TRGBM 33

Episode 33

033. Separate Reunions

“But I heard he made that golem too… is that really possible?”
“He must have learned Magical Engineering too. But my friend said Magical Engineering is a useless profession… How did that Golden Hand bastard do it?”
“Whoa… so is that legendary grade too? Insane, really.”

Eyes filled with a mix of envy and curiosity.
But among them were voices with a different perspective.

“But what about PK Godt? The guy who broke his pot and stole his ten-million-won dagger is parading around openly like that.”
“Right. Didn’t he say he’d pay just for a tip? We can just mark the coordinates now, right?”
“Godt hyung is live right now, isn’t he? Someone should tell him in chat. ‘Golden Hand, touring around Kratum entrance riding a golem’.”
“Someone already posted it, but he gritted his teeth and blocked them. Seems like a pathetic Godt?”
“He’s scared, he’s scared. Serves him right!”

Mocking laughter erupted here and there.
Golden Hand heard their conversation but made an effort to ignore it.
Right now, he had to focus solely on the quest.
But there was no escaping the fact that hundreds of gazes were focused in one place.
It did feel a bit embarrassing.

‘Inside the city… I should probably walk.’

Golden Hand quietly jumped down from Iron Walker’s back.

“Walker, follow me.”
“……Walker! Walker!”

Somehow, when Golden Hand got off his back, Iron Walker seemed to sulk, hanging his head.
But he followed obediently, blending into the city’s bustle.

Kratum was truly a blacksmith’s paradise.
The incessant sound of hammers echoed everywhere, and the sweltering heat and smell of iron filled the air.
Stalls displayed weapons still steaming as if freshly forged, while shop windows tempted passersby with rare minerals glittering like jewels.

‘It’s definitely on a different level from Neman Village.’

Golden Hand’s eyes shone.
His gaze lingered on one particular forge.
There, an old dwarf was sharpening a sword using a special furnace containing lava.

‘Is that the [Flame Tempering] technique?’

An advanced forging technique that uses lava’s heat to imbue weapons with a flame attribute.
He had heard of it but never actually seen it—a unique skill found only in Lepione.
In his past life, he never had the time to properly observe such techniques one by one.
Because Lepione had suddenly invaded reality.

‘So that’s how it could be utilized.’

Unconsciously, Golden Hand stopped walking and stared, mesmerized, at the dwarf’s hammering.
Just watching a master’s work seemed to be of great help to Golden Hand.

At that moment, at a neighboring stall, a player was proudly polishing a shield he seemed to have just crafted.

[Lava Tortoise Carapace Shield]
Grade: Unique
Effects:
Fire Resistance increased by 40%
When hit, 10% chance to retaliate with Flame Spikes

“Hah, this should pull its weight in a raid, right?”

The player, as if showing off, had the item info displayed while he cleaned it.
But at the sight, Golden Hand involuntarily clicked his tongue in regret.

‘That lava tortoise carapace… if disassembled and used as material, it could probably be made into armor too… What a pity.’

A shield was certainly a good option.
But it was a matter of efficiency.
He wished he could buy the same materials and immediately make armor.
But what held him back, as always, was poverty.

“Check player info, funds.”

[Funds: 325 Gold]

A sigh escaped him.
He had defeated PK Godt, defeated a troll, and received broadcast donations, but in Lepyon, 325 gold was all he had.

‘Come to think of it, I’ve never really made money in Lepione. This is just what’s left from selling minerals…’

He had always rushed forward, focused only on his goals.
Rather than thinking about making money by selling items, he focused only on making better items and getting stronger.
As a result, his equipment and skills far surpassed players of his level, but his pockets were utterly empty.

‘Should I convert the donations back into gold? No, the fees are too high. Besides, I have to pay next month’s capsule installment…’

The donations from streaming, after taxes and fees, are almost halved.
Converting that back into Lepion gold?
The rates are atrocious.
It’s like melting money away with taxes and fees.

‘Still, once the Moonlight Venomous Serpent Greatsword auction is over…’

He just had to endure until then.
Once the auction ended, his funding issues in Repion would be somewhat solved.
Moreover, if he completed the quest, he could probably play Lepyon comfortably for a while.

Whether in reality or Lepione.
Money is always the problem.
Pushing regret aside, Golden Hand headed to a shop selling alchemical supplies.
Fortunately, the ‘Flame Salamander Spit’ and ‘Mithril Powder’ he needed weren’t expensive items.

