God of Crime: Strongest Mafia Boss

[Sweden — Harnosand]

Sweden is a Nordic county located in the Scandinavian Peninsula in northern Europe. It's considered one of the places of origin of the Vikings— a ruthless warrior race that was active around the late 8th to the late 11th century until their numbers dwindled and the race became extinct from the face of the earth.

Harnosand is a small city in Sweden, close to the sea with a population of around only around twenty thousand people.

It was the kind of small city where everyone seemed to know everyone else but the aura of nature that was still prevalent made it a good place to live for nature lovers and humans in general far from the bustle and pollution of the city's high population.

In a small cottage, close to the sea and somewhat isolated from the rest of the city, the sounds of a hammer clashing against metal could be heard resounding from miles away. The smithing room was nothing particularly special all things considered. But for the old generation of hunters, this place would be no different from a holy ground.

A young man, one pretty tall and incredibly sturdy, wearing a loose tank top showing his bursting muscle was repeatedly hitting the metal with such ferocity and power that one may think of the material to be his worst enemy. The movement of his hands was steady and his breath was unhurried and followed a certain rhythm. One would think that he was breathing with the fire.

The heat in the room was so high that anyone else would literally have blisters from being in this place for even a second and may have grave burns forming on their skins if they were to linger around long enough. But the man in question was barely sweating even in such a sweltering and inhumane heat.

The process continued for a long time until finally, he placed the metal bar in a liquid that seemed to be close to water, but with a viscosity much higher. It was a special mix of holy water and the fluids from certain fruits that could be called elixirs.

His work finished, he showed a nervous expression as he asked,

"What do you think?"

"Well…"

The young man wasn't alone inside the room.

Close to numerous half-finished equipment and farming tools was an old man or at least what looked like an old man.

Since, among the features of an old man, he only had the face and the graying hair going for him.

His body was so muscular and seemingly healthy that even a bodybuilder would be put to shame. Age wasn't an obvious thing in the Supernatural after all.

His eyes were deep and unfathomable as he inspected the work of the young man before finally nodding.

"Not bad. You pass."

It was only after hearing this remark that the young man let out a sigh of relief.

"Damn, this geezer. I feel like he wants to kill me."

"You said that out loud."

"I know. It was intentional."

The young man grinned and stood up from his seat. His muscles were still quivering because of how tired the previous process had rendered him into becoming.

But even though he didn't want to show it. Getting acknowledgment from his grandfather and master really made him damn happy.

"Ma told me you should come home sometimes."

"Yeah, yeah. She should stop nagging. I am only a little old anyways. Not like I can't take care of myself."

"Well, you are close to 80 years old now, you know? It's not something you'd only call a little old now, is it?"

"And so? Look at me, I'm still healthy and fit."

The old man laughed as he flexed his ginormous muscles.

"You see Viktor, what did I always tell you?"

Viktor sighed as he wiped the small beads of sweat that were lingering on his brows, "Muscles never let you down."

"Yep, my boy. Look at me and look at you. When I was your age I would fight brown bears barehanded with no Prana before going to school. Then I would bench press with their passed out body and come back the next day."

Viktor facepalmed after hearing him speak.

"I think I am pretty big already."

"You think you're big enough? Man, I must be getting old. Sigh. Young boys nowadays don't really know about hardship."

"Yes, yes, I am sorry. Now I am gonna go. See ya."

He rolled his eyes and was about to leave.

His grandfather was a great man. Viktor knew that firsthand. He knew very well that even though the man always liked to brag, he was one of the most respected and applauded blacksmiths of all Eras.

A man who even received the teaching of the dwarves, descendants of the <<Sons of Ivaldi>> [1] as well as those from the lineage of the <<Huldra Brothers>> [2].

He was none other than Makarov Björn Ulvaeus.

"Wait."

Just as Viktor was about to leave this place, Makarov stopped him.

"I have been working on a new project."

