Crushing the Forge Master
For my health! Crunch! I took a big bite out of the bright red apple I'd bought from a fruit stall in the commercial district. Sweet, fresh juice slid down my throat.
Tastier than I expected.
Since I'd come all the way to the commercial district, I decided to fill up on street food. I snacked my way through vendor after vendor for a good while. Once I figured I'd had enough, I kept walking, munching the apple to freshen my mouth.
All sorts of beastkin races caught my eye—haggling fiercely in shops or chugging beer in broad daylight and causing a ruckus.
I was enjoying the sights, polishing off my apple, when a thick metallic tang hit my nostrils, followed by a wave of hot air prickling my skin.
Is this where the blacksmith district starts?
The receptionist had said the master was the master, so I just needed to find the biggest building in the blacksmith district. Shirtless artisans hammered away at metal with gusto as I strolled along, taking it all in.
Oh... female dwarves too, huh.
As I headed toward the larger forges, the area felt like it was made for dwarves only—their presence overwhelming compared to the entrance. One funny thing: every dwarf working, men and women, young and old, was topless. Like it was some racial trait.
The men were grotesque enough to turn my stomach, but the young female dwarves? Massive melons bouncing as they swung their hammers—couldn't help but be impressed.
Gotta come here more often.
With all the adventurer bait on display and plenty for guys to ogle, the blacksmith district was a goldmine. I made a mental note and let my eyes roam freely amid the bustle.
Trading loaded glances with the overwhelming number of male customers, I wandered until I found myself in front of a workshop that dwarfed all the others I'd seen.
Fuck, time flew by.
Rubbing my tired eyelids, I stepped inside. Whoosh! Steam and hot currents from the forge washed over me, but what really tugged at my lips was the thick mana subtly laced into the air.
Testing me, is he?
Was the master playing around, wanting to check the aura I'd let slip at the receptionist? I decided to give it my all. I released control over the mana pooled in my dantian.
I'd held back around the receptionist and my women out of consideration for their levels, but hadn't the master himself exuded an A-rank aura like mine last time?
Daring to pressure me with a realm he only reached thanks to his long-lived race...
I scoffed at the master's arrogance. Mana erupted from my skin like a flood.
Rumble rumble rumble!
The mana waves, visualized by the steam, surged out unchecked, shaking the workshop. Weapons on the walls and metal scraps on the counters got swept up and slammed into the walls.
With my enhanced vision from the surging mana, I locked eyes on an old dwarf staring back in panic, his pupils trembling.
You fucker. Payback for Dragon Slayer Sword!
I'm petty as hell. Back then, I held back to avoid becoming a criminal, but now with everything cleared up, why should I bend? Especially to the bastard who hogged that expensive Dragon Slayer Sword for himself.
I poured out mana relentlessly, planning to trash the place before he could surrender. The dwarf, who'd been momentarily dazzled by my display, finally grasped the situation—his face drained white as he shouted desperately.
"S-Stop! No, don't!"
With his cry, my overwhelming control made the rampaging mana vanish like it never happened. The flying scraps crashed to the floor with thunderous booms.
Thud! Boom! Crash!
A pristine greatsword crumpled into scrap, an ornate full plate mail shattered to pieces.
"How've you been, Master?"
The dwarf's dazed eyes, flicking between the wreckage and me, were filled with despair.
Crack! The teacup shattered under his grip. Tea leaked from the cracks, but I calmly lifted it to my lips.
"Good tea."
"Y-You...!"
The dwarf trembled with rage that wouldn't quit, washing away my memories of sleepless nights sketching that Dragon Slayer Sword like fizzy soda.
Heh heh heh.
Reading the situation from my smirking lips and laughing eyes, the dwarf massaged his temples and sighed.
"Hoo... You're strong, sure, but is this your true nature?"
"I've always been a bit of a prankster."
"P-Prank?"
"Well, you were leaking that testing aura... Couldn't just let it slide, right?"
"Kuh...!"
Since he'd started it, he had no ground to press me. The master sighed again and chugged his beer.
Something about his bland tea for me and cool beer for him pissed me off. I grumbled softly, tilting my cup, as he belched crudely and spoke.
"Fine. My fault for underestimating you. Hoo..."
Images of his trashed workshop—facilities and goods in ruins—brought fresh laughter bubbling up.
"This throws off all my plans..."
"Hm? What plans?"
He glanced at me and continued.
"I figured from the aura you weren't some scrub. Thought you were high-tier adventurer level at most."
"Well... as you felt, my sword aura's perfectly refined."
Schwing! Sword aura flared on my raised hand, making his eyes shake again.
"E-Enough. I get it."
"Right. So?"
"Hoo..."
His shrugging shoulders suggested he was scared I'd wreck the place again. Muscled as he was, the master was a total wuss.
"So why'd you call me here?"
"Yeah... This might actually work better for me."
To my blunt question, he eyed my sword aura hand and nodded.
"You said you're around the 13th floor, right?"
"Roughly. Haven't cleared the orc boss yet, so no big difference."
"With that strength?"
"Ah, party's still weak. But they've got talent—won't take long."
"Hoo..."
If it was just bragging, whatever, but a powerhouse like me saying it casually lit up his eyes. More strong guild adventurers meant more influence for him.
"Honestly, even without me, they'd hit 20th floors soon enough."
Impressed, he seemed to steel himself.
"Alright. Here's the deal."
"Shoot."
"How about becoming my direct guild adventurer for a while?"
"Huh?"
"I'll give you a special magic tool for tower access. You'll take guild requests as a frontline adventurer."
"Pfft... How's a wolf gonna crawl under a dog?"
The master flinched at being called a dog, but what're you gonna do about it? Heh heh. I chuckled teasingly, and he sighed.
"Hoo... Do you know what floor the frontline adventurers are on?"
"Around 30s, I figure."
"Precisely 36."
From guild intel, 35 was ogre-tier like I'd fought—stagnant progress. I shot him a questioning look, and he scratched his head irritably.
"From 36, it's mostly flying monsters."
"Oh..."
"Harpies, then griffons and wyverns dominate."
My face soured at the headache-inducing lineup. Some wouldn't lose to ogres in raw power, dive-bombing from the air?
Fuck. They'll just buzz around till we drop dead.
I lacked proper ranged attacks beyond Sipdan-geum initial strikes. And those were finisher moves—not for chickens with a bull-killing knife.
Wait, flying monsters mean we're screwed. Fuck?
Academy training handled flyers with guns easily, but strong ones where guns were useless? My mood soured fast.
Misreading my expression, the master nodded gravely.
"Yeah, as you guessed, flyers have stalled adventurers overall. But the empire's gone mad over wyvern sightings—demanding materials. Tough spot for me."
"Wyverns? Special traits?"
True to his craftsman race, he leaned in excitedly, praising wyverns.
"Obviously! Wyverns! Pseudo-dragons, but dragons nonetheless. One alone can upgrade a small kingdom's knight gear to top-tier!"
"Okay, pipe down, damn it."
"Ahem. Anyway, with the empire hounding for wyvern eggs and such, I need top adventurers. Natural move, right?"
"Hm..."
TL;DR: Empire freaks over frontline spotting wyverns, pressures guild master for materials. Thought it was grunt work, but empire-scale? Saliva pooled in my mouth.