"Gorim!?" Jared's eyes widened in shock.

Gorim was a legendary name among blacksmiths across the continent.

It was said he had forged over a thousand mythical-grade weapons. Whether that was true remained unclear, but few doubted his skill.

After all, most of the mythical weapons circulating throughout the world—those forged by mortal hands rather than born naturally—were believed to have come from him.

So even if the number didn't truly reach a thousand, the sheer amount of mythical weapons attributed to him was proof enough.

Jared stared at the unconscious dwarf, his expression dazed.

"M-Merlin Clay… is what you're saying true? Is he really that Gorim?"

It still felt hard to believe. The Gorim he knew from storybooks was a strong, charismatic, and magnificent figure.

But the dwarf lying before him was the complete opposite.

Merlin chuckled softly. "Relax. I wouldn't lie to you. Besides, it'd be pointless—and I'm not that kind of person."

Jared fell silent, and the doubt in his eyes gradually faded.

A few minutes later, Gorim began to stir. His eyelids fluttered before slowly opening.

"Ugh… my head hurts," he groaned, rubbing his temples.

"Oh? You're finally awake, old man. I thought you were dead."

The teasing voice came from beside him. Gorim stiffened and quickly turned his head.

There stood a handsome boy with snow-white hair and light purple eyes, dressed in the uniform of Saint Freya Academy.

Behind him were two others—a beautiful horned girl and a tall, muscular boy.

"The three of you…" Gorim's eyes narrowed with caution. "Who are you? And what do you want?"

Merlin smiled as he bent one knee, meeting Gorim's gaze.

"My name is Merlin Clay," he introduced himself. "I'm a first-year student at Saint Freya Academy."

He then gestured toward Nysera and Jared, introducing them as well.

Turning back to Gorim, Merlin continued, "Don't worry. I didn't come here to cause trouble—let alone harm you. I'm here for one reason only: to ask for your help, Old Man Gorim."

Hearing his words, Gorim felt a small measure of relief. He had assumed the three of them had come with ill intentions, but it seemed that wasn't the case.

Even so, he quickly forced a stern expression and shook his head.

"Go away, boy. You won't get anything from me. I'm just a useless beggar waiting for death."

He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through his head. Still, he gritted his teeth and pushed himself upright.

Merlin let out a quiet sigh. "Are you sure? My request isn't even that difficult."

He pointed toward Jared. "All I want is for you to train him. He's a talented blacksmith who lost his skills because of trauma. With your guidance, I'm certain he can regain what he's lost."

"No." Gorim's voice was firm, leaving no room for negotiation. "I won't help him. And I won't help you."

"Merlin, don't force him," Jared said quickly. "We should just leave."

It would be a lie to say he wasn't excited to meet a legend like Gorim. But he also knew pushing further would accomplish nothing.

If anything, it would only make things worse.

"Leave?" Merlin frowned. "There's no such word as 'give up' in my dictionary."

He rose to his feet, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a packet of chocolate bread.

He tossed it toward Gorim and teased, "There's some bread here. You fainted because you haven't eaten, right? Eat first, and then I'll make my offer. Don't worry, I'm not asking you to do it for free."

"Boy," Gorim protested coldly. "Do you think I'm a beggar? I may be poor and have nothing, but that doesn't mean you can bribe me with—"

Before he could finish, Merlin suddenly opened his palm.

A five-kilogram clay wine jug appeared. It was made of rough clay, and its mouth was covered with a cloth lid tied tightly with string.

"Mhmm…" Merlin gazed at the jug with a sorrowful expression. "If only you'd accepted my offer, I would've given you this wine. Oh, you might not know this, but this is Mountain Heart Wine—one of the ten hardest wines to make. I'm sure you're familiar with it."

He glanced at Gorim with a playful look, only to see that Gorim's face had already turned pale.

This wine was Merlin's weapon. In the novel, Gorim was described as a hardcore wine lover.

He could down an entire barrel of wine with twenty percent alcohol content without even blinking.

It sounded insane, but it was clearly stated in both the novel and its databook.

