Hearing the rough voice, Caius paused for a moment and looked at the door handle. Sure enough, there was a sign hanging there.

  However, instead of saying "Closed for Rest," it read "Forging in Progress."

  "Doesn't this say 'Forging in Progress'?" Caius asked.

  Without turning his head, the burly dwarf replied, "'Forging in Progress' means we're not open. 'Closed for Rest' means we're open."

  Was it reversed?

  But Caius quickly understood.

  "Forging in Progress" meant that this dwarf blacksmith was in the middle of crafting weapons—custom orders, no doubt. And when he was taking orders, that was when he stopped forging.

  Caius chuckled and said, "I'm not here to place an order; I'm here to forge a weapon."

  Clang! With a crisp sound, the dwarf hammered the glowing-hot piece of metal into an iron brick. Then, putting down his hammer, he turned around.

  It was only then that Caius got a clear look at him.

  Dwarves were called dwarves because their height rarely exceeded 1.5 meters—shorter than Kiki, even. But their builds were much larger than Kiki’s.

  Despite standing only around 1.4 meters tall, this dwarf had an extremely muscular physique. His hands were huge, almost the same size as Caius's, and when he flexed his arms, the bulging muscles looked like small mountains.

  And then there was the signature beard of the dwarves.

  The one before him had a beard so thick it connected to his eyebrows. Caius could only see his prominent nose and the eyes beneath his thick brows—his mouth was entirely obscured.

  The dwarf looked at Caius, then raised his thick eyebrows, revealing his eyes fully, as if somewhat surprised.

  After scrutinizing Caius for a moment, he nodded. "With muscles like that, it’d be a shame if you didn’t become a blacksmith."

  Caius: "..."

  "You sound just like my old man," Caius said with a laugh before stating his purpose. "I'm just looking for a place to forge a weapon."

  "Most smithies don't have the equipment to handle high-grade materials, so I came here."

  "You're a blacksmith?" the dwarf asked.

  "Sort of," Caius replied.

  "It's either yes or no. What do you mean 'sort of'?" The dwarf sounded displeased—clearly a straightforward and hot-tempered type.

  Caius clarified, "My old man was a true blacksmith, and I learned his craft. But I don't intend to be a blacksmith myself—I'm a mercenary now."

  "So, being a mercenary is my main job. Blacksmithing is just a side gig."

  Hearing this, the dwarf fell silent for a moment before saying, "I have the best blacksmithing equipment in all of Ocean City and the surrounding regions."

  "But not just anyone can use it."

  "Kid, if you want to forge in my smithy, you have to be my apprentice."

  Caius: "..."

  Seriously? Why did every blacksmith he met want to take him as an apprentice?

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  Was it just because of his muscles? Did they think it was a waste if he didn’t become a blacksmith?

  Caius looked helpless. "I'm just looking for a place to forge. Why are you trying to recruit me as an apprentice?"

  Dwarf: "Just say yes or no. If not, leave—I’ve got forging to do."

  Caius: "..."

  Stubborn, just like his old man.

  Left with no choice, Caius asked, "What are the requirements for being an apprentice? What do I have to do?"

  "Forge weapons," the dwarf said.

  "Every day?" Caius asked.

  "No, once every two days is fine."

  "How long each time?"

  "Two days."

  Caius: "..."

  Forging for two days straight?!

  Most people would collapse at the smithy.

  Caius could handle it, but he didn’t have that much time—he was a mercenary with plenty of work to do.

  "How about this—I’ll pay you," Caius offered.

  "One million," the dwarf said.

  Caius: "..."

  Why not just rob me?

  "Can we... negotiate a lower price?" Caius asked tentatively.

  "Hah!" The dwarf sneered. "If you don't have money, be my apprentice. If you don't want to be my apprentice, leave. My hammer alone is worth a million—why should I let you touch it for free?"

  Caius knew that blacksmiths treated their hammers like treasures.

