Duo Leveling LITRPG | Post Apocalyptic | SYSTEM-Chapter 180 - 223+224

[You are now 'Discarded Blacksmith, Dwarf Rof'.]

An unfamiliar scent of sulfur stung his nose. The pain blanketing his entire body felt even harder to shake.

The beating didn't stop. Blow after blow, without end.

"…Ghk!"

Jhin looked up through a badly bruised eye at his assailants.

They were so ugly, even goblins might look handsome in comparison. The kicks rained down without care.

He grasped the situation at once.

'…Worst case, realized.'

[You have entered C-rank Theme Dungeon 'Calamity's Meteor'. A system penalty is applied.]

[Your stats have been sealed.]

[Your skills have been sealed.]

[You may now use the stats and skills of 'Dwarf Rof'.]

He had become Dwarf Rof—completely and literally.

The body that once felt light now moved sluggishly, and even when hit, his 'Super Regeneration' refused to activate.

'At least the inventory's still accessible. That's a small relief.'

"Hey, hey… this one might actually die."

"What? Already? He hasn't even taken that much of a beating."

"Forget it. Let's go before we have to clean up a corpse."

At last, the beating stopped. The dwarves spat on the floor and walked off with light, careless steps.

Jhin let out a long breath, barely suppressing the pain.

"Phew… That hurts like hell."

He'd grown used to pain thanks to his Heavenly Martial Body—but now, as Dwarf Rof, every hit landed sharp and clean.

His whole body throbbed as though it had been flayed by blades.

He slowly raised his bruised eyelids and looked around.

"A storage room?"

He staggered toward a silver shield hanging nearby. There was something he wanted to check.

"…Hah."

Reflected on the shield was the face of Jhin—or rather, the face he now wore.

Gone was the sharp, decent-looking young man he once was.

A bulbous nose like a hallabong orange. Slit-like eyes. Pimpled skin and a long, unkempt beard.

He wasn't even human anymore.

He looked no different from the dwarves who had just beaten him up.

'So I really have become a dwarf.'

Then his companions would've also transformed beyond recognition.

Where had they all ended up?

He clicked his tongue lightly.

'No time to worry about others.'

He forced his sore body to move, checking himself over as best he could.

'Status window.'

The information materialized before him.

<Status Window>

Age: 21

Class: Discarded Blacksmith

Stats:

• Strength: 37

• Agility: 43

• Vitality: 20

• Power: 495

Unique Skills:

• [Destruction (S)]

• [Disassembly (A)]

• [Crafting (F)]

• [Assembly (F)]

- Player 'Jhin's data has been sealed. Please clear the scenario quest.

…What kind of absurd stat distribution was this?

'Only power is 495?'

An absolutely lopsided build. What kind of blacksmith had a total strength and vitality below 100?

'No wonder they call him a discarded blacksmith. This is ridiculous. Why is the power so bloated?'

Not that power was useless for blacksmiths. When forging magic swords or enchanted tools, power was essential.

But even then, you just needed enough to handle the process—not this much.

'With stats like this, I probably can't even lift a hammer properly.'

He was level 120.

That meant he was expected to handle a hammer appropriate to that level. But with these stats, he probably couldn't even wield a basic human hammer, let alone a dwarven one.

Simply put, it was a class mismatch.

This build was for a mage.

'And look at the skills. Crafting is F, but Destruction is S?'

A natural consequence of having too much power.

When Rof swung a hammer, tremendous magic would unconsciously imbue the strike. But magic that wasn't controlled properly would only destroy the materials.

Truly, a blacksmith in name only.

'This body can't even fight.'

He was like a paper doll with a high-performance engine. The moment he pushed it, his fragile body would tear apart.

If only he had more vitality to back it up…

"Hey! What are you still doing here, huh?!"

A sudden shout yanked his attention back. He turned to see another squat dwarf glaring at him.

Who was this?

"Were you sent to fetch materials or not? Can't even do a simple errand? What are you good for?!"

"…"

"Don't you hear your master's words?!"

…His master?

These dwarves all looked so old, it was impossible to tell one from another—not even the thugs from earlier.

Even Rof, supposedly only 21, looked elderly.

Jhin quickly bowed his head.

"S-sorry, Master…"

"Ugh! Worthless brat. Should've known better than to assign you anything."

The master shoved Jhin hard in the shoulder and went rummaging through the storeroom. The force sent him flying, and he let out a dry laugh.

'What kind of body is this…'

Just a shoulder bump and his HP dropped. Even something that small hurt like hell.

"You lazy wretch… how long do you plan to loaf around? Get out there already!"

With a heavy load of materials slung over both shoulders, the master stormed out of the storage room, muttering curses.

Jhin quickly shook off the daze and pushed open the heavy door to follow him.

Rrrumble.

CLANG!

WHOOOSH!

A wall of heat slammed into him.

The place was full of dwarves bustling around, each engrossed in making something.

If anything, this wasn't a forge of artisans.

'…It's more like a factory.'

Hammers pounding in perfect rhythm.

Parts sliding along rails.

Everyone was manufacturing the same items like machines on an assembly line. The master suddenly bellowed,

"Delivery's tomorrow! Get your heads on straight! If you're late, you get nothing!"

"Yes, Master!"

Then he turned on Jhin, who was still standing dumbfounded.

"You! What are you gawking at?! Get to your station! Ugh! Useless lump!"

The surrounding dwarves snickered openly. It was a situation he quickly recognized as routine.

'…Sigh.'

First things first, Jhin needed to find Rof's usual station. No way someone called a "discarded blacksmith" worked the assembly line with those stats.

If he'd tried hammering like the others, he probably would've dropped dead from exhaustion.

