Early the next morning, Rayleigh entered Hephaestus Weapon Shop with a sword wrapped in cloth.
As a recognized smith of Hephaestus Familia, he had the right to place weapons he forged inside the Familia's official shops for sale, though whether those weapons actually reached the display floor still depended on appraisal, safety, reputation, and whether the shop manager dared to take responsibility for them.
Rayleigh had forged countless weapons by now, but until today, he had never placed a Zanpakutō on public sale.
The shop was already open, with several adventurers browsing the lower-tier weapons displayed near the entrance.
The deeper one went, the more expensive the merchandise became.
Third-tier weapons, second-tier weapons, and even a few first-tier masterpieces sat behind protective glass and layered enchantments.
For ordinary adventurers, weapons were consumables.
Even a good sword could break, be lost, melt under monster acid, get swallowed by a Dungeon anomaly, or be abandoned during a desperate retreat.
Because of that, buying equipment was never as simple as choosing the strongest weapon one could afford.
It was a calculation of profit, risk, repair costs, replacement costs, and survival.
A better weapon could absolutely change one's life, but first, one had to be able to pay for it.
The only people who could ignore that reality were members of great Familias or monsters wearing human skin.
"Rayleigh-san."
A beautiful shop clerk immediately approached when she saw him.
His black hair and black eyes were already far too recognizable in Orario, and even if someone ignored those features, the multiple swords at his waist made his identity obvious.
"Good morning," Rayleigh said. "I'm here to place a weapon for sale."
"A weapon? One of your works, Rayleigh-san?"
"That's right."
Rayleigh laid the wrapped sword on the counter and slowly removed the cloth.
"Whoa..."
The clerk's eyes widened.
What appeared before her was a glossy black scabbard.
Three different flowers were inlaid across its surface with gold carving, the painted petals and raised metalwork overlapping in a strange harmony that made the entire piece seem to shift depending on the angle.
The fittings had been made with orichalcum, giving them a brilliant luster and excellent impact resistance.
The sword looked less like a simple weapon and more like a work of art.
Gorgeous.
That was the only word the clerk could think of.
"This sword... could it be?"
"Yes," Rayleigh said. "It's a Zanpakutō."
"So it really is... To think I'd actually get to see one with my own eyes."
The clerk's face flushed with excitement.
Rayleigh immediately understood.
This person was a weapon otaku.
She was not simply working here for money. She genuinely loved weapons!
"May I take a look?"
Rayleigh did not answer immediately. Instead, he placed one hand over the scabbard.
"Before that, I need to explain something."
The clerk froze.
"This sword is different from an ordinary product. It has its own will, and if someone draws it carelessly, it may release pressure or reject them. It won't deliberately harm bystanders, but it has a bad temper."
"A weapon with a bad temper..." The clerk's eyes shone even brighter!
Rayleigh sighed inwardly.
'Weapon otakus really are hopeless.'
"I'm serious," he said. "No customer is allowed to draw this sword inside the shop, and no one touches it without permission. It must be displayed in a sealed case, and anyone who wants to attempt its trial has to register in advance."
"Trial?"
"Yes. Buying this sword is more complicated than paying money. The buyer has to ask it for its name themselves. Anyone who can't even reach that point is unqualified."
The clerk swallowed.
"What happens if they fail?"
"Normally, rejection. Pressure. Fear. Maybe being thrown back or knocked unconscious."
Rayleigh paused for a moment before continuing.
"If someone tries to force it, insults it, or attempts to dominate it with arrogance, they should be prepared to die on the spot."
The clerk's body shivered, though her eyes still gleamed.
"Understood. I'll report this to the manager and prepare the highest-grade display area."
"Also prepare a written contract. Anyone who wants to challenge the blade must sign a death-risk agreement, and their Familia representative or patron god has to be informed beforehand. The actual trial won't happen inside the shop. It has to be held in a secured testing room or underground arena, and I'll be present. If the Guild insists on sending an observer, let them."
"Understood."
The clerk nodded seriously this time.
Rayleigh finally handed her the sword.
She changed into gloves, took out a monocle, and handled the blade as reverently as a priest receiving a sacred relic.
Even though Rayleigh had warned her, curiosity still won.
She carefully pushed the guard and drew the blade only an inch.
A cold aura leaked out, and the temperature inside the shop dropped at once.
The clerk's pupils trembled.
In that tiny exposed section of blade, she felt as if she were looking at the surface of a quiet lake, while something violent slept deep beneath it.
The hamon along the edge looked like a painting of hell reflected under moonlight.
Her spirit shook, and her knees weakened.
Rayleigh immediately steadied her with one hand while smoothly pushing the blade back into its sheath.
The cold atmosphere vanished, and the shop slowly warmed again.
"S-so amazing..."
The clerk sat down with Rayleigh's support, breathing unsteadily.
"Sorry," Rayleigh said. "This one really is a problem child. It likes scaring people. Think of it as a little boy with a strange temper."
"A little boy...?"
"With a knife."
"That makes it worse!"
"At least you understand."
The clerk took a few breaths before slowly recovering.
Even though she had clearly been frightened, her face was glowing with happiness.
A weapon that chose its own master. A weapon with a will. A weapon capable of rejecting the unworthy.
To someone who loved weapons beyond saving, this was more than frightening.
It was myth made real.
"How much should we set the price at?"
"Two hundred million valis."
"Understood."
The clerk accepted the number without hesitation and wrote down the long string of zeroes.
For a Zanpakutō, this was cheap.
The lowest-priced Zanpakutō Rayleigh had ever sold was still Nejibana, which had gone to Ardee for fifty million.
Most of the others were worth hundreds of millions or more, and some were effectively priceless.
This sword was only priced at two hundred million because it had a flaw.
A small problem.
For the right wielder, that flaw would barely matter.
For the wrong wielder, it would become fatal.
"Um, Rayleigh-san," the clerk asked carefully, "what is this sword's name?"
Rayleigh's lips curved slightly.
"That is part of the condition."
"Huh?"
"At the very least, its buyer has to ask for its name themselves."
After saying that, Rayleigh turned and left the weapon shop.
Behind him, the clerk stared at the sealed sword with a face full of awe.
...
By noon, the rumor had spread.
A Zanpakutō was being sold publicly in Hephaestus Weapon Shop.
The price was two hundred million valis.
The condition was that the sword itself had to acknowledge the buyer.
The warning was that challengers might die.
In less than half a day, adventurers began gathering around the shop.
Some came to laugh, some came to dream, and some came with greed in their eyes.
Others came because they had once believed their lives would never amount to anything, only for one sword to appear before them like a whisper that fate could still be overturned.
Yet no one dared cause trouble.
This was Hephaestus Weapon Shop.
In Orario, even the most unruly adventurers understood one truth: offending Hephaestus meant offending half the weapons in the city.
The goddess herself did not need to act.
Adventurers who wanted to maintain good relationships with smiths would crush the troublemaker first.
And now, with Rayleigh's Zanpakutō displayed in the highest-grade sealed case, the shop had become the eye of a very expensive, very dangerous storm.
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