The Anvil's Divine Voice

The dwarves' temple, the Creation Forge. On the way there, I got a more detailed explanation from Brina.

"Anyone can have their work appraised at the temple?"

"Yeah. It's not just for official artisan rank evaluations—plenty of folks just want the god to acknowledge their skills."

As I listened to Brina and glanced around while heading to the Creation Forge, I spotted people heading to the temple now and then, carrying what looked like ornate weapons and armor.

"For a place where anyone can get appraised, there aren't that many people."

"Well, bringing in mediocre work would just bring shame. Especially dwarves—we're proud. We don't even bring pieces that don't meet our own standards."

Which meant, conversely, that anyone carrying their work all the way to the temple had selected pieces that far exceeded dwarven standards.

'So Brina's armor is at that level, huh...?'

"How does the appraisal process work?"

"There are resident artisans at the temple—special-grade ones. They do the initial evaluation."

And if they deemed the work worthy of showing to the god, it would be placed on the altar in the center of the temple. Then the god himself would appraise it directly, and sometimes bestow blessings on artisans who demonstrated exceptional skill.

"...So the god doesn't, like, descend or anything?"

"Well... not a full descent, but there are a few artisans who've actually heard the god's voice directly."

Brina explained that those were the ones whose skills were so outstanding that the god spoke up personally to acknowledge them, earning them the title of special-grade artisan beyond first-grade.

She added that most of the resident artisans were ones who'd heard the god's voice in their youth.

"Most ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠are too old to swing a hammer anymore, so they stay at the temple, but there are still quite a few active ones."

"It's a unique system. Not based on faith, but on skill as an artisan, determining the strength of the blessings."

"That's what other races always say. We serve the Forge of All Things, but our identity as 'artisans' is stronger than as believers or priests."

By the time our conversation wrapped up, we'd arrived at the Creation Forge.

'...It's a real forge.'

The moment I laid eyes on the building—far more refined and majestic than the surrounding structures—I understood why the temple was called a "forge."

All the temples I'd seen so far belonged to the Church of Mercy or the Justice Church—mostly pristine white buildings that evoked piety...

'I figured even if it's called a forge, it'd still feel like a proper temple...'

Chimneys venting heat, material warehouses piled with ores and leathers, armories displaying finished gear... It looked nothing like a place of worship.

As I stood there baffled by the temple's appearance, a bored-looking dwarf at the entrance spotted Brina and called out.

"What're you up to, Brina? Still swinging that hammer, eh?"

"Keh. Uncle Godric?"

"Who're you calling uncle? I'm still spry as ever."

They seemed close, bantering casually. The elderly dwarf, rough-spoken but with a subtle smile, turned his gaze to me beside Brina.

"Hm? And who's this? Doesn't look like an artisan from those muscles..."

"He's my client."

"...Client? Come on, don't lie to me. I know damn well no one's ever set foot in your workshop..."

"No, really. The armor he's wearing—that's mine."

"Ho ho?"

Godric, who'd been chuckling and teasing Brina, shifted his gaze sharply to the armor I was still wearing upon hearing that.

"Variant ogre leather... with magic stones embedded. The metalwork... Hmph. Caught more of those mine parasites, did you?"

He discerned the materials just from eyeing the finished piece, without even touching the raw stuff. It really drove home what Brina meant by the temple folks being living legends among artisans.

"Hm? Ah, sorry. Introductions are late. Special-grade artisan of the Creation Forge—Godric."

"Ah, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠yes. C-rank adventurer Yuseong."

"...C-rank? That's some overkill gear for a C-rank..."

Godric started to say something that sounded like a dig at my rank after my introduction, but then...

"...No, it's not overkill."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, nothing."

He scanned my musculature and eyed the black iron sword at my waist, then abruptly changed tack.

Brina, meanwhile, scowled beside me.

"Uncle, were you about to pull that 'gear doesn't suit your level' crap on a stranger again?"

"Quiet. Folks who wear gear beyond their level tend to die quick out there—it's just good advice."

With a remark that laid his personality bare, Godric gave me another once-over and extended his hand.

"Looks like you're here for an appraisal on that armor... Hand it over. I'll do it."

"For real? Uncle's doing the appraisal?"

Brina's eyes lit up as he suddenly demanded I hand over the armor I was wearing, while I hesitated.

"Yuseong! Take it off and give it to him quick!"

"Out of nowhere, why..."

"It's rare for this old coot to appraise gear personally! What wind's blowing today...?"

"I can hear you, brat."

I didn't know the details, but for a mere gatekeeper, he seemed like a big deal. Unable to resist Brina's excited slapping on my back, I stripped off the armor and handed it over.

Should've taken it off before coming...

"Hm..."

Godric inspected the lining and inner details invisible while worn, then suddenly manifested a hammer in his hand and struck the armor.

'That's...?'

It resembled Brina's manifestation ability. The blessing from the Forge of All Things made sense for a temple artisan like Godric.

What surprised me was...

'It looks like a real hammer?'

Unlike Brina's, which was a vaguely hammer-shaped lump, Godric's manifested hammer looked indistinguishable from a genuine one. If I hadn't known about manifestation beforehand, I'd have mistaken it for my own replication ability.

'Is that why Brina was so sure my ability was manifestation?'

"Heh heh... Nicely made. No wonder clients keep coming back—your skills haven't rusted."

"Of course not."

"But the hole placement for linking the leather and rings could be lower..."

"I thought so too, but considering his build..."

As I paused, Brina and Godric dove into a lengthy artisan jargon discussion. He pointed out flaws sternly but praised her craft interspersed throughout, finally saying what we'd been waiting for.

