Running Away From The Hero!

# 1 Their Reason: The Reasons of Some Races

Since the world was originally created, there have been gods in the New Testament, and there are many factions in the Summer.

The gods looked down at the earth, taking care of the tribe that the Creator gave them, and the various tribes prospered, receiving the blessings of the gods.

Seeing the gods taking care of themselves naturally, the various factions developed their traits.

Elves who were loved by the gods of nature, peace and compassion sought peace by living in nature.

Demibeasts who were loved by the gods of battle, struggle, and war sought power.

Beloved by the gods of earth, fire, and creation, this tribe has created something endless.

People who dig ore out of the ground and live with fire for most of their lives.

Those who even abandon their home for centuries for better materials.

Those who hate stopping their hands more than death.

The gods called them dwarves, and the world called them fathers-in-law.

And the town of such artisans.

Land, land! Ground!

You hear a knock at a steady interval.

The sound of pounding iron.

Generally, you can hear it in the forge, but in the world of dwarves, it's different.

The sound of beating iron was a sacred sound, and it was everyday to be heard anytime and anywhere.

“A little harder! ”

“I understand!”

A dwarf raises his voice as he looks at the nearby dwarves.

The world's perception is that all Dwarves are craftsmen.

It was an incorrect perception.

Obviously, the Dwarves grew up pounding iron since childhood, and one by one they made things from the spirit of craftsmanship.

But it's natural to compare something in a place called a group to people around you.

In the world of Dwarves who are all craftsmen, craftsmanship was the minimum standard.

In the human world, a craftsman who can't be followed is just an ordinary blacksmith who teaches skills by eating insults here.

“Iron is the first love for a blacksmith. Gold? Good. It's shiny, it's cool, it's expensive. If you make it right, even that greedy dragon can spill his guts. It can be a simple ornament, but if you put magic in it well, you can make great gold with pure gold. ”

Seeing dozens of dwarf blacksmiths pounding on iron, the old dwarf raises his voice.

“Misrelli? Even better. Metal itself is good, even better for magic and fusion. There's a lot of circulation for rare metals. For a blacksmith, the best material is a metal called a missile! ”

The sound of iron pounding is echoing everywhere.

However, there was nothing buried in the old man's voice. No, it was carved into the smith's ears and chest, piercing the sound of iron pounding.

“But iron is our first love. The first time I learned blacksmithing, the most touching, the most touching, is probably iron. ”

Land, land! Ground!

They beat iron without saying a word.

You don't have to say anything with your mouth.

This is our answer!

As if to say so, they were just pounding iron hard.

“The blacksmith begins and ends with iron. A true artisan must be able to defeat a sword made of steel. ”

It was nonsense.

Iron and misrels had an incomparable difference.

No matter how brilliant a master may be, he cannot defeat a sword made of steel with a missile.

That's common sense.

And those who grow up to break that common sense.

They are the artisans.

The Dwarves worshipped the swordsmiths.

“Don't just tap on the iron, feel the soul. Iron is speaking to you. I want you to be stronger and stronger! ”

Land, land! Ground!

Dozens of people were tapping their iron, but the sound was echoing steadily.

Usually it is said that there is a lot of noise in the forge.

It was natural.

Melt iron, tap it, melt it again, tap it.

Where the sound of iron colliding with iron continues to spread.

It is the forge.

But this was different.

The cry of iron produced by several craftsmen resonating.

It was like a piece of music.

It was an iron song that would not be pushed at all compared to the performers who were excellent.

“Iron is basic for blacksmiths. Iron benefits the world. What we want is not to make weapons that hurt others. We hone our skills to make the world a better place. ”

Land, land! Ground!

Now they were Dwarf blacksmiths who only cared about pounding iron as if they were ignoring old Dwarves.

Seeing that, the old dwarf smiles calmly.

The transcendence of the no-name.

Seeing the blacksmith, who had his soul in only tapping iron himself, the old Dwarf felt joy.

“Silver or gold? Miss Reel? Adamantium? Orchard or Hertel? Yeah, it's all good metal. Ordinary blacksmiths are hardly able to see metals while polishing their lives, and it is obvious that even we who touch all kinds of metals are hardly to see metals. But!”

Is it because I raised my voice too much?

The old dwarf felt a slight throat ache and drank a sip of cold water around him.

“It's not to say it makes the world a better place. Have you ever seen a farm tool made of silver or gold? Have you ever seen a pickaxe made of mythril or adamantium, or a rake made of duck or hertel? ”

The old dwarf, who drank hot water from the ambient temperature, cries out as he squeezes everything.

“Nothing. Everything made of such good metal is a weapon. ”

Dwarf technology will make the world a better place.

A long time ago, a Dwarf tribe took pride in this.

But the reality was different.

Looking at the technologies that they have honed to benefit the world, the world says:

‘Make me a better weapon. Build me a stronger weapon. Make me a weapon that will kill someone else! ’

The world needed tools to bury their blood.

I made weapons to destroy, not to benefit the world.

“Weapons are not bad. Raising a weapon to protect something is the right thing. Who would blame a warrior for raising his sword against an evil god? ”

The old dwarf doesn't make weapons to kill anyone.

But it wasn't like he didn't build a weapon at all. No. Rather, it was the dwarf who made the most swords of all the Dwarves of this clan.

