The Lord Who Levels Up by Devouring - Chapter 138

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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Chapter 138. The Blacksmith of the Allied Forces (1)
Beyond the windows of the Count’s Castle reception hall lay a landscape blanketed in snow.
Each time the wind brushed past, the frost clinging to the window’s edges trembled slightly.
Winter had passed, yet the reception hall remained suffused with a biting chill.
A fireplace on one side burned vigorously, pushing back the frigid air that had seeped into the room—
“It’s rather warm.”
…Warm?
Seraphia found herself doubting her own ears for a moment.
She had never expected to hear such words in the Whitewolf Territory, where perpetual winter reigned year-round.
This was the first time Seraphia had ever heard such a thing in her life.
Seraphia cast a cautious glance at the two figures seated across from her, her expression bewildered.
Rippling, muscular frames.
Shorter in stature than Seraphia herself.
Yet radiating an undeniable, imposing presence.
‘How fascinating…!’
These dwarves, whom I was seeing for the first time in my life, were truly extraordinary.
The dwarves I had learned about from books.
They were an exceptionally reclusive race.
There was almost no interaction with humans, though occasionally a few dwarven craftsmen ventured into human society.
But even they, I had learned, never abandoned their own kingdom.
Yet here dwarves had come directly to the snow-covered Whitewolf Territory.
This was something I had never read about in any book.
Seraphia’s eyes sparkled with wonder—it was at that very moment.
“Are you Adrian Whitewolf?”
“I… No, that’s not right.”
Seraphia cleared her throat with a soft cough.
“I am Seraphia Whitewolf, Count of House Whitewolf.”
“Then who is Adrian Whitewolf?”
“He is my older brother.”
“Your older brother?”
“Yes. By now, the steward should have informed you, so he should arrive shortly—”
Before Seraphia could finish her words.
Thud, thud.
Footsteps echoed from beyond the door.
Soon the reception hall door opened, and Adrian appeared.
* * *
Dwarves.
A race born long ago when elves fractured and divided.
Strictly speaking, they should have been called Dark Elves rather than dwarves.
Yet the subterranean environment had transformed them so profoundly, and they themselves no longer considered themselves kin to the elves.
In the end, they too accepted the designation of “dwarf” bestowed upon them by humans, and it became their new identity.
Thus, dwarves possessed certain unique cultures and characteristics all their own.
The most prominent among these was their method of self-introduction.
First, how humans introduced themselves.
“Allow me to introduce myself formally. I am Seraphia Whitewolf, Count of House Whitewolf. It is an honor to meet such great craftsmen.”
A method of conveying one’s social position through family name and title.
Even non-nobles followed this pattern.
Born as the so-and-so child among so many brothers and sisters, and so forth.
Iliana said this reflected humanity’s nature as social creatures, but regardless.
Dwarves were different.
Their method of self-definition was fundamentally distinct.
In other words—.
“I am a master of supreme smelting arts, one who shattered the Thunder Mountains with a hammer forged in the heart of flame, and I am Srandel, creator of five masterworks: Silver Flash, the Iron Oath, Blooming Inferno, the Bloodsteel Hammer, and the Howling Thunderbolt.”
…Something along those lines.
Origin mattered not to dwarves, nor did family, nor rank.
Only the techniques they had honed. The achievements they had attained.
And the masterworks they had left behind.
A dwarf’s identity was forged solely through their own accomplishments.
This is why dwarves were resolute, forthright, and possessed unwavering pride.
Though this gave them an air of self-aggrandizement, the dwarves’ technical prowess was born not of boasting, but of genuine confidence.
And sitting beside Srandel was another dwarf.
He was the clan chief of the dwarves, and among them, the craftsman who had achieved the greatest accomplishments.
Commander of the Engineering Corps.
A hero of the Allied Forces.
“Broombar.”
The greatest Blacksmith in the history of the Continent itself.
In any case, it was identical to my past life.
Broombar did not introduce himself with such grandiosity.
Had he done so, well…
It would have taken an entire day merely to enumerate the techniques he had mastered, the achievements he had attained, and the masterworks he had created.
So Broombar introduced himself briefly and simply.
Yet this was not a departure from dwarven custom.
Merely “Broombar.”
In that single name lay all his renown, his skill, his achievements—everything.
