Duo Leveling LITRPG | Post Apocalyptic | SYSTEM-Chapter 181 - 225+226

Jhin spoke up without warning.

"We should submit something too."

"…Rof, what are you talking about all of a sudden?"

"I mean the 'new works' for the upcoming royal banquet. Let's try submitting one ourselves."

Two days in the scrap yard.

In that time, Jhin had raised his Strength and Vitality by nearly ten points. And more importantly, he had fully blended in with the other dwarves while playing the role of Rof.

He'd also gathered quite a bit of useful intel.

So now, he was sure of it.

The first scenario quest wasn't simply about grinding stats through mindless labor.

The real goal was to become a proper blacksmith. Stats weren't the point.

There was nothing in the quest that demanded he build stats suited for a blacksmith.

In fact, it stated outright that Rofwas called "discarded" not because of his ability—but because he was ignored by his master.

That's it. He's a discard because his master never acknowledged him.

Which meant, in theory, even with lopsided stats heavy on mana, if he could create something worthwhile, the judgment would change.

Then he wouldn't be a magic-heavy discard—he'd be "unique." A blacksmith like no other.

Sure, there was also merit in building proper stats and skills, slowly becoming competent in the craft until he earned recognition. That was a valid path too.

But time was short.

That path would mean failure this time around.

So I need a special event. Something to turn the tide.

He turned again to the dwarves watching him with cautious curiosity.

"There's no rule that says we scrap workers can't submit something."

The "submission" he referred to was the semiannual process in which each workshop presented their finest new creation to the royal banquet.

A "new work" meant something recognized by the master—an exceptional item worthy of being shown to the king.

Just the kind of thing that would win the master's approval.

But his companions just stared at him, blank-faced.

"You mean, we are going to do what, exactly? We're in the scrap yard because we can't even produce the standard-issue gear delivered each week…"

Alberto, the only one in the scrap yard who wore glasses, spoke with concern. He didn't say it, but the other dwarves wore the same doubtful expression.

And honestly, they weren't wrong.

The scrap yard was exactly what it sounded like—a dumping ground for broken dwarves. Only those with misfit stats or skills like Jhin's worked there.

And now they were going to create a masterpiece to represent the entire workshop?

It sounded like a joke.

Jhin clicked his tongue and said,

"You don't want to spend your whole lives just breaking junk down here, do you?"

"Well, no, but…"

And just then—

A scream rang out from afar. The youngest of the group, Kol, who had gone out to fetch materials, let out a strangled cry.

"Aaaagh!"

A load of scrap metal had collapsed onto him. His face was riddled with embedded iron shards.

"Damn it. Freakin' reject…"

None of the other dwarves even checked on Kol. Instead, they shoved his gut with their boots as if he were just in the way.

"Move, you useless bastard!"

"Gkh!"

"What a pain…"

With a scoff and a wad of spit, the thugs turned and walked off. Kol lay in a pool of his own blood, motionless, until the other scrap yard dwarves rushed over to carry him back.

Alberto quickly plucked the shards from Kol's face. Some of the others even brought magnets.

Thankfully, his corneas were intact.

Kol recovered quickly.

But a heavy silence fell over the scrap yard.

No one had wanted something like this to happen. But somehow, the flow of emotion turned gently, favorably, toward Jhin.

"…Rof."

"Yeah?"

"You said we should make something, right? A new work?"

Their eyes now burned with a quiet fire. No longer the dull, defeated gaze of rejects.

Alberto spoke again.

"Watching you swing that hammer non-stop these past few days… I started to really reflect. I wondered if I'd ever worked that hard myself."

It had started as a mindless grind. A way to gain some stats, to keep moving.

"But I saw the forge lit up even after hours, and I knew you were in there. After all you went through, you still didn't give up."

Seven days remained.

If they couldn't clear the dungeon within that time, Earth would fall. There was no option but to burn the midnight oil.

"I'm in."

"Really?"

"I wasn't born to rot away like this."

It wasn't intentional, but the fire in Alberto's eyes was catching. It spread to the rest of the group.

In the end, every dwarf in the scrap yard agreed to join Jhin in producing a submission piece—a new work worthy of the royal banquet.

Then Alberto frowned slightly.

"But… there's only two days until the deadline."

"Exactly. That's why we have to work together."

"…Work together?"

Jhin grinned and drew them all close.

The first button to fasten in this strategy—

Collaboration.

Time passed quickly.

"What do we do, what do we do? Today's the day. What do we do?"

"Alberto. Breathe."

"But Rof! This is my first time submitting something!"

Jhin forced a wry smile as he led his sleep-deprived comrades—dark circles and all—toward the master's station, where the exhibition would be held.

"Huh? Aren't those the rejects?"

"What are they doing here?"

"Don't tell me they're submitting something?"

Voices quickly turned from curiosity to open laughter. Dwarves from the main forge jeered and mocked the scrap yard crew as they passed.

Alberto and the others began to shrink under the weight of ridicule.

But Jhin said firmly,

"Chin up. We're better than them."

"…Rof, aren't you nervous?"

"Of course I am. But nerves don't control me."

Facing fear—it was natural to tremble.

But Jhin refused to let that fear dictate his reality.

This time would be no different.

Discarded? Don't make me laugh.

With his head held high, he strode confidently toward the master.

The master, face twisted in sour disapproval, was kicking at the submitted works like they were trash.

"Ugh, they're all the same. Did you all copy each other? Are you trying to make me look bad on purpose, huh?!"

