Mushoku Tensei: Reincarnated as a Beast Race

One of the guards followed Rygar to ensure he wouldn't be stopped for entering with a beast in tow.

As they passed through the gates into the dwarven city, Rygar noticed a subtle change in temperature. The air became heavier, laden with heat and the scent of molten iron. Walking beside him was Fortwind, a dwarf with a thick, unruly beard and sharp eyes that never strayed from him or Skoll. The finely crafted hammer in Fortwind's hand symbolized his strength and rank.

The entrance was a vast gallery leading to a larger cavern. The walls were adorned with runes and reliefs depicting ancient battles, blazing forges, and what appeared to be dwarven gods wielding tools instead of weapons. Fortwind remained silent as they descended a gentle slope, their footsteps echoing in the passage.

With each step, Rygar noticed the environment transforming. The natural rock gave way to tunnels reinforced with wooden beams and intricately carved stone. Using his magical eye, he detected faint mana flows within the walls, like shimmering veins pulsing in rhythm. "Magical minerals," he thought. The energy was denser here than on the surface, almost as if the mountain itself were alive.

When they reached the city proper, Rygar paused to take in the sight. The dwarven city was entirely subterranean, built within a colossal cavern that stretched for what seemed like miles. Massive crystals in the ceiling shone like stars, casting golden and orange hues that mimicked an eternal sunset. The air was filled with the rhythmic clanging of hammers striking metal, resonating from all directions.

The buildings were sturdy, carved from stone with intricate details. Rounded doors and small windows adorned homes that, though compact, exuded resilience. Suspended bridges connected various parts of the city, while small underground rivers flowed along the edges, channeled through artificial canals likely used for drinking water or cooling the forges.

The city wasn't solely comprised of forges; it hosted a variety of trades, though the dwarves' penchant for craftsmanship was unmistakable.

The stares were unavoidable. Dwarves paused their work to watch him pass. Some eyed Skoll with obvious distrust, while others seemed genuinely curious. Rygar noticed children, even smaller than the adults, pointing at them, whispering excitedly to each other. A bolder group attempted to approach, only for an adult to pull them back with a stern glare directed at Rygar.

"You sure cause a stir," Fortwind remarked without turning around.

"Maybe they're not used to visitors," Rygar replied, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

"Visitors, yes, we see plenty—merchants coming to sell rare minerals or buy the world's finest weapons. But you… You and that beast," he gestured slightly with his thumb toward Skoll, "are something they don't see every day."

As they continued walking, Rygar reactivated his magical eye, observing more closely. Behind the walls and structures, he detected intense mana presences concentrated in certain areas of the city. Some were clearly enchanted objects—likely weapons—but others seemed to move, belonging to people. These dwarves had an impressive latent strength, something Rygar resolved not to underestimate.

They eventually arrived at what appeared to be the heart of the city: an even larger cavern than the one before. It resembled a natural amphitheater, with tiers of structures encircling a massive central stone pillar that stretched from the ceiling to the mountain's depths. Here, the activity was at its peak. The hammering was louder, and the heat seemed to pulse through the air, creating subtle visual distortions.

"This is the heart of the city. If the forges are our veins, this is the heart," Fortwind explained, glancing sideways at Rygar.

Rygar nodded. "It feels alive," he said, his tone reflecting a mix of admiration and caution.

Fortwind let out a short laugh. "You're here to see Godbard, right? He's over there." He pointed toward an isolated but clearly significant structure built around a crack in the cavern wall. Heat visibly radiated from it, and Rygar could feel the pulse of energy even from where he stood.

"I'm not sure he'll want to speak with you," Fortwind said hesitantly.

"He will," Rygar replied confidently.

Without further words, they began walking toward the structure. Along the way, Rygar continued to absorb every detail: the suspended bridges over glowing rivers, dwarf children darting among adults, artisans intently shaping iron and steel, and the powerful presences he felt pulsating beneath the surface. This city was a place filled with history—and secrets.

And he was ready to uncover them all.

