"Lord Wolka! The paperwork with the Church and the Guild was finalized the other day. I, Anze, have officially become your Patron!"
"I-I see."
It was the fourth day.
Right from the start, Anze’s smile was blinding. Too blinding. There was a divine purity to her form, like a literal beam of celestial light. If an undead monster caught a glimpse of her right now, I’m pretty sure it would be vaporized on the spot.
It was morning. Anze had arrived at my hospital room for her scheduled shift as my helper, and she was in even better spirits than usual. Apparently, the Patron application she had submitted to the Church had been approved, officially recognizing her as a member of Silvery Grey. She looked incredibly happy about it.
Master immediately fixed her with a skeptical side-eye.
"I wonder how many times I must remind you that I am already the party’s Patron? You didn't happen to sneak through those procedures on your own, did you?"
"N-No, nothing of the sort! This is merely a matter of my own personal conviction."
Anze gently took my hand, wrapping it in both of her own.
"I... truly, truly... feel like I’m in a dream. From now on, please leave everything to me!"
"Keep it... within reason, please."
As always, her goodwill was massive—and incredibly heavy. I caught myself wondering if Anze was like this with everyone else. Had the Chryscles Holy Church’s educational methods produced such a devoted, untainted Sister, or was this a serious problem I should mention to Rosche? I was genuinely worried she’d be swindled by a bad person someday.
Regardless.
"On that note, we have a meeting scheduled with Griffith Workshop today."
Just as Anze said, today’s main event was our first meeting with Griffith Workshop. They were apparently a passionate group who had gone so far as to petition the Cathedral directly, wanting to create a prosthetic for me using blueprints left by their deceased predecessor. Furthermore, those blueprints were said to be for an unknown model, unlike any prosthetic currently on the market.
Honestly, bringing up a concept like "unknown blueprints" was playing dirty—it hit right at a man’s sense of curiosity. I had no choice but to see them.
"We shall head there when it is time. Leave the wheelchair to me!"
"...Keep it within reason."
Despite just pushing my wheelchair, Anze radiated such a sense of fulfillment that she practically glowed. Her goodwill was just too big. My body wasn't built to handle all of it.
Will my stomach even hold out for the day? With that lingering trace of anxiety, we set off when the appointed time arrived.
The meeting took place in the same Cathedral reception room where I had met Frixell’s group yesterday. The attendees were myself, Master, and Anze—Anze as the Church representative, and Master as my guardian and magic expert.
Yulitia and Atri were absent today; they likely would have just sat there in silence. By now, they were probably out hunting monsters together on the outskirts of the Holy City.
According to Anze, Griffith Workshop was a long-established business that specialized in magic tools and had experience manufacturing medical equipment. I wondered what kind of craftsmen they would be. If this were one of those other-world stories from my previous life, there was a ninety percent chance I’d be meeting dwarves. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any dwarves or elves in this world.
That left me imagining a brusque, intimidating, muscular old man—stubborn but warm-hearted and skilled. Or, given the initiative they showed by petitioning the Cathedral, perhaps a hot-blooded type who blazed their own trail.
My preconceptions were spectacularly shattered the moment I saw her.
"It is a pleasure to meet you. I cannot find the words to express my gratitude for you making time for us, despite our impertinence."
It was completely unexpected.
The person who appeared exactly on time was not brusque, intimidating, or muscular. She wasn't a hot-blooded trailblazer or a stubborn old man. To be even clearer, the person wasn't a man at all.
"I am Claesta, the contemporary head of Griffith Workshop. It is an honor to meet you."
Clad in a dress of red and white that complemented her perfectly, she was a "young lady" who looked like she belonged to the upper class, no matter how you looked at her.
Ah, so she's not the craftsman, but the person in charge of the workshop's business side?
Her appearance was so glamorous that it was impossible to associate her with the word "craftsman." But then again, she had introduced herself as the "contemporary head." Aside from her attire and gender, she was young—likely not much older than I was.
"A-Ah... I'm Wolka. Nice to meet you."
