The Max Level Hero Has Returned!-Novel

“Ah…” Everyone let out a shameful sigh and frowned. Then, Elder Golgouda also glared at the Primordial Inferno and ground his teeth. He seemed so infuriated that tears were forming in his eyes.

“I guess there’s nothing more to see here! The men of our tribe are here! Don’t be stubborn and hand it over now!” Torres yelled in anger.

While Golgouda collapsed onto his knees with a dejected expression, a few young dwarf men followed Torres into the workshop and began taking the parts of the Primordial Inferno. They wrapped the separate pieces in the cloth they had prepared.

-You?

Davey was done organizing his thoughts. He knew that not everything in the world would go his way, but he felt this situation had become more complicated than he had expected.

“Huh?”

Davey silently stood up and went into the Central Workshop, grabbing a small hammer near him as he headed in. The dwarves looked at him with puzzled expressions, but he walked past them and reached the Primordial Inferno. Then, he stared at Golgouda, who was sitting hopelessly near the sword.

“You…”

“May I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Elder, are you really a true craftsman?” Davey’s voice was far colder than anyone had imagined.

26. Let’s Call You Blue Ribbon and Red Ribbon.

The heated atmosphere of the Central Workshop grew cold in seconds. At first, Elder Golgouda did not understand what Davey was saying; however, as realization dawned upon him, he glared at Davey with bulging eyes. His gaze was one of intense anger, and he looked like he wanted to grab his hammer and hit Davey with it right this second. Golgouda asked quietly, “What did you say?”

“A true craftsman feels the soul of what they are making and respects it. But you, Elder, threw it away from the beginning.”

Golgouda flinched at Davey’s reply.

[Although it’s very faint, a soul enters everything that a craftsman creates. A person who disrespects this fact has no right to be called a craftsman. Crush their heads!]

There was one thing that Davey had mastered at a similar level to his teacher at the Hall, and that was blacksmithing. Out of all the heroes who had taught Davey, Surtr had been most devoted to teaching him and the fastest to improve him. It wasn’t because he had been an exceptional teacher, but because Davey was unique in that he had learned many other skills, such as magic, swordsmanship, alchemy, holy power, and more. Normally, one’s lifetime was too short and people didn’t have the capacity to master all these subjects. In that sense, the skills Surtr had taught Davey coincidentally suited him well. Although, he couldn’t catch up to the delicate handwork of that crazy talented blacksmith.

“A human?” Torres, the dwarf of the Blackstone Tribe, frowned when he noticed that Davey was here. He shouted, “Hey, Grandpops Golgouda. Now you’re bringing humans into the Central Workshop? Since when did the Central Workshop become a place where anyone could enter?!”

“Davey! Stand back! You’re not part of this!!” Eighth Elder Goulda, who brought Davey here, quickly tried to stop Davey as soon as Torrs spoke. Still, he kept his eyes on Golgouda.

“Let me change the question. Do you really want to fix this?” Davey asked Golgouda.

“What are you saying? Of course, I…” Golgouda replied with a frown. However, Davey cut him off before he could finish.

“Then why did you do it?”

Golgouda’s eyes widened at Davey’s question.

“Does pride sustain you?”

The mana circulation system of the Primordial Inferno had come to an end. A regular lump of metal could last for tens of thousands of years if properly maintained, but it was impossible for an artifact mixed with mana to last that long since the metal itself would become weathered by the mana.

“Hey, human! What are you doing?! How dare you get near that! Get away!”

A few dwarves came to their senses and ran over to Davey to stop him.

“What are you thinking? How dare you interfere here.”

“Get lost right now!”

The atmosphere began heating up again as the dwarves scowled, looking like they were going to smash Davey’s head in with their hammers if he did something.

“This exceeds his authority! We must formally make a complaint to the Rowane Kingdom!”

“Elder Goulda! How are you going to take responsibility for this?”

The voices of the livid dwarves were getting louder, and some dwarves were coming at Davey to try and pull Davey away.

