Golem Hunt and the Forge God's Manifestation
Dwarves had settled in the Iron Mountains, known as the continent's most treacherous range, from the time of their ancestors right up to the present. This was partly to shield themselves from outsiders coveting their craftsmanship and skills, using the mountains as a natural fortress. But there was an even more important reason.
"The Iron Mountains are like a dream come true for any blacksmith. They're packed with minerals, and all sorts of ores are buried there, sorted by type and everything."
"Hoo."
The day after arriving in the dwarven city and meeting Brina, the female dwarf, I listened as she casually explained the Steel Fortress while we exited through Gate 4 and headed somewhere outside the city.
"Here we are. Hop on."
"This is... a mine cart?"
"I told you, we're going to the mines."
Indeed. In exchange for a discount on the crafting fee, I'd promised to procure some of the materials myself. Brina said she'd mine the ores directly from the mines, and I, having placed the order, was now semi-forced into helping.
Feels like I'm covering the shortfall with manual labor...
My plan to buy dwarven gear and just sightsee had gone awry, but I didn't mind too much. If some simple physical work got me dwarven armor, it was a solid deal.
"By the way, can we just head to the mines without any prior permits or anything?"
"Oh. Artisans with workshops named after them in the Steel Fortress basically have mining rights in the fortress-owned mines by default."
"Oh. That's convenient."
"Of course. Only top-grade artisans get their own personal workshops in the first place."
"...Top-grade? What's that?"
"What? You don't know dwarven systems either?"
Brina, who had treated me decently as a guest until yesterday, now acted completely at ease—probably because she was taking a slight loss to craft my armor. Her speech was rough, but her personality didn't seem bad. She grumbled lightly before explaining the dwarven hierarchy.
"You know we dwarves worship the progenitor god, the Forge of All Things, right?"
"Yeah, I know."
I'd heard he was the god overseeing acts of creation. That explained why the dwarves' exceptional craftsmanship earned them special favor.
"Right. So in the center of our city stands the Creation Forge, a temple to the Forge of All Things."
"A temple named after a workshop?"
"It actually has a forge—it's a real workshop too. Anyway, any dwarf active in the fortress can bring their creations to the temple for evaluation."
Unlike priests of other progenitor gods, who mostly embodied holy religious figures wielding divine power, the priests of the Forge of All Things felt more like master artisans. The god was famous for bestowing blessings on superior creators, so those with many blessings were recognized as exceptional craftsmen.
"Work as an apprentice in a workshop, inherit skills from your parents and craft your own items, then take them to the temple for judgment. The artisans (priests) there evaluate your work."
If it met the standards of the temple's artisans, that dwarf was acknowledged as a full artisan and granted the rank of Grade 2 Artisan.
"From Grade 2, you can sell your creations for money. But you can't have your own workshop yet, so you're limited to selling under another dwarf."
A spot in your master's or parents' workshop to peddle your wares—that was the realm of a Grade 2 Artisan.
"What about Grade 1?"
"Simple. Surpass the priests and earn the god's direct approval."
Even Grade 2 Artisans kept bringing their creations to the temple for review. The resident artisans appraised them, and if they exceeded the threshold, they offered the item to the god.
"Then the Forge of All Things evaluates it personally. Pass his judgment even once, and you're a Grade 1 Artisan."
"The god himself judges it?"
"Yeah. Pretty awesome, right? Not quite on the level of the elves' 'Mother of Nature,' but our god communicates with the faithful pretty often."
After that, Brina rambled on about how Grade 1 Artisans could open workshops bearing their names, and Special Grade required satisfying the god's standards multiple times.
God... a god...
But her words barely registered. Unlike Earth, where gods were vague beliefs, this world had real ones. I pondered that reality.
...Would the gods know about me?
Me, from another world called Earth, gifted—or cursed—with the bizarre Replication ability as payment. Did this world's gods even notice my existence?
The Forge of All Things sends messages to the mortal realm often...
Seemed worth visiting the Steel Fortress's temple at least once. Would outsiders be allowed in? If I said I wanted to pray, they'd probably let me.
—Rumble!!
"We're here."
While lost in thoughts of gods, our mine cart halted at some point.
"Stick close behind me. Dwarven tunnels are basically a maze. Outsiders sneak in to mine sometimes and end up lost, starving to death."
Her words sounded brutally serious despite the casual tone. Brina hopped off the cart and entered a wide tunnel lit by dim lamps. Following her, I brought up two questions I'd forgotten amid her chatter.
"By the way, Brina. Do you have a subspatial magic tool too?"
