Mushoku Tensei: Reincarnated as a Beast Race

"Alright, Rygar Adoldia, correct? Let's take this conversation to a more appropriate place," GodBard said, cleaning the excess coal from his hands and walking toward the forge's exit.

As they left the forge, the entrance was surrounded by armed dwarves. The dwarven guard, Fortwind, stood at the forefront, seemingly preventing them from storming the forge. Their armor was dense and solid, with the dark sheen typical of mountain iron. One of the dwarves stepped forward, raising a calloused hand to block their path.

"God of Ore," the dwarf said with a slight bow, his voice hoarse. "Who is this stranger?"

GodBard raised a hand to calm the group. "It's alright, Galdar. This young man is an esteemed guest of the Coal Mine tribe. You can return to your posts."

Galdar eyed Rygar suspiciously for a moment but then nodded, signaling to the other dwarves. They dispersed, some returning to the forge and others assuming positions around the tunnel.

A few dwarves approached and greeted Rygar, thanking him for saving them at Zant Port. Rygar was surprised, but after some thought, he realized it made sense. He had visited Tinaver and taken his time along the way, the dwarves who traveled directly to their homeland must have arrived much earlier.

These interactions helped ease the other dwarves' acceptance of his presence. Many regarded him with admiration and skepticism upon hearing of his feats.

Rygar observed the scene of soldiers moving in an orderly manner, impressed by the dwarves' level of organization and discipline. "The dwarves' strength surpasses my expectations," he commented, attempting to lighten the tension. But he was genuinely impressed; the dwarves were all equipped with excellent weapons and armor, and their average mana levels seemed higher than the beast race.

"We do what we must. It wouldn't be feasible to have such fine weapons without warriors to protect them," Godbard replied as he resumed walking. "Our people have suffered greatly because of thieves, slavers, and raiders. Much like the races of the Great Forest, the strategic location of this city and the alliances we've forged with some powers in human territories ensure that, at least within this city, you won't be attacked."

"Indeed, it's certainly a difficult place to lay siege to," Rygar remarked while imagining ways to invade. "But it's not invulnerable. And as you said, you're confined to your territory, aren't you?"

Godbard gave Rygar a cautious look. "That's right. There are some monsters that could wipe this mountain off the map, rendering any siege defenses useless. I've heard about what you did outside Zant Port."

Rygar simply smiled.

Skoll let out a low growl, seemingly complaining about the heat around them.

They continued following GodBard through a tunnel that opened into a vast cavern.

At the cavern's center, a monumental structure captured Rygar's attention. A massive tower, carved directly from the rock, rose to the cavern's ceiling like a supporting pillar. Magical lights glimmered along its spiral stairs, giving the environment an ethereal touch.

"The Council Tower," Godbard said, noticing Rygar's impressed gaze. "This is where we make all the decisions for the tribe and safeguard our legacy. I can summon a council meeting tomorrow, depending on the terms you wish to discuss, but I'll hear you out alone today."

"Incredible..." Rygar murmured, feeling small before the grandeur of the construction—not because of its size, but because of the intricate details and sculptures winding around the tower. It was truly a masterpiece to behold.

The group climbed several staircases until they reached an ornate room. The walls were covered with detailed tapestries depicting dwarves in epic battles and legendary forges. At the center of the room, a long stone table dominated the space, surrounded by chairs with intricate carvings.

GodBard motioned for Rygar to sit, but he remained standing, approaching a pedestal near the table. He observed Rygar for a moment before speaking.

"You wanted to talk about your sword," Godbard began, gesturing for Rygar to present it.

Rygar nodded, carefully drawing the weapon from its sheath. He placed it on the table, where the blue gleam of the blade captured the torchlight, reflecting a nearly living azure glow. "I want to embed a magic stone into it," he explained. "Something similar to what's done with wands and staffs used by magicians, but without compromising its abilities. I want it to help me reach a new level of skill."

Godbard stepped closer, his eyes scrutinizing every detail of the blade. He remained silent for long moments, his fingers tracing invisible lines in the air above the sword, as if sensing its energy.

Finally, he shook his head. "No."

Rygar blinked, surprised. The conversation had been going well, and he expected this part to be relatively simple. "What? But… why?"

"I am a creator," Godbard replied, his voice firm and definitive. "I do not modify existing weapons. My work is to create from scratch, imbue each piece with my vision and purpose. Altering this sword would be a disrespect to its essence. It is already a masterpiece."

Rygar frowned. He had traveled far to have this sword modified, and this was his answer? "Couldn't you make an exception? Just this once?"

