The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He?-Chapter 343 - "Black Mythril" (1)

Morning arrived gently in the dwarven infirmary.

Not with noise.

Not with urgency.

Soft amber light filtered through the rune-veins embedded in the stone walls, their glow shifting subtly as the artificial dawn cycle began. Cool air drifted in through the narrow vents near the ceiling, carrying with it the faint scent of metal and distant forges just beginning to stir.

Luca woke up.

Not with pain this time—but with clarity.

His eyes opened slowly, and for a moment he simply lay there, staring at the ceiling. Bandages tugged faintly at his skin when he breathed, a reminder of what his body had endured, but his mind felt... light. Refreshed. As if the weight he’d been carrying for days—no, longer than that—had finally eased.

He smiled to himself.

Then carefully, he pushed himself up into a seated position, moving slowly so as not to anger his still-healing body. The infirmary was quiet. Too quiet.

...Strange.

His gaze drifted to the chair beside his bed.

Empty.

"Aurelia?" he muttered under his breath, then paused. A faint crease formed between his brows. "Huh... where did she go?"

A second later, he shook his head lightly.

"She must be resting herself," he said quietly, more to reassure himself than anything else.

As if summoned by the thought—

Footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. Light, familiar steps. Then a voice, warm and unmistakable.

"Oh? You’re awake?"

Luca looked up.

Aurelia stood in the doorway.

Her red hair was tied back loosely today, a few strands slipping free around her face. She wasn’t in armor—just simple clothes, clean and neat—but there was a steadiness to her posture that hadn’t been there before. Her eyes met his, and something soft flickered through them.

Luca smiled.

She walked in, closing the door behind her. "Sorry," she said, a little sheepishly. "I wasn’t here when you woke up."

He waved it off immediately. "It’s fine," he said. "You must’ve been resting yourself."

She hesitated for half a beat—then shook her head and moved to sit beside his bed.

"No," she said. "I was with Master Hilda."

Luca blinked once—then nodded, understanding settling in.

"Oh. Right." A faint smile tugged at his lips. "That makes sense."

He glanced at her sidelong. "So," he said lightly, "how’s it going with your new teacher?"

That did it.

Aurelia’s eyes lit up.

"She’s amazing," she said immediately, leaning forward a little as she spoke. "She treats me like I’m made of glass—or maybe a jewel, I’m not sure which." She laughed softly. "She keeps asking if I’ve eaten, if I’m tired, if my mana feels unstable. Yesterday she even scolded a dwarf elder because the training chamber was too hot."

Luca raised a brow, amused.

"Sounds intense."

"She’s strict," Aurelia continued, nodding earnestly, "but... kind. Really kind. She explains things properly—why a technique works, not just how. She even adjusted my stance herself instead of just telling me to fix it."

Luca listened quietly, eyes focused on her, expression relaxed.

"And she’s taught me a lot already," Aurelia went on, unaware of time passing. "About controlling output instead of forcing power, about letting mana flow naturally instead of—oh, and she says my reaction speed is good but my follow-through needs work, and—"

She stopped mid-sentence.

Her cheeks warmed slightly.

"...I think I’ve been talking too much," she said, glancing away.

Luca shook his head gently.

"No," he said simply. "It’s fine."

He looked at her, really looked at her—at the steadiness in her posture, the quiet confidence in her eyes.

"As long as you’re happy," he added.

Aurelia froze for a second.

Then she smiled.

Not wide.

Not shy.

Just... genuine.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, nothing else existed.

Then—

A loud, chaotic voice echoed from the corridor.

"I’m telling you, that doesn’t make any sense! If that’s how it works, then why—"

The infirmary door burst open.

Kyle walked in first, gesturing wildly, followed closely by Sylthara and Selena. Kyle was mid-rant, clearly in the middle of pestering both of them about something.

"And then she just says ’no’ and walks away like that’s a complete answer," he continued, turning back toward Selena. "How is that fair?"

"It is an answer," Selena replied coolly.

Sylthara’s golden eyes slid toward Kyle. "A very clear one."

Kyle groaned. "You two are impossible."

Luca blinked at the sudden noise, then smiled faintly.

"...What’s the commotion about?" he asked.

All three of them froze.

Kyle turned slowly.

Then his face split into a grin.

"Oh," he said. "Good, you’re awake. Perfect timing."

Sylthara folded her arms.

Selena adjusted her glasses.

And whatever they’d been arguing about—

It was clearly about to become Luca’s problem.

Luca immediately regretted asking.

He could feel it—the subtle shift in the air, the way Kyle’s posture straightened just a little too much, the grin forming before the words even came. It was the exact same expression Kyle always wore right before doing something insufferable.

Luca opened his mouth to change the subject.

Too late.

His gaze dropped.

And froze.

"...What," Luca said slowly, pointing weakly with one bandaged hand, "is going on with your shoes?"

Kyle’s grin sharpened.

"Ohhh," he said, drawing the word out as he planted one foot forward proudly. "You noticed."

