2-2 Orichalcum

It was my eleventh day in this other world.

At last, I’d obtained the offensive magic I’d been dreaming of.

I had buff and debuff spells too, plus healing magic and potions.

With this, I should be able to live much more safely in this dangerous world.

But I hadn’t accounted for status ailments.

Was there no healing magic that could treat those?

For now, I’d have to rely on potions.

Since cancel potions existed, I figured there probably was status-recovery magic too—but maybe it was something rare, with very few users.

Today as well, I headed straight for the guild first thing in the morning.

I’d spotted a quest on the bulletin board to deliver potions, so I offered to supply two hundred advanced heal potions.

But the moment I handed the advanced heal potions to the receptionist, for some reason I was escorted into a back room and made to wait.

Huh.

What was this?

After a while, a man came in—someone with an intimidating air, maybe around forty.

But his eyes held a sharp, seasoned light, and his body showed not the slightest slack despite his age.

This was definitely the top man here.

“Yeah, kept you waiting. I’m Armon, the guildmaster here. I’ll ask you straight: where did you get those potions?”

“Huh? All I did was take a delivery quest. There wasn’t any rank requirement listed for the potions. Why do I have to answer that? I’m a merchant. Telling a merchant to reveal his supplier is stupid. So the boss of adventurers is just an idiot, is that it?”

“Grrh. That’s not the issue. These potions aren’t something you can just casually make. So why is a batch this large suddenly appearing?”

“This level of stuff? At best, it’s just the effect of stacking High Heal a few times. It’s not that special. It’s not even comparable to the higher healing spell Greater Heal. If this is what it costs, then it’s a rip-off price if I’ve ever seen one. Though as the maker, that does help me out. Ah, I get it. You’re scared the price will crash, aren’t you?”

But the guildmaster tilted his head back and said,

“We’re not lowering the price. We can’t lower it. You… you’re not understanding anything here.”

“Hey! Fine—just pay me already! You take goods from a merchant and refuse to pay? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I won’t pay until you talk.”

Like hell I could talk!

“Then give the potions back!”

“No.”

Ugh. The conversation went nowhere, completely stuck.

I couldn’t exactly tell the guildmaster to his face that I’d copied the insanely expensive goods I bought here with a skill and was trying to do business with them using the copies.

That was… impossible.

I’d done a little trickery so even appraisal wouldn’t expose it, but if it violated the law, I’d be in trouble.

And what if the potions had serial numbers stamped in invisible magical ink or something?

Like those transparent barcodes on casino playing cards in Las Vegas.

I’d only meant to make a little pocket money, and I never imagined it would escalate into this kind of trouble.

Maybe I’d been naïve.

If it came to this, I had only one option: destroy the evidence.

“I see. So if that’s how you want it…”

I searched for the goods using my radar map.

There—my delivered potions were stored over there.

I stood up and stomped off.

“Wait! We’re not finished!”

Ignoring the guildmaster completely, I left the room, stacked the speed spell Fast on myself, and shot toward the storage location at an absurd pace, then swiftly stored every last potion away.

Evidence confiscation—from the perpetrator’s side—completed.

“Storage?!”

The staff there cried out in shock.

So it really was a rare skill.

“This deal is off. The guild just declared it was going to stiff me.”

“E-eh? Who did?”

“The guildmaster here.”

Then I glared at him and added,

“I’ll spread the word to every merchant that the Royal Capital Adventurers’ Guildmaster is a thief. Screw you, you bastard!”

“Wait—listen to me.”

The guildmaster had caught up.

“I’m not listening! Seriously. What kind of place is the Adventurers’ Guild? You think you can look down on merchants?!”

Leaving behind the staff exchanging uneasy looks, I stormed out of the Adventurers’ Guild in a fury.

And not far from there—along the main avenue—I was staring from behind the counter at the very back of a fine weapon shop: Gobson’s Weapon Shop.

That was the first orichalcum sword I’d ever laid eyes on.

The magical metal orichalcum.

But it didn’t seem to be the same thing as the “decorative construction material” known on Earth—some cheap-looking copper alloy supposedly from ancient Atlantis.

This was different.

It was a slender sword with beautiful lines, and the blade glowed a rich golden-yellow, radiating presence.

There was no price tag.

A strange-looking gemstone was set into it, and even someone like me—who didn’t know much about such things—could tell it was a masterpiece.

If I had to use a suitably middle-aged expression: a true masterwork.

As I walked down the avenue after leaving the guild, my body suddenly twisted to the right all on its own and turned to face the shop.

I lost my balance badly—so from the outside, I must’ve looked pretty ridiculous.

Like someone had pressed down on the crown of my head and forcibly rotated me around that point.

Naturally, it was the work of “the one inside me”—Ikoma, the Seventh Sense.

Having him move my body without my consent was something that happened sometimes.

But I didn’t hesitate.

I went into the shop.

This was necessary.

If I didn’t do it, something bad would happen.

And in this other world, that “something bad” might involve my life.

Given what I was seeing, yeah.

And there it was: at last, otherworld-made magical metal orichalcum.

I appraised it.

Oh, so it was that kind of item.

I absolutely wanted it.

But it didn’t look like he’d sell, and even if he did, I probably didn’t have enough money.

If it were only about money, I could just pay with gold plates I copied on the spot—but with something like this, wouldn’t copying take time?

So I decided to test with mithril first.

Could I instantly copy the mithril sword in my item box with my current MP?

…Whew. I could.

Then could I do it even with orichalcum, another magical metal?

It was worth testing—if I could just get my hands on that sword.