While I stood there half-stunned, Claesta smiled elegantly.
"Hehe. Were you expecting a brusque, muscular craftsman?"
"...A little."
That was a lie. I was completely expecting a dwarf.
"Since this is a very important meeting, I have dressed to the best of my ability. However, once I return to the workshop, I tie up my hair and swing a hammer in my overalls."
As I’d noticed, she was a well-dressed girl who looked like the daughter of a noble or a wealthy merchant. Her reddish-blonde hair reached her back, held by a barrette and bouncing in soft ringlets. Her dark magenta eyes were large and clear, possessing a brilliance that didn't pale even in comparison to her elegant dress. Her skin was fair and delicate—so much so that I doubted she could even lift a hammer off the floor, let alone swing one.
Standing diagonally behind her was a man.
"This is Sebock. He is an experienced craftsman representing our workshop and has served as an advisor since my predecessor’s time. Please allow his presence today as well."
"Howdy. Pleasure to be here."
He was an elderly man with a slightly bent back. The combination of a bald head and a rugged beard gave him the classic air of a craftsman; if I hadn't heard Claesta's introduction, I surely would have mistaken him for the one in charge.
After brief greetings and a bit of small talk, we got straight to the point.
"Now then, to be direct."
Claesta placed a metal case on the table. It was a thin, rectangular box with a weathered glow, looking like an attaché case from my previous life. It was locked, suggesting that whatever was inside was quite precious.
The smile vanished from Claesta's face, replaced by a serious, determined demeanor.
"I wish to create the prosthetic described in these blueprints for Lord Wolka."
She turned the key and solemnly opened the case. Tucked inside on cushions like a treasure was a bundle of dozens of blueprints. She took several from the top and lined them up in front of us.
"This is—"
My expression turned serious as well.
The first thing that caught my eye was the overall view of the prosthetic. It was completely different from the stick-like models I had been using. It was a prosthetic with a sophisticated, futuristic form that seemed almost anachronistic for a medieval fantasy world.
First and foremost, it actually looked like a human leg. There was a large socket to cover and secure it to the knee, parts corresponding to the shin and calf, and a structure designed to tread the earth firmly with a sole. It looked like a piece of high-end knight’s armor.
However, it didn't end there.
To my sensibilities as a former Japanese person—it looked "mecha-like." Sharp, angled parts were attached to the armor covering the knee and calf. The adjacent blueprint showed parts around the calf opening and... wait, does this thing transform?
"This certainly is different from the prosthetics the Church generally handles..." even Anze seemed surprised.
I didn't know much about the standards of prosthetic limbs in this world. However, the moment I saw those blueprints, I remembered my birthplace—the Royal Capital, Eisen-Vista. Both as someone who had lived in this world and as a reincarnator with knowledge of the Original Work, the style was familiar.
Master, who had once been a scholar in the Royal Capital, caught on immediately.
"This... incorporates the magic theories of the Magisterica."
The Magisterica—the world's top magic research institution that brought rapid technological innovation to this country, possessing technology that could rival modern science on Earth in some respects. This prosthetic undoubtedly involved cutting-edge magic technology.
If I recalled correctly, in the Original Work, right as the setting shifted to the Royal Capital, magic tools that revolutionized the world appeared one after another. All of them were created by the Magisterica led by the Canon of Creation—and that plotline led to the meeting between the protagonist and Elfiette.
"Your insight is remarkable," Claesta said, smiling with satisfaction. "These were designed by the predecessor—my grandfather—after he studied magic at the Magisterica in his later years."
"A craftsman at the Magisterica...?" I was genuinely surprised. Magic in this world was more of an academic pursuit than what was usually depicted in fiction. Skill was influenced more by pure intelligence than by talent or bloodline, and the formulas were passed down through vast research.
To study such a subject at the world's top institution and incorporate it into one's work was extraordinary, especially in one's later years. Even my Gramps had spent his old age quietly cooped up in the countryside... although he was so stupidly strong that it made you wonder how a retired old man like him could even exist.
