I Got a Gallery in the Wild - Chapter 261

Ever since the Artificial Guardian made its appearance in Alfheim, the world fell into chaos.

It was a well-known fact to everyone that Alfheim’s movements had been suspicious all along.

Thus, each country had dispatched intelligence agents and spies, closely monitoring the situation.

Under such circumstances, an astonishing invention known as the Artificial Guardian made its debut.

Aside from the innate strength of their race, elves were originally known for lacking technological prowess.

To be precise, their magic was quite good, but their scientific technology fell short. This was inevitable, as they rarely felt the need for it.

As Grylls had said, to realize inconvenience, one must first experience convenience.

Since most elves possessed conservative and exclusionist attitudes, it was a natural course of events.

As a result, the perception that Alfheim lacked technological capability had persisted for centuries, but they shattered that head-on.

Title) Never look down on elves again

We elves are now a technological powerhouse too!

Re: Built just one Guardian and you’re talking like this, lolol.

Re: So did you guys build one? lol

Re: We didn’t build one because there’s no reason to, lol.

Re: It’ll be a miracle if you can even farm well with that, lol.

Re: Sure. You guys go plow with oxen. We’ll just build an ox, lolol.

Re: Sh*t, isn’t something weird about that?

Re: Building an ox might actually be better than raising one...?

The Artificial Guardian in particular delivered a massive shock to humans and dwarves alike.

Both humans and dwarves prided themselves on being second to none when it came to technology.

Humans led global affairs with their uniquely powerful organizational capacity, while dwarves produced all sorts of items with their innate craftsmanship.

However, the Artificial Guardian revealed by Alfheim this time was more than enough to deal a heavy blow to that pride.

Title) Dwarves are probably the most terrified right now

Dwarves originally lived off flexin’ their insane tech skills, but lately they’re getting crushed everywhere.

With the arrival of the Artificial Guardian, everyone realized elves have potential no less than dwarves, and their brewing skills are currently getting slammed by the Demon Race.

If they fall properly behind at this rate, it’s obvious as day what will happen to their minerals, lolol.

Re: Real, whenever mineral prices went up, it was always these dwarf bastards pulling petty tricks, lol.

Re: Ah, lol. Demon-brewed beer tastes way better now, lolol.

Re: Take that back...!

Re: Nope, not gonna! lol

Humans were one thing, but dwarves—that is to say, Mountain—could not stand idly by.

Especially since Mountain shared a border with Alvenheim, treating it as a threat was only natural.

"The situation with the elves lately isn’t ordinary. A war isn’t really going to break out, is it?"

"Tell me about it. El Dorado too... the world is truly ending, ending."

Even for dwarves who turned a blind eye to everything except their own work and beer, this matter couldn’t be easily overlooked.

It dealt a blow to dwarven pride, and the elves had caused so many incidents on a regular basis.

Planting trees along the border was no simple matter. The problem was that those trees devastated their surroundings.

Charcoal was necessary for their forging work, but as the trees used to make charcoal disappeared, it was bound to be a major headache.

"We should have gone to war before they announced that thing."

As an action dealing a direct hit to resources—and to the nation’s core industry—it wouldn’t be strange even if war were declared.

One might ask why they couldn’t just use coal, but they lacked refining technology.

Just as when making charcoal from wood, coal also required the invention of refining technology.

That’s why they still had no choice but to use charcoal. Even setting that aside, Alvenheim’s actions crossed the line.

"What power do we even have? Only our weapons are good, but we barely have any soldiers to wield them."

However, declaring war was extremely difficult for Mountain as well.

Although elves were usually looked down upon as pointy-ears, the intrinsic strength of their race was something that could never be ignored.

Furthermore, compared to all other races, dwarves possessed physical traits that were highly disadvantageous in combat.

To make matters worse, nine out of ten suffered from alcoholism—an absurd racial characteristic.

Until now, they had held on through sheer weapon advantage, but in a race-versus-race conflict, there were far too many disadvantages.

"Still, didn’t they say a human named Grylls is supporting us?"

