Chapter 27
In a world where countless gods had descended, opinions were divided when asked which pantheon attracted the most followers.
Some would answer Zeus, the chief deity of Greek mythology. Others might say Thor, the most powerful god. Some would even choose Shiva, the Hindu god of destruction.
But if the question were which pantheon had the largest number of visitors, everyone would choose the same without hesitation.
The Pantheon of Hephaestus.
In my previous life, it was the pantheon most frequently visited by people, the one where the most money changed hands.
The stronger the monsters of the Abyss grew, the more crowded his pantheon became. And every time skilled blacksmiths mysteriously disappeared, his customers only multiplied.
It was the world’s biggest weapons market, and the forge of the god who crafted the strongest weapons.
Countless hunters sought that signboard.
Those who came weren’t particularly devout, but they all needed Hephaestus’s aid.
Hunters, of course, came to buy the weapons and armor necessary for survival.
And that alone was more than enough to elevate Hephaestus’s divinity.
At the same time, the pantheon was his pride.
“Kwahahaha! Even if you add up all the worshippers who visit Zeus’s and Odin’s pantheons, aren’t they still fewer than those who visit mine? By now, I think it’s fair to call myself a chief god, don’t you agree?”
It was an arrogant boast, but no one could refute it.
Because it was the truth.
Even among the gods listening to his bragging, many needed Hephaestus’s weapons. Some flattered and fawned over him just to secure them.
There were other forges, yes, but no one could deny he was the best in the business.
Thus, in my previous life, Hephaestus’s influence grew stronger and stronger.
In fact, before the final expedition was formed, there were even whispers that he should be placed at the vanguard.
In that past life, Hephaestus once asked me:
“Why don’t you use my weapons? I heard you don’t believe in gods, but surely you can believe in my weapons, can’t you?”
At the time, I had learned smithing techniques directly from Eitri, so I had no need of his weapons.
I never even considered using a god’s weapon.
Though Hephaestus repeatedly offered, I refused each time.
“If you wish, I could even make you my apostle. I’ve taken a liking to you. The fact you’ve come this far without relying on gods, and that you’ve mastered a smithing craft of your own…”
So the arrogant god said.
But he had killed my master’s brother and driven my master to leave Nidavellir, which led to his death.
I wanted to rip his mouth apart on the spot.
Gods could not be trusted.
Not their weapons, not anything tied to them.
Their power was like a drug—once you touched it, you’d never escape.
That was why I stayed away from their creations.
I was foolish.
In those days, I didn’t understand that you could use your enemy’s own weapon to strike at their throat.
I rejected every offer, every lavish gift of top-tier weapons Hephaestus pushed on me.
He wanted everyone to use his weapons.
That greed alone made his pantheon the busiest landmark in the world.
And as his divine power swelled, he eventually became a god rivaling the chief deities.
It was an age where fighting was unavoidable—of course the blacksmith god’s divinity would rise.
That was why I marked him as the first god to hunt.
Because Hephaestus would only grow stronger from here.
And his weapons would make the other gods stronger, too.
As long as he hadn’t yet reclaimed his sacred relics, this was the best time to strike.
The longer I wait, the harder it gets.
Thanks to his recent battle with Ares, he was weaker than usual. There would never be a better chance.
The pantheon was crowded with customers seeking weapons.
When a female attendant approached me, I brushed her off and kept walking deeper inside. She immediately moved on to the next customer, not caring in the slightest.
With so many clients, there was no need to cling to one.
Not attracting attention was to my benefit.
Chaotic…
At first glance it seemed orderly, but looking closer, I noticed the staff were distracted, their focus scattered.
Probably because of the recent fight with Ares.
After all, not only had many guild members been injured, but even Hephaestus himself.
I blended into the crowd of shoppers.
And then—
Kang! Kang! Kang!
The loud sound of hammering rang out, smoke billowing from the roof of the pantheon.
Hephaestus was at his forge.
Everyone’s gaze turned upward. Some even pulled out their phones to snap pictures.
But I didn’t spare it a glance.
If anything, I needed to hurry.
He’ll be alone in the forge.
When hammering, he never allowed anyone else inside.
It was the same in my past life, and likely the same now.
Still working the hammer with a broken arm, huh.
As a blacksmith, it was admirable. But precisely because he was like that, I couldn’t let him live long.
Kang! Kang! Kang!
He was no doubt crafting weapons for the gods even now.
I made my way toward the forge.
The path was familiar.
I had been here once before, invited by Hephaestus in my previous life.
A door that looked like an ordinary emergency exit opened onto a long corridor.
Still the same.
Security wasn’t particularly tight.
Who would even dream of sneaking into the forge of a god?
But this was the pantheon’s weak point.
With so many visitors, it was impossible to monitor everyone perfectly.
Even if one person went missing, no one would notice.
Even if that one person was the one destined to bring the guild down.
I walked the corridor for some time.
Kang! Kang! Kang!
The hammering grew louder. At the far end, I saw the door.
There it was.
Hephaestus’s pride and joy—the forge.
Inside, he would be hammering away, full of rage.
I opened the door.
Clunk.
A wave of blistering heat washed over me, as though it might scorch my skin.
The forge itself was intimidating in scale, clearly built for its master’s massive size.
Hephaestus himself stood over three meters tall. Everything was made to suit him.