"My grandfather was a dedicated craftsman. He had undertaken the production of prosthetics for the Chryscles Holy Church before, so this must be the result of pursuing his craft to its absolute limit."
Pursuing his work... if he really made such a resolution for that reason alone, I suppose that is the pride of a true artisan.
Sebock, sitting next to her, looked like he wanted to say something, but Claesta didn't look his way.
"However... until my grandfather passed away the year before last, these blueprints never saw the light of day. Because they use special materials and manufacturing methods, making even one is a massive undertaking... and naturally, the cost is proportional."
Her voice sounded slightly anxious, as if she were gauging our reaction. Well, certainly, it would be many times more expensive than the stick I’d been using. But I had survived the reward ceremony with the Saint for the sake of this day. Even an amount that would make one’s eyes pop shouldn't be a problem.
...It couldn't be so expensive that I couldn't buy it with the reward money for subjugating a world-class monster, right?
"For now, let's put the talk of money aside and tell me about the details. What kind of materials are used?"
"A very good question!!"
The moment I asked, Claesta suddenly leaned forward, her excitement spiking. Her polite demeanor vanished as she started huffing through her nose.
"First of all, the exterior is an alloy of Star Silver and Mithril! It possesses the strength necessary for a prosthetic to withstand the loads of intense combat. While the alloy itself isn't revolutionary, it is a top-quality material used in high-end equipment—taking the beauty and rigidity of Star Silver and the lightness and magic conductivity of Mithril! Please, look at this sophisticated form! It possesses both performance and supreme artistry! It’s truly a masterpiece, just as I’d expect from grandfather! Of course, simply processing a robust material into the shape of a leg wouldn't suffice as a prosthetic. The interior of the socket has a cushion structure using a special resin made by the Magisterica, designed to adhere to the skin via magic! This is far superior to common slime-based materials, offering incomparable adhesion even during intense exercise while remaining comfortable—truly—well, uh, excuse me. It is nothing at all."
Wow, that was the rapid-fire speech of a hardcore geek. And that "it is nothing at all" came way too late.
Sebock covered his face. "Forgive her... the Young Miss has a bit of an otaku streak."
"Ahem! A-hem!" Claesta let out two very forced coughs, her face slightly flushed. "A-Anyway, it means that both the exterior and interior use the highest quality materials!"
"I see." I decided to let that first outburst slide.
Anze spoke up as if nothing had happened. "An alloy of Star Silver and Mithril... it's what is called Star-rare. It is also used in the equipment of Holy Knights in the Church."
So it was the same material that protected the country's top-class knights. The name "Star-rare" sounded divine, and it clearly was a top-tier material.
In other words, this prosthetic was a fusion of the Magisterica's magic technology and legendary materials. Wait... things were actually looking quite hopeful. Could I actually achieve a perfect return to society?
"However, the manufacturing method itself has been known for a long time. While I don't think there are examples of it being used for prosthetics, it isn't exactly 'unknown'..."
"Yes. Any craftsman worth their salt knows the name Star-rare," Claesta agreed.
So the material wasn't the "unknown" part. I grew even more curious. "Then, what part of it is 'unknown'?"
"I’m so glad you asked!!"
Claesta’s excitement spiked again. She lined up about ten more blueprints on the table at high speed, huffing once more.
"These are the formulas to be carved into the interior! Yes, that's right! This prosthetic has its performance dramatically improved by various internal formulas! Griffith Workshop specializes in magic tools, so naturally I have some knowledge of magic, but but but! To be honest, I can't even begin to understand the full extent of these formulas! They are extremely sophisticated and highly refined—that's exactly why they are 'unknown!' To be blunt, it's no exaggeration to say they exceed human craft! Even for grandfather, it would have been impossible to build these god-like formulas alone. He likely obtained the cooperation of a renowned Sage! In other words, this prosthetic is the crystallization of magic technology where the best craftsmen and Sages of our country joined hands! Ahhh, it’s truly wonderfu—ahem! A-hem!!"
She was definitely too late in returning to her senses.