He was simply expressing the greatness contained within his own name.
Broombar was truly Broombar.
If there was one difference, it was that he seemed excessively rigid.
The Broombar of my past life was rough but pleasant.
But now, there was no trace of that pleasantness.
On impulse, I activated Predator’s Instinct [S]—.
==【Character Information】==
Name: Broombar
Classification: Mammal, Humanoid, Dwarf
Gender: Male
Age: 64
Traits: Hyper Phantasia [L], Iron Fortress [A+]
A hero of the Allied Forces. The Blacksmith.
This was indeed the Broombar I knew.
The excessive rigidity likely stemmed from one thing….
‘Wariness, perhaps.’
That seemed to be it.
Dwarves were not particularly favorable toward humans.
Of course, compared to elves, their sentiment was less overt.
But fundamentally, they did not trust humans.
In any case, they were a race that had branched off from the elves.
Simply put, the instincts carved into their very genes were not so different.
And it was not born from mere prejudice, but rather a painful lesson etched by historical experience and repeated betrayals.
A hero one could not meet carelessly.
And thus, a hero who could only be lured with bait.
However—.
‘I never expected him to take the bait this quickly.’
The time it took for rumors of Runesteel Ore to spread.
The time it took for Broombar to bite.
It was inevitable that time would be needed.
I had thought he might kick down the doors of Whitewolf Territory tomorrow itself….
‘And yet, he actually did.’
So when Bernard said we had a visitor, I thought it was Ian, but Broombar was unexpected.
Of course.
This did not mean it was a bad thing.
“I am Adrian Whitewolf.”
At my words, Broombar regarded me slowly.
Eyes gleaming sharp as a honed blade.
The pressure emanating from his physique and muscles—forged as if from refined steel—was considerable.
“I’ll be direct. I need Runesteel Ore.”
“What? Runesteel Ore?”
Seraphia tilted her head in confusion.
It was natural, since I had not mentioned it before.
But explanations could wait.
“How much do you require?”
“150,000 tons.”
“Huh?!”
“I’ll provide it.”
“W-what?!?!?!”
Seraphia couldn’t keep pace with the conversation’s tempo.
Her eyes widened in shock, her expression one of utter astonishment.
Even if it was 150,000 tons of Runesteel ore, the value was absolutely staggering.
More than anything, the very existence of such a quantity of Runesteel ore lay beyond the bounds of comprehension.
“O-older brother…? Is it truly p-possible for you…?”
Seraphia stammered as she posed the question.
But this too would require explanation later.
“I cannot simply give it away.”
“A price must be paid.”
150,000 tons of Runesteel ore possessed a value that could not be easily converted to gold—an astronomical sum.
Yet the dwarves possessed the means to pay such a price.
The dwarves—a race of master craftsmen.
Their technological prowess was something humans could never hope to imitate.
The equipment and arms forged by dwarves commanded prices beyond reckoning—
“I will not accept payment.”
“W-what?!”
Seraphia leaped to her feet in surprise.
Her crimson eyes were nearly bursting from their sockets.
“You won’t accept payment…?”
Broombar’s eyes widened as well, clearly taken aback.
Of course, I didn’t truly mean I wouldn’t accept compensation.
“Instead, I have a proposal to offer you.”
“A proposal?”
“Indeed. Rather than explain it here, let us discuss it while observing the situation directly.”
* * *
Whitewolf County 2, where the Runesteel Ore Vein lay buried.
Even within the Frozen Tundra Zone, it was a land gripped by biting cold.
Yet due to the aftermath of the rampaging Light Dragon’s Wrath and Dragon Burst, the surrounding area bore no ice or snow.
Thus, beneath the earth that yawned open like an endless abyss—
“The Runesteel Ore Vein is located approximately 11 kilometers underground.”
“Hmm.”
Broombar let out a low murmur at my words.
Detailed explanation was unnecessary.
Broombar understood well enough what problems 11 kilometers underground presented.
“My proposal is simple: provide the infrastructure necessary to mine the ore vein. In exchange, I will give you the 150,000 tons of Runesteel you require.”
Broombar fell into deep contemplation.
It seemed he was mentally constructing the necessary infrastructure.
I doubted whether such a thing could be conceived in one’s mind, but for Broombar, it was possible.
Not because he was a dwarf, but because he was Broombar—that made it possible.
