Chapter 58
Emergency Summons (1)
“Take this.”
The old woman handed a hammer to Sehyun, who was about to leave.
It was a short-handled hammer, marked here and there with the black scorch of dark flames — the very one she had never once let go of since coming to this mountain.
‘What a curious young man.’
The man before her couldn’t possibly know the story behind it, yet he gazed at it with a strangely wistful expression.
The old woman smiled faintly, her heart warmed.
“Thanks to you, we made it through a crisis.”
“……You really don’t have to go this far for me.”
“Then leave it here if you don’t want it.”
“Ah— come on, I didn’t mean it like that.”
Sehyun waved his hands frantically and gave a sheepish grin.
“Take care, Granny.”
After a polite bow, he turned toward the passage leading up to the surface.
“Uoooh!”
“Come again!!”
“Next time, teach us the White Flame forging process too!!”
Apprentices and master smiths alike waved and shouted.
‘They were so wary of him when he first showed up out of nowhere.’
The old woman gave a dry chuckle at her simple-minded disciples.
They were pure souls who loved their craft — children of fire and hammer alike.
‘Though… it seems one of my children’s hearts hasn’t quite accepted him yet.’
Her gaze drifted toward Do-young, the chief artisan standing beside her.
He was staring at Sehyun’s departing back.
“You trust him quite a lot, Master.”
Do-young’s expression was faintly bitter.
“Even when the rift went berserk, when you handed over the talisman, and when the rift finally closed… I followed your orders without question. But to hand him your hammer?”
Do-young, who rarely spoke his mind, must have been holding back these feelings for some time.
The old woman understood his temperament well, so she listened quietly.
“You told us, didn’t you? A craftsman must never let go of their hammer until the day they die. So why… why give yours away? That’s like—”
“Like passing on my life itself?”
“……”
Do-young bit his lip and fell silent.
“I did say a craftsman must never put down their hammer until death. But listen, boy.”
“……”
“I already had put it down once. I only handed him a hammer that had already lost its owner.”
“I still don’t understand. Why him, of all people…?”
Do-young’s head hung low, his fists trembling.
It wasn’t jealousy — it was pure incomprehension.
‘Of course. Passing the hammer to an outsider rather than someone from the forge… no wonder he can’t accept it.’
If it were one of the other apprentices, they might have felt jealousy instead.
But Do-young’s way of craft was a cold one.
He didn’t feel through his fingertips — he understood through his head.
Every strike of the hammer came only after careful analysis and absolute certainty.
That patience and precision was why she had entrusted him with the chief’s position.
‘Hot passion needs cool reason to temper it. But… reason alone is not enough.’
The old woman looked at him and spoke slowly.
“You see things clearly. You analyze, dissect, and reanalyze what you see.
And Nam Sehyun — he’s like you. No, to be exact…”
He had gone beyond.
A man who held both the heat and the cool of craftsmanship in his grasp.
“He’s someone who can see ideals — and make them real.”
He had achieved what she herself once only dreamed of: the balance between reality and vision.
Neither content with the present nor lost in fantasy — he could hold both at once.
It was what she had always wished for her disciples to become.
Yet she had found it in a complete outsider.
Perhaps that was why…
Every time she saw him, she felt a strange emotion stir.
‘As if… I were the one who’d raised him myself.’
Of course, that wasn’t true.
But in every stroke of his hand, in every spark of his skill — she saw herself reflected.
And that inexplicable sense of kinship always brought a smile to her face.
As she reminisced, Do-young spoke softly.
“You look… the same as when you spoke about him. That expression of yours.”
“……That boy, huh.”
The old woman held her tongue.
Had she really made that same expression again?
“I couldn’t do anything but watch back then… but he truly was a remarkable man.”
“……Indeed.”
Even after twenty years, the memory remained vivid.
A man who appeared out of nowhere, solved their crisis, and finally left, honored as a guest of distinction.
Come to think of it, Nam Sehyun did resemble him.
“Yes… he’s definitely like him. That rascal, Ha Il-hwan.”
On the way back home — meaning, to the workshop —
The white leather seats of Sasha’s limousine swallowed Sehyun in their plush comfort.
“Phew, that felt so long. Feels like I was only gone for a few days though.”
“Going away from home is always rough.”
“Ah, my home… right. It’s been a while since I’ve gone back.”
Kang Jia scratched her head sheepishly.
“My old team provided housing, so I only went home on weekends.”
“What about school?”
“They let us take job-placement leave! And I got full credit for community service too.”
Job-placement and volunteer hours…
Since he’d never seen a student player before, Sehyun couldn’t quite picture how that worked.
Still, it seemed the Foundation had its systems in order.
“Wait — so what about now?”
Her current group wasn’t an official team, meaning they weren’t under Foundation oversight.
