Harem Sync: Divine Edition-Chapter 57: THE ONE-ARMED BLACKSMITH

"Daddy!"

Yukihime came running and hugged Haru tightly, her little face buried in his chest, her fox ears trembling.

"What happened, Daddy?!" she asked, looking up worriedly.

Haru gently patted her head. "Come on, I’ll tell you later." He started walking towards the others who were waiting near the cart.

Arriving there, Haru immediately noticed that everyone was now wearing white clothes. Isabela in a simple white-cream dress, Kira in a tunic of the same color, the guards in white uniforms over their armor.

"Huh!" Haru stopped, confused. "Why is everyone wearing white clothes?"

The guard threw him a package of white clothes as well. "According to the holy men, for now it’s mandatory in this village. Everyone has to wear them while they’re here."

Haru took the clothes with a look that showed he wasn’t happy about it.

"What happened there, Master?!" Kira began asking anxiously as soon as he approached.

Isabela showed something in her palm, a gold coin. "Did they give you a gold coin too?"

Haru showed his. Everyone else did.

"Shall we go to the blacksmith?!" the guard suggested, wanting to leave quickly.

"Ah, by the way..." the other guard added, "...I was able to speak with the villagers after putting on the white clothes and I asked about the blacksmith. His name is Gandloaf."

...

The cart moved slowly through the village streets. Haru had climbed onto the roof after putting on the obligatory white clothes, sitting there cross-legged while telling everyone below what had happened.

"...They asked me so many questions, like, I swore hours had passed but it was only a few minutes..."

"Master, this is terrible!" Kira commented from inside.

"Oh! I also remember they brought some old papers for me to read, and like, I couldn’t read anything except one that kind of made sense, but I don’t know why..."

Isabela frowned. "Wait, you managed to read the ancient language?"

"Badly! Very badly! But yes, and they got tense about it..."

"And the crystal of truth?" the guard asked.

"Ah, that..." Haru paused dramatically. "The guy literally prayed before asking if I was a Gamer. Like, genuinely afraid of the word. And I answered that I’m a personal guard, which is technically true, and the crystal accepted it..."

Yukihime clapped. "Papa is clever!"

"...And that’s where the best part comes in: a guy came running in saying I’m Valtherion, and they stopped everything immediately..."

"See..." Kira processed that. "They let you go because we caused a commotion out here... we saved you again."

Haru shrugged and smiled slightly. "Well... I don’t know what you guys said out there, but it really saved me."

The cart turned the corner, and ahead appeared an old wooden sign hanging: "GANDLOAF BLACKSMITH".

They got off the cart and approached.

The workshop was open... but dead.

The wooden door hung crookedly on its hinges, leaving the entrance free. Inside, the forge was completely extinguished, only cold ash scattered around without any glimmer of embers.

There was unfinished metal, half-finished swords, unpolished armor, unfinished tools—all abandoned in various stages of production.

Tools were scattered chaotically on the floor, as if they had been left in the middle of work and never picked up again. Hammers, tongs, files, all covered in fine dust.

A heavy smell of alcohol mixed with rust permeated the air, nauseating and strong.

They entered slowly, stepping carefully among the tools.

And then they saw. The Blacksmith

Seated in a wooden chair in the corner of the workshop, completely empty.

Gandloaf was a robust man, probably around forty years old, with the large body of someone who had spent his life hammering metal, broad shoulders, calloused and thick hands (the ones that remained). But now he seemed like an empty shell.

A lost gaze fixed on some point on the floor that didn’t exist, eyes without any shine, without focus.

An unkempt beard growing unevenly, with missing pieces as if he had torn them out in moments of desperation.

Dirty clothes, the obligatory white tunic stained with gray, spilled alcohol, and something dark that could be old blood.

And his left arm... missing.

All that remained was his shoulder, bandaged with dirty cloth, old red stains visible through the layers. The bandage was poorly done; he had probably tried to do it himself.

He didn’t react when they entered. He didn’t turn his head. He didn’t blink. He just sat there breathing slowly, minimally existing.

Haru exchanged a tense look with the group.

Yukihime hid behind Haru, afraid of the heavy atmosphere.

"...Mr. Gandloaf?" one of the guards tried in a low voice.

Nothing.

Absolute silence in the dead workshop.

Haru approached slowly, stepping among the scattered tools.

"Mr. Gandloaf. We need work..."

"Find someone else."

A dry voice. Without looking at him. Just staring at the ground.

Haru exchanged glances with the guards. The one who claimed to know Gandloaf approached.

"Sir, do you remember me...?!"

Gandloaf finally raised his head, looking directly at him with empty eyes.

"I can work with one arm."

He showed the bandaged stump on his left shoulder.

"But I don’t want to..."

He looked back at the floor.

Absolute silence in the workshop.

Haru tried another approach, somewhat frustrated. "Look, I can pay double the..."

"I don’t need money." Gandloaf cut in, his voice now stronger. "I don’t need... anything."

Pause.

"She..." he began, his voice breaking slightly, "...she was young. Talented. Too persistent for her own good."

He ran a hand through his unkempt beard.

"Practically... daughter. Not by blood. But... daughter."

He took a deep breath.

"I sent her on a simple task. To fetch coal from the depot. About fifteen minutes."

He looked at his own hands.

"Something... trivial. Can’t you see the village is in mourning?!"

Haru realized there was no work to be done there. He gestured to the group. "Let’s go. There’s nothing to do here."

They started to leave, walking slowly, respecting the heavy atmosphere.