His master, Verdia, had once mentioned meeting the last Ore God. He had been a legitimate Earth God-level mage. From him, Verdia had learned her Earth King-level magic and had nearly mastered the Emperor-level Earthquake spell. However, he was at the end of his life when he taught her, having lived since the Laplace Wars. Verdia had also mentioned the good fortune of Godbard's emergence as a talent in recent centuries to replace him. For the dwarves to have had a God-level mage in their final generation was impressive enough. If possible, Rygar wanted to attempt to learn that God-level spell himself.

The closer they got to Godbard's forge, the more the heat intensified, reaching stifling levels. Rygar could feel it but paid it little mind. His resistance to heat was extraordinarily high due to his combat style and extraordinary physique. Fortwind, walking ahead, was drenched in sweat but pressed on, as though accustomed to such an extreme environment. Skoll, usually impassive, let out a low growl, clearly uncomfortable.

The rhythmic sound of hammering grew louder and steadier, resonating like a heartbeat in the cavern's core. When they reached the entrance, Fortwind pushed open the heavy metal doors.

As soon as they entered, Rygar was struck by the sight of the forge: a vast space illuminated only by the fiery glow of flames, which danced in furnaces scattered along the sides.

At the forge's center stood the current Ore God, leader of the dwarven tribe, Godbard of the Splendid Celestial Peak, deeply focused on his work.

The dwarf had the average stature of his race, but his presence was immense. His physique was honed, and he wore a leather apron darkened by years of use. His muscular arms, covered in soot, moved with absolute precision. His long, thick beard was braided and adorned with small iron rings engraved with runes. His eyes glowed like embers, reflecting the intensity of the surrounding furnaces.

Rygar activated his magic eye, and what he saw made his heart race. The amount of mana in Godbard was colossal, rivaling his own. Rygar could confidently say he'd never seen anyone with more mana than Godbard, except himself—not even his master, Verdia. He wasn't sure if it was enough for a God-level mage, as his magic eyes, while incredibly useful, weren't perfectly precise. Mana always appeared somewhat blurred. However, without a doubt, Godbard's mana was at least Emperor-level. It emanated from him like an almost tangible aura.

At that moment, Godbard was finishing a sword. The blade was made of a dark iron that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. He cooled it in a vat of frigid water, releasing a blast of steam that filled the room. When the mist cleared, the blade gleamed with a dangerous intensity.

Rygar, who had witnessed the work of some of the most skilled blacksmiths in Tinaver, some of them quite renowned, had to admit: none compared to this dwarf. Every hammer strike seemed to sculpt perfection, and the sword before him was a masterpiece that transcended mere craftsmanship.

After the final touches, Godbard lifted the blade, examining it with critical eyes. Then, with a calm gesture, he set it on a nearby workbench and turned to face his visitors.

Fortwind quickly knelt, bowing his head in respect. "Ore God, this boy wishes to speak with you. He wields one of Kajakut's 49 swords and is a friend of Rainfall," he said, his voice full of reverence.

Rygar remained standing, with Skoll by his side. The wolf eyed the dwarf, as though sensing his strength.

Godbard's eyes, deep and filled with stern wisdom, fell on Rygar. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"And who might you be, beast boy," he said, his voice resonating like the sound of a hammer striking metal, "to stand without bowing before the Ore God?" As he spoke, his eyes locked onto Rygar's golden gaze with evident interest.

The tone wasn't aggressive but carried unquestionable authority, as though he was more curious than offended. Even so, the atmosphere seemed heavier, as if the sounds of the surrounding hammering had softened slightly, awaiting Rygar's response.

Rygar stood his ground in the forge's center, his golden eyes fixed on the dwarf before him.

"I am Rygar Adoldia, leader of the Iron Legion," Rygar began, his voice firm and full of authority. "I believe you've heard of me."

Godbard didn't respond immediately. Instead, his narrowed eyes scanned Rygar from head to toe, taking in every detail: his crossed swords, his commanding presence, and especially his golden eyes, glowing like molten gold. After a moment of silence, Godbard tilted his head slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible smile appearing on his face.

"The Red Wolf?" Godbard said, testing the nickname. "I suppose that title suits you better in battle." He crossed his arms, adding with a tone that blended curiosity and subtle sarcasm, "I've heard you fight with a flaming sword… and that you breathe fire from your mouth."

