Raising all of humanity: Starting with a backyard pool world

Chapter 77 [Registered Disciple]

"Whoosh—whoosh—"

Apart from the ugly bellows cobbled together from scrap metal, tirelessly spewing out powerful airflow that made the flames in the furnace roar like a dragon's cry, there was no other sound.

The mocking smiles on their faces, as if watching a monkey show, had not yet completely faded, creating a comical and absurd scene when they changed faces later.

Look at that frail mortal standing behind the forging table, easily pressing the lever with just one hand.

Then look at that furnace, which has been blasted by the strong wind and is now shining brightly.

Finally, they looked down at their own thick, powerful arms, and a sense of absurdity washed over them.

Huh? This talent doesn't seem to be so unique?

Braum maintained his victorious posture, holding aloft the runic dagger that filled him with pride.

The work that embodied the dwarven craftsmanship and bloodline power looked somewhat ridiculous in front of the simple, ugly toy opposite it.

"Cough..." The head apprentice was the first to recover from the shock.

He coughed dryly, trying to regain control of the situation, but his cough sounded somewhat slurred.

"The duel... is over." He announced with difficulty, "According to the rules, the mortal side failed to forge any qualified 'work,' so..."

He wanted to say "You lost," but the words stuck in his throat and he couldn't bring himself to say them.

Because the few white-haired, dwarven master craftsmen in the front row of the forge, who had been alerted, were staring at him "peacefully" with a murderous gaze.

Mason did "lose" in this duel, but all the dwarves felt a burning pain in their faces.

A squad of heavily armored royal guards marched with measured, heavy steps through the crowd and straight to the center of the forge.

The head guard, whose helmet was adorned with a golden tribal emblem, ignored everyone else, focusing his attention on Mason and Balin.

"By order of my king, I summon the mortal chieftain Mason and the explorer Balin to the palace for an audience."

The king... was actually alarmed?

Bahrain shuddered, composed himself, and nervously straightened his tattered leather armor.

Mason looked somewhat bewildered and glanced back at his companions.

A commotion arose among the human ranks. They did not understand the dwarven language, but they could tell the seriousness of the situation from the awe-inspiring reaction of the "palace" and the surrounding dwarves.

"Come with me," Balin whispered to Mason, then bowed respectfully to the captain of the guard.

Mason gave his teammates a reassuring look and then followed Bahrain, "escorted" by the palace guards.

After passing through countless checkpoints, we arrived at the magnificent palace that stood atop the Iron Fortress, perpetually shrouded in steam and smoke.

The side halls of the palace were far more spacious and simple than Mason had imagined.

Huge gears and intricate pipes stretched along the walls, emitting a low hum.

At the far end of the side hall, on a throne carved from a single piece of black, translucent stone, sat an incredibly ancient dwarf.

His beard was so long it almost dragged on the ground, completely white, and braided into dozens of intricate braids, each with a metal ring symbolizing his achievements.

Lord of Ironforge, King of the Dwarves, Thoradin.

Thoradin seemed to pierce through the distance of space, as if examining Mason's soul.

The ancient and profound gaze made Mason feel as if all his thoughts had been read.

"That tool, you came up with it?" Thoradin asked, surprisingly using a somewhat awkward Common Language.

Mason paused for a moment, then, at Balin's prompting, stepped forward and respectfully replied, "Yes."

"Why?" the Dwarf King asked the simplest yet most profound question.

Why?

Mason fell silent.

He recalled the night in the valley when he was powerless against wild beasts.

He recalled the despair of trying his best but being unable to scratch a mark on the sheet of metal.

He thought of the dwarf Balin, his rune-inlaid battleaxe that could easily cleave boulders, and the phrase "from the bloodline."

"Because..." Mason raised his head, meeting the dwarf king's gaze, and said, word by word, "Because we are weak."

Bahrain wanted to help translate it more "properly," but was stopped by the determination in Mason's eyes.

"Our bodies are not as strong as yours, and we do not have innate strength in our blood."

"We cannot hear the whispers of the ore, nor can we activate the runes with blood."

"To survive, we have to calculate how to minimize the effort required every time we swing the hammer;"

"Every time we build something, we have to think about how to make it more stable."

"We have no talent to rely on, so we can only rely on our minds."

"Levers, pulleys, linkages... these things that may seem like tricks to you are the only way we learned to survive from countless failures and deaths."

"We are not here to steal the dwarves' glory."

"We just want to learn how to turn a stone into a tool that can protect our family."

Mason's words plunged the large side hall into a long silence.

King Thoradin the Dwarf listened quietly, and for the first time, a ripple appeared in his usually calm eyes.

We are weak... therefore we must think.

Powerful... so it's only natural.

He recalled the dwarves' triumphant progress in the path of forging over tens of thousands of years, their confidence and glory stemming from their innate talent.

But it is precisely this self-confidence that makes them content with the status quo and with the continuous exploration of their talents, but rarely considers whether there is another completely different path.

……

【Celestial Realm】Main Tank.

The divine consciousness of Lynch, the god of forging, quietly withdrew from the dwarf king Thoradin.

When Mason uttered the words "because we are weak," Lynch's [Forging] authority resonated with an unprecedented intensity.

The pleasure it brings is a hundred times stronger than that of any dwarf genius who climbs the sacred mountain of artisans he left behind!

Lynch was wrong.

The "Path to the Sacred Mountain" that he left for the dwarves stipulated what should be learned and mastered at each stage, and it seemed to be a broad road leading to divine arts.

But perhaps it really is a magnificent cage.

It selects the most talented successors, but also stifles all other possibilities.

True creation is never born from privilege and wealth.

Rather, it is born from the unknown, scarcity, and... the most primal desire to survive.

Since becoming a god, Lynch seems to have never thought about these things again...

He couldn't remember exactly how long it had been.

……

Inside the side hall of the Iron Fortress.

King Thoradin of the Dwarves finally spoke again.

"Humans, your skills are not worth mentioning."

Mason and Bahrain's hearts sank to the bottom.

"But..." Thoradin changed the subject, "your wisdom deserves respect."

"From today onwards, Ironforge will open its outer city's thirteenth basic forging academy to your human team for one year... You will be granted the status of 'nominal disciples'."

"You can learn how to identify ores, how to build furnaces, how to perform basic material heat treatment, and how to make the most basic tools."

"However, all core techniques involving 'runes' and 'bloodline power' remain closed to you."

"One year from now, leave this place with what you have learned."

This ruling delighted Mason and Bahrain.

This is more than just a learning opportunity.

This is the first time that humanity, this newly born civilization, has won the formal recognition of a powerful civilization without relying on force or divine grace, but purely on its own wisdom!

That evening, the news reached the human group who had been settled in temporary accommodations, and everyone shed tears of excitement.

The next day, under the personal guidance of the chief apprentice, Mason and his team of "Forge Seekers" entered the Basic Forging Academy, which was like a sacred place to them.

The college was filled with smoke and the clanging of firecrackers was constant.

Countless young dwarven apprentices were busy at their respective forging tables.

When they saw the group of ragged humans walk in, they all stopped what they were doing.

Those gazes were incredibly complex, a mixture of yesterday's contempt, today's curiosity, a hint of resentment, and even a trace of...jealousy that only a very few geniuses could understand.