But Kira didn’t move.

He stood there looking at Gandloaf, his head tilted slightly, his fox ears perked up.

"Kira, let’s go." Isabela called softly.

"I’ll stay."

"What?" Haru turned, confused.

"I’m staying here."

"Kira, there’s no reason to..." the guard tried.

"I’ll stay." He repeated firmly, without taking his eyes off the blacksmith.

Isabela exchanged a worried look with Haru. Then she sighed.

"Okay. Let’s go shopping in the village, buy supplies for the journey. We’ll be back in a few hours to pick you up."

Kira nodded without looking at them.

The group left, leaving her there alone with Gandloaf.

Kira didn’t say anything for a long time.

She just stood there a few feet from him, watching. Not with pity. Not with discomfort. Just... watching.

After about five minutes, she moved. She picked up a fallen stool, placed it near him, and sat down.

Silence.

Gandloaf didn’t react to her presence.

Finally, Kira spoke, her voice low and direct:

"You’re still breathing."

It wasn’t reassuring. Just factual.

Gandloaf didn’t answer.

"What happened?" she asked directly, without beating around the bush, without artificial delicacy.

Gandloaf remained silent for so long that it seemed he wouldn’t answer.

But then she began.

"I was... outside the workshop." Her voice came out slowly, forced. "Talking to a client. Discussing sword prices."

Long pause.

"I heard something... impossible."

She looked at the ceiling as if seeing it again.

"It wasn’t sound. It was... pressure. As if the air had suddenly become heavy. As if something enormous had been born in the middle of the village."

Her hands began to tremble. "And then... light. White. Blinding."

He closed his eyes.

"Half the village... disappeared."

He opened his eyes again, fixed on the void.

"It wasn’t an explosion. There was no sound of things breaking. It was... blacked out. Like someone wiping dust off a table. Entire houses. Entire people. They just... ceased to exist."

He took a deep breath, trembling.

"I ran to... Desperate. I screamed her name."

Voice breaking.

"Everything... ashes. Bones. The smell of burnt flesh mixed with wood. Adults, women, children..." heavy pause, "...maybe even babies. It was impossible to tell. Everything was... the same. Just fragments."

Silence.

"In the center of the crater... there he was."

His eyes grew even emptier.

"Laughing."

Gandloaf raised his remaining right hand, looking at it as if it were a stranger.

"I grabbed my hammer. I always carry it on my belt. Overcome by... rage. Pure rage."

He clenched his fist.

"I lunged at him. I didn’t even think. I just lunged."

He paused for a moment.

"He looked at me... and smiled even more."

He touched his bandaged shoulder.

"He raised his hand. Made a... gesture. That’s all. A small gesture."

His voice almost fading.

"My arm... just... went. I didn’t feel pain at first. I just saw it on the ground. Severed. And I thought... ’that’s my arm’."

His breathing became irregular.

"I fell. Bleeding. Probably dying."

He looked at the ground.

"He approached. Looked at me. And said..."

A pause that physically hurt.

"Useless character."

"And he left. Left me there. Alive by... chance."

Kira didn’t speak. She just watched him.

Gandloaf continued, his voice almost a whisper now:

"And the worst part... To this day... I haven’t found her body. I searched. I turned every inch of that crater upside down."

His voice breaking completely.

"There’s nothing left... to bury."

He didn’t cry loudly. He just sat there, his gaze fixed, his hands trembling, his breathing irregular.

Kira got up from the stool, went to where Gandloaf was, and simply sat on the floor next to his chair. Then she lay down, lightly resting her head on one of his legs, like an animal seeking warmth.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t explain. She just stayed.

It’s something about her species, canids, foxes, wolves... they have a way of sharing pain without needing words. Physical presence. Shared weight. Silence that says more than anything.

Gandloaf looked down, confused at first, then something flashed across his face—a memory. His apprentice used to sit like this when she was little, leaning against him while he worked, simply existing in the same space.

He hesitantly raised his right hand, trembling slightly, and placed it on Kira’s head.

He felt something ease a little. It didn’t cure. It didn’t solve. But... it eased. As if some of the weight had been shared.

The drunkenness that had been keeping him awake began to subside. His eyes grew heavy. His hand remained on Kira’s head, and little by little... he drifted off to sleep.

His breathing became deeper, more regular. The first time in days he had truly slept.

Kira waited until she was sure he was completely asleep.

Then she got up and went to the unlit forge. She began to clean, removing the cold ashes, organizing the tools scattered on the floor, placing the unfinished metals in separate piles by type, and sweeping the surrounding area.

She didn’t do it perfectly. She did it as she saw fit, the way she thought it should be, following instinct more than logic.

When she finished, the workshop was still empty and sad, but at least... organized.

She left and sat in front of the door...

...

The afternoon had already passed when the cart appeared, slowly making its way down the street. Gandloaf was still asleep inside in the chair, his breathing heavy from drinking too much and finally resting.

Kira got up, brushed off her white clothes, and went to them.

Haru got down from the cart, looked at the workshop, then at her.

"So?"

Kira looked back for a split second, then back at Haru. "He’ll be alright."

It wasn’t a question, it was a certainty.

Haru frowned. "How do you know?"

Kira didn’t answer, just shrugged and climbed into the cart.

Isabela looked out the window at the silent workshop, then at Kira. "What did you do?"

"Nothing." Simple answer. True.

The guard took the reins, about to steer the horses away...

CLICK!

A metallic sound echoed from the workshop.