Before coming, she'd handed me a pickaxe and various tools, saying I'd need them. I'd emptied my subspatial pouch at her workshop storeroom while dropping off the ogre hides, so I'd stashed everything there. But unlike me, Brina's hands were empty for someone here to mine.
Planning to make me do all the work? Fine if it gets me good gear, but I've never mined before...
"Huh? Oh, no worries. I've got something like that."
Reading my expression, she waved it off, easing my concerns. Fair enough—a separate subspatial tool made sense. What really bugged me was...
"And why'd you tell me to gear up heavily?"
She'd insisted I arm myself fully for the mines. Was it because of those sneaky outsiders?
"Huh? Why gear up? Obviously 'cause you need it for mining."
I wondered why mining required full armor, but Brina eyed me like I was the weirdo. As we stared at each other in mutual bafflement, a strange rumble echoed from deeper in.
—Thud! Thud!!
Someone else mining already? But it didn't sound like pickaxes. Explosives? The ground vibrated faintly too...
Wait a sec.
Getting closer...? And this presence...
"Oh, one's coming out already."
"Brina, what the—?"
I drew my weapon in panic. Had she tricked me? But her face was utterly calm.
—Thud! Thud!
The heavy thuds closed in. Then the source appeared before us.
"Grraaah...!!"
A body covered in rock. Bigger than the orcs I'd hunted, at least in the head. Each step shook the earth with its massive weight.
I'd never seen one in person, but I knew from Earth's fiction what it was.
"It's a golem!"
"What? You know them. So why whine about needing weapons?"
"You said we were mining!"
"Exactly. See those rocks? Ores are embedded between them. Mine those."
Golems: monsters born when life infused rock or ore. Base durability so high D-ranks struggled without special gear, C-ranks needed for easy hunts.
To think the dwarves' mines were golem-infested dungeons!! And she treated it like normal—that was scarier!
"Screw this...!"
Expecting mere manual labor, I gripped my black iron sword, activated mana, and strengthened my body. Immense power surged through me. I kicked off the ground and leaped at the golem.
"Grooo...!!"
Lucky it's slow as hell.
The golem swinging its rocky limbs looked terrifying, but its attacks were yawn-inducingly sluggish. I could dodge without mana enhancement.
Good so far, but...
...Where do I even cut?
No vital spots like on living things. I hesitated, sword unswung. Forget vitals—this thing seemed wrong to fight with a blade anyway.
"What're you doing? You're C-rank, right? Can't kill it?"
Brina popped out beside me as I froze mid-leap. She thrust out one arm, a pale white-red glow gathering in her palm.
That's...?
Felt like the divine power I'd seen from priests in temples. But the real shock was yet to come.
—Fwoosh!!
"......!!"
The glow in her hand took shape—a massive hammer. Just like when I used Replication on gear.
What the hell?!
First time seeing someone else pull that miracle. I gawked at Brina, forgetting the golem.
Ignoring me, she gripped the hammer two-handed and charged, smashing the golem's shin.
"Hyaah!!"
—BOOM!!!!
The heavy hammer crashed, echoing thunderously as stone dust flew. The golem's body—rocks crudely fused—shattered at imperfect joints, boulders scattering.
"Hit hard to break the bonds! Smash the core when it pops out!"
"...Uh, yeah!"
Questions burned, but I sheathed my sword and pulled out the pickaxe from my subspatial pouch. No way a black iron sword survived bashing rock.
"Hup!!!"
Short shout, two-handed grip, mana-infused strength swung the pickaxe.
—Clang!!
Sharp whoosh, stone chips flew, a crack split the golem's body. Numbness tingled my hands; I grimaced and leaped back.
Damn, awkward without a sword.
I'd learned body techniques, so stance was decent, but without swordplay, movements felt off. No full power—couldn't shatter the arm.
"What? C-rank my ass. Put some muscle into it!"
"......"
Indignation flared, but I stayed silent, smashing the golem with pickaxe swings. Targeting the torso cracked rocks, exposing a mana stone-like core.
"Can I smash it? Looks valuable."
"Worthless. Mana dissipates on death."
Her go-ahead given, I slammed down. The pick's tip pulverized the core easily; the golem collapsed lifelessly.
Brina grinned, waved her hand—hammer vanished, glow reformed into a pickaxe.
"Alright, let's mine. These things prioritize mana-rich ores, so their corpses yield good stuff..."
"No, wait. Before that..."
Hammer before, pickaxe now. Seeing tools manifest from her hand twice, I steadied my spinning head and pointed.
"What... the hell is that?"