“Elder Golgouda.”

“…”

“You don’t have an answer?”

Golgouda squinted at Davey, as if trying to figure Davey out. “You. What kind of nonsense is…”

“Do you not want to fix it? Or are you trying to escape reality by giving an already dead artifact misplaced significance?”

Some of the dwarves flinched at Davey’s words. “You…”

“Three thousand years, right? I think it’s been that long since the Primordial Inferno has been made, and it has tirelessly protected this village for that time.”

As Golgouda clenched his jaw, Davey continued, “You’re trying to revive a sword that has passed its natural lifespan? You call yourselves craftsmen? This precious sword has been your spiritual anchor, and yet you treat it like this?”

“Woah!!”

“Keugh!”

“Since when did dwarves become this shameless?” Davey remarked.

Dwarves were a race of craftsmen; they were skilled and deserved to be called the best in the continent. So how could they not know the condition of an item that had died and could no longer be revived?

“No!!”

Some of the dwarves screamed, but Davey walked over to another sword part and did the same thing. The dwarves swarmed him, but he kept throwing the parts into the furnace without a word.

“You damn human!”

“Do you want to die?!”

With menacing, bloodshot eyes, the dwarves swung their hammers at Davey like they were trying to kill him. Even if it was broken, the Primordial Inferno was probably still the symbol of their species. However, some dwarves, including Elder Golgouda and Torres, the dwarf from the Blackstone Tribe, just vacantly stared at Davey.

“N… No…”

“That’s it…”

At last, the dwarves collapsed onto their knees with blank expressions. They looked at the sword parts that were thrown into the furnace. There were looks of anger, emptiness, and extreme confusion. Some dwarves were even shedding tears in frustration.

-I’ve never seen those stubborn bulls be that dismal.

Ignoring Perserque’s chatter, Davey coldly criticized the dwarves, “The sword is already dead, but you just don’t know if you can make a new one.”

“Shut up! You don’t know anything! Stop speaking as if you do!”

“I should beat you to death!”

Some of the dwarves threateningly glared at Davey.

“You didn’t even try because you thought it was impossible? You guys are supposed to be the greatest craftsmen!!”

“Stop it! How miserable are you going to make us?!” One of the bitter-looking elders shouted in sorrow.

The dwarves probably knew that it was pointless trying to fix this sword, which had already reached the end of its life, and that they weren’t skilled enough to create a new one. They couldn’t admit it because of their strong sense of pride, and it led them to self-rationalize and believe that nothing could ever replace this sword. It was the worst thing a craftsman could do.

“We are the most skilled among the craftsmen in this continent, and even we couldn’t restore it!” The dwarves shouted, “Then, are you saying that you can create this damn sacred sword?”

“Yes,” Davey replied calmly.

“You must be joking! Even the best craftsmen cannot handle the metal refined with that strange arrangement, and you think you can do it?! A greenhorn human prince?”

“It is none other than the work of the ‘Thousand-day Blacksmith’! It’s not something that can be made with your trivial skills!”

“Then just accept it and learn, you people,” Davey said.

-Think of it in this way. Your plan is useless if you can’t win them over…

It was befitting to be called the Central Workshop, the place where the best of the best craftsmen gathered; this was the dwarves’ pride and dignity.

Davey immediately turned to face the enormous Great Furnace that could reach up to 3000 degrees Celsius. It was the dwarves’ pride, the pinnacle of their skills. A red fire was still wavering inside from its earlier use. He could feel the intense heat that prevented any regular person from approaching it.

However, releasing his mana, Davey stuck his hand inside the furnace without hesitation and cast a spell with his hands. A strange unfamiliarity followed, since this method used mana in a completely different way. It was the mana crafting method: the method that most craftsmen didn’t dare to try, and the specialty and vision of Surtr, the ‘Thousand-day Blacksmith’. It was a method that was created by a bizarre way of thinking.

“Hup?!”

“Th… The color of the flame…”