I could store things into my item box by sight alone, but I didn’t know if I could copy something like this instantly without raising suspicion.

The shop owner was a burly, fierce-looking man with sideburn-to-chin facial hair.

He wouldn’t take his eyes off that orichalcum sword for a second, and if I messed up even slightly, I’d be in trouble.

With an item like this, if copying took longer than expected, my lousy scheme would be exposed immediately.

So. Negotiation time.

“Hey, old man. Let me swing that orichalcum sword for a bit.”

“No.”

I tried negotiating, but he refused instantly and coldly.

“This is a special piece that can’t be priced. I’m not letting you touch it—not even with a finger.”

And yet he displayed it openly.

Well, it probably added prestige to his business.

This had to be a top-tier shop.

I shrugged, then placed a mithril sword on the counter for him to see.

“Let me touch it, and I’ll give you this mithril sword.”

Like the potions, this was an item I’d altered ever so slightly—so instead of reading “Mithril Sword Copy,” it became “Mithril Sword Made by Alphonse.”

If you’re going to sell something, you need that kind of adjustment.

If someone asked “Copy? What’s that?” I’d be in trouble.

The owner drew the sword, judged it, then slid it back into the sheath and started stroking his beard repeatedly.

“You won’t lose out.”

“…Fine. But don’t try anything funny.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

Of course I was going to do something funny.

But I didn’t intend to make him lose out.

I took the orichalcum sword, held it backward so the owner couldn’t see, gave it a sharp test swing—and in that instant, I stored it for just a heartbeat and successfully copied the masterpiece.

Nobody would swing a sword toward the counter where the owner stood, so it shouldn’t look suspicious.

Copy succeeded!

I’d finally obtained orichalcum material.

From the owner’s perspective, the sword tip would blur when I swung, so even if it “vanished” for an instant, he’d assume it was a trick of the eye.

It consumed an insane amount of MP, but I’d copied the orichalcum without being caught.

I felt bad toward the owner, but I was sure I’d need orichalcum at some point.

My eyes had been glued to that sword.

That wasn’t my will.

It was the Seventh Sense again.

If “that thing” made me do this, then it was necessary.

I wasn’t about to regret it later in hell.

I didn’t even want to think about the penalty for disobeying the Seventh Sense—about “not obtaining orichalcum here.”

In this world, that could genuinely be life or death.

I opened my window and quickly checked my status.

The MP cost to copy it was about two hundred billion MP… no, maybe more.

That embedded magic stone was probably devouring MP like crazy.

“Here. Thanks—I’m returning it. Orichalcum really is something else. I wanted to hold it at least once. You don’t get chances like that. Mithril? I can get as much as I want. But a masterpiece like this? Not often.”

That part wasn’t a lie.

And from now on, I could get as much orichalcum as I wanted too.

“Heh. You talk big. But you’re right. Just holding it is worth at least one mithril sword. Fine—keep the mithril sword. I’ll pass.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. All I did was let you hold it. If the world had more people like you who understand value, it’d be a better place.”

“Then I’ll gratefully take it back.”

Then I gave him a short grin and said,

“By the way, old man. Since we’re talking… how about buying this mithril sword?”

For a moment he blinked in confusion, then burst into laughter as he understood.

“Hah-hah-hah! You’ll make a fine merchant. I like you. I’ll buy it.”

“How many?”

When I lined up a whole row of mithril swords, the owner’s face twitched.

In the end he bought ten, but afterward he scolded me with a serious expression.

“Here’s a warning: even if you’ve got them, this isn’t the kind of thing you should be pulling out in bulk. Especially not in the royal capital.”

Got it.

Some troublesome nobles or big merchant houses would notice and cause problems.

Well, this was a tiny apology for copying orichalcum without permission.

Make a nice profit off it.

“By the way… is advanced heal potion that kind of item too?”

“Yeah. Not as extreme as a mithril sword, but it’s still not something you should be flooding the market with.”

So that was it.

That explained why the guildmaster acted like that.

Whatever.

I’d ended up acquiring one hundred platinum coins.

That was the equivalent of ten thousand gold coins—so, in yen, about ten billion.

I’d keep those safe.

Next time I needed gold coins, I’d just sell gold plates again.

But yeah—the owner was kind, and that helped a lot.

By the way, I asked if he’d sell the orichalcum magic sword for those one hundred platinum coins, but he simply shook his head.

Was it even more expensive?

Already reserved?

Or did it come with baggage?

He didn’t explain.

Probably something everyone “should already know.”

In about four hours, I’d recover enough MP for one orichalcum sword’s worth, and then my MP would level up.

After that, I could mass-produce orichalcum.

In the meantime, I wandered around and killed time.

I’d set it so once my MP recovered, it would automatically create a sword and trigger the level up.

Kind of fun.

Still, it was a shame about the potion deal at the Adventurers’ Guild.

I should’ve made a big chunk of money there.

Probably around two billion yen.

But I’d made a sudden profit elsewhere, so it was fine.

While waiting for MP to recover, I devoted myself to leveling physical enhancement.

Buffing my body repeatedly, buffing the items I carried—over and over.

This should make me harder to kill by monsters.

When physical enhancement reached Level 7, my HP also reached Level 7, increasing to 200,000 HP.

Right then, my MP level rose too, jumping to nearly 88 trillion MP.

As I mass-produced orichalcum swords and buffed the finished products, physical enhancement quickly became Level 8, and my HP rose to Level 8—500,000 HP.

That was actually a ridiculous number.

But I didn’t realize it at all.

In fact, I hadn’t even noticed a far more important prerequisite condition.