At first, she seemed like a refined young lady, but I took it back. This girl was undoubtedly a hardcore otaku worthy of the title of craftsman. She was actually panting and looked like she might start drooling.
"Ah, p-please don't be put off! I merely have an extraordinary love—no, excitement—I mean, interest in magic tool technology!"
"Young Miss, maybe we should just go back and start over from the beginning," Sebock suggested.
"Be quiet, Sebock!!"
I see. So Griffith Workshop wasn't a group of stubborn traditionalists, but a group of obsessive technicians who charged ahead on pure otaku spirit. It was an abnormal workshop that exceeded all my preconceptions. To think she was the same type of person as Elfiette...
Though, compared to Elfiette, drooling over magic was almost cute. I activated my "skip-skill" for a second time.
"Certainly, I have no idea what's written here."
"Y-Yes. I could barely understand the reinforcement of the prosthetic's strength and the uniform pressure on the stump... and that's only a fraction. Apparently, these massive formulas are built with a perfect theory that doesn't hinder the user's magic."
"I see. Master, what do you think?"
When it came to magic, it was my Master's turn. I turned to the person next to me.
"...Master?"
Master wasn't listening. She had forgotten even to blink, staring at the formulas on the blueprints with a look as if she were trying to see through the paper.
Whoops. It had been a while since Master's blood as a Great Mage started boiling. Right now, she was likely assembling those characters and symbols into actual formulas in her head at a tremendous speed.
She was muttering to herself. "This habit in the formula... no way, that's impossible... a coincidence? But—"
Something was wrong. I tapped her shoulder. "Master, what's wrong?"
"Fueh?" Master snapped back with a reaction like a little girl. "Ah, um," she said, her eyes darting around. "F-From what I've seen, it's also handling uniform load distribution, posture control, and even heat dissipation inside the socket."
Claesta stood up, her eyes wide. "L-Lieselalte-sama, you can understand these formulas!?"
"Hm? Well, yes."
"W-W-W-What...!"
Apparently, it was such a shock that Claesta leaned against the table as if having a dizzy spell. But even so, her eyes were shining with an otaku soul. "Even after all of us gathered and discussed it for three days and three nights, we could only understand a fraction of it!"
"Well, that's probably inevitable. The formulas themselves are top-tier excellence," Master said, though for some reason, she seemed to be in an extremely bad mood. Strange—usually she loved showing off her dignity as a Great Mage.
Was she jealous because the formulas were so brilliant? But who would think up a formula so refined that even Master would be jealous? The blueprints were made by Claesta's grandfather, but this was beyond what a craftsman could do by just dabbling in magic.
However, the granddaughter of that mysterious craftsman was once again panting and on the verge of drooling. What an otaku.
"A-Atri! If you'd like, about these formulas—"
"Young Miss, just what did you come here for? If the predecessor saw you neglecting an important customer to talk about your hobbies, he’d do more than just give you an earful," Sebock reminded her.
That finally reined her in. "Y-Yes, you're right. Everyone, I am terribly sorry."
From then on, the discussion proceeded constructively. We discussed the schedule, the estimated cost, and the workshop’s plan. To prevent Claesta from running wild again, we listened without interjecting.
"Of course, you don't need to decide right here and now," Claesta concluded. "Please consider it. If you have any questions, I am at your service."
"Thank you."
As the talk wound down, I already had my answer.
This prosthetic was the one. It was a fusion of first-class materials used for Holy Knights and a magic theory that made Master take notice. Even to an amateur’s eye, the expectations were high for it to withstand the load of the Quick-draw Technique. The materials were rare, but in the Holy City, anything was available for the right price.
And it looked cool. The sophisticated form was perfect, and the transformation function hit all the right notes. It would make me look less like an "injured man" and more like an adventurer with high-end armor.
For the sake of my return to society and my Happy End, I couldn't miss this. I asked for Anze's opinion.
"I think it's a wonderful proposal! The performance will surely be top-tier... and in the Church, only Holy Knights are permitted to use Star-rare equipment. I think it's very fitting for Lord Wolka!"
