resting her chin in her hand. She didn't have a clear solution to keep Freya away from Pyrion, which frustrated her deeply.

Silence fell in the room, heavy and uncomfortable. Both women, despite their strength and experience in many areas, found themselves helpless when it came to matters of the heart. It wasn't as if either of them had much experience in that area.

However, the silence was abruptly interrupted. "Wait!" exclaimed Tsubaki, jumping up from her seat, her eyes shining with excitement.

Hephaestus blinked, surprised by the sudden reaction. "What is it, Tsubaki?"

"I've got an idea, Hephaestus!" she declared with an excited smile. "If it works, we won't have to worry about it anymore!"

"Oh? What is it? Tell me quickly," Hephaestus asked, now hopeful, her own excitement growing as she looked at Tsubaki anxiously.

"Fufu," Tsubaki let out a mischievous laugh, her eyes gleaming with cunning. "What we need to do is distract Pyrion, make him forget about Freya, and stop that relationship from growing. And I've got the perfect solution for it!"

"What solution?" Hephaestus leaned forward, intrigued but also a bit cautious.

"Remember Asfi? The adventurer from the Hermes Familia who's completely in love with Pyrion," began Tsubaki with a confident smile. "We'll intensify their relationship! If we can get Pyrion to get closer to her, he won't have the time or space for Freya."

Hephaestus blinked, considering the idea. "Hmm... Not a bad suggestion. Asfi is a serious and dedicated young woman, but... how do you plan to pull it off? Pyrion isn't exactly good when it comes to matters of the heart."

"Leave it to me, Hephaestus," Tsubaki replied with determination, patting her chest. "I have my methods. We just need a little time and a few small nudges in the right direction."

"Alright," Hephaestus sighed, relaxing slightly in her chair. "I hope this works. If we can keep Freya at bay, it'll be a big relief."

"Trust me, goddess. This will be a piece of cake," Tsubaki assured with a confident smile, already planning her moves to bring Pyrion and Asfi together in her mind.

"Then I'll leave it all in your hands..." A little more relaxed, Hephaestus felt a sense of relief knowing there was a solution. If everything went well, she could keep Freya away, and not only that—she could have a beautiful daughter-in-law.

...

"Ah-choo!... What the hell? Who's talking about me?" Sneezing forcefully over the workbench in his workshop, Pyrion rubbed his nose while wondering who might be harboring bad intentions toward him.

"Forget it, there's something more important now," he murmured to himself, shaking his head and brushing aside the pointless thoughts. He focused all his attention on the weapon resting in front of him on the workbench.

Still scratching his ears, which were a bit sore after the recent "interrogation," Pyrion critically examined the sword. The visible cracks on its surface made him frown. "The explosion from the magic sword must've affected it too. Looks like I'll have to rebuild it."

Pyrion recalled how, after the intense battle with Zald, Finn had returned the sword he had used in the fight. While still functional, the weapon had taken considerable damage. To Pyrion, a perfectionist blacksmith, having a weapon in suboptimal condition was as uncomfortable as wearing torn clothes in public.

"Alright, little one, time to make you new again!" With a warm smile, Pyrion took the sword as if it were his child.

Walking toward his anvil, Pyrion carefully placed the weapon, and without further ado, he began to work. The rhythmic sound of the hammer echoed in the air, marking the start of a long process to restore the weapon to its optimal condition.

"Fiuh... You're as good as new, gorgeous." Pyrion smiled as he admired the sword, now restored to its splendid majesty, with not a single crack tarnishing its perfection. Gently, he moved his hand toward the weapon and, with a slight touch of his finger, made a ring clink against the blade.

Immediately, the ring emitted a soft glow, and within seconds, the sword disappeared from the anvil, as if it had never been there.

"Ah, my precious rings... I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured sweetly, admiring the jewels on his right hand. A proud and satisfied smile crossed his face as he admired one of his most magnificent creations since arriving in this world.

The five rings adorning his right hand were the result of years of effort, dedication, and the genius that characterized him as a blacksmith. Each one was enchanted with a special magic, the product of his innate forging skill.

