The great strikes hit the world four times. On the third strike, humans were born, a moment that was called the Day of Sword. After the fourth strike, one group of men divided into many species, countries, cities, villages, clans, and families. Eventually, individuals were born. People named the moment of the fourth strike the Hour of Sword.
Time then flowed onward. The Year of Ax, Spear, Bow, and the others were made to set it apart from the Year of Sword.
Like that, to mark the months, the Month of Armor, Shield, and Bracelet were created. Many other days and hours were also made to mark the Day and Hour of Sword. These were split again into minutes and seconds.
Some called these the Great Fifth Strike, but the idea didn’t gain a lot of support. Regardless, the split time began to cycle, each with its own season. At last, the moment when the Year, Month, Day, Hour, Minute, and Second of Sword aligned arrived.
That was also the moment he was forged.
✦ ✦ ✦
A temple was where a god who defined their world’s rules lived. At the same time, it could also be a haven for an exiled god, providing refuge from other gods with great power. This temple was neither; it was a goddess’ shell.
Clang!
This shell was in ruins. After going through a nearly endless cycle, eternal winter arrived. The temple was no more than a discarded shell, rotting while still clinging to the flesh it couldn’t separate from completely.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
The loud sound of collisions echoed within that shell.
Clang!
One of those responsible for the collisions was a small fist. Clenched as if grasping the world, it struck down with great force.
Clang!
Each blow sent out a shockwave that shook heaven and earth.
Clang!
The other was a metal ingot, burning brightly because of how red it was. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that what flew off the ingot with each blow was not sparks, but rust. The ingot appeared fiery red only because it was entirely rusted.
Clang!
The girl swinging her fist had combed, golden hair. It didn’t really resemble sticky honey. Rather, her hair was so light that, even if it were coated in glue and tossed into the air, it would scatter like dandelion seeds, each strand flying off alone.
Clang!
Between the golden wheats that swayed with each punch stood two scarecrows that had barely survived a typhoon; they were her broken horns. The girl wasn’t human. She was one of the oldest dragon emperors, one of the Constellations owning the widest territory in the sky.
“You’re the Ruin-Harvesting Cow, right?” someone called out.
The woman’s fist, set to strike the metal ingot again, paused for a moment. She merely turned around and stared, her rustling hair so light that even with most of her eyes hidden behind her bangs, she could see who had called her.
Her lips twitched as she said, “Viper.”
“Yes, you wouldn’t know who I am, but— What? How did you know?” the gray-haired man asked, startled. He was leaning against the temple pillar with his arms crossed.
Clang!
Mutia swung her fist toward the metal ingot again and flatly answered, “What do you think the virtues of a god are?”
“Um… diligence?” the Viper instinctively answered the sudden question.
Mutia nodded after a while. “You know very well. It’s proof that you’ve served as a god well.”
“Ah, I worked hard— Wait, this isn’t why I’m here.”
“A god is a slave.”
Clang!
Mutia struck the metal block with her fist once more. “So, a good god is a good slave.”
“Uh…”
“Thus, the Tower master would be the best goddess for all.”
Clang!
Amid the ringing metallic sound, the Viper fell silent. He didn’t know much about the Tower master.
Mutia continued, “I’m also a good goddess, though not as good as the Tower master. And the virtue of a slave is diligence."
Clang!
“My horn is gone because I briefly lost my diligence and was careless.”
Clang!
“You live in the same world as the one who cut off my horn. Also, you’ve managed to land a punch on him. Remembering and making preparations for you is only natural.”
The Viper scratched the back of his head.
“Hmmm. I don’t know if I should call that an honor or an annoyance. Well, I guess I should accept it, given my role as a rival.” He looked up at Mutia. “Aren’t you going to ask why I came here?”
“You’ll eventually explain, won’t you? Either with words or with actions.”
“Well, yeah, but… you could say, ‘You came here for this,’ right?’ Like how you knew my name.”
“Why should I show my cards?”
The Viper narrowed his eyes. “But you said you’re a good slave...”
“I said before that a slave’s virtue is diligence. False pride is a fool’s virtue.”
The Viper shut his mouth. Mutia also fell silent. For a moment, only the clangs of the goddess’ fist striking the metal ingot echoed within her shell.
After some hesitation, the Viper asked, “Do you know what a hammer is? It would be so much easier to use one…”
The Viper imagined the conversation that would follow. “A hammer? What’s that?” “Ah, it’s this thingy. With it, you can strike metal much more easily.” “This is amazing, Viper-kun… Ah, the Lion Realm has great technology and uses so much effort even when it comes to hitting metal.”
“Viper, can you please stop that? Even I feel awkward when I listen to that,” Mutia growled.
“I didn’t say anything!”
“You were thinking about it.”
“I mean… I can think whatever I want, right? Even if you’re a known Constellation, that’s a breach of privacy. Hmmm. Anyway, hammers exist…” The Viper focused to see what Mutia was doing. This is...”
Clang!
“My horn.”
Clang!
“Only my fists can shape my horns. No metal is hard enough.”
The Viper, who had once lived among humans as a god and tried blacksmithing, rested his chin on his hand. “I see. Hmmm. That explains why it rusted badly, too.”
“Because my horns can only be melted by time. Any fire is too cold.”
The Viper sighed. “I get it now. You said time is your power, so only you can melt or destroy parts of your own body.”
“That’s correct.”
“That makes sense, but…” The Viper crossed his arms. “Kim Gong-Ja cut off your horn.”
Clang!
With a sharp sound, the metal struck by the fist let out a deafening scream. It was both a cry of death and birth.
[Congratulations!]
[The item’s level can not be measured!]
[You have made the realm’s thirteenth treasure!]
Unlike the usual calm tone, the Tower’s announcement rang out with vigor. The messages reached Mutia and the Viper. Not paying attention to the Viper, who was now tense, Mutia stood up straight and waved the newly forged sword a couple of times before holding it up.