"Forging a knife is a tough journey. First, you must learn to recognize ores and materials.
Second, understand how different materials interact and complement each other."
"That's just the foundation—it doesn't even count as entry-level.
Once you fully grasp each material's characteristics, then you can begin forging your own blades."
"After forging thousands of knives over the course of three years, you're considered entry-level.
Only then can you start trying to craft sharp knives."
"And after your forging technique matures, you can move on to fine polishing, which is even harder.
I spent ten years studying that stage alone."
Melk the Second welcomed Kei warmly.
She had lived alone on the mountain for many years and hadn't seen anyone for a long time.
Now that someone wanted to learn the art of blade-making, she was truly happy.
"Oh, and there's more—"
"Sorry to interrupt, but I think there's been a misunderstanding.
I'm not here to learn how to forge blades—I'm just here to learn how to make a blade sharper."
Kei interrupted Melk, who was getting more and more excited.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Melk frowned, confused.
"I mean I just want to learn how to sharpen a blade."
Kei already had an idea of where his problem lay. He was here simply to find a solution.
"If that's the case, then I'm afraid I can't help you."
Melk's expression turned cold.
She felt like Kei saw forging as something unimportant—something not worth taking seriously.
And to someone who loved the art of blade-crafting like her, that was unacceptable!
"Don't be mad. Let me show you something."
Kei turned toward the knife rack on the wall. "Which one is your sharpest knife?"
Melk frowned even deeper.
"I'm not selling any of those. They're too sharp. Without a license, I can't let you have one."
"See all those cuts on the walls and floors? Those weren't on purpose—just accidents. These blades are extremely dangerous."
Despite her irritation, she still warned him sincerely.
"It's fine. Just tell me which one is the sharpest."
Melk sighed and pointed at one of her masterpieces.
"That one. It's my finest work—and the sharpest."
"Thought so."
Kei reached out, grabbed it, and without warning, sliced it apart with a single finger right in front of Melk.
"What… how's that even possible!?"
Melk was shocked. Her best knife—cut into pieces by just one finger!?
"This is my sword. Sharp, right?"
Kei didn't stop until the blade was shredded into dust.
"But it's not refined enough. That's what I came here to learn—how to refine it."
"That's where your expertise comes in."
"No… I can't… Even my sharpest blade was destroyed by your finger… I'm useless…"
Melk's shock quickly turned into deep self-doubt.
She had always felt unworthy of the Melk name.
And now, seeing her finest creation sliced like butter, she doubted herself more than ever.
Kei frowned. He hadn't meant to crush her spirit this badly.
"As a craftsman, if you don't believe in yourself, no one else will.
You are a brilliant blacksmith and sharpener."
He could feel the intense aura she had developed after years of handling blades.
She was skilled—she just needed confidence.
"Want to try sharpening a sword with me?"
Kei invited her.
"Huh?"
Melk looked up, dazed.
"What sword? I didn't see you bring one."
"This one."
Kei raised his arm.
"This is a challenge. Want to try?"
"M-me? Can I really?"
Melk had never tried sharpening something like this.
Could she even do it?
"Well, you're the only one here. So if you can't, who will?"
"Give me your opinion—as a professional."
Melk looked into Kei's trusting eyes.
She took a deep breath, tightened her headscarf, and said:
"Let me see if I can leave a mark. I want to study it."
She handed him a special stone.
Kei lightly dragged his palm across it—slicing it in two instantly.
Melk studied the pieces carefully.
After a moment, faint cuts appeared all over her arms—just from observing.
"Incredible sharpness… but it feels like those high-level materials—
Very powerful, yet lacking refinement.
It's not polished. It's not complete."
As expected of an expert—even lacking confidence, her technical insight was on point.
"Want to examine some of my knives? Try to get a sense of a finished product?"
She handed Kei another stone.
"Leave a mark and study it over time.
Eventually, you'll feel something—hard to describe, but you'll understand it when it comes."
Kei didn't take the stone.
Instead, he grabbed one of her knives, looked at her, and smiled.
"I'll feel it more directly this way."
Then he dragged the knife against his own arm. A deep wound opened instantly.
"Stop! You're bleeding!"
Melk rushed to stop him, but the wound healed before she could do anything.
"Again."