◆Hyper-Phantasia [L]
: The user can perfectly imagine all [concepts, phenomena, materials, etc.] including even the [laws] that govern them. Based on this, the user can [reorganize] and [transform] the [structure of reality], and can [perceive] the information of concepts and materials with greater precision and refinement.
In other words, ultra-imaginative power.
As the description made clear, he could imagine everything perfectly.
‘Now I understand.’
In my past life, it wasn’t for nothing that Broombar had said such things.
Striking a hammer in one’s mind.
Actual metalworking in the blacksmith’s forge.
There was no difference between the two.
In fact, Broombar could discern any flaws in equipment through imagination alone.
I didn’t know it then, but it was thanks to the Hyper-Phantasia [L] ability.
However, there was one limitation: what could not be imagined.
In other words, it did not apply to what had not been experienced.
“I’ll have to go down and check it myself.”
Broombar suddenly leaped into the pit.
Without any safety measures, as if merely hopping over a low hill.
And yet, eleven kilometers underground, scorching geothermal heat was surging upward.
For a human, merely inhaling would incinerate the lungs.
Even a knight wrapped in aura would have their skin seared.
Without Rigid Body Transformation [U], I myself wouldn’t have dared enter such a temperature.
And he jumps in with his bare body?
It’s madness.
Even Srandel, who had been the Steel Master of the Engineering Corps, didn’t dare leap in.
But with Broombar, things were different.
◆Unbreakable [A+]
: Upon acquiring this skill, the player’s [skin tissue] and [muscle fibers] are restructured into diamond-shaped [chitin crystals]. Through this, the player’s [strength, durability, and resistance] increase by [+34,335%].
Additionally, it grants [indestructible] defense capable of withstanding [physical and magical impacts] as well as [mental damage] from external sources.
【This skill is permanently applied upon acquisition as a passive skill.】
…I wondered if he was even human.
The very fact that it was [A+] rank was absurd.
One tier higher than Isolde’s Perfect Muscle Control [A].
The same rank as Iliana’s Apex Intelligence [A+].
In other words, physical talent that could rival dragons, perhaps even surpass them.
Truly, an “unbreakable fortress.”
How could this possibly be called human?
Well, he wasn’t human anyway.
‘So that’s why he struck metal with his fists and forearms instead of a hammer.’
A mystery that was only now being revealed.
I shouted down through the hole Broombar had leaped into.
“How long will it take?!”
And then.
No answer came back, no matter how long I waited.
I wondered if he was falling faster than the sound could travel upward.
Just as that thought crossed my mind.
-About five days.
A faint voice echoed up from the depths below.
A voice I wouldn’t have heard without my agility stat of 163.8.
…He was falling remarkably fast indeed.
In any case.
‘Five days, then.’
I quickened my pace.
* * *
Dwarves living beneath the earth had evolved into something entirely different from elves.
But the underground environment had transformed far more than just their physical forms.
It had reshaped their very way of life and values, giving birth to a culture uniquely their own.
Most notably, they had developed a profound love for alcohol and feasts.
Profoundly so.
Yet it was far more than mere indulgence.
In dwarven society, alcohol and feasts were sacred cultural practices and rituals.
There were several reasons for this—
First, having rarely seen sunlight in the depths below, alcohol and feasts provided spiritual liberation.
Second, as they pursued technological advancement, groundwater became easily contaminated, making clean water scarce.
Fermented spirits, however, carried far less risk of spoilage and could be consumed safely.
Third, the underground environment was perfectly optimized for fermentation.
The challenge, however, was cultivating grain.
Thus, mushrooms, root vegetables, fungal cultures, and other ingredients native to the depths became staples of the dwarven diet, and through this process, a unique dwarven liquor was born.
As a result.
The notion took root that being unable to drink was ‘unbecoming of a dwarf.’
And so.
Over time, alcohol became far more than a mere commodity—it evolved into a sacred cultural practice and ritual uniquely dwarven.
Therefore, a fine spirit was the surest key to gaining acceptance within dwarven society.
Thus, it was the most reliable passport into their world.
“Adlern.”
Boom—!
Five million gold in additional investment.
“Over the next five days, can you research and produce Night Ale through the night?”
Broombar had taken the bait far faster than I anticipated, leaving me with precious little time to prepare.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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