“Uh… well… let’s just say… I’m on a little self-declared break?”
“Speak plainly.”
“Ugh… fine. I’m skipping. Without permission.”
……Great.
He’d forgotten she was still technically a student.
That one was on him.
“You’re going back to school.”
“Whaaat???”
“If you don’t meet attendance, you’ll get in trouble. No excuses — you’re going tomorrow.”
Jia pouted and buried her face in the seat.
What, like a student going to school was some kind of tragedy?
But soon her sulking faded, and she drifted off to sleep.
Sehyun covered her with his coat and turned to the window, sorting his thoughts.
The visit to Heaven and Earth Workshop had one goal: to prepare for expanding the community’s operations.
‘Mass-producing Artifacts… something I never even tried in my past life.’
Back then, he only made custom pieces tailored to each individual’s abilities —
to patch their weaknesses or enhance their strengths.
That’s what made Artifacts so difficult to mass-produce in the first place.
Each one was a fusion of myth, starforce, and design — inherently handmade.
And now that soulstones were involved, mismatched properties could cause backlash, making the process even more limited.
‘In short… there’s too much to account for.’
Before mass production, he’d have to simplify the process somehow.
‘And that’s where the Sage’s Dust comes in.’
A material that stabilized all the elements of an Artifact at a uniform baseline.
The refining process was tricky, but with the forge’s “Ash of Heaven and Earth,” the effort could be halved.
He had carefully stored the ash they’d given him in a sealed jar.
It was barely enough for samples, but sufficient for initial prototypes.
‘Now the question is — what do I make with it?’
If custom work was about unique optimization,
mass production was about general applicability.
Two key principles mattered most: versatility and standardization.
Think of shoes.
Every foot is different, yet shoes are the quintessential mass product.
They serve broad, universal functions — protection and comfort —
and come in standardized sizes for easy fit and choice.
‘I can apply that logic to Artifacts too.’
First, find the universal needs and weaknesses common to all players.
Then, establish standardized tiers for each.
If he did that right, there’d be no waste.
“Phew… not going to be easy.”
Naturally.
In this life and the last, everything Sehyun had ever made was bespoke.
Even now, his swords, armor, and accessories were all made specifically for Inha.
And anything passed on to others was just a modified version of those.
‘Though honestly, Inha’s demands were so varied it’s debatable whether it even counts as “custom.”’
If Inha had one unbending rule, it was this:
Every item had to perfectly match the story she imagined.
To express narrative — through an object.
At first, it sounded utterly ridiculous.
‘But in the end… it helped me manifest my own divine myth.’
There was no denying that much of Artifact design came from her influence.
So, really, there was no need to struggle alone.
‘I’ll just ask Inha for help.’
That thought brought some relief.
He withdrew his gaze from the highway and closed his eyes for a nap.
“I’m hoooome!”
The moment they stepped into the workshop, Jia tossed her bag into a corner and flopped onto the sofa as if she owned the place.
Sehyun shook his head and started unpacking.
Inha wasn’t home.
If she were, she would’ve come out to greet them.
She must have gone out on some errand.
“I’m gonna grab a nap.”
“What? You slept the whole ride here!”
“That’s age for you. The older you get, the easier you tire.”
“You’re not even that old, come on.”
Physically he was in his mid-twenties, but mentally well past thirty.
And besides, Sehyun always got exhausted after a trip.
Inha would be back soon enough.
Just as he was heading to his room—
“Huh? A note! It’s from Inha!”
Jia spotted a Post-it stuck to the table and read it aloud.
[Welcome back! Sorry I couldn’t come meet you. I have to go somewhere with Seongcheol — it’s an emergency summons.
I put side dishes in the fridge, don’t skip meals. Jia, make sure you eat too.
Oh, and Jia — you might need to stop by home soon. Your mom got your class notice…]
“……WHAT?!”
Her voice rose in horror halfway through reading.
She collapsed onto the floor, face pale.
“I’m dead. My mom found out about my ‘self-declared break.’”
At that moment, Sehyun snatched the note from her hands.
“‘Emergency summons… December 3rd…?’”
His voice trembled with urgency and dread.
All color drained from his face.
In an instant, he threw the packed bags back over his shoulder and sprinted toward the door.
Jia caught his arm in panic.
“Wait, oppa! What’s going on?! Why so suddenly—?”
“There’s no time. It’s today.”
“Huh? What do you mean, today?”
“‘12·3 Emergency Summons.’ There’s no mistake. If we’re even a little late…”
No—no. Calm down.
Sehyun forced himself to breathe evenly.
What must happen, will happen.
Rushing in blindly would only make things worse.
‘Think. Focus on what I can do right now. If I just charge in without a plan…’
—Inha will die.
