The Mechanic Master

Jinwoo currently wore an SR+-grade Griffin Bone Ring. Crafted from bone, the piece suited the unique traits of his Necromayster class remarkably well.

"I could sell this one."

But comparing it to the UR-grade ring he had just forged—the Crystal Spirit Stone Steel Ring—felt almost disrespectful.

As a ring specialized entirely for defense, both of its special skills were defensive as well. Jinwoo slipped it onto his finger.

"Feels good in a completely different way from the bone ring."

Having exhausted every material, he bowed his head to Hairun—the one who had taught him Deep Smithing and allowed him to use the Dragon's Flame.

"Thank you. Because of you, I was able to take another step forward."

"Nonsense. I'm the one who should be thanking you. I got to witness something truly magnificent. Something no one else could show me—and you did."

Through Jinwoo, Hairun had seen the truth.

"I always believed Deep Smithing belonged to me alone."

A stagnant art. That was how he had thought of it. But Jinwoo, who had learned Deep Smithing from him, had proven otherwise. That this technique had no limits. What had stagnated was not Deep Smithing—it was Hairun's own mind.

"I was wrong. The one who hit his limit was me. When a creator of all things under heaven like you wields ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it, it can go this far! Thank you. Truly, thank you."

The long, stagnant days were over.

"I can grow further too. I can still grow."

Hairun smiled and pulled Jinwoo into a tight embrace.

"This is a map fragment of the Unlimited Mountain."

Hairun held out the piece. The fourth fragment. Only one remained.

"What kind of person is Master Allmaster, if I may ask?"

Having reached even Hairun, Jinwoo found himself genuinely curious.

They all learned from Allmaster, after all.

It had begun with Hoz—an excellent blacksmith in his own right. From those foundational smithing techniques, to Rodin's flame jewelry work, to Mire's Flawless Tailoring, and finally to Hairun's All-Thing Crafting rooted in Deep Smithing.

There's still one more left.

Bexter. Only one disciple remained.

"Our master was a man of endless talents. From the beginning, each of us sought him out because we wanted to learn something different."

They had each come seeking mastery in their own field.

"As you've seen, our disciplines are completely different. Well—Hoz and I are somewhat similar. But Rodin's jewelry craft and Mire's tailoring? Entirely different arts. And yet, when we met one another, we discovered something."

Only after meeting their master did they understand.

"That our teacher was one and the same person."

Countless talents resided in a single body. That was why he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was called the Allmaster.

"He took on many disciples, but he told us we were the only ones who remained. After raising us, he withdrew into seclusion on the Unlimited Mountain."

"Did something happen to him?"

"We have no way of knowing. But one thing is certain: we could never satisfy our ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠master."

"Satisfy him?"

"Yes. Satisfy."

Hairun's face twisted with bitter frustration, as though the memory still burned.

"We gave it everything we had. Every time, Master tried to teach us something more. But we… we couldn't understand. It wasn't that we failed to imitate him. We couldn't even comprehend what he was showing us."

Even if he had wanted to teach them more, he simply could not.

Hoz, Rodin, Mire—all of them are artisans of extraordinary skill.

And even they had been unable to grasp it?

"I still remember it vividly. The way Master taught us with his strength held back."

Oh-ho.

Even after raising disciples of this caliber, the Allmaster still had depths left untapped?

"I would very much like to meet him someday."

"Now that only one map fragment remains… you just might."

Only one left.

"Bexter is probably in Sacra, the engineering city."

"Engineering city?"

"Never heard of it? Across the sea, on the Sacra Archipelago, there's an entire city of machines—an engineering city! That's where Bexter is. His nickname is…"

Hairun said it with pride.

"The Mechanic Master."

After hearing about the last disciple, Bexter, from Hairun, Jinwoo cleaned up the forge.

Preparations are done.

It was time to leave.

Rumble—rumble—rumble—!

As the earth shook once more, Jinwoo sought out Hairun.

"Wait a moment first. This is Iron Helm's affair. There's no need for you to go alone. I'll speak with the dwarf warriors and hunters. Let's form an expedition centered around you and set out together."

Hairun did not want his disciple to shoulder everything alone. If help was to be given, he hoped it would come from the dwarves of Iron Helm themselves.

"It's all right. I want to protect this city of sulfur and lava."

If he wanted more fine materials, this place had to stand.

"Jinwoo…"

"I'll go and take down the corrupted dragon myself."

If he wanted a monopoly on every material, going alone was obviously the better choice.

"I'll still go and secure some help! Even a little support!"

"He still hasn't returned?"

At the heart of Iron Helm stood a massive structure: the Glory of Lava. It served as both the office and home of Iron Helm's leader, Big Hammer. Hairun had come seeking him there.

"Hairun, Big Hammer has not yet returned. What brings you?"

The dwarf who answered him looked stern and stiff-backed. Most dwarves were proud of their beards, and this one's was particularly magnificent.

"The earthquakes are getting worse, aren't they? The volcano feels ready to blow at any moment."

"It's still manageable. Big Hammer will return soon. Then we'll form an expedition and go after the corrupted dragon again, so stop fretting and wait."

"I have something to say about that."

Hairun told them about Jinwoo—about how his new disciple intended to hunt the corrupted dragon and put an end to the crisis.

"He's a disciple I took on recently, and his skill far exceeds my own."

"Hairun, have you come here to play a joke?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Yes. That's why I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠asked. You're a blacksmith. So naturally your disciple is a blacksmith too, isn't he?"

A blacksmith—not a warrior, not a hunter—was going to hunt a corrupted dragon?

"How am I supposed to take that? Are you asking us to pray for his soul because he's going off to die?"

The dwarf sneered. The dwarves gathered around stared at Hairun as though he'd lost his mind.

"Hairun! Anxious or not, a blacksmith hunting a dragon?!"

"Everyone knows blacksmiths are great, but we each have our domain! This is the realm of warriors and hunters!"

"A domain no blacksmith could ever conquer!"

Hairun's brow furrowed. Of course he had expected this reaction.

"I'm sorry, but we can't offer support."

"Doesn't matter. Just don't try to stop him."

Instead of backing down, Hairun's stubborn pride flared. The truth was, even he hadn't truly believed Jinwoo could hunt the corrupted dragon. That was why he had wanted even a little help from them. With just a bit of support, they might have been able to suppress the beast enough under Jinwoo's lead. If it delayed the volcano erupting and Iron Helm sinking into lava—even a little—wasn't that a gain? With no way of knowing when Big Hammer would return, it had seemed the best option available.

But all of that had become meaningless. They were insulting his disciple like this?

"Then if I solve it and return—"

A voice spoke up from behind them.

"Jinwoo."

Every dwarf's gaze turned toward him. He wore casual clothes and carried a single hammer. Yet even in those simple garments, his muscular build was impossible to miss at a glance.

"What kind of rewards would you be able to offer?"

At Jinwoo's question, the dwarves snorted with laughter.

"A blacksmith, you said? Looking at that body, I don't think you're lying! Fine. If you somehow save our Iron Helm—"

"I'll give you the Noble Flame Silk I was saving!"

"I'll give you Deepstone that only comes from the deepest parts of our mines!"

"No—I'll just give you access rights to our mines!"

The dwarves piled on, each tossing out a prize. It was proof they didn't believe a word of what Jinwoo was saying.

Typical dwarves.

Jinwoo listened to every reward they named and smiled with quiet satisfaction.

They've stockpiled quite a lot for later use, haven't they?

And the materials were all precious—many of them so rare he didn't even know their names. This was more than enough.

These will make excellent bonuses on the side.

"You all promised, yes?"

Jinwoo grinned.

"You can't take it back now."