Make a blade and melt it again.

Make a blade and melt it again.

Make a blade and melt it again!

He made a few swords a day and melted them. He made a sword that cuts things even when there is no day, and a sword that can cut nothing even when there is day.

The two blades were praised by the Dwarves for being called biopsies.

“So tap the iron. Farmers mostly use iron farming equipment. Even the devices that benefit the world use iron. Iron has no characteristics. Instead, it's everywhere. It's solid, straight metal. ”

The metal that could be obtained from a small countryside forge was iron.

Iron was so prevalent in this world that the world evolved.

“The blacksmith must know iron. You have to learn iron. Iron is fundamental. ”

Land, land! Land, land!

The old dwarf thinks as he hears the sound of iron tapping.

Since he made two swords called biopsy, the clan has changed the criteria for making weapons.

He promised to make weapons only for those who could handle the biopsy.

“If you learn the basics and realize them, you will be able to understand the spirit of iron. And if we can understand the soul of iron, we can understand the existence of iron's choice. ”

The swordsmith is a blacksmith, but the swordsman who uses it is a blacksmith.

Maker and user.

I can't say who's more important.

If the maker makes a weapon maliciously, he or she will be able to create a weapon that can corrupt the user.

If the user has malice, even a sword made of upright will can be corrupted.

Therefore, the biopsy of the elderly could be the basis of this clan.

“A true prosecutor can slaughter anything with a sword without a day. And such tests may not cut a leaf even with a blade with a blade. ”

The old man smiles bitterly, thinking of the human who taught him this.

The trials of this clan are simple.

Using a sword called a biopsy as its original sword. In other words, they cannot cut things without a blade, and they cut things with a sharp sword.

It's very easy just to listen to it.

It is natural not to cut down days, and it is natural to cut down days.

However, all the tests with the sword were appalled.

He swings his blade with a sharp blade, but he can't slash anything. He swings his sword with care, but even the steel is cut.

The prosecutors who witnessed the moment the world's common sense was destroyed lose their cool.

Ordinary Humans don't meet Dwarves in their lifetime.

Rarely, I encounter Dwarves, but it happens very occasionally at very large festivals such as the international empire of the Karan Empire.

That's what Dwarves were like.

A species that prefers to make things in workshops or forges rather than floating around the world.

A tribe constantly pursuing learning in their own sanctuary.

A race that everyone in the world wants, but they don't want anyone else, so they hide in the depths and are invisible to the world!

Finding sanctuary for such a tribe was very difficult.

There are only 12 of them on a huge continent because there are Dwarf towns, or Dwarf families.

He is so desperate that he asks the Dwarves for weapons to achieve something he wants to achieve.

Knowing that gives Dwarves an opportunity to come to their own villages.

But not all of them could pass. No, it was a dwarf's ordeal that only a few could pass.

The same is true of this clan's trials.

Those who cannot hear the soul of iron cannot pass through trials.

That was the role of a dwarven old man's biopsy, and it was a trial that only a few people had gone through in centuries' history.

Land, land! Land, land!

Unlike the old man's bitter smile, Iron's song was reaching for Climax.

“Iron doesn't tell lies. So understand iron. Understanding iron lets you know the mind of those who deal with it and the mind of those who deal with it. ”

The old man said that and laughed.

I wasn't lying.

Those who realized the ironwork could see the swordsmith and the swordsman's personality just by looking at the sword.

I was sure of that, until there was only one exception.

Whenever I thought of an exception, the old man was pitiful.

“A sword that can cut through days and days that cannot be cut.... ”

When I first saw him, the old man couldn't help but be surprised.

All tests that saw the biopsy were surprising.

But the human was amazed, not surprised. And it was so easy to pass the trials.

“Well, it's black. ”

Cut with a blade with a blade, not with a blade.

Seeing the human who had made it through the trials as if it were natural, the elderly and the Dwarf artisans shook their heads.

‘I'm trying to make something like this... Is it possible? ’

And with the weapon he described, the elderly and other craftsmen realized that the weapon they wanted was here.

“Speak up as an artisan. How to change what you pursue, how to change iron. ”

Land, land! Land!... Land!

The old man's words ended, and the song of iron ended.

At the same time, the dwarves in Moore's world returned to their original world, and iron became a sword with sharp technique.

“If your father-in-law wishes, the sword can keep its manners without raising its blade. You all followed me. ”

“Thank you, Elder! ”

Only scalded anvils remained in the positions of the dwarves who had brought their produce to their satisfaction.

Always tap iron, so only charred anvils remain.

Seeing the same result as the name of the tribe of the Black Anvil, the old man sighed.

“Why do I think about that time.... ”

User and creator intentions were great.

A weapon that is but does not kill.

A weapon that clearly made the world a better place to repent of its sins and wrongs.

But the end was... terrible enough to be called the evil god horseman.

“Elder!”

A young Dwarf suddenly ran into an old memory like that, and the old man realized why he had come to think of an old one.

“Well, he's here! The honorary Elder Hectare has come to town! ”

The man he remembers.

I taught the Black Anvil a lot of things, but it's why they made it ‘it’ that everyone is still suffering.

The old man who heard he was coming said, looking at the scorched ceiling.

“ShyX! What a day it is. ”

Yes, it is.

He already... asked someone about it.