Ark Undead

"boss."

A man in tattered armor knocked on the door of the blacksmith's shop, carrying a sword and shield.

The blacksmith thought he had misheard, but after seeing who it was, he laughed and invited him in to sit down.

"Why are you only arriving now? I thought you'd be back in a few days. Wow! How did you get this outfit?"

The blacksmith stared in astonishment at the large hole in his shoulder armor and the huge crack in his shield.

What did he do to make this armor look like this?

"Can it be repaired?"

"Hey, you're underestimating me! In this village, if I say I'm second, nobody dares to say I'm first! It's just a cricket's shell, of course I can fix it! Take it off and give it to me first."

That's right, the whole of Kazimierz is in an uproar, but our protagonist, Mr. Undead, has returned to the village where he used to live.

After all, he came out from this road before, and if he wants to find a place to come back, he will definitely come back here.

The Undead put down the firewood he had carefully selected to leave the city with him, and took off his armor, handing it to the blacksmith for repair.

"You went to participate in the knightly tournament, right?"

As the blacksmith carried the armor in his hand to the back workshop, he asked the Undead.

"This wound looks like it was caused by a gunshot. You're injured like this, do you still plan to continue participating?"

The Undead didn't speak, and the wrinkles on his briefly exposed face deepened.

"Hey, you're already this age, it's good to have these thoughts, it makes you look younger. But don't let yourself get too hurt."

The blacksmith put the items in the sink to wash them first, then turned around and came out carrying a box.

"This is the armor you left behind. Wear this for the next few days, and come back to pick it up in a couple of days."

"How much?"

The immortal opened his dry lips and asked the blacksmith about the repair costs.

"It's free! These days, isn't it all the rage in the city with one-year warranties? Anyway, I'm pretty happy to know you're going to participate in the Knights' Tournament."

The blacksmith scratched his head and chuckled as he spoke.

"How's it? My armor is pretty sturdy, isn't it? Not bad craftsmanship, right?"

"good."

The Undead nodded, not holding back his praise.

Indeed, this shield and armor have fulfilled their due responsibility in terms of traditional forging techniques.

The undead took out the armor left behind by the square-headed knight from the box and put it on.

The blacksmith opened his cabinet and took out a key.

"These are the keys you forgot to take. I've kept them for you. I thought you'd come back for them soon."

The Undead slung the firewood over his shoulder and took the key from the blacksmith.

He clearly didn't ask the blacksmith to help him keep it.

The Undead paused for a moment before speaking.

"Thank you."

"It's okay, we're neighbors anyway."

The blacksmith waved his hand, put his hands on his hips, and looked at the immortal.

"How long do you plan to stay here?"

"Stay for a few days."

The Immortals Theory.

"Wait, the armor. Once it's fixed, I'll leave."

"Wow, in a hurry?"

The blacksmith stroked his chin.

"Okay, then come back in five days to pick it up, same time as always, wait for me at the door."

"Repairs, five days?"

"The immortal asked in confusion."

Why does it take five days just for a repair?

The blacksmith chuckled.

“Since you’re going to use it in the competition, I have to give you a push. I thought you were just going to keep it as a collectible and wear it occasionally. Your equipment wasn’t processed according to the strictest standards back then, so now it’s time to make up for it.”

The blacksmith clenched his fist.

"You absolutely have to do your best, old man! Let's not even aim for the top 16, how about the top 32? This whole thing I'm doing... uh, what's it called again?"

"A seasoned warrior, a knight..."

"Oh right! Let more people see my battle-hardened knight armor!"

The blacksmith joked with the undead while looking at the tattered armor soaking in the water tank at the back.

Seeing one's creation again is like seeing one's own child.

Isn't it only natural to give the best treatment to a child who is about to embark on a long journey?

Moreover, it is going to participate in a grand war.

41. Grayish-white armor

What would happen if people forgot the past?

I doubt anyone can answer this question, because it is already a distant past, and no matter how much we recall it, we cannot recreate the glory of the past.

Nothing can reappear in the world along with memories anymore; they have long since become fragmented phantoms in the long river of time, barely surviving in the vessel called history.

Some people try hard to recall something, but after thinking it through thoroughly, they feel that it would have been better if they hadn't remembered it at all.

Just like the memories that the immortals gradually regain.

In his mind, those past events and friends kept replaying in his mind over time.

But he didn't know how to face these memories of his.

He didn't know why he had forgotten these things that he shouldn't have forgotten.

Since leaving the company, the Undead has been staying in the village, in his room which he bought a long time ago, staring at the campfire.

He would always think of those people and events, and those past events were as vivid in his mind as if they had just happened.

These past few days, he has been looking at the sun, gazing at the dazzling presence in the sky.

What would you do if you were in that situation?

The undead stood by the window, watching the sun gradually rise, his gaze, hidden beneath his square helmet, slowly withdrawing.

He returned to the campfire, picked up the bucket, and poured water over it.

Extinguish the campfire and carry the firewood on your back.

It's time to get my gear.

"You've arrived quite early, sir."

As soon as the blacksmith opened the door, he saw the Undead making a strange gesture toward the sunrise on the horizon.

It's as if you're about to fly into the sky and stretch out your arms to embrace the scorching sun.

What are you doing?

"Praise be to the sun."

The Undead slowly lowered his hand and glanced back at the blacksmith.

"Would you like to come with me?"

"No...no..."

The blacksmith always felt uncomfortable being stared at by the undead.

"Hmmmm, tell me first, is this some kind of mysterious ritual?"

"?" The Undead tilted his head, not quite understanding what the blacksmith meant.

"It's just one action. Praising the sun, that's all."

"Okay, I know the sun illuminates everything and warms us; it's great. But can we stop praising the sun for now? Come in, I'm going to show you something good!"

The blacksmith persuaded the immortal to abandon his thoughts of praising the sun and to come inside with him.

The immortal had no choice but to put down his hands and follow the blacksmith into the inner room.

"Alright, old man, I really regret not asking you for the money a few days ago. I must have been out of my mind to make that decision! Whew, come help me out!"

The blacksmith dragged out a large box from behind, this time with great difficulty.

The immortals came over to help, and the blacksmith shakily carried the box to the main hall.

"Alright! Then allow me to introduce it to you! The Tempered Knight Armor, after undergoing an upgrade, what does it look like now!"

The blacksmith proudly pulled open the latch on the chest, lifted the lid, and revealed the armor inside.

The immortal glanced at it once, then looked up at the blacksmith.

"No, more money? Are you sure?"

"Hahaha! Of course not!"

The blacksmith danced with joy, his expression revealing his undisguised excitement.

"By Terra! This is the most perfect suit of armor I have ever made! It even surpasses my father's greatest masterpiece!"

The blacksmith picked up the helmet, which was exactly the same as the original, except that its appearance seemed to have been quenched, turning into a slightly dark grayish-white, just as it had been through several battles.

He looked intently at the undead and pointed to the helmet.