Forgiven Folly and the Blessed Ogre Armor
Coming to my senses in the small bedroom set up in the workshop, I faced Godric and Brina staring at me with stern gazes.
"...Sorry about that."
After passing out once and cooling my head a bit, I realized just how absurd my actions had been. I'd been smashing the altar dedicated to their god—the leader of the dwarves and their greatest artisan, as Brina herself acknowledged—in front of them. One wrong move, and I could've been slapped with blasphemy charges piled on top of other offenses, thrown in prison for life or subjected to an inquisition without a leg to stand on.
"Hoo... I'll let this one slide. There must be a reason the Forge of All Things descended upon you."
Godric, who had eyed me with faint displeasure, overlooked my rudeness after witnessing the Forge of All Things' power briefly linger in the armor's emotional moment. But in exchange, I had to field this question.
"Brina tells me that you, a human, received the blessing of Manifestation from the Forge of All Things. Can you show us?"
While I was out cold, Brina must've mentioned it, and now Godric was demanding a demonstration of the blessing. In this atmosphere, evasion wasn't an option, so I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to replicate the black iron sword most familiar to me using my replication ability.
...Can't replicate it? Oh, right. I mixed in some metals to reinforce it.
But against my will, the replication failed at first, making me break into a cold sweat until I recalled my backup hand axe—and thankfully managed to replicate that.
-Tzzzz...!!
As a glow gathered in my hand and a hand axe materialized, Godric's gaze softened a touch.
"Well, now. Not pulling it from a sub-space, but forging a weapon out of thin air... It truly is the blessing of Manifestation."
Even to the eyes of the greatest artisan, did my replication look no different from Manifestation on the surface? I kept a straight face while inwardly sighing in relief.
"Did you hear the voice of the Forge of All Things, by any chance?"
"...Yeah, a little."
"Could you tell us what was said?"
Godric, scrutinizing my replicated hand axe with sharp eyes, turned to me with a gleam of faith.
I hesitated at the question, then chose silence.
"I can't do that. Sorry."
"...I see."
The words from the Forge of All Things had revealed that it knew I was an otherworlder. No way was I spilling that verbatim, and rather than fumbling a half-baked lie, I just bowed out.
"Can't be helped, then."
"......???"
I'd braced for more prying, but Godric coolly dropped the interrogation without another word.
"Um... is that okay?"
"Plenty have cried out to the god, desperate for answers. After seeing how frantically you sought the divine just now, how could I dare pry?"
"......"
Godric referenced my moment of losing reason, clinging to the first lead in two years. Less like the dwarves' leader and more like a kindly old man, he showed me consideration.
"I trust that one blessed directly by the god wouldn't act without purpose."
Of course, that consideration hinged on faith in the god who (supposedly) bestowed the blessing upon me.
"But there's no third time. If you ever strike the altar again, I'll smash your skull myself."
While holding back on further questions, Godric didn't forget to warn me with a fierce glare. The aura he exuded proved this old man excelled at more than just craftsmanship—I swallowed dryly and nodded.
"...I'll keep that in mind."
"Good. The inspection's done, so head out. We've still got a backlog of visitors."
"...Ah. Wait!"
As Godric shooed me toward the exit, I recalled the Forge of All Things' words amid my jumbled thoughts and hurriedly stopped him.
"Could I watch when other artisans have their works judged by the god?"
Among the god's words was a hint that "this child's work" lacked intervention power. Context suggested it referred to Brina's ogre armor on the altar. Given that the light only came during evaluations of artisans' works, maybe the Forge of All Things could only intervene when an exceptional piece was placed there? If so, witnessing other evaluations might let me hear the god's voice again...
"No."
Despite my hopeful request, Godric shut it down flat.
"You could observe Brina's evaluation earlier only because you'd be the owner of that armor—and even then, because she permitted it."
The moment of having one's creation judged by the god was a sacred honor. No dwarf would want outsiders there, let alone someone who wasn't even the owner.
"It's miraculous that a human received the blessing, but that doesn't grant new privileges. Rules must be followed."
"Urk..."
Facing Godric's unyielding stare that brooked no argument, I hung my head.
"Out you go."
With nothing left to say, I trudged out of the Creation Forge.
Godric followed me to the entrance, as if to guard it still, and sighed at my dejected expression before handing me something.
"Take this instead."
"This is...?"
A silver badge engraved with a hammer and anvil.
"Since you received the Forge of All Things' blessing, we can recognize you as an honorary clansman."
"Whoa. Old man, that's..."
"Show that badge, and you won't face tedious inspections entering the Steel Fortress. It'll even get you a hefty discount on portal fees to the Magic Tower."
From his explanation, it seemed like a citizen's pass for the Steel Fortress—not handed to just anyone, judging by Brina's reaction.
"As long as you qualify properly to observe."
"...Thank you."
Godric glanced at Brina as he spoke, brushing off my thanks with a wave.
Qualify properly to observe...
"Yuseong?"
"...Sorry, Brina. I caused trouble."
"Whatever. Even among dwarves, some go berserk after hearing the Forge of All Things' voice now and then."
"Really?"
"Yeah. They acknowledge it's a god but can't stomach harsh critiques of their work, so they try smashing the altar occasionally."