Kei calmly slashed again.
Melk was stunned. Why was he doing this so calmly?
The third time. The fourth.
Blood stained the floor.
"Stop! You'll die if this keeps up!"
Melk cried out.
"Anything worth doing must be done with the resolve to die for it.
If you hesitate, you'll fail.
I won't fail. I'll keep going. I'll keep grinding. That's my way."
Melk stared, dumbfounded.
That look in Kei's eyes—she'd seen it before.
It was the same as her master's, back when she was a child.
"I… I'm sorry. I misunderstood you."
Melk finally realized—Kei wasn't belittling her profession.
He was a craftsman at heart.
"But cutting yourself isn't the right way to feel it—"
"Then I'll leave it to you."
Kei raised his arm again.
"Don't hesitate. It hurts every time you pause."
"…Okay."
Melk took a deep breath.
She had sharpened countless blades—but this was different.
She had no room to retreat.
Focused, calm, and composed—she began.
The night passed. By morning, Kei had fully understood the feeling of sharpness.
He began sharpening seriously.
"I'm sorry, I can't teach anymore…"
Melk had collapsed from exhaustion and lay on the small bed.
Kei had carried her there.
"It's fine. I remember everything."
He immersed himself in sharpening.
Each contact with the whetstone amplified his perception.
He could now see the microscopic gaps between things—
He needed to refine the blade until it could slip through those infinitesimal spaces.
Time flew.
Melk awoke and watched Kei work, amazed.
"He's perfect for blade forging.
If only he could stay and run the Melk Forge with me…"
More time passed.
Kei didn't rest once.
"Take a break?"
Melk was concerned—he hadn't slept in over two days.
"I'm fine. Rest if you want."
Kei had entered a transcendent state.
He could now see the finest details of all matter.
He kept grinding.
The whetstone was worn flat. Then he switched to vibration sharpening,
using delicate ripples of energy to refine the blade.
The blade now resembled a cicada's wing—thin as a hair.
The edge—invisible to the naked eye.
At the final stroke, the blade shattered.
But Kei knew—his sword was complete.
He tapped the floor with one finger.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—cracks spread across the entire mountain.
From Kei's position at the center, four fissures shot out in all directions.
They penetrated deep into Melk Mountain—
All from one finger.
[Your sharpening technique has improved through relentless effort!]
[Your physical strength and perception have increased!]
[Your Gourmet Cells have evolved slightly from the taste of success!]
The entire mountain echoed with shrieks from Gourmet Beasts.
Not cheers—they were terrified of the sharpness.
"Congratulations,"
Melk said sincerely.
"Not me. Us."
Kei smiled and patted her shoulder.
"I turned my sword from raw material into a masterpiece.
And you—rediscovered your confidence."
"When you were sharpening—
you looked really cool."
Melk blushed.
"I-I didn't have a choice. I had to go all in…"
"You proved your skill. You might be the Second Melk, but that doesn't mean you're lesser than the First.
You don't have their strength—but you have the heart.
That's something no one can surpass."
"I love sharpening blades!
Each one is like meeting a new person!"
"I'm starving. Got anything to eat?"
Kei's stomach growled loudly.
"I'll get you something."
After half a day of eating, Kei was finally full.
"If Master were alive, he'd have taken you as a disciple immediately.
You're better than me in every way—skill, strength, spirit…"
Melk sighed.
"When I was a kid, I never understood why my master would cut himself all over just to forge one knife.
But now I get it—
It's the spirit of sacrificing everything for what you love."
"Stay. Run the forge with me?"
She watched Kei approach.
When he raised his hand, she nervously closed her eyes.
But he just gently placed a warm palm on her face.
"You still lack confidence."
"Listen—
You are the best sharpener and smith I know."
"You say I'm better than you in every way.
But there's one thing I don't have—
Your love for sharpening and forging.
That makes you the most qualified successor.
Even the First Melk would agree."
A soft green glow filled Kei's hand as he brushed her cheek—
Healing her facial scar.
"You may not mind the scar…
But for a girl, it's better not to have one.
Consider this my thanks for teaching me."
"You noticed…"
Melk blushed and looked away,
conflicted and flustered.
"It's just a face pat—don't overthink it."
(End of Chapter)
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