And the wine Merlin brought wasn't just any wine. It was Mountain Heart Wine—one of the most difficult wines to produce.

The hardest part was sourcing its main ingredient: honeysuckle flowers.

Honeysuckle flowers could only be found in the treacherous mountains on the western side of the continent.

To make matters worse, the flower bloomed only once every ten years.

With its addition, the wine gained a faint yet pungent honey-like aroma while still remaining refreshingly light.

That was why it was so highly sought after, even by the wealthiest noble families.

Aside from the difficult production process, only a few master winemakers possessed the techniques and recipes to create it.

Of course, Merlin wasn't among those experts. He had bought this wine from the system shop for forty thousand system points.

Although the price was steep, it was worth it if it meant gaining Gorim's help.

Gorim stared at the wine jug absentmindedly. His eyes were completely fixed on it, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

Merlin let out a long sigh, then hugged the jug and turned toward Jared and Nysera.

"You two, let's go. Even if Gorim won't help, I'm sure there are plenty of smiths around here who are just as skilled as him," Merlin remarked casually.

However, anyone with a keen sense could detect the hidden provocation behind his words.

Nysera caught the playful look in Merlin's eyes and immediately realized the boy was hatching a plan.

She said nothing and turned to leave. Jared didn't understand, but he still followed Merlin's lead.

He walked out after Nysera, with Merlin right behind him.

Merlin closed his eyes and began counting. "One… two… three…"

He kept counting, and just as his footsteps were about to reach the outer area, a panicked voice rang out from behind.

"Wait! Don't go!"

Merlin chuckled inwardly and whispered, "Gotcha."

But he didn't show it and pretended not to hear.

Gorim grew even more frantic. He hurriedly jumped off the sofa and ran toward Merlin.

"W-Wait a second!"

He rushed past the three of them and spread his arms wide, as if to stop them from going any further.

Merlin scratched his head in confusion. "What's going on? Didn't you reject it?"

Gorim gritted his teeth and said without a trace of shame, "I take back what I said! I'll accept your offer!"

Jared was stunned. He turned to Merlin, who returned his gaze with a meaningful look.

"Oh?" Merlin feigned surprise. "But I remember you—"

"That was just nonsense! Don't worry about it!" Gorim cut him off, his eyes never leaving the wine jug in Merlin's arms. "Let's go inside and talk."

Merlin still wore a confused and hesitant expression, but he didn't refuse.

After all, this was exactly the outcome he wanted.

Soon after, the four of them went back inside the shack.

Gorim sat on the sofa, his gaze never leaving the wine jug in Merlin's arms.

"Tell me what you want," Gorim said, composing himself.

Merlin chuckled inwardly and explained, "As I said earlier, this man—no, this boy…"

He pointed at Jared beside him. "He has some issues. It's trauma stemming from an incident that happened to him and his family. Because of that, he lost his abilities. What I want is for you to help him regain them. If possible, make him as strong as you are."

If Jared could forge mythic-grade artifacts, it would be an immense advantage for Merlin both now and in the future.

Gorim looked Jared up and down, as if inspecting him.

"Hmm…"

Jared swallowed hard and straightened his stiff posture.

"He has an excellent physique—perfect for forging," Gorim praised.

Jared was overjoyed. But the next moment, Gorim hurled the sharpest, most cutting words he had ever heard.

"Unfortunately, his foundation is weak! His abilities are mediocre! Becoming like me, huh? That's just a pipe dream!"

Gorim snorted coldly and turned his face away.

Merlin: "…"

He hadn't expected this old man to be so arrogant and irritating. But since Gorim said it, it was probably true.

Merlin glanced at Jared, who had lowered his head in shame, and let out a small sigh.

"So, can you help him? Don't worry, I'll keep my promise."

He set the wine jug on the table and raised an eyebrow.

Gorim's gaze instantly locked onto the jug. Without realizing it, a greedy smile spread across his face.

"Hehehe…" He rubbed his palms together. "That's easy. Leave it to me."

Merlin nodded in satisfaction. "In that case, I'll leave Jared in your care, old man!"