  His old man had even claimed "Angel" was worth ten million.

  So Caius said, "I have my own hammer."

  "You think your hammer can compare to mine?" The dwarf scoffed.

  Caius didn't argue. Instead, a flash of light appeared in his hand, and the "Angel" warhammer materialized.

  Instantly, the dwarf’s eyes widened.

  Caius was satisfied with the reaction. Every blacksmith he’d met had the same expression upon seeing his hammer.

  But the dwarf’s reaction wasn’t just admiration—it was shock and disbelief.

  "So? Is it good enough?" Caius grinned.

  This hammer was top-tier; every blacksmith who saw it said so.

  But the dwarf didn’t answer. Instead, he took a step forward—suddenly standing right in front of Caius.

  The gust of wind that came with him made Caius's pupils contract.

  So fast!

  Dwarves weren’t known for their speed. Strength was their forte.

  If this dwarf’s weakest attribute—speed—was this impressive, then his true strength must be terrifying.

  Then, Caius experienced firsthand the power of the dwarf.

  Without asking for permission, the dwarf grabbed his hammer—as if trying to take it away.

  Caius was stunned but immediately tightened his grip, engaging in a contest of strength.

  Yet, for the first time, he lost.

  And he lost completely.

  With almost no resistance, the dwarf snatched the hammer from his grasp.

  Fortunately, the dwarf didn’t seem to be actually stealing it. He simply held it, examining it closely, his movements unusually gentle—almost as if afraid of breaking it.

  Seeing this careful, reverent treatment, Caius's expression softened a bit. "Give it back," he said.

  If the dwarf refused, Caius was prepared to use every means to retrieve it.

  This was his old man's legacy.

  But the dwarf didn’t respond.

  Caius furrowed his brow, preparing to take action.

  Just as he was about to move, the dwarf suddenly looked up and asked, "What’s your relationship with Tobias?"

  Caius froze.

  Tobias—that was his old man’s name.

  "He was my adoptive father. You knew him?" Caius asked, stopping his preparations.

  The dwarf didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, "How is he now?"

  "He passed away," Caius said. "This hammer is his legacy."

  "Passed away..." The dwarf staggered back two steps, then lowered his head, staring at the "Angel" warhammer in silence.

  Caius didn’t press him. He could feel the deep sorrow emanating from the dwarf, even spotting tears in his eyes.

  Dwarves were known for their stubbornness. If one shed tears, it meant they had lost something truly precious.

  After a long while, the dwarf finally recovered.

  He handed the hammer back to Caius, muttering as he walked away, "Dead... That’s good. At least he won’t suffer anymore..."

  Caius took the hammer and couldn't help but ask, "Do you know something?" "What kind of person was my old man when he was alive?" "He never told you?" The dwarf turned to ask.

  Caius shook his head.

  "Then don't ask. If he didn't want you to know, I don't want you to know either." "But since you've inherited his hammer, it means he trusted you." "Otherwise, he would have melted his hammer down into a tombstone and carved his name onto it."

  The dwarf then shook his head, waved his hand, and said, "Feel free to use whatever you need here. I'm going to drink, so don’t bother me."

  With that, he casually picked up a bottle from the ground and walked deeper into the Tavern, seemingly lost in his own sorrow.

  Caius silently watched him before finally nodding.

  He had many questions.

  For instance, what was the relationship between this dwarf and his old man? What exactly did his old man do when he was alive? And what was the story behind this hammer?

  But in the end, he chose not to ask.

  Because knowing these things now would only bring more worries.

  He had a feeling that the truth wouldn't be pleasant. And seeing even this incredibly powerful dwarf fall into such silence, he knew that learning the truth now wouldn't do him any good.

  He hated that feeling of powerlessness. So, he would wait until he was stronger, until he had a better relationship with this dwarf. Then, he would ask.

  For now, his priority was refining the materials needed for Little Swan’s weapon.