The boots he was wearing didn’t look like anything that belonged in a medieval fantasy world. The base was still leather and metal, but runic lines traced the sides in tight, precise patterns—interlocking arrays layered with unfamiliar symmetry. Small crystal nodes were embedded near the heels, faintly glowing with compressed mana.

High-tech.

Too high-tech.

Kyle puffed out his chest.

"These," he announced, "are custom-made. One of a kind. Crafted by a certain old dwarf who may or may not be a legendary smith."

Sylthara looked away.

Selena sighed—quietly, deeply, like someone bracing for impact.

Kyle continued anyway.

"They’re speed-enhancement boots," he said smugly. "At full output, they can boost my movement speed up to two times normal."

Luca’s eye twitched.

"Twofold," Kyle corrected himself, tapping the side of the boot with a finger. "Of course, it consumes mana, so I can’t spam it endlessly—but still. Insane, right?"

He took a few exaggerated steps across the infirmary floor, boots humming softly.

"And look at the design!" he added, crouching slightly. "Streamlined mana flow, shock absorption, reinforced heel plates—perfect for sudden acceleration or directional shifts."

He stood up again, grinning broadly.

"Basically," Kyle concluded, "I’m faster. Cooler. And objectively better equipped than before."

Silence.

Selena crossed her arms. "You’ve explained this five times."

Sylthara’s eyes flicked once. "And we understood it zero times ago."

Kyle scoffed. "You’re just jealous."

Luca lifted both hands—then immediately winced and dropped them back to the bed, clutching his head instead.

"...Just what," he muttered, eyes squeezed shut, "did I drag myself into...?"

Please, God.

Save me.

The infirmary door opened again.

This time, no chaos followed—just weight.

Durgan Blackvein stepped inside.

The temperature of the room didn’t change, but the presence did. His gaze swept briefly over Kyle, Selena, and Sylthara—unimpressed, disinterested, faintly disdainful—before settling on Luca.

"Are you ready?" Durgan asked.

Luca’s eyes lit up.

He didn’t hesitate.

"I have never," he said sincerely, "been more happy to see you."

Kyle stared at him.

"...Wow," he said. "That hurts."

Durgan ignored him completely.

***

The forge announced itself before they even reached it.

Heat rolled through the corridor in violent waves, thick enough to sting exposed skin. Steam hissed from vents carved into the stone walls, carrying the sharp scent of molten metal and scorched earth. Even the floor beneath Luca’s boots radiated warmth, the stone faintly glowing with residual mana.

A normal person wouldn’t have lasted a minute here.

Luca stopped a short distance from the entrance, squinting as another blast of heat washed over him. His bandages darkened slightly with sweat almost instantly.

He glanced sideways at Durgan.

"...Are you sure this will work?" Luca asked, voice tight.

Durgan didn’t even slow down.

He snorted. "Hmph. Just keep whatever you have ready."

And walked straight in.

Luca sighed internally, tightened his grip on his crutches, and followed.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the heat doubled.

Inside, the forge was vast—far larger than it appeared from outside. Rivers of molten metal flowed through carved channels in the floor, glowing white-hot. Massive bellows pumped rhythmically, forcing air into furnaces that roared like living beasts. Sparks danced constantly in the air, drifting like fireflies before vanishing.

At the center of it all stood a single figure.

Elder Thrain. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

His back was broad, bare arms corded with muscle despite his age. A massive hammer rose and fell in steady rhythm, each strike sending a shock through the forge. Whatever he was working on glowed bright orange, metal screaming softly under his hands.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

The sound echoed like a heartbeat.

Thrain stopped.

Slowly, he turned.

His gaze landed on Durgan first.

Displeasure flickered instantly across his face, deep lines carving themselves deeper.

"...You," Thrain said flatly.

Durgan met his stare without flinching.

Then Thrain’s eyes shifted.

To Luca.

The irritation didn’t vanish—but it eased. Not warmth. Not friendliness.

Recognition.

He studied Luca carefully now, eyes moving over the bandages, the crutches, the faint, unnatural density of mana clinging to his body.

"What are you doing here?" Thrain asked.

Before Luca could answer—

"The boy wants black mythrill," Durgan said bluntly.

Thrain’s eyebrows shot up.

He looked back at Luca sharply, reassessing him from head to toe.

"...I see," Thrain said slowly. "You intended to use that dagger for exchanging black mythrill."

Luca exhaled and nodded. "Yes."

Thrain shook his head once.

"Then it’s unfortunate," he said, voice firm. "That will no longer be possible."

Luca didn’t look surprised.

He smiled faintly instead.

"Not even," Luca said calmly, "if I have something more valuable to exchange?"

Silence.

The forge crackled.

Durgan turned toward Luca sharply, eyes narrowing for the first time.

Thrain’s hammer lowered slowly.

Both dwarves looked at him—puzzled, astonished, and unmistakably alert.

"...More valuable?" Thrain repeated.

In the heart of the blazing forge, the question hung heavy in the heat.