"You can't take my candle!" Big Candle Garg shouted, launching a fireball straight at Rowe.
As the flames illuminated the mine, Rowe's instincts sharpened. His route suddenly changed as he swung his copper hammer, his speed increasing slightly.
Boom!
The fireball collided with the hammer's arc, scattering in multiple directions. Despite his efforts, some of the flames still splashed onto him.
It was nearly impossible to avoid entirely.
Though it was the most basic form of fire magic, Garg's casting speed and precision were exceptional. Rowe had faced him several times before and had never managed to dodge the attack completely.
Still, he was improving. This time, the injuries were minimal.
As the flames dimmed, Garg roared and charged forward, swinging his crude hatchet with surprising force.
Rowe was ready. He gripped his copper hammer tightly and lunged to meet the attack.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sparks erupted in the dimly lit mine as metal clashed against metal in rapid succession. The hammer and the hatchet met again and again, neither side yielding.
Then, without warning, Garg leaped forward, both feet kicking toward Rowe's abdomen like a kangaroo.
Rowe had anticipated this. In previous fights, he had grabbed Garg's foot before—only to be countered by a sudden axe strike to his neck.
This time, he took a different approach.
Instead of merely blocking, Rowe twisted his grip and hurled Garg through the air.
Boom!
The kobold crashed against the cave wall before tumbling to the ground with a pained yelp.
Rowe wasted no time. He charged forward and swung his hammer toward Garg's head.
Clang!
At the last second, Garg instinctively raised his axe to block the strike. The force sent him skidding backward, but he remained on his feet.
Rowe didn't let up. He released one hand from his hammer and delivered a swift punch to Garg's face.
The kobold screeched in pain.
Sensing victory, Rowe prepared to finish the fight—but Garg suddenly let out a furious cry, his hands bursting into flames.
BOOM!
A fiery explosion engulfed them both.
Rowe gritted his teeth as the flames licked at his skin. He stumbled back, his vision blurred by the heat. Across from him, Garg also writhed in pain.
Ignoring the searing burns, Rowe lunged forward, hammer swinging in a wide arc.
The weapon connected—hard.
CRACK!
Garg collapsed onto the ground. He groaned, dazed, and tried to rise again.
Rowe didn't give him the chance. He brought the hammer down one last time.
BANG!
Garg's form exploded into shimmering light, vanishing into the void of the experience space.
In his place, three glowing items slowly drifted to the ground.
Rowe exhaled, exhausted. He bent down and picked them up.
[You have obtained: Piety 11.96, "A Tear-Jerking Romance Novel: Dropping Wax," and Enchantment: Fire Weapon.]
Rowe blinked.
"A Tear-Jerking Romance Novel: Dropping Wax"?
His expression twisted in confusion.
What kind of ridiculous loot was this? Did this kobold have some strange hobby?
Shaking his head, he focused on the real prize—Enchantment: Fire Weapon.
His pulse quickened as he exited the experience space and flipped through the pages of the Holy Deed.
[Enchant: Fire Weapon – Infuse a weapon with magic, allowing it to unleash fire-based attacks. Inferior weapons cannot be enchanted…]
Rowe's excitement dimmed as he glanced at his copper hammer.
Inferior weapons? He knew exactly what that meant. His current hammer was too weak to handle enchantments.
Did this mean he needed a proper weapon?
He had two options—buy an Asgardian bronze weapon or forge the Fist of Verrigan.
Emotionally, the choice was clear. He had dreamed of wielding the Fist of Verrigan for a long time. But reality was a cruel mistress—it was expensive.
Asgardian bronze ingots alone cost 135 gold coins per piece, and he needed at least seven. That wasn't even counting the other rare materials required to craft the hammer.
He sighed, frustrated.
Where was he supposed to get that much money?
He certainly couldn't rely on pocket money.
Rowe fell into deep thought, his fingers idly flipping through the Holy Deed.
And then—his eyes widened.
Andorov's Hair Restorer!
A slow grin spread across his face.
How could he have forgotten?
There were plenty of bald men in Asgard. If this potion worked and was cheaper than existing treatments, he'd make a fortune!
Just the thought of warriors desperately throwing gold at him to regrow their hair made him chuckle.
He had originally dismissed this formula as a joke, but now it seemed like his best shot at earning the funds he needed.
But first, he had to ensure the ingredients were viable.
Rowe quickly scanned the formula's details. It was slightly more complex than a healing potion but still manageable.
The key ingredients were Silverleaf Grass and Khadgar's Beard—two common herbs in his past world. Their Asgardian equivalents wouldn't be too rare.
Conveniently, he was already in a pharmacy.
Rowe hurried to the storage shelves and began testing herbs against the formula.
[Shining Star Grass – 77% substitution for Silverleaf Grass.]
His brows rose. That was a solid match.
He continued testing.
[Blood Thread Flower – Cannot be used as a substitute.]
[Lifia Foxtail – 53% substitution for Silverleaf Grass.]
[Black Thorn – Cannot be used as a substitute.]
[Green Potato – Cannot be used as a substitute.]
Rowe frowned. He had found a good replacement for Silverleaf Grass, but Khadgar's Beard was proving elusive.
Could it really be that rare?
…Was he supposed to use actual beard hair?
No. That couldn't be right.
Despite its name, Khadgar's Beard was an actual plant. It only resembled a man's beard—it wasn't made of one.
Rowe shook his head, refocusing.
He still had work to do.
If he could crack the formula, he'd have more than enough gold to forge the Fist of Verrigan—and finally, take his first true step as a warrior of Asgard.