"Ah. I’ve heard of that too. Didn’t they say he’s sending us a Mithril and Orichalcum alloy?"

"Kiyah. How incredible would a weapon forged from such an alloy be?"

"More than that, I want to drink alcohol brewed from medicinal herbs found in the Forest of the Four Seasons."

"That is way more enticing, to be fair."

Stories about Grylls were famous even in Mountain.

Strictly speaking, Passing Dwarf, who received support from him, was even more famous.

A person who fulfilled every dwarf’s dream by receiving various medicinal herbs and minerals from Grylls.This story is hosted at n‌ovelping.com.

What they envied most was the liquor infused with a Mature Mandrake. If they could take just one sip, nothing could be better.

Thus, dwarves searched high and low for Passing Dwarf, but he was nowhere to be found.

Since dwarves were all alcoholics, finding someone who drank a specific liquor was tough, and the same went for minerals.

Because he used those minerals immediately, even inspecting forge after forge yielded no clues.

"Let’s just stick to our own business. The high-ups will handle it anyway."

"Yeah. If a war starts, the elves will be the ones starting it. We just need to defend our land."

"Come to think of it, a new beer came out at the tavern next door recently..."

"Got money?"

"Pay back what you owe me first before talking."

The dwarves were spending their days with their characteristic laid-back optimism.

If signs of war breaking out appeared or an official notice was handed down, they could just check it then.

For now, let’s just do what we love—while drinking beer on the side.

While Mountain was quietly spending its day like that...

Kkaang! Kkang! Kkang!

The sound of iron being vigorously hammered resonated from a certain forge.

Being a neighborhood inhabited by dwarves, the sound of hammering iron was extremely familiar.

However, that particular sound resonated so clearly that even passing dwarves expressed curiosity.

"Isn’t that Gareth’s forge over there?"

"Yeah. By the way, that sound is really clean, isn’t it?"

"Did his skills improve or something?"

"Isn’t he the guy who does nothing but drink every single day?"

The owner of that forge was none other than Gareth. He was famous even among dwarves for being a notorious heavy drinker.

Not that there were many dwarves who disliked alcohol, but Gareth was exceptionally excessive.

He spent his entire day drunk, only hammering iron occasionally when bored.

It got to the point where he earned far more money selling liquor he brewed himself.

That was why seeing him hammer iron so earnestly was bound to raise eyebrows.

"Guess he just felt like making something."

"I should go drop by to get some booze later."

Of course, the dwarves quickly lost interest.

Meanwhile, Gareth steadfastly hammered away alone in his forge.

"Phew."

He examined the work he had crafted.

Without a doubt, a masterpiece. Gareth let out a small exclamation.

Originally, he didn’t possess the skill to forge such a masterpiece.

Though he possessed the innate dwarven dexterity, he lacked talent beyond that.

Talent varied wildly even among dwarves, and Gareth’s was on the lower end by comparison.

’This hammer is seriously broken overpower.’

But not anymore. He stared at the ’hammer’ that gave birth to this masterpiece.

The Mythricon hammer gifted by Grylls. When mana was injected into it, a green galaxy revealed itself.

Normally, to work iron, one had to heat it intensely with fire.

Once it turned a glowing yellow, one had to strike it vigorously with a hammer to shape it.

Heated metal tends to soften, but even that was no easy task.

’It’s like kneading clay.’

But the Mythricon hammer was different. It felt less like working iron and more like working far softer clay.

There was no need to strike hard at all. Lightly tapping it with care—ttuk-ttuk—was all it took.

Thanks to this, he achieved a level of delicate precision he hadn’t even dared to dream of, and that precision birthed a masterpiece.

All this just from changing a single hammer. Gareth could hardly believe it.

’A true master doesn’t care about tools? Bullsh*t.’

At this rate, picking the right tools is what makes you a master.

Right now it was held in his hands, but if this hammer ended up in the hands of a master craftsman, a masterpiece destined for history books would be born.

Even so, he had zero intention of publicly revealing this hammer.