Viktor's eyes opened wide after hearing his grandfather speak, "I thought you swore to never create a weapon again."

"I thought so as well. Those youngsters don't know how to respect weapons and anyway with |~S.K~| present, I am just an old relic of the past."

Makarov laughed sadly at this dismaying truth. He knew that hunters were more about using technology rather than focusing on Prana and their weapons like in the past.

He understood and accepted it by now. Every era brought changes and rather than being stubborn, the weapons that would bring fewer casualties on the hunters' side were the ones that should be accepted as the norm.

This was why he retired from blacksmithing. The World didn't need his crafts anymore.

But now…

"The one who saved us needs our help."

The fact that he could speak with his grandson like this and complain about the nagging of his daughter was only thanks to Cecilia.

She saved him and his family and no matter how much she asked for in the future, he would never be able to repay this heavy debt. Even with his life.

"But you know… I am still too old now."

Had it been twenty years ago… No, even ten years ago, he would have flown directly to America without the slightest bit of hesitation to help his friend and benefactor.

But now? Even though his body was still healthy, he knew very well that he was reaching his limits.

His heart was not as strong as in the past. He had abused it too much. His Prana was withering every day. He could still forge simple weapons, but it was impossible for him to create a masterpiece as he did for Cecilia all those years ago.

A true named weapon bestowed with the power of a legend.

So…

"Follow me to America."

In order to create the best weapon possible, he would need help.

As hurtful as that was to his pride, there was no other choice if he wanted to help Cecilia.

"I want to see him."

A perfect weapon needed to be perfectly suitable for the wielder.

"I want to thank her."

This would most likely be the last weapon he ever created in this life of his. His heart might even give out after the completion of this craft.

This was why he wanted to…needed to make sure this would be the best work he ever made.

This would be his legacy.

He looked at his grandson— the pride of his life. He had taught him absolutely everything he knew but he knew the lad needed to witness a new sight for him to advance.

Only by facing new trials could Viktor grow even more and surpass him.

"Will you accompany me?"

Viktor's fists clenched unconsciously. He wanted to say no. He knew very well that his grandfather's health was declining rapidly.

Reaching the same level of skills as dwarves despite being a human?

How could such a thing be possible without paying an equivalent price?

But he knew. He knew that his grandfather was unhappy.

Every day… He would see him slowly wasting away as he looked at the work he could never do again.

As such…

"Let me tell Ma and Pa."

He turned around and walked away.

Looking at the back of his departing grandson, Makarov's lips formed a small sad smile and walked towards his hammer.

"My friend, let me use you for one last time, okay?"

Whether he survived or not, he would never be able to use Prana again after this.

Would it be worth it?

As long as he was able to make his masterpiece then… Yes. It would be more than worth it.

"Well, I hope her son won't disappoint me."

He muttered. It would be truly saddening if her son wasn't up to par. After all, a great weapon needed an equally great warrior.

He was about to place his weapon down when his phone, on the table, began to vibrate.

A normal phone could have never been able to be kept in this small room. It was a special phone he always kept close to him.

Even when working.

Looking at the name of the caller, he frowned.

[S.K]

He immediately interrupted the call.

If he was the greatest weapon creator. Then, S.K was the greatest armor creator. One who fused technology with magic so beautifully that it became a work of art.

She was also his first disciple. And also his greatest regret.

———

[1]: Those are the dudes who created Gungnir for Odin in myths. They created other things but Gungnir is the most popular.

[2]: Those are the dudes who created Mjolnir after being tricked by Loki.

(AN: Not gonna lie. For Viktor. I hesitated between Viktor or Viktoria. It would have been a cute dwarf girl or something. But then I remembered how in SHK 95% of all characters are female. I don't want to make the same mistake here. So we have a muscular young Scandinavian hunk rather than a cute girl. Such is life.)

(EN: And I call it growth as a writer. Can't always let the horny win now, can we?)