The rings' function was simple but powerful: each one was enchanted to store a weapon, as long as it had been created by Pyrion. Only his own creations could be stored in them, and only weapons, which limited their use. However, these limitations didn't diminish their utility.

For Pyrion, these rings were the key to his arsenal, allowing him to carry a wide variety of weapons in the palm of his hand and deploy them at any moment. In combat situations, this versatility was invaluable.

(I'll show the weapons stored in them in more detail later.)

"Let's do some maintenance on my main weapon."

Looking for a new task, Pyrion walked back to his workbench. With a light touch on one of his rings, a beautiful spear appeared on the surface of the table.

Before him stood one of his great creations: a spear worthy of being called a masterpiece. Its blade, black as the night, gleamed with a metallic hue that reflected golden flashes under the light. The main blade, long and sharp, tapered into a point that exuded a deadly aura, as if designed to pierce any armor or barrier effortlessly.

The spear was another work of art in itself. An intricate spiral design ran along its surface, blending golden and black lines that evoked a perfect balance between elegance and power. The golden details, sculpted with almost divine precision, gave the spear a celestial presence, as if it had been forged under the gaze of a god.

(Weapon image)

"How are you, my dear, Ouranos?" Pyrion murmured with a faint smile.

Despite its name, this weapon had no relation to the Greek god Uranus. Pyrion had named it this way because, in Greek, Ouranos means "Sky." His intention in naming it was to reflect his aspirations: a spear meant to rise, to reach the sky.

"Just a few touch-ups here, and it's done," he murmured as he inspected the blade.

Honestly, the weapon didn't need any repairs; it was in perfect condition. But for Pyrion, this was more than just simple maintenance. It was almost a ritual. At least once a month, he made sure to pamper his dear spear, his devotion to it was palpable.

"Heh, dear, they say that spearmen are unlucky. What do you think of that?" Pyrion whispered as he gently stroked the blade of his weapon, performing a bit of maintenance. His voice slid with a mix of affection and nostalgia, remembering some rumors from his past life.

Buzz

A small buzzing sound escaped the weapon, and an immediate smile appeared on Pyrion's face upon hearing it.

"Hahaha, it's true, little one. What does bad luck matter? With your edge, any problem will be cut to pieces, right?" With a proud laugh, Pyrion stroked the weapon with even more affection.

Whether the weapon truly spoke or not... that was probably something only Pyrion would know. However, what was certain was that there existed a much deeper connection between them, far beyond the relationship between a blacksmith and his creation.

...

On a small road, near the main entrance to the city of Orario.

"So, this is Orario?" On a small cart, a young man was observing the towering Babel Tower, which seemed to rise all the way to the sky.

"That's right, young man. Welcome to the city of adventurers." With a proud smile, the old man driving the cart replied to the hooded boy.

"It's really big, huh?" The boy kept watching, his gaze fixed on the tower.

"Of course, young man... By the way, though it's a bit bold to ask, what brings you to Orario? Maybe you're going to become an adventurer." The old man smiled, curious, as he turned his gaze toward the young man.

"Adventurer... Unfortunately, I don't have that talent, old man. My goal here is blacksmithing." With a deep voice, the young man replied with a somewhat excited tone, but still keeping his hood low.

"A blacksmith, you say? Well, I can only wish you luck, kid. You'll certainly have a lot of competition in Orario." The old man chuckled lightly and gave the young man a gentle pat on the shoulder, offering some encouragement.

The young man, without losing his smile, shook his head and responded confidently.

"Don't worry, old man, I'm sure Orario will hear my name soon."

"HAHAA! It's good to have confidence, young one." The old man laughed heartily before turning his gaze back to the road.

Looking up, the young man observed the massive Babel Tower once more with a smile on his face. As he lifted his head, flashes of light revealed bright blue eyes and fiery red hair that glowed intensely beneath the hood.

"Definitely... definitely, Orario will hear my name," he murmured, his eyes shining even brighter with determination. "Welf Crozzo, not just any Crozzo, but a blacksmith worthy of the city of Orario.