"A custom-made staff?"
Arthas muttered to himself as he left Hephaestus's shop.
Hephaestus had politely asked him to leave, apparently not wanting anyone to see her forging process.
But this is a weapon made for me? And I, the customer, can't even watch?
Even though Hephaestus was the God of Craftsmanship, Arthas doubted she could make a suitable weapon for him.
His power was too overwhelming; only divine weapons could withstand it; ordinary weapons would be destroyed.
The longsword Hephaestus had used was an exceptional weapon; it was undoubtedly a masterpiece, comparable to those in the shop window, yet it was easily reduced to dust by Arthas.
As Hephaestus said, mortal weapons were different from divine weapons.
How could mortal weapons withstand a God's power?
But controlling his power to use a weapon would limit his strength; that would be counterproductive.
Shouldn't a mage's staff maximize their power? A staff that limits magical output is useless.
Arthas hoped Hephaestus could create a weapon that could unleash his full power. He waited two days.
Waking up alone, Arthas found Hestia's absence more difficult than he'd expected.
Without going to the Dungeon, Arthas strolled through the streets, turning corners expertly until he reached West Street, where a familiar shop stood.
The tavern wasn't open yet, but the outdoor café had a few customers. A cute beast-person waitress with cat ears and a tail was working, but the familiar girl wasn't there.
Is she working inside?
As Arthas considered greeting them, he heard a call.
"Hey—! Wait a minute, black-haired guy—!"
The impolite greeting was offset by the cute voice. Arthas turned to see a cat-person girl with cat ears and a tail waving at him from
Arthas remembered her; she worked with the elf he'd seen before.
"Good day. Sorry to stop you."
"It's fine. What do you need?"
The cat-person girl bowed slightly; Arthas nodded.
The formally trained waitress got straight to the point.
"I need a favor. Here."
"Black-haired guy is Syr's boyfriend. Please give this to that airhead."
She handed Arthas a purse.
It was a small, cute purple purse with a clasp and a rare emblem, indicating it belonged to a merchant Familia.
It was clearly for a girl. But for Syr… what happened? Where is she?
"Anya Fromel, that's not clear enough; Mr. Arthas is confused."
An elf waitress appeared, walking from the café.
The formal address was appreciated.
She remembered his name!
"Anya's a fool, meow. Syr went to the festival but forgot her purse, so please give it to her, meow. Right, meow, black-haired guy?"
"That's right. Sorry for not explaining clearly."
"Syr went to the festival?"
Arthas smiled; it was likely the Monsterphilia he'd heard about.
"Yes, could you help? Anya, and the others, need to prepare for opening. I know you're going to the Dungeon, but…"
"I just got back."
The elf was surprised.
"Then you can help, right?"
"Of course. I'm free. But is it okay to let her skip work?"
Arthas said, putting Syr's purse in his pocket.
"It's not exactly skipping work. We live here and work here, unlike Syr."
Ryu, the elf, explained. Syr didn't work daily; this was an approved day off.
"The cats wanted to go too, meow. But Mom wouldn't let us, meow. Syr said she'd buy gifts and bowed before leaving… but she forgot her purse, meow. She's so forgetful, meow."
"Anya, you're not in a position to say that."
The cat-person glared at Arthas, but the elf scolded her.
"East Street, towards the arena, will be crowded. Follow the crowd to the festival."
"You can still catch her."
"I understand."
Arthas nodded, looking at the city center and East Street.
Monsterphilia… I wonder what it's like.
I'm free, so I'll go. Arthas left the tavern.
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