The atmosphere contrasted starkly with Eitri’s forge.
“I told everyone not to enter.”
His voice rumbled with anger.
With his left arm broken, he braced the metal with a fixture and hammered away with his right.
The muscles on his massive back rippled as he worked, radiating menace.
Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaang!
Each strike made the forge tremble.
“Get out. My temper is foul right now.”
His voice seethed with restrained fury.
“Hephaestus, god of blacksmiths. God of the molten earth, god of volcanoes. I heard you got your ass kicked by Ares a few days ago. True?”
Kwaaang!
A hammer strike smashed the spot where I had been standing.
Had I not dodged, my legs would’ve been pulverized.
“Insolent wretch. Not only do you trespass into a god’s domain, you dare mock me as well?”
He was calmer than I expected.
That wouldn’t do.
I needed him angrier, reckless.
“You think that was an insult? I’ve barely begun.”
His brow twitched.
A mere human—one without even a god’s blessing—daring to speak down to him, claiming to humiliate him? That would sting.
“Aren’t you curious who really killed your son, Periphetes—using your failure of a weapon, the Blacksmith’s Wrath?”
“….”
“That was me.”
At those words, the forge’s heat roared like fire.
“You thought Ares was behind it. No—it was me.”
Pure fury blazed in his eyes.
Periphetes’s death by the Blacksmith’s Wrath was Hephaestus’s greatest humiliation.
That weapon symbolized his impotence—abandoned by Aphrodite, who was stolen away by Ares.
It was his first failure.
For a perfectionist like him, a failure was not merely a blemish, but a living insult.
And that insult had been wielded by a mortal to kill his son.
Now, the culprit stood before him.
There was no way he could suppress his rage.
“It was you? You killed my son and mocked me?”
“You never really considered him your son anyway.”
To Hephaestus, Periphetes was nothing but a failure.
“…I’ll kill you. I’ll throw you into my furnace and melt you down.”
But now, suddenly, Periphetes had become his most precious child.
Perhaps he just needed a vessel to pour his fury into.
“That’s my line.”
The heat radiating from Hephaestus surged like molten lava.
Sweat poured down my face—only to evaporate instantly.
[The one-time Fire Resistance engraved into the Sage’s Armor activates.]
[Fire resistance greatly increased for 1 hour.]
One hour.
That’s more than enough.
Srring.
I drew the Solitary One’s Sword.
[Combat situation initiated.]
[Berserker state activated.]
[Attack power increased.]
“I’ll avenge my master.”
“Master?”
“Eitri, Nidavellir’s greatest blacksmith. You killed his brother Brokkr. Today, you’ll pay for that, Hephaestus.”
“Ah, that matter. Such a petty vengeance…”
He sneered, hefting his intact hammer.
“You would provoke me over something so trivial?”
“To me, it was never trivial. It was everything.”
“Still insolent to the end.”
Then Hephaestus charged.
For a man of his bulk, his speed was astonishing.
In a blink, he was upon me.
Kwaaaang!
His hammer smashed into the floor where I had stood.
I rolled to his left to dodge.
My target was obvious: his broken left side.
I thrust my sword at the gap between his ribs.
“Impudent!”
Whoosh!
Hephaestus swung without dodging.
Thud!
My blade failed to pierce his skin.
Damn it.
Even with the Northern Hero set’s bonus damage against large enemies, I couldn’t so much as scratch him.
What a monster.
Even weakened, he was still a god.
But that was fine.
This was all just buildup for one decisive strike.
“Is that all you’ve got? Pathetic.”
He loomed over me, sneering.
His hammer came down again, faster than I could believe.
If this hits, I die.
I raised my blade to deflect.
Kaga-gagak!
“Kuhhh!”
No good.
I knew instantly—it couldn’t be deflected.
Damn it. If only I were a little stronger…
My body was flung through the air.
Kwaaang!
“Gahk!”
I slammed into the wall, staggering as I rose.
My whole body throbbed.
“Khuhk!”
Blood spilled from my lips.
My insides felt twisted and torn.
The bastard…
His strength was obscene.
I glared at him and invoked a skill given by the Lady of the Lake.
[Skill: Mother’s Grace]
[Effect: Restore 30% of missing HP.]
A healing skill with a 12-hour cooldown.
My body felt light again.
“Hooh… Quite the trick you’ve got there.”
His lip curled, but his rage still burned.
“I’ll torment you until you beg for mercy.”
Now that he realized I wasn’t a threat, he wanted to toy with me.
That was his fatal flaw.
The arrogant giant charged, wide open, intent on mocking me rather than killing me outright.
Now he thought I posed no danger.
Registering Nibelung’s Song skill.
[Nibelung’s Song – Grade A]
[Skill: Dragon Grab]
[Effect: Harness dragon’s power to pull target toward you.]
[Select skill to remove from slot.]
I replaced Mother’s Grace.
[Mother’s Grace removed. Dragon Grab registered.]
I thrust out my hand.
“Dragon Grab.”
Dragon’s power surged from my palm, seizing Hephaestus.
“What…?”
Limping as he charged, he was suddenly yanked off balance, dragged straight toward me.
I immediately opened the entrance to Kibisis and hurled its contents forward.
Inside, I had stored Balmung and the Giant’s Sword.
They shot out at Hephaestus like arrows.
Puk! Puuuk!