"........."
Feeling Brina's odd brand of comfort, I gave a wry smile. No wonder they forgave me smashing a divine altar despite my "kindly" reception—they reacted more like it was a tiresome routine than outrage. Turns out I wasn't the first.
......
I walked back to the workshop alongside Brina without further talk, sorting the Forge of All Things' words in my head.
He figured out I'm an otherworlder.
Not that he'd known before—it clicked only after recognizing my existence.
He didn't know about 'me' personally but had some awareness of otherworlders.
And he said 'another incident like this.'
That phrasing suggested I might not be the only otherworlder on this continent. Had there been others in ancient times? Or were there still some out there... people from Earth, like me?
'The hole seemed to be widening, and then this happened.'
The god had uttered "hole" while looking at me. Some entities he called "those bastards" made a "hole," and as it grew, this incident occurred.
Who are 'those bastards'? If even a benevolent god calls them that... evil gods? Did evil gods create this hole, dropping me here?
Did that mean evil gods were behind my arrival on this continent?
...No, too soon to judge. It could be benevolent gods. He didn't outright name evil gods. I wanted to ask for details, but...
My voice didn't reach him. And he wasn't sure his would reach me.
When my voice failed, he mentioned insufficient "intervention power." "Intervention" implied that this power was what gods—or divine beings—needed to act on the mortal plane.
Combined with his nuance about "this child's work" falling short, and Brina's tales of the divine light descending on exceptional offerings...
When dwarves offer their soul-forged masterpieces to the altar, it generates 'intervention power' based on quality, allowing the god to intervene?
That was my rough guess.
To recreate that... no, repeating the same won't work—my voice still won't reach. So, a superior work on the altar?
I couldn't let go of this hard-won clue. My mind raced for ways to hear the Forge of All Things again.
...Dwarves don't offer unsatisfying works. So, at minimum, I need their masterpieces recognized as 'mine' to observe...
Forget price—the issue was whether any dwarf would let an outsider watch their pinnacle work's judgment, as Godric said.
To hear the god again and send my voice, we'd need something surpassing this ogre armor...
...Huh? If all dwarves hate observers, why did Brina allow it?
Because I got the (fake) blessing? But Godric seemed amazed yet didn't grant special treatment...
"Doesn't it bother you that I watched the god's judgment of your work, Brina?"
"Huh? Nah. You sourced the materials, you'll wear the armor, we mined together, and you helped a bit with hammering while I taught you the eye for it..."
"I see."
She counted my involvement in gathering materials, learning appraisal, and assisting with forging as participation. So if I sourced materials next time too...
"...Plus, I need a favor from you, so gotta keep you sweet..."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing. Done thinking?"
"For now."
Bit by bit, I was piecing together a path to converse with the Forge of All Things again. Brina grinned and handed over the armor.
"You were too out of it earlier to take this."
"Oh, right. Thanks...?"
Taking back the armor I'd forgotten amid the chaos, I felt a subtle difference from when I'd lifted it that morning.
"Duh, it got blessed."
"Blessed?"
"Told you—works meeting the Forge of All Things' standards sometimes receive the blessing. Let's see what's infused..."
Brina eyed the armor, drew a dagger, and suddenly hacked at the same spot repeatedly.
"What are you doing?!"
"Hold on."
It held firm as expected from her sturdy craftsmanship, but knowing its weak points as the maker, Brina's strikes quickly scratched and tore it.
But only briefly.
-Tzzzzz!!
"...Huh?"
The scratches and tears vanished as if time had rewound, restoring it perfectly.
"...What the hell is this?"
"That's the Forge of All Things' blessing. Restoration function, and since it's ogre hide... maybe some flesh enhancement too?"
Slipping it on, I indeed felt stronger without using mana.
What is this...? No mana flow at all. Is this divine power?
Though I'd never experienced it, this felt like the "buffs" from the Justice Church priests—sudden strength without adaptation lag, as if it had always been mine. Plus self-repair...
"It's like an enchant."
Amazed, I recalled the enchanted gear from Palos.
"...Enchant? Pfft! Comparing the blessing to those spell-slingers' cheap tricks?!"
Brina flipped out and swung at my head for real.
-Whoosh!!
"Fuck, who actually swings?!"
"You deserve it for saying that crap."
While ranting, she explained that divine blessings outclassed enchants entirely. Unlike enchants needing mana stones and such, blessings came straight from the god—no extras required. Effects were permanent, not temporary; they acted as external forces without adaptation periods, feeling innate from the start.
"Don't say that in front of other dwarves. They'll smash your head if you diss their blessed masterpieces with 'enchant' talk."
"Got it..."
Dwarves might be more hot-blooded than beastkin. Still, satisfaction with the armor lightened my cluttered mind tangled by the god stuff. Noticing my smile, Brina stretched grandly and slapped my back with a crack.
-Smack!!
"Gah?!"
"Anyway, let's grab drinks. Best way to clear a messy head is booze."
Her suggestion to drink despite the early hour threw me, but...
"...Yeah. Let's go."
With my head ready to burst from complexity, I decided to empty it clean and followed Brina to the tavern.