Chapter 12: The Demon King’s Strength and the Steelhoof Forge

“You’ve proposed your daughter is capable of this great task; does that mean her forging skills surpass your own?”

Faced with Meredith’s probing question, Crossell scratched his head.

“My lass certainly possesses some ingenious ideas,” he admitted.

“As for me, I’m getting on in years, and my physical strength can no longer keep pace, a state that would prevent me from crafting truly exceptional divine weapons.”

“I’ve heard that Miss Moore has novel ideas and an extraordinary passion for forging,” Meredith continued, “but she is, after all, quite young.

The Demon Lord’s power is not something mere ‘excellent’ artifacts can withstand, a fact you ought to know well.”

The weapons Crossell had forged for the previous two Demon Kings still lay enshrined in the Demon Lord’s gallery.

Trusting his judgment, Meredith nonetheless offered a warm reminder.

“Lord Crossell, my demands aren’t particularly high,” Yunajin quipped with a smile.

“As long as it feels right in my hand and is sturdy, that will suffice.”

She had once visited the Steelhoof Tribe, where their forge, located five hundred meters underground, was “immersed” in lava, the source of which remained a mystery.

Compared to the Minotaurs of the Steelhoof Tribe, who tirelessly hammered away beside furnaces all day, drenched in sweat, Yunajin’s routine of reviewing documents indoors, strolling through gardens, and being attended by retinues seemed incomparably more leisurely.

Yet, the Minotaurs seemed to cherish this underground factory of fire and steel.

It produced not only weapons for slaughter but, more often, agricultural tools and other daily necessities.

The young Demon Lord had once picked up a spear presented by the Minotaurs.

The mere impact of its shaft striking the ground had cracked the earth.

When Yunajin wielded it, exerting her full strength, she felt only a sudden lightness in her arm, followed immediately by the spearhead flying off.

This was not an issue of forging quality; it was purely due to the wielder’s overwhelming strength.

“It’s far too light,” she remarked.

“If it were a sword, I might break it with a casual swing.”

These words caused Crossell’s brow to furrow instantly.

He was not displeased by the Demon Lord’s statement, but rather, in his memory, including his ancestors’ records of past Demon Kings, none had ever mentioned a Demon Lord possessing such formidable strength without relying on magic.

Crafting a weapon truly tailored for the Demon Lord would clearly require immense effort.

“On that point, please rest assured, Demon Lord,” Crossell responded.

“Little Moore particularly enjoys forging rather… ‘heavy and peculiar’ weapons.

Few in the tribe can even lift them, in any case.”

****

Within the dark tunnel, Yunajin and her entourage, guided by Crossell, descended a spiraling staircase that plunged ever deeper underground.

Occasional gusts of hot air wafted past their faces, illuminated by the flickering candlelight embedded in the rock walls.

Qiaolun found himself sandwiched in the middle of the group, with Andros Chimera, who had been eyeing him menacingly, following close behind.

To his left and right stood the fierce succubus maiden and the towering blond King of Vampires.

‘Unexpectedly, this fellow is acting quite normal right now…’ Qiaolun mused, observing Yunajin at the head of the group.

Though she was the shortest among them, her demeanor showed no hint of weakness.

Even as she joked with her subordinates, she maintained a balanced presence, exuding the aura of a superior without a trace of arrogance.

The Demon Lord, he realized, understood how to interact with her subjects even better than most human leaders.

“Hm?” Perhaps sensing Qiaolun’s scrutinizing gaze, Yunajin turned her head slightly and offered him a friendly smile.

“Hmph…” Qiaolun averted his face, just as he had resolved in his heart; he wished to avoid any significant involvement with the Demon Lord.

A rumbling growl echoed uneasily in Qiaolun’s ears.

Andros, incensed by the human’s disregard for the Demon Lord’s charming smile, extended his goat-like head, its sharp horns aiming for Qiaolun’s kidney.

“Agh!” The sudden attack caught Qiaolun completely off guard.

He felt goosebumps erupt across his skin, his hairs stood on end, his pupils constricted, and his body stiffened.

In a reflex, Qiaolun instinctively snatched at the small black arrowhead that had been constantly swaying before him.

“Eek!”

Her tail suddenly grasped firmly, an unusual sensation rippling through her from behind, Yunajin almost let out a piercing shriek, but forcibly suppressed it.

Her foot slipped, and she collided squarely with Qiaolun, who was right behind her.

“Demon Lord!” The others, seemingly still comprehending the situation, witnessed two disheveled figures sprawled on the ground.

“If this is your way of testing our loyalty, I daresay it’s not particularly subtle,” the handsome King of Vampires chuckled.

Unlike Almilina, who immediately moved to help, he watched with keen interest as the human clutched Yunajin’s tail.

‘It seems the Demon Lord’s attitude toward this human is somewhat… different.’

“Human, even if you are the Demon Lord’s guest, isn’t this going too far?” the purple-haired succubus maiden grumbled with displeasure.

“Hmm…” Andros took a step back, a hint of panic flickering in his six disparate beast eyes.

He stared at Qiaolun, fearing the Demon Lord would believe the newcomer’s words and lay blame upon him.

“Lord Hero, what was that all about?” Yunajin asked, a blush creeping onto her cheeks as she mumbled softly, “If you wanted to touch there, you could have just told me privately.”

‘Or does he prefer sudden attacks? That’s certainly exciting… but there’s a time and place for everything!’

“I’m sorry, I merely…” Qiaolun glanced at Andros, a subtle, almost imperceptible movement.

“It’s a bit warm, you know.

When the temperature rises, one tends to get a little nervous.”

‘What kind of excuse is that? Damn it, I won’t bother arguing with this monster!’

“This is quite normal; those accustomed to living on the surface often find it difficult to adapt to the underground environment,” Crossell, the Minotaur chieftain, said gently.

“Would you like to rest for a moment?”

“I can use ‘Recovery’ and ‘Purification’ to alleviate your anxiety.”

“No, no, it’s fine.

I can manage,” Qiaolun swiftly declined Meredith’s offer of magic.

He awkwardly sought to avoid the gazes of the others, yet the Demon Lord’s appreciative stare only grew more fervent.

At the end of the staircase stood a heavy, pitch-black steel door.

Everyone could distinctly feel the heat radiating from its surface.

As the massive door slowly creaked open, a wave of scorching air eagerly rushed through the gap, ruffling Qiaolun’s bangs.

Yunajin stepped forward, shielding Qiaolun.

The heavy scent of gunpowder, mingled with the rose fragrance emanating from the young woman, significantly eased his tension.

“Overkill,” he murmured.

“Everyone, welcome to the Steelhoof Tribe!”

Crossell suddenly announced, his voice booming with excitement, easily cutting through the incessant clangor of steel echoing throughout the place.

“Just as always,” Meredith remarked with a smile, “even with the Demon Lord and the Eight Demon Generals visiting, you artisans remain completely engrossed in your work.”

Yunajin surveyed the surrounding furnaces, which spewed sparks.

Each Minotaur meticulously watched the steel beneath the intense flames, executing the preheating, forging, and cooling processes seamlessly, without the slightest hesitation or sloppiness.

Concentration was an indispensable condition for crafting excellent works, and a fundamental principle within the Steelhoof Tribe.