"This is what you call equipment? You mocking me?"

"Ugh! There's not a single thing here I like!"

His eyes rolled in disbelief until they landed on Jhin.

"…What now? You here to submit something too?"

At his words, the dwarves who had already been humiliated by the master glanced over at Jhin and burst into mocking laughter.

Seeing someone they thought was even lower than them—the so-called 'reject blacksmiths'—trying to enter the same arena gave them a slight boost of confidence.

Jhin ignored their snickers and looked squarely at the master.

"This," he said, "is a black iron suit."

"A suit? Of black iron? You don't mean that black iron, do you?"

Black iron—scrap metal and slag commonly left over in the scrap yard. Normally, it wasn't even considered suitable for crafting equipment.

"Yes. This is equipment made from black iron."

As expected, laughter erupted from the surrounding dwarves. Their tone now shifted from mockery to outright contempt.

"Pfft! Equipment made from black iron? I'll give you this—it's original!"

"Turning trash into more trash. You rejects never fail to surprise me! Hah!"

Unbelievable. Their own submissions had just been rejected and literally kicked aside, yet here they were flapping their mouths like they were royalty.

They don't even see the master's expression changing.

Jhin gave a slow grin, curious just how much wider the master's eyes could get.

The master, now wearing a more serious expression, asked,

"…You said this is a suit?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is it finished?"

Without hesitation, Jhin pulled a rolled-up blueprint from his pocket.

The schematic was filled with formulas and precise notations, clearly defining each part and mechanism.

It was the handiwork of Kol—the youngest dwarf, who, despite his frailty, possessed remarkable talent in design.

That's actually the most impressive part of all this.

Who would have imagined it?

What kind of equipment could these so-called rejects create when they pooled their individual talents?

They were only called rejects because their stats didn't align with typical blacksmith expectations.

But in other fields? They were brilliant.

Geniuses, even.

In the end, the item will speak for itself.

Jhin began explaining the submission with confident precision.

"This is a prototype. It can currently only be worn on the right arm. But once all components are completed and assembled…"

As his explanation continued, the master's gaze sank deeper and deeper into the blueprint. His eyes devoured every detail.

The noisy jeering among the other dwarves gradually fell into silence, as a frosty tension spread.

The momentum was shifting.

So Jhin drove in the final nail.

"Would you like to see a demonstration?"

"…It's not finished, though, is it?"

Jhin shrugged and slipped on the black iron gauntlet. Then he walked over and lifted a heavy anvil with one hand.

"Wh—?!"

Now, everyone knew Rof was a blacksmith with stats stacked in power. The weakest of the weak when it came to strength.

No further explanation was needed.

The gauntlet had proven itself.

"That's impossible…"

"That gauntlet alone could do that?"

A nameless dwarf with a red face stepped forward. Was his name Rex?

"I don't believe it. There's no way rejects made that!"

"…What?"

"There's something fishy going on. Making gear out of black iron is weird enough. You're trying to scam the master, aren't you?!"

An absurd accusation.

No proof. Just half-baked suspicions flung like mud.

But somehow, that baseless claim began to gain traction.

"No way rejects could make something like that…"

"Yeah, it's suspicious."

"Master! This must be investigated properly!"

Fueled by the murmurs, Rex marched up with a greatsword of his own and sneered.

"You can always spot a cheap knockoff!"

Then, without warning, he swung his weapon at the gauntlet on Jhin's arm.

"Don't!! Rof!!" shouted Alberto.

It all happened in a blink.

Jhin saw it coming—but had no time to dodge.

The other dwarves winced, picturing his arm shattering along with the gauntlet.

CLANG!!

Instead, the greatsword collided with the gauntlet—and snapped in two.

The pieces hovered in the air for a moment before tumbling to the ground.

Jhin smiled coldly.

The black iron gauntlet strengthens its hardness through power. You idiot.

The entire room fell into stunned silence as they stared at Jhin, standing there completely unharmed.

It stretched on.

Then, at last, the master muttered quietly,

"…No need to see anything else."

The verdict was final.

[You have gained the 'Master's Recognition'.]

[Quest successfully completed.]

Victory belonged to the discarded blacksmiths.

From there, the scenario unfolded smoothly.

The master announced that the black iron suit would be completed and presented at the royal banquet.

The entire scrap yard crew was ordered to travel to the palace.

"Move! What are you standing around for?! Get those hammers swinging!"

Spurred on by the master's shouts, the dwarves worked without sleep, hammering through the night to finish the suit.

Jhin ran his hand across the completed black iron suit's sleek frame.

Looks amazing.

A memory flashed through his mind—movies from his youth. A flying iron hero saving Earth.

Of course, this wasn't painted red like in those films. The black iron had lived up to its name: pure obsidian in color.

And then, he thought,

The next part of the scenario must be in the palace. That banquet is probably the dungeon's main event.

With that in mind, Jhin joined the dwarves departing for the palace. As official blacksmiths representing the kingdom, they passed through the gates without any inspection.

"Is His Majesty inside?"

"Yes. I'll escort you."

They were led by royal guards through elegant palace halls, finally arriving at a lavish reception chamber beyond a long corridor.

"Please rest here a moment. We'll notify the King shortly."

The reception room was laden with food and drink—including cold beer, a dwarf favorite.

Up to that point, everything had been going smoothly.

If there was a problem—

"…It really was too easy."

Not long after the guard left and shut the door, a strange white smoke began to billow in, snaking low across the floor.

[Conditions met.]

[Scenario quest has been updated.]

Damn it.