That can't be right, Anze. I'm just a commoner who grew up covered in mud and getting beaten by my grandfather. I felt a bit pained by her pure, high evaluation of me.
Regardless, Anze approved. Then there was Master, who was still glaring at the blueprints.
"I think it's good too. But I have one condition," Master said. She looked up with eyes full of determination. "If we are to make this prosthetic, I want you to let me help with the formulas."
She turned to Claesta. "You said you could hardly understand these. That's because of the difficulty, but more importantly, the way they're built is terrible. It doesn't consider a third party reading them at all."
"I-Is that so...?"
"It's normal not to understand this. The person who taught your grandfather these formulas is someone with a truly twisted personality. It reeks of a cheeky attitude that only considers themselves."
Ah, I see. So that's why Master was in a bad mood. Magic and formulas were like machines and circuits—the "logic" of the circuit reflected the creator’s personality. Some were efficient; some were messy. And some were built with a personal theory that no one else could follow.
"So I will rewrite them. Into clearer, more high-performance formulas."
Master was a mage who valued functional beauty—formulas should be built without waste, beautifully, and in a way that anyone could understand.
Claesta blinked. "That... would be a proposal for which we are very grateful. Handling formulas we don't understand is something that shouldn't happen as craftsmen."
"I also think it's a good idea," Anze added. "Synthesizing Star-rare requires high magical power. The better the magical power, the higher the purity. Lieselalte-sama would be perfect."
"I see. So there is something I can do too," Master said quietly.
"May we really ask this of you?" Claesta asked.
"Yes. After all, I am Wolka's Master!"
Master's usual line resonated very reliably today. I really did have a good Master.
"Master... thank you."
Master's mouth went soft for a moment. "...Nn." She gave a small, shy grin.
Thus, my Prosthetic Upgrade Plan began. Things were looking up. At this rate, I’d be back on my feet and done with worrying everyone in no time.
I’d just have to wait for the prosthetic to be finished.
...I’ll do my best with training in the meantime.
Lieselalte glared at the blueprints on the table one last time. She suppressed the warm feeling in her heart from Wolka's "thank you" to think clearly.
This habit in the formula... there's no mistake. It's definitely her.
The vast array of formulas written on the blueprints had a strong, undeniable familiarity. They were formulas with no intention of being understood—heterodox, chaotic, and arrogant logic that looked down on everyone else.
They belonged to the mean, cheeky, selfish, perverted, and annoying Great Sage whom Liesel disliked most in this world.
Elfiette.
It couldn't be anyone else.
But why would she give formulas to a craftsman in the Holy City? She's not the kind of person who would do such a thing.
Liesel knew Elfiette; she wouldn't care about designing a prosthetic. She was a utilitarian who only cared about the greatest benefit for the greatest number. She wouldn't cooperate with someone for a niche technology like this.
So, this was likely the product of a whim. She probably happened to see Claesta's grandfather struggling and built the formulas just to kill time and show off her own skill.
Liesel’s heart boiled. I absolutely hate it...
When Anze had first proposed asking Elfiette for a prosthetic, Liesel had felt the same end-of-the-world unpleasantness.
To think that her whim would support Wolka for the rest of his life... I absolutely hate it!!
It felt like Wolka was being defiled. Her most important disciple was being "poisoned" by that woman's formulas.
But she couldn't stop the project. This prosthetic might save Wolka, and she couldn't crush his chances just because of her personal feelings.
So, she would simply overwrite them.
Even if Elfiette was a Great Sage of the Sevens, this was just a whim. Liesel could decode them and rewrite them into something superior. That way, she could protect Wolka from the "poison" and be his support herself.
She had to do it. Because she was Wolka's Master.
Her resolve was firm.
I won't let that person touch Wolka...!! The one who stays closest to him is me!!
It wasn't that Elfiette's magic was actually harmful to Wolka, but the small Great Mage, driven by possessiveness and jealousy, was fueling her own intense affection all on her own.