I Refused To Be Reincarnated

He shook his head, taking the situation as a learning opportunity. Even if the fight and meeting with the cleaver still sent shudders through his spine, he survived. And now, he would judge someone's intentions with utmost care before trusting him.

"At least I got what I came for."

He sighed, tossing the glinting fist-sized brown core into the air before catching and clutching it while gritting his teeth.

"Forget about Selene's mission for now. A tier-five Dreg'nar overwhelmed me."

A worried mutter escaped his lips.

He would die without knowing how if he barged into the werewolf's territory to save the dwarves. Despite his plan to equip himself, he didn't believe he would have a chance against them.

"I need to repair my puppet, too..."

He pulled his coat to gaze down, only to see cracks running along the wood. Even his right cheek threatened to crumble after the collision.

He exhaled aloud, biting his lips as a bitter taste filled his mouth.

"I'll try to improve it after I return... with my spoils!"

Greed flashed in his eyes as he remembered Picket's words. Thee leaders had many ores stashed in the houses.

Without dwelling on his depressing thoughts, he outstretched his palm, channelling mana.

Two mage's hands weaved themselves, hovering above the ruined house. They came to life the next second, excavating the rubles to find the minerals. Meanwhile, he walked to the other four intact habitations.

He sifted through them, ignoring their rough design and furniture. The only thing that made his eyes sparkle was the large rocky chests glittering with multicolored riches.

One by one, he took them to his soul sea before returning to the ruin. Ores littered the ground, making his grin widen.

'I made a killing! I won't need to explore the wilds for a while.'

He had the Moonsilver Striker's core, too. With everything, he could delve into forging and enchanting without worries.

After gathering the last ores, he retrieved the low-tiered Dreg'nars' cores, planning to sell them to refill his empty pouch.

Finally, with one last swipe of the half-collapsed battlefield, he retraced his steps back to the mountainous city. A few hours later, he gave the mage a core to pay and crossed the Gate.

When he stepped on the other side, the grumbling royal mage stomped the ground in frustration.

"I don't want to see you. Leave!"

His lips curled into a wry smile in response. At least he wouldn't waste time showing his student card. He shrugged and strolled through the bustling evening streets. The rhythmic clangour of hammers pounding metal reverberated in his ears like a symphony as the brightly lit forges illuminated his cracked cheek.

On his way, he stopped by a renowned smithy.

"Hello. I have some tier-two beast cores to sell. Are you interested?"

A dwarf turned from behind the counter. He noticed how his muscles protruded from his leather apron. His thick beard parted then.

"Depends on the element and beast's strength. We specialise in water-attuned equipment here."

He frowned at the answer. He didn't know about the element's importance.

He tucked his fingers around his chin, a frown creasing his brows.

"They used earth. Do you know of any smith who would be interested?"

"Mhh. I know of someone in desperate need of materials. But..."

The smith's voice lingered, a flicker of doubt making his beard tremble.

"We are forbidden to sell her anything."

He leaned on the counter, gesturing to approach before whispering.

"I heard she found the legacy of an ancient prince. I don't know the details, but the royal family hates him even centuries later."

He straightened his back, his voice regaining its natural tone.

"She is a kind soul suffering from this unfair order. Since you are independent, please consider lending a hand."

Adam taped his index on his cheek before gazing at the dwarf in the eyes. The mention of the legacy intrigued him. Curiosity danced in his eyes. But why would he go against a royal order? Even if they couldn't do much with Shepard backing him, he created enough trouble wherever he went...

Despite his reluctance, the hope shining in the dwarf's eyes made his lips quiver in hesitation.

'Shit! Why did I enter this shop?'

He always taught Julius to help others when possible, especially if it cost him nothing. If he didn't, would he be a hypocrite?

Through gritted teeth, his ragged voice resounded.

"Give me the address."

The dwarf's beard parted into a smile, revealing his white teeth as he explained how to reach the smithy.

"Before you go, let me warn you. Yngrid is a bit... special. Don't mind her remarks too much."

He snorted, shrugged, and left, too annoyed by the situation to speak.

'Why is it so hard to sell cores?'

His steps carried him to the edges of the mountain's belly. Engulfed by the walls' shadow, this section resembled the poor suburbs he had seen in Alkemia Al-Nur. Yet, instead of composing eighty percent of the city, it only covered ten in Durazmarn, showing the royal family's exemplary management.

Finally, he reached his destination. He pushed the rotting wooden door, hearing it crack more than his body after the terrible collision he suffered.

Instead of the forge's bright flames, still darkness engulfed the old interior. Yet, he marvelled at the floor's cleanness contrasting with the rotting furniture.

Attracted by the noise, rapid steps resounded above him. The next second, a short woman bolted down the stairs behind the counter. Her braids flew as she slammed her thick, muscled arm on the wood.

"Welcome to Durazmarn's best smithy! No matter what you want, I can craft it!"

A low chuckle escaped his lips.

"I want a tier nine weapon, then!"

"Sure. And I want to be two meters tall."

He exploded into laughter at her answer, slapping his legs in amusement.

A few seconds later, her voice resounded, forcing solemness to return to his face.

"Seriously, what does a ghost possessing a puppet want?"