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

be evaluated as charming. It was also a very high evaluation considering that he was being compared to Pagma. Based on the murals and memories of the past, Pagma had a beauty

seen well by the dwarves. Then he

“Pagma's Descendant...!”

who rushed over after hearing Pagma’s name finally regained

Pagma died in the

no longer in this world. No matter how evil he used to

when he

him while also feeling

Grid had this

should’ve beat

died comfortably? He should’ve

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

good as Pagma's Descendant? The sword he is carrying

like the balance between the shoulder guards and gaiters. There is the energy of two gods? I would covet it if

better than

take

Gasp, gasp, gasp.

Grid made directly were stimulating the dwarves’ sense of craftsmanship. Those who had lived for hundreds of years witnessed numerous masterpieces, yet they were still impressed by Grid’s level of work. It was natural. Grid’s equipment included

felt admiration.

is no soul at all. There

he is Pagma's Descendant that he can’t achieve any rapport with his

It was normal to be displeased when the works he poured all 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’ he had

but... I can’t

need to lower his pride just because he

would be denying all the experience he had accumulated and

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

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

also evaluate our

an

my conscience to

it a

Tang!

mane—Pelot, the owner of this hairstyle that highlighted his bigger face even more, became furious while arguing with Grid and threw his hammer. Grid wasn’t wary at all. It was because Pelot’s

this too sloppy to

God Hands came out of his

“This...?!”

of the dwarves widened

have a great

God Hands was unmatched and he took the dwarves’ response

son of