’If I do that, the Mature Mandrake will naturally get stolen too. I can’t let that happen.’

The hammer could be stolen for all he cared. But the Mature Mandrake had to be defended at all costs.

Hadn’t he given one to his friend Wagner, the leather craftsman, in exchange for keeping the secret?

Being a dwarf who lived and died for alcohol, booze was far more precious than any hammer.

’He gave me such a great item, isn’t there something I can give him back?’

Gareth set the hammer down for a moment and looked around.Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping . com.

His forge was fairly average, if anything. Besides, he usually visited breweries far more often than his forge.

So when supporting Grylls, he hadn’t been able to give anything particularly special. He regretted this somewhat.

’Should I give him a brewing vat?’

Gareth thought seriously. If Grylls gave him something of this caliber, he should give something suitable in return.

A dwarf giving away a brewing vat—which was like their very life—meant they had received a profound grace. Which he actually had.

However, remembering Grylls’s situation, he quickly scrapped the idea. What alcohol when he’s busy just trying to survive?

Rather than alcohol, passing down other knowledge—that is, his metallurgy know-how—was much better.

’Even if I teach him, he’ll have to adjust it on his own anyway.’

He had heard about Grylls’s refining process. All sorts of crazy things had blown up.

However, Grylls was the sole individual capable of handling Mithril and Orichalcum alloys.

"Hey, friend. Are you inside?"

As Gareth was lost in thought for a moment, a familiar voice reached his ears.

It was Wagner, a drinking buddy and the dwarf who had gifted shoes to Grylls.

He hastily hid the Mythricon hammer and opened the forge door.

"What’s up?"

"Just curious. I wondered why you were hammering iron for so long, which is unusual for you. Something happen?"

Something had happened, alright. Gareth shrugged and replied slickly.

"Just pounded away out of boredom. It’s nothing."

"Really? Then what’d you make?"

"A pickaxe."

Pickaxes were equipment frequently consumed among dwarves.

Since there were many miners working in mines, it was a natural occurrence.

At that, Wagner checked out the pickaxe Gareth claimed to have made.

"...What the? This is f*cking well-made?"

"Is it? Thanks."

"Hey, I’ll buy this, so give me a discount."

"What kind of shameless bullshit is that? Buy it at full price."

"Haha. Between friends, come on."

Though he said that, Wagner bought it at full price anyway.

He looked around to see if anything had changed in the forge, including Gareth.

But he couldn’t find any notable change. There was a new hammer, but because it was a dull gray color, he didn’t pay any attention to it.

"Whatever, let me buy you a drink. I bought snacks."

"Oh, really? I’ll go wash up real quick."

Be that as it may, the two were drinking buddies. They quickly set up their drinking spot.

Today especially, alcohol went down smoothly for Gareth. Booze drunk after hard labor was sweetness itself.

Sometime later, around when they became slightly tipsy, Wagner opened his mouth.

"Ah right. Did you hear that rumor?"

"What rumor?"

"That the higher-ups might start a war."

"What? We’d start it first? Why?"

Wagner expressed doubt at the news that a war might break out.

He thought that if anyone struck first, it would be the elves; there was no way their side would strike first.

"That’s because of the elves... though saying that, there are a lot of suspicious parts."

"Suspicious?"

"Yeah. I don’t know well, but do you know someone named Grylls? They say everyone active on the Gallery knows him."

Why would that name pop up all of a sudden? Gareth blinked.

However, the words that followed were more than enough to deliver quite a shock.

"There’s a rumor going around that they’re starting a war to get Mythricon from that human."

"...That sounds like complete crazy talk? The elves could end up getting it instead."

"Either way, it means it could be released into the market. It’s fanning anxiety."

"...."

The situation developed unexpectedly. At the same time, it was ironic.

Words uttered to prevent a war ended up inducing war instead.

Wouldn’t this be something even Grylls had never anticipated?

He seemed to have severely overlooked human ’greed.’

’...No way I’ll get drafted, right?’

An ominous feeling slowly crept up.