Chapter Thirty: The Corpse-Poisoned Dagger (Part One)

"Huh?!" At my words, the two who had nearly come to blows again stopped at once, staring in surprise as I rummaged through my backpack.

"Found it!" Before long, I cheered, pulling out something I’d kept for quite a while.

It was a massive tooth, its tip incredibly sharp and solid enough to leave deep scratches even on an iron shield. Yes, this was the fang I once wrenched from the jaws of the Rabid Hound, Kaplan.

Back then, I took the tooth simply because I was amazed by its ferocity and wanted a memento. Only just now did it strike me: as a dagger, its size seemed perfect. If such a razor-sharp beast’s tooth could be fashioned into a weapon, who knew what unexpected effects it might have?

Seeing what I had taken out, Delta was both delighted and astonished. He immediately rushed over, took the fang in his hands, and turned it over and over, utterly enamored. After a moment, he looked at me hesitantly and asked,

"Jeff, are you really willing… to give this to me?"

"It’s no use to me. It’s just taking up space in my pack."

The burly half-orc rogue bit his lip. "I can’t take this for nothing. Name your price."

His attitude now left me feeling a little disappointed.

To be honest, I envied the bond between him and Longbow at Sunset, as well as Song of the Strings and Fionne. They were always bickering, teasing, joking, and squabbling—even in the thick of danger, they never missed a chance to poke fun at each other. Take Delta and Longbow at Sunset: one got the other killed for nothing, the other lost all his money, and though they wrestled and fought over it, everyone knew it wasn’t serious. That was true camaraderie—no apologies needed, for none were necessary.

When they were together, they could act as freely as they liked, laughing and raging with abandon, never minding each other’s antics or worrying about feelings. It was a kind of innocence, a childlike roughhousing.

But Delta’s earnestness now told me I was not truly one of them.

"Forget it," I joked to hide my faint disappointment. "Even if you emptied your purse, you’d only have a few coppers. Don’t put on airs and pretend to be generous…" I shook the sword in my hand and continued, "Don’t forget, this sword was from you in the first place."

Delta glanced at me with a complicated expression, then looked at the beast’s fang in my hand. At last, he reached out and took it from me. He said nothing, just grinned foolishly, slapped his belly, pulled a ridiculous face, and then, overjoyed, dashed back to Longbow at Sunset, shouting, "Hey, see if you can do something with this. And I’m telling you now, if you mess it up, you’re buying me hotpot fish tomorrow!"

Honestly, I was really afraid he’d start thanking me profusely after getting the fang. That would have been mortifying. The way he handled it now made me feel much more at ease.

Though they kept bickering, I could see that Longbow at Sunset was being much more careful and meticulous this time than when he’d first made his own staff. He polished the beast’s fang with great attention, preserving its lethal point and smoothing the inner curve of the tooth into a razor edge. When a dangerous gleam slid down the blade’s surface, I felt in my bones that this time, the weaponsmith’s efforts would be crowned with success.

After the nunchaku were created, Krado and Black Aurora’s interest in weapon-smithing only grew. They stood quietly aside, watching the dwarf priest’s designs without a hint of impatience.

To fit the beast’s tooth blade with a handle, Longbow at Sunset really put in the time. He actually picked out an entire set of metacarpal and phalange bones from the pile, carefully assembling them into the shape of an outstretched hand, and even had Delta try the grip himself. Once the fit was right, he set the tooth-blade into the wrist bone. After another flash of dazzling brilliance, Delta’s new weapon was finally complete.

We all knew this would be no ordinary weapon, but when we saw its attributes, every one of us couldn’t help gasping in astonishment:

"Wow…"

An 88-point damage bonus, agility +19—these two stats alone would let Delta hold his head high from now on, a true leap in power, and that was just the base attribute of the dagger. The Rabid Hound Kaplan was famed for its speed; its magic crystal had already turned the slow Bull Million into a formidable warrior, and now its fang-forged dagger added an extra speed-related ability: a 30% chance to deal double strikes with each hit. That meant Delta’s damage output would increase by a third for free.

Perhaps because it was made entirely of biological bone, the dagger also granted Delta 99 extra vitality. For a rogue whose defenses weren’t particularly strong, that could save his life more than once.

Beyond that, the dagger came with a skill both hilarious and horrifying: once every fifteen minutes, it could release corpse poison for thirty seconds, dealing at least 20 damage per second to enemies. But because the poison came from the corpse bones forming the hilt—closer to the wielder than the enemy—the user would suffer twice the poisoning effect. By this calculation, the skill wouldn’t even last thirty seconds; in about fifteen, Delta would be dead from his own dagger’s venom.

That’s probably where the name "Corpse Poison Dagger" came from.

"This is safer than just drinking poison—at least you don’t have to worry about the expiration date…" The half-orc rogue’s unique optimism shone through at the skill.

"It’s more humane than jumping off a building; at least you have time to say your last words…" Longbow at Sunset, proud of his handiwork, was tireless in pointing out its hidden merits.

"It’s more elegant than slitting your own throat; people faint at the sight of blood, after all…" I felt I ought to add something at this point.

"This dagger should last me until level fifty." If its base stats were any higher, Delta might have guessed even higher. Even so, his estimate was conservative.

"Not just that—the smith can upgrade weapons once his level gets high enough…" Longbow at Sunset’s pride was unmistakable.

According to him, a weapon’s attributes are closely tied to the materials used; the properties of the raw materials largely determine the final weapon’s stats. A weaponsmith can choose their materials as they like, but the end result is still subject to a great deal of chance, beyond their complete control. The outstanding quality of the two weapons just made was down to two main factors: great materials, and, crucially, a stroke of luck—luck being the decisive one.

We soon saw for ourselves just how unreliable a weaponsmith’s success rate was. After finishing that exceptional dagger, Longbow at Sunset tinkered with the pile of petrified bones for a long time. Maybe those two successes had used up all his luck, because after ruining all the rest of the bone stock, he produced only a "Bone Staff of Extreme Simplicity"—an extraordinary weapon whose creation was legendary in its own way: he took a bit of bone about the length of a finger, wiped it with a rag, drilled a hole in it, and as we watched a familiar flash, the staff was done.

I have to admit, it truly was a "bone staff of extreme simplicity"—its only attribute was to "increase physical attack power by 0.02". Honestly, this might be the only piece of gear I’ll ever see with a stat bonus measured to two decimal places. In that sense, its value as a collectible surpassed all those world-destroying legendary artifacts. It was a unique specimen, worthy of being recorded as a miracle in the annals of history.

Unfortunately, less than three seconds after this one-of-a-kind treasure was born, its creator tossed it into a coffin without a second thought and slammed a heavy stone slab on top—as if afraid it might grow legs and run off for the world to see.

…