Chapter five
"Chapter five The wager
The glare of the surface world was a brutal contrast to the Tower's dim depths, but Minwoo's hope, a fragile human thing, pulled him toward a forgotten blacksmith shop. A memory of a unique weapon flickered in his mind – a chance to be more than just prey. He was tired of being weak, of the constant fear. He just wanted to survive, like any other human in this damned Tower.
He found the shop, its sooty stone facade bearing the silent testament of countless fires. A heavy wooden door, reinforced with crude iron bands, stood slightly ajar, hinting at the darkness within and carrying the faint, primal scent of coal dust and hot metal. This place feels… different, Minwoo thought, a flicker of something akin to anticipation stirring within him. Inside, the elderly shopkeeper, his arms still surprisingly corded despite his age, regarded him with a gaze that held the shrewdness of a lifetime spent working with unforgiving materials. There's a weariness in his eyes, Minwoo noted, but also a strength that hasn't been extinguished.
"Looking for something, young man?" the shopkeeper asked, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seemed to echo the clang of hammers long past.
"A weapon," Minwoo stated, his tone carrying a brittle edge of dismissive confidence, a challenge in itself. Let's see what you've got. "Something that isn't brittle garbage." He subtly flexed the fingers of his right hand, a barely perceptible movement that held a hint of coiled tension.
The shopkeeper's brow furrowed, his gaze lingering on Minwoo's tightly clenched fist, a flicker of something unreadable in his dark eyes. Confident, isn't he? "We have strong tools here. Forged steel, tempered in fire. Perhaps something for study?" He gestured towards a rack of older, slightly rusted blades.
"Strong for work, perhaps," Minwoo scoffed, the arrogance a deliberate goad, a way to size up the old man's pride. "I need something that can actually withstand a fight." He gestured towards the rack of study weapons. "Those flimsy things wouldn't last against a decent warrior." The thought of facing a skilled human opponent in the Tower was a chillingly real possibility, far more cunning and ruthless than any beast.
The old man's eyes narrowed, a spark of something akin to offense igniting within them. He dismisses my craft too easily. "Have you ever swung a hammer, boy? Felt the heat of the forge? Known the discipline it takes to shape metal, even in practice?"
"Maybe not," Minwoo conceded, a hint of a dangerous glint in his eyes. "But I know what breaks. Tell you what," he continued, a sudden idea forming. "I bet I can break at least one of these… study pieces you have here. If I do, you owe me a weapon that will last. Something truly effective."
The shopkeeper's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of disbelief and something akin to amusement flickering within them. A bold wager, over these old things? He stroked his chin, considering the young man's audacity and the strange tension that seemed to radiate from him. "And if you fail, whelp? What then?"
"If I fail," Minwoo said, a hard edge entering his voice, "I'll pay you double the price for whatever I've handled. But I won't fail."
A low chuckle rumbled in the shopkeeper's chest. "Confident to the point of foolishness. Alright, boy. You have yourself a bet. Start with that old saber then. It's seen better days."
Minwoo strode towards the indicated saber, the rough stone floor gritty beneath his worn boots. He picked it up, the steel surprisingly cold and heavy in his hand, yet somehow brittle-feeling. Easy enough. With a sudden, sharp movement, amplified by a sliver of his barely controlled energy – a focused exertion – he twisted the blade. A sickening crack, like rusted metal giving way, echoed through the cluttered shop.
The shopkeeper gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief despite himself. Even that old thing… "Blast it all!"
"One," Minwoo stated flatly, dropping the broken sword onto a pile of scrap iron with a heavy clang. "Now for something a little more… studied." He moved to a heavier-looking practice broadsword leaning against a soot-stained workbench.
He hefted the practice broadsword, its weight substantial but its balance clearly off. Again, focusing his intent and a touch of his inner power – a more controlled application – he brought it down hard on a thick wooden block used as an anvil, the impact jarring his wrists. The wood splintered with a deep groan, and the practice broadsword bent at an alarming angle.
"Two," Minwoo declared, tossing the warped practice sword aside with a frustrated thud. "So, old man. A deal's a deal. Now, about that real weapon?"
The shopkeeper was now visibly fuming, his face a mask of disbelief and grudging respect. He broke them… those were meant for training, not… that. "You… you insolent brat. You have a strange strength about you." He hesitated, his gaze sweeping across his remaining stock with a newfound apprehension