He chuckled softly, though his eyes continued to assess Rygar with caution.

Rygar understood the underlying message immediately. Godbard was testing him—gauging his strength and character. The purpose of Rygar's visit wasn't just to modify his sword, though that was part of it. Why not seize the opportunity to bring the Coal Mine Tribe into the Iron Legion? His goal was to make them allies, though from what he'd seen so far, they might be better as equals rather than subordinates.

Rygar decided to increase the pressure.

Without saying another word, he took a step forward and, with a controlled motion, unsheathed Tsukikage, the blade shimmering in turquoise hues under the forge's light.

Fortwind moved instantly, gripping his hammer as his eyes locked onto the sword. He seemed ready to act at any moment.

"Do you want a demonstration?" Rygar asked, his voice laced with challenge.

Without waiting for an answer, he began channeling mana into the blade. Flames ignited around the sword, casting a bright glow that illuminated the surroundings. The temperature, which had already been uncomfortable, started to rise rapidly.

"Skoll, wait outside," Rygar said calmly.

But before he could finish his sentence, the wolf had already exited, as if anticipating what was about to happen.

Godbard observed intently, his focus sharpening. An experienced blacksmith who had spent a lifetime in scorching forges, he was accustomed to intense heat. But now, his skin began to burn as if the air itself were aflame.

Fortwind, on the other hand, was already at his limit. He stepped forward, visibly uncomfortable, and opened his mouth to protest.

"Sir, perhaps it would be better—"

"Wait outside as well, Fortwind," Godbard commanded, cutting him off.

The guard hesitated, casting a worried glance at his leader, but eventually obeyed. The moment Fortwind left, Rygar intensified the flow of mana.

The flames around Tsukikage began to shift in color. First, they transitioned from orange to a deep blue, then to a radiant purple. Each change brought a surge in temperature, and even the heat-resistant materials nearby started to succumb. Metal tools melted, and the stone floor beneath Rygar's feet began to warp and distort.

Despite Rygar's careful control to prevent the heat from spreading across the subterranean city, the surrounding dwarves felt its effects. A wave of nearly unbearable heat radiated from the forge, stopping many in their tracks as they turned to look toward the building.

Inside the forge, Godbard stood motionless, though his skin burned as it never had before. Still, he maintained a stoic posture, his eyes fixed on the boy before him.

Rygar, too, felt the heat. Standing at the epicenter of his own magic, the flames around the blade were nearing catastrophic levels. However, with his exceptional physical resilience, the touki flowing across his skin for protection, and a regeneration spell constantly mending any damage, he bore the intense environment with little visible strain.

Lifting Tsukikage high, he spoke in a calm yet commanding tone:

"This is one of the 49 blades forged from the bones of the Dragon King Kajakut. Tsukikage. You can guess its ability just by looking at it, can't you?"

Godbard didn't reply, his gaze locked on the blade, a mix of awe and dread in his eyes.

Then, slowly, Rygar began to lower the sword. The flames surrounding it burned fiercely, and it seemed as though the blade was about to strike the ground and unleash an unimaginable explosion of heat.

Godbard tensed, fully aware of what such magic could do to the heart of the city.

But at the last moment, Rygar extinguished the flames entirely. The fire vanished in an instant, as though it had never existed. However, the residual heat released one final shockwave through the forge, causing tools and materials to rattle and vibrate.

The blade touched the molten stone floor with a soft metallic sound.

Rygar sheathed the sword with the same composure with which he had drawn it. Then, turning to Godbard, he ignored the dwarves who had started to gather around the forge, drawn by the intense heat.

"I'm here to modify it," Rygar said firmly, "but I'd also like to discuss some cooperation."

For a moment, Godbard remained silent, his eyes still fixed on the young man. But the initial astonishment on his face slowly gave way to something more profound: respect.

Taking a step forward, he crossed his arms and inclined his head slightly, the heat still radiating from the ground beneath his feet.

"You have my attention, Leader of the Iron Legion," he said, his deep voice now tinged with genuine acknowledgment.