Overgeared

“Pagma! You have no such thing as shame!’

“Did you come back to die?!”

‘The interest is hot.’

The dwarves were famous for devoting themselves to their work. He heard that the dwarves were the type to turn a blind eye even if a madman suddenly popped out naked. There seemed to be only one exception. A crowd appeared the moment Pagma’s name emerged.

“Everybody, out of the way! It is my job to kill Pagma!”

“Let’s torture him for 10 years instead of just killing him!”

“I will drop a hammer on his little toes.”

“......”

New dwarves were constantly gathering. It had been a long time since the room ran out in the small smithy. Grid was pressed back against the checkout counter and calmly grasped the situation.

‘Should I escape?’

Why were they raging against Pagma? Grid’s experience was too rich for such questions and confusion. He knew that most of Pagma’s actions, while for the sake of justice, had betrayed or injured others. There would naturally be resentment.

‘Sigh.’

However, he hadn’t expected Pagma to even make trouble in Talima, a blacksmith’s holy land. He planned to communicate with the dwarves using the relationship between Pagma and Milepeu (dwarf craftsman).

‘I have to give the dwarves some time to cool down before getting closer.’

It was the moment when the sighing Grid was about to pull out the sword to use Restraint...

“Hey, you guys! Calm down!” The first one to recognise Grid’s identity and the owner of the smithy, Morain, shouted at the dwarves to calm down. “Have your eyes become rotten from making failed works every day? Look closely at him! How can you see Pagma from this ordinary yet unknowingly charming face?”

“......!”

“Certainly...”

The dwarves in the front row who were close to Grid were the first ones to calm down. They grunted as they stared closely at Grid’s face.

“His appearance is ugly compared to the beautiful Pagma.”

“Yes, Pagma was trash, but his appearance was charming. On the other hand, this person is only vaguely charming.”

“His skeletal frame is bigger and his eyes are as sharp as an eagle. He looks like he is going to eat a mouse.”

“……” Grid’s eyes twitched. It was unpleasant to hear evaluations about his appearance when it was hard to tell if they were praises or curses.

look like I’m going to eat a

that he

could be seen well by the dwarves. Then he declared, “I told you in the beginning! He isn’t Pagma, but Pagma's Descendant! Your eyes are all

“Pagma's Descendant...!”

regained their sense of reason. Now all the dwarves had calmed

died

world. No matter how evil he used to

when he saw the dwarves’ disappointed

also feeling

moment Grid had

should’ve beat that

just died comfortably? He should’ve died in terrible

gave up his previous idea. He sighed again as the hundreds of dwarves, including those pressed against the window, stared at him. Grid knew it because he was

is carrying is among the top 10 swords that I’ve seen so

and gaiters. There is the energy of two gods? I would covet it if it was

better than

to take apart those

Gasp, gasp, gasp.

sense of craftsmanship. Those who had lived for hundreds of years witnessed numerous masterpieces, yet they

course, not all dwarves felt admiration. A

at all. There is only a glossy surface just like

that he can’t achieve any rapport with his

his passion and effort into, the materials he collected after risking his life, and the skills recognized by the blacksmithing god, were denied. The soul and rapport—Grid noticed that the concept they were discussing was the ‘ego’

if you swear at Pagma, but... I can’t listen to my work

need to lower his pride just because he was

himself would be denying all the

you deserve to evaluate the work of others?” Grid declared coldly and the atmosphere became

the space, causing the dwarves inside the smithy to step back with amazement. Nevertheless, a few dwarves didn’t back down. They were the ones who demeaned Grid’s work. To be exact, they were craftsmen who had ‘experienced an obsession

you also

selected an item from the stands. It is natural to evaluate all works. You should quit being a blacksmith if

least I don’t sell my conscience to do business like

it

Tang!

and threw his hammer. Grid wasn’t wary at all. It was because Pelot’s throwing skill was only at a rudimentary level and there wasn’t any killing intent in the throw. The trajectory of the hammer was just a simple threat and it slightly

this too sloppy to be called

Hands came out of his inventory and blocked Pelot’s hammer

“This...?!”

eyes of the dwarves

also have a great

pride in the God Hands was unmatched and he took the dwarves’

of