Godbard narrowed his eyes, as if the suggestion were almost offensive. "No. This is my principle, and I will not break it. However…" He gestured toward the room around them. "Here in the tower, there are other blacksmiths, some almost as skilled as I am, and not all share my personal philosophy. I'm sure you'll find someone willing to help you."

Rygar sighed, feeling disappointment settle over him. But he quickly pushed it aside. "I understand," he said, trying to sound composed. "Thank you."

Skoll approached, sitting beside Rygar as if sensing his mild frustration. Fortwind, on the other hand, floated in circles, seemingly intrigued by the unfolding situation.

Rygar had come to the dwarven territory determined to hire the best of the best to modify his master's gift, whether through force or payment. But judging by Godbard's personality and what he had seen so far of dwarven society, the blacksmith could become an excellent ally under the right circumstances. He didn't want to ruin this chance just to make the sword a bit stronger. Besides, if he forced the matter, the final work might turn out poorly.

In the ornate chamber atop the tower, Rygar and Godbard settled into intricately carved stone chairs, illuminated by a crystal chandelier that cast golden light across the walls. The atmosphere held a ceremonial weight.

Rygar glanced at Skoll, resting calmly beside him, and then at Fortwind, hovering near Godbard.

"Godbard, as you've likely guessed, I'm not here just to seek your help with my sword. I want to propose something bigger, something that would benefit both your tribe and the Iron Legion."

The dwarf raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Go on."

Rygar unfolded a map from his bag, highlighting Tinaver, the Great Forest, and Milis. He pointed to strategic regions. "My Legion is establishing bases throughout Milis, and we won't stop there. I'll spare you an inspiring speech about our goals—you probably already know enough about our activities. My proposal is simple: I want Coal Mine Tribe dwarven blacksmiths working in these locations and teaching as well. In exchange, you'll receive full protection from our forces to trade safely outside your territories. I also have a mineral that might interest you."

Godbard stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Dwarves rarely leave their lands, Rygar. Not because we fear the outside, but because the world beyond the mountains is chaotic. And what exactly do you expect from our blacksmiths?"

"I want to give dwarves the chance to operate on a larger stage," Rygar responded without hesitation. "You're the best at crafting weapons, armor, and tools. I want that excellence to be available to those in need. With our protection and secured trade routes, your products could reach markets that were once unimaginable."

"On paper, that sounds very nice. But does the Legion already have that capacity?" Godbard still seemed skeptical.

"We're far beyond what the dwarves have likely heard, and we'll keep growing as long as I'm there to defend them," Rygar said confidently.

Godbard seemed to ponder for a moment. "You mentioned a mineral?"

Rygar smiled, prepared for the question. He pulled a small, shiny stone from his bag—not an ordinary stone, but a piece of mineral he had shaped himself using earth magic. The piece had a unique metallic black luster, with blue veins and a texture that seemed to defy the laws of nature.

"I call it Erathium," he said, placing the stone on the table before Godbard. "A mineral I created myself using earth magic. It's incredibly dense, durable, and resistant to any kind of impact. It's not easy to produce—it consumes a lot of mana and requires absolute concentration—but it's proof of what we can achieve working together."

Godbard's eyes lit up as he examined the Erathium. He turned it over in his hands, tapped it lightly with his fingers, and even pressed it against a short blade he carried at his belt. The metal seemed unyielding.

"Interesting," he murmured, carefully placing the stone back on the table. "I've never seen anything like this. I'll need to test it in forging to see if it's as good as it looks, but if you could teach someone how to mold it, that would be ideal."

Rygar nodded. "That's the plan. I can teach the process of shaping Erathium, but only to those who join the Legion. This will strengthen both your people and our cause."

The dwarf leaned back, rubbing his chin. "Interesting. We'd send only the young, the most promising—those with much to learn. And in return… you guarantee they'll have the freedom to return whenever they wish."

Rygar nodded again. "Agreed. More than that, if your tribe needs anything—raw materials, protection, military assistance—the Legion will be there."

They spent hours refining the details, discussing terms, and outlining potential trade routes. Godbard suggested safe stops through the mountains, while Rygar mentioned how the elves of the Great Forest could collaborate with the dwarves, trading rare herbs for tools.

The more Rygar spoke with Godbard, the clearer it became that the dwarf cared for two things above all: his tribe and his forge. As long as either benefited, Godbard would remain an ally.

Rygar had brought both to the table. With each passing agreement, Godbard's demeanor grew warmer, his tone more like that of an old friend.