[Purchased Flame Salamander Spit. -150 Gold]
[Purchased Mithril Powder. -100 Gold]
[Purchased Special Glass Vials. -50 Gold]

“25 gold… left. Sigh, anyway, should I head back now?”

The moment Golden Hand, having bought all necessary materials, was about to turn around,
A familiar figure entered the corner of his vision.

Shabby leather armor, an old spear missing teeth here and there.
And above all, that persistent gaze reminiscent of a clear-eyed madman.

‘Huh? That guy…!’

Golden Hand’s heart sank with a thud.
The lonely spearman who, in the era of ruin, held the final defensive line alone against tens of thousands of monsters.
The man who would later be called ‘Spear Ghost’ and rise to the ranks of humanity’s strongest.

It was Yeom Tae-hoon, the Spear Ghost.
The man who had given Golden Hand information about ‘Willful Insight’ and the ‘Divine Whistle Scroll’.
He stood before Golden Hand’s eyes in the fresh form of his rookie days.

At the welcome sight, Golden Hand unconsciously moved to approach him but stopped dead in his tracks.

‘But… why is he here?’

Yeom Tae-hoon should have clearly become a disciple of ‘Spear Instructor Bark’ in Neman Village and left for the Royal Capital.
So why was he in Kratum, a city of blacksmiths?
A foreboding chill ran down Golden Hand’s spine.

‘Don’t tell me… something twisted because of me? Because I got the skill first?’

Simultaneously, at Tuban’s forge in Neman Village.

Clang-!
Thud!
Clang-clang-clang!

Tuban’s hammering was smoother and more confident than before.
The young master who had swept through his forge like a storm not long ago, Golden Hand.
Just by observing his work process up close, Tuban had been able to grow one step further.

‘Putting one’s soul into it… I think I’m beginning to understand a little now.’

He no longer mindlessly smashed the iron with brute force.
Like Golden Hand had shown, he read the iron’s grain, conversed with the flames, and imbued his will into the hammer’s tip.

Then, a long shadow stretched across the forge entrance.
Still focused on his work, Tuban spoke indifferently.

“I can’t take outsiders for a while. Well, if it’s farming tools or the like, I can fix them.”

At Tuban’s words, a man spoke with a low chuckle.

“Long time no see, Tuban. I can tell just by the sound. Your skill has improved a lot.”

A voice with a profound depth that seemed to pierce to the bone.
Tuban stopped his hammering, raising his head with a look of astonishment.

Standing at the forge entrance was an old man with long, braided white hair.
Though dressed in ordinary traveler’s clothes, his gaze felt as deep as a sea of abundance.

“Va-Valerius, sir!”

Tuban hastily bowed.
Valerius.
His father’s old friend and a legendary blacksmith counted among the top five on the entire continent.
In Golden Hand’s past life, he had been one of the great masters.

“What brings you to such a humble place…?”
“Why, your father’s memorial is approaching, so I stopped by. But you… you’ve changed. You’ve broken the walls you had confined yourself within.”

Valerius’s gaze lingered on the hammer in Tuban’s hand and the workpiece on the anvil.
That alone seemed enough for him to instantly grasp Tuban’s condition.

“Have you perhaps… begun learning your clan’s secret technique?”

Valerius’s question was filled with expectation.
At the question, Tuban’s face reddened.
Tuban only shook his head and smiled bitterly.

“No, sir. I am not worthy of it.”
“Worthy? If the son of Tuseon is not worthy, then who in the world is?”
“My father always said: a single sword can take one life, but a single well-made hoe can feed hundreds. Our clan’s ‘Soul Forging’ technique should be used to save lives. But my hands are too crude and rough, utterly insufficient to contain a delicate soul.”

Tuban looked down at his own rock-like forearms.
But unlike before, no sense of regret was visible in Tuban.
There was only a refreshing smile.
A relieved smile was all that filled him.

“So… I passed the technique to someone more suited for it.”

“What did you say? You passed that technique…? You of all people should know best what that technique is?”

Valerius’s eyebrows twitched slightly.
The gaze that had felt as deep as a sea of abundance now turned sharp, as if a storm was brewing.
But unfazed even by Valerius, Tuban spoke proudly.