"This is worthy of presenting to the Forge of All Things. Let's go."

"...For real?"

Brina bounced with excitement at the words—we were going to offer her armor to the dwarves' god, the Forge of All Things, for appraisal.

I stared, stunned, as Godric calmly turned and headed deeper into the temple.

"Uh... Brina, is this okay?"

"What?"

"I heard works need approval from the special-grade artisans to be placed on the altar, but surely one person's decision alone..."

"Oh, that?"

Brina waved it off like it was nothing.

"It's fine. That old man's the big boss of this temple, looks notwithstanding."

"...Pardon?"

She casually dropped that the dwarf we'd been bantering with so freely was the temple's highest authority.

"Big boss? What do you..."

"There's a supreme artisan rank above special-grade, held by only one person—that's him. Steel Fortress isn't a monarchy, but think of him as king? Lord? Something like that."

"...Why's someone like that guarding the entrance?"

"Beats me. Old man's hobby, I guess."

Brina tossed out that Godric was essentially the dwarves' king without batting an eye, still trash-talking him freely. My casual view of him as Brina's acquaintance suddenly felt heavier.

"Eh, don't overthink it. Dwarves value skill over hierarchy, so even the supreme artisan's just a really skilled old guy."

"......How are you so chill?"

I suddenly wanted to go home, but we were already this deep. Retracing my steps for any slip-ups, I timidly followed Brina inside.

The altar for offering gear to the god was far in, so we walked in silence for a while, the three of us.

"...Hey, Brina."

"Hm? Whispering all of a sudden?"

"How do you know Godric? You seem close..."

"That girl grabbing a hammer despite being a woman caught my eye, so I gave her some guidance back in the day."

I'd tried whispering just to Brina, but the reply came from an unexpected source. Godric answered nonchalantly, without even turning.

"I-is that so...?"

"No need to tense up. Supreme artisan or not, I'm just one craftsman, like Brina said."

"Keh! 'Guidance'? You tried kicking me out, saying women should stick to cooking!"

"Quiet. I did give ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you guidance—that's fact."

Once the banter started, they bickered again. It felt less like master and disciple, more like a father and daughter with a big age gap. Watching eased my tension oddly.

"Here we are. Brina, you know the rules?"

"Got it."

Godric halted in a vast chamber after their tussle. There loomed a massive furnace so tall you had to crane your neck, and before it... an anvil emitting a reverent glow.

'The temple's a forge, so the altar's an anvil?'

A mildly irreverent thought about the god's consistent theme crossed my mind as I stepped back, watching Brina approach the anvil—altar—with the armor.

"Curious, though."

"Y-yes?"

Godric spoke up beside me, startling me.

"The owner of Brina's armor has standing to observe, but her bringing an outsider..."

"Ah, that's..."

"Eh, I get the gist. Eyeing an exclusive contract? I'd have considered it in my younger days."

"......??"

I'd braced for a scolding over the outsider, but he said something baffling. Before I could ask about "contract" or "eyeing," Brina placed the armor on the altar, drew not a manifested hammer but her actual forging one, and struck the anvil-shaped altar three times.

"Forge of All Things, master of all metals and arms. Behold this humble work forged by one who follows your path, though my skills be lacking."

Brina, who'd been so gruff and casual from our first meeting, now recited a prayer with solemn reverence.

And then—

'...This is...?'

No figure appeared, but an uncanny sense of something being there hit me. A glowing orb, like those during Brina and Godric's manifestations, settled on the armor atop the altar.

'Is that the god?'

Was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this the god appraising the work? Was that light the god itself?

-Thump. Thump.

Captured by an inexplicable emotion, unlike Brina and Godric with eyes closed, I stared straight at the light, venting my pent-up rage inwardly.

'If you're a god. Did you bring me here? Do you know why I'm here? Can you send me back to Earth?'

With Brina and Godric right there, I couldn't voice it, but I hurled the words at the so-called god almost accusatorily, spilling my accumulated frustration.

'What the...'

A voice boomed suddenly in my head—not from outside—freezing me in place.

A thick, steadfast tone fitting "stubbornness," laced with irritation, curiosity, and faint hostility. It echoed clearly inside my skull.

Not waiting for my reply, it muttered to itself, hostility fading before dropping a bombshell.

'.....!!!'

'Who are you? Are you the Forge of All Things? You know me?'

The voice from the light—the one supposedly appraising the gear. Instinct told me it was the Forge of All Things. I desperately called out to it...

'...My voice isn't reaching?'

The Forge of All Things showed no reaction to my words, as if it couldn't hear me.

-Snap.

Not hearing me and assuming its voice wasn't reaching either, the Forge of All Things muttered alone before cutting off abruptly. The light left my body, revealing Godric and Brina staring at me in shock.

"...What was that? The Forge of All Things reacted to you...?"

"See? You really got the Forge's blessing! That's why it responded to you!"

"...Brina? What do you mean? Explain properly!!"

The two dwarves chattered noisily, but my ears rang with tinnitus, legs barely holding me up.

The shock was that immense.

'Fell through a hole? "Again"? Intervention?'

Muttering dazedly to myself—

"Ahh! My hammer... Hey! What're you—!"

"Answer me... Answer!! Why'd you stop talking? I heard your voice! Can't you hear me? What's this hole? "Again" means it's happened before? Your fault? Why am I here!!!"

I snatched Brina's hammer and charged the altar, pounding it wildly in lost reason.

"Calm yourself."

Godric's grave voice rang out with a blow to the back of my neck. Even as consciousness faded, I flailed my arm—as if refusing to let the first lead in over two years of isekai life slip away.