Eventually, he found it.

A 'scrap yard' tucked away at the very back.

A place where broken equipment was melted down in a furnace and refined into raw materials again.

"…You okay?"

Someone approached. Another dwarf—clearly a local—spoke to him kindly. A friend of Rof's, perhaps?

"You got it bad, huh? Hang on, I think I've still got some herbs."

The dwarf wore cracked glasses, and his body was as battered as Rof's. Covered in bruises and scrapes.

It seemed being bullied wasn't exclusive to just one.

'They all…'

One thing was clear: none of the dwarves working here were "normal."

They were all outcasts.

A collection of discarded blacksmiths, rejected by the main forge.

And now, a sobering realization settled in.

So this is it. The starting point of the quest.

One of the few benefits of a theme dungeon—if you could call it that—was that the story came to you. You didn't need to go hunting for it.

The moment Jhin sat down at his station in the scrap yard:

[You have entered a scenario zone.]

[A new quest has arrived.]

<Quest — Blacksmith Rof>

Type: Scenario 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Difficulty: C+

Conditions: Rofis a 'discarded blacksmith,' a figure outside his master's interest. Your task is to nurture him into a proper blacksmith.

Time Limit: 9 days

Reward: Recognition from your master

Failure Penalty: Expulsion

Complete the assigned missions. They will aid you.

The first mission arrived shortly after.

Impurity Removal (0/100)

On success: Strength +1

'…So I have to become a blacksmith.'

Jhin cautiously gripped the hammer. It was just a simple tool, yet it felt as heavy as if forged from lead.

Still, he gave it a try.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

With each strike against the mountain of broken gear, his shoulders screamed in protest, as if about to pop from their sockets.

Even so, it was worth doing—there was a quest after all.

Removing impurities from 100 broken items would increase his Strength. No matter what, any action that gave gains was better than sitting still.

'…But is this really the right way?'

Breaking down 100 pieces of gear for a single point of Strength. Could he really clear the dungeon like this in nine days?

CLANG!

While his mind spun in circles, his hands moved instinctively, focused on clearing impurities.

"Hmmm…"

Millie opened her eyes to the scent of deep, rich coffee in a pristine library.

Every surface was immaculately arranged—not a speck of dust in sight.

"My lord."

An aged butler at her side stepped forward and bowed deeply.

"The carriage is ready."

"…Tell them to wait—a little while longer."

She tried to speak as naturally as possible, though she stiffened for a moment at the unfamiliar tone of her voice.

Still, she played it off smoothly.

The butler exited, and Millie casually glanced at the papers laid out on the desk.

<Regarding the Chain of Disappearances> <Final Report on the Moonlight Sect> <Monopoly Merchant Guild Roster>

She skimmed the documents and sighed quietly.

It finally sank in—she really was inside a dungeon.

And her guess that it might be a theme dungeon had been spot on.

"…But still, to end up as a man…"

Count Camriel.

In the mirror, she saw a pale-faced man with sharp features.

Upon closer inspection, she realized his face had been powdered to a ghostly white.

"…My lord."

"I understand. I'll be there shortly."

Had she lingered too long? The butler returned with a concerned expression, urging her onward.

Millie left the library and followed.

Big castle. Then again, he is a Count…

She recalled the documents from earlier. The role she'd been assigned—Count Camriel—seemed to be someone of high importance in this country.

I wasn't expecting to be a man, but… this is a decent start.

Birth was luck.

Even in the same scenario, some would start at rock bottom, while others landed at the top with little effort.

She reached the carriage—elegant, finely adorned. Knights stood at attention. The butler opened the door with a flourish.

"…Your Highness?"

Princess Violetta.

Inside the carriage sat the very same Violetta she had seen mentioned in the documents earlier. She nearly made a huge mistake.

Millie composed herself and performed smoothly.

Ten years in showbiz as a singer meant ten years of acting, too.

A period drama like this was nothing.

"Your Highness is joining us as well, I see."

"…It turned out that way."

The princess's voice was soft, light as her delicate appearance. If she ever released a song, it would shoot to the top of the charts.

What a voice.

"Then let us depart."

The carriage door closed, and it rumbled into motion with the gentle clopping of horses.

It was a dark night.

But where could a Count and Princess possibly be heading together at this hour?

Millie pulled the curtain back slightly and peeked out. The carriage was winding deep into the woods—only shadows and tangled brush outside.

No intel to work with.

She turned her focus instead to Princess Violetta.

Surely a princess would know something.

"Your Highness?"

"Yes?"

That face—pure and innocent. It reminded her of one of her younger groupmates back in her idol days.

She used to dote on that girl—four years her junior.

…Was she still alive, somewhere?

Sigh.

"Are you comfortable? Anything I can assist with?"

Start with rapport.

At a glance, the princess was guarded. To draw anything out of her, Millie needed to knock gently on the door to her heart.

"I'm fine, really…"

And then it happened.

The carriage lurched violently. A strange noise echoed from outside.

The curtain flapped open—and an eerie face loomed right up against the window.

The princess blurted,

"Holy sh—!"

She clamped her mouth shut immediately.

Clearly embarrassed, she glanced sideways at Millie and bit her lip.

Then, with a hopeful expression, she clapped her hands together.

Clap! Clap-clap-clap!

That look—so desperately hopeful.

Millie let out a faint sigh and replied with the familiar rhythm of national pride:

Clap-clap! Clap! Clap-clap!

The princess's face lit up like dawn.

"Whew, thank god. Who are you? Jhin?"

And then the realization hit.

That angelic, graceful princess—the one who reminded her of her idol group's youngest member—

"…Tempah."

God, this game really had no respect for appearances.