Finally, when everything seemed settled, Godbard laughed, slapping the table. "Young Rygar, you talk like a merchant but have the heart of a warrior. Tomorrow, we'll present these ideas to the council. Tonight, we'll seal this alliance in true dwarven fashion—with a celebration worthy of the occasion!"

Rygar chuckled, relieved. "A celebration? That seems fitting."

"Hope you're ready," Godbard teased. "Dwarves throw parties that topple even the strongest."

A grand feast was quickly announced, and the meeting hall transformed into a lively banquet. Long tables were set with roasted meats, rustic breads, fragrant cheeses, and barrels of frothy ale. The rich aroma even stirred Skoll, who rarely showed such interest, into growling in anticipation.

Rygar started cautiously, serving himself a large cut of meat while observing the dwarves around him. They were already downing tankards and singing boisterous songs accompanied by rustic but skillfully crafted instruments. Fortwind hovered above the crowd, vibrating in tune with the lively music.

"Skoll, enjoy yourself," Rygar said, tossing a hefty chunk of meat to the wolf, who caught it effortlessly mid-air.

As the night wore on, Rygar decided to sample the dwarven ale. "It can't be that strong," he muttered, raising the tankard. The golden liquid burned on the way down, but he laughed. "Not bad!"

A few hours later, moderation was a distant memory. Rygar stood atop a table, thumping his chest and gesturing enthusiastically.

"AND THEN," he declared, his voice slurred but triumphant, "I DROVE MY BLADE INTO HIS CHEST AND BLEW HALF HIS TORSO APART!"

The dwarves roared in approval, urging him on. One particularly impressed dwarf shouted, "And what happened next, lad?"

Rygar grinned, launching into another tale. "AFTER THAT, I SWEPT THROUGH THE BLACK TROLL'S BASE AND TOOK OUT EVERYTHING IN THAT DIRECTION WITH A SINGLE SWORD STRIKE!" He twirled his blade dramatically—a move that nearly toppled a tray of mugs.

Skoll, sprawled nearby with a belly full of meat, let out a lazy growl of contentment. Even the wolf seemed to enjoy the infectious energy of the celebration, occasionally howling along with the rhythm of the songs.

From across the hall, Godbard observed Rygar with an intrigued expression. Slowly, he approached, stopping before the young warrior and tilting his head. "Those eyes of yours... golden, aren't they? Now I remember why they seem familiar."

Rygar blinked, his drunken grin still intact. "My eyes? What's so special about them?"

Godbard crossed his arms. "The same eyes as the ancient God of Ore, my master. He could see mana with those eyes. Can you?"

Rygar blinked again, the words cutting through his haze of drink. "I can, but was he a dwarf? I thought that was unique to the beast race… maybe it's more mysterious than I thought," he murmured.

"TO THE GOLDEN EYES!" Rygar lifted his tankard high.

The dwarves laughed and joined in the toast, the festivities carrying on with more tales, songs, and food. Despite the revelry, Rygar felt truly welcomed. The dwarves were uninhibited and cheerful, their camaraderie making him feel as though he were among old friends. He knew this night would be etched in his memory—not just for the alliances forged but for the laughter shared.

After the party's intensity, Rygar finally found a moment to retreat. Though the halls still echoed with singing and laughter, he slipped away to a room offered to him for the night. Skoll lay beside the bed, snoring softly, clearly as exhausted as his master.

Still feeling the dull weight of drink, Rygar took a deep breath and cast a detoxification spell. The magic coursed through him, washing away the effects of the ale and leaving him clear-headed. A satisfied smile crept across his face. "The dwarves are strong, but I can still best their ale," he murmured before collapsing onto the comfortable bed, his eyelids growing heavy.

---

Sleep came swiftly, but instead of peaceful rest, Rygar felt himself being pulled elsewhere. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the dwarven halls. Instead, he stood in an infinite white expanse. There were no walls, no floor, no ceiling—only an oppressive, endless void.

"Where… am I?" he murmured, glancing around, trying to sense any magical presence. But there was only silence.

Then, a figure appeared in the distance, walking toward him. The humanoid shape was pure white, without any discernible features, its face a blank mosaic save for a chilling, malicious smile that stood out unnervingly.

"Hello, Rygar. I believe this is our first meeting," the figure spoke, its voice resonating from every direction at once.

----

Spoiler Alert: Hitogami has the power to enter people's dreams, regardless of their race. In canon, Hitogami enters the dreams of several non-humans: Badigadi, Gesse Nukadia, Kalman III, Randolph Marianne, and a few others.

His ability that doesn't work with non-humans is the trust ability, where all humans trust him automatically, but non-human beings and beings with souls coming from another world are immune. But they can still be manipulated.