Steve crouched, raised his axe, and chopped the boat clean in half—finally setting Holls free.
He suspected one reason his reputation kept dropping was that he wasn't treating the villagers "properly."
Since this dwarf might still be useful later, he decided to release him and see if that could earn back some goodwill points.
He also wondered—was there a mod that could show reputation values? In a world so focused on trading, that would be pretty useful.
...
The moment Holls tumbled out of the boat, emeralds scattered across the floor, but he didn't even glance at them. His entire attention was fixed on the two shining iron ingots in his hands.
He forgot one crucial detail though—his legs were completely numb from sitting too long.
The instant he tried to stand, they folded under him like wet noodles.
Thud!
He face-planted hard. A splash of red bloomed under his nose.
"Master Holls?!"
Guards rushed forward to lift him, finding his large dwarven nose swollen and bleeding profusely. But even with blood streaming down his face, the dwarf was grinning, clutching those two iron ingots like sacred relics.
Then, before the guards could question him, they heard a scream behind them. Turning, they saw a terrified villager in front of Steve, trembling and shaking his head in panic.
"What the—" one guard began, only to feel Holls tug his collar.
"Don't panic, don't panic! He doesn't mean any harm," Holls assured, wiping blood off his beard. His eyes gleamed like twin torches. "You can't move when he does that thing, sure—but it doesn't actually hurt. Trust me, I've tried it myself!"
He tried to clap the guard's shoulder reassuringly but realized he might send the man flying, so he stopped himself.
Luckily, dwarves healed fast. Years of blacksmithing had turned Holls' body into iron. Within minutes, he was back on his feet.
He didn't even bother locking up the shop—there was nothing left to steal anyway. Hugging his precious iron ingots, he ran after Steve.
...
The guards exchanged looks.
By all logic, they should have arrested Steve.
After all, the creature had harassed townsfolk, used supernatural powers without registration, and possibly acted under the orders of some unknown mage.
But judging by Holls' attitude, trying to detain that thing would probably end with someone's kneecaps shattered.
And honestly, they weren't sure they could win. The rumors about him—instant paralysis, bottomless strength, indestructible armor—were starting to sound less like gossip and more like fact.
So after some uneasy silence, they just… stood there and did nothing.
...
Meanwhile, Steve had moved on to exploring deeper parts of the town.
With JEI unlocked, he could finally go full scavenger mode. Anything that looked remotely interesting—he mined it. Then he'd check its recipe list. If it was useful, he kept it. If not, he tossed it back.
But soon, he realized many villagers were locking their doors as soon as they saw him. From behind the shutters, he heard shouting and muffled panic.
"Reputation drop again?" he muttered.
Still, as long as they weren't openly hostile, it didn't matter. He looked around, shrugged, and ignored the ordinary houses—too little loot, too much risk.
His gaze fell on the grand building in the town square. Inside, he spotted some familiar faces.
Wait... aren't those my villagers?
He recognized Elena instantly—and remembered that trade he'd been meaning to complete for her hunter relic.
But as soon as he stepped closer, a sharp scream pierced the air.
It was the warrior.
He was there—bound in chains, surrounded by guards. His scarf was gone, his face pale and bruised, his eyes bloodshot with rage and terror.
The girl from the Guild desk was taking notes nearby while Elena and the others confronted him, pointing out their stolen goods. The air was thick with tension.
The warrior had snapped. He'd killed, dumped bodies, and robbed his clients. Even with Bardley's lenient laws for adventurers, crimes like that earned a one-way trip to the dungeon—maybe for life.
At first, the man glared in silent fury. But when he spotted the blocky silhouette at the doorway—Steve's unmistakable shape—his composure shattered.
His scream was raw and animalistic.
"That demon! Demon!"
He thrashed wildly in his chains, shouting, "He killed him! He killed that man, not me! The coachman too—it was him!"
Guards strained to restrain him. The cuffs shimmered with anti-magic runes, dampening his battle aura, but he still struggled like a madman.
Elena turned, startled—and saw Steve standing quietly at the entrance.
"So that lord came here too?" Jack murmured beside her. "Guess he really is some kind of magical construct."
He noticed that the townsfolk didn't seem nearly as terrified of Steve as before. In fact, some even looked… curious.
He felt a flush of embarrassment remembering how he'd panicked and grabbed another villager's pitchfork the first time he'd seen the blocky figure.
The receptionist frowned, nose wrinkling, and nodded to the guards. "Just in case—restrain that… creation."
But before they could move, a booming voice rang out:
"Don't touch him! Don't you dare touch him!"
Heads turned. Holls the dwarf was sprinting toward them, short legs pumping, beard bouncing, iron ingots still clutched in his arms.
The guards froze, hesitating again.
Steve stopped as well, tilting his square head slightly, his blue eyes reflecting the lamplight.
Elena stepped forward, curious rather than afraid now.
Yesterday, she'd been terrified—she'd seen him only as a monster. But after a night's rest, she realized how wrong she'd been.
Now, looking at him again, she saw something different. The rigid, angular face, the way his armor gleamed under the light—he didn't seem frightening anymore. In fact, he seemed… almost endearing.
Like a storybook knight made of cubes, standing tall against dragons.
Then Steve waved his hand—and Elena's body froze.
But this time, she didn't panic. She'd experienced it before. So she simply stood still, calm, waiting.
"Haah… haah…" Holls reached Steve, gasping for breath. Sprinting with two chunks of metal was no small feat, even for a dwarf.
One guard blinked. "Master Holls, you… know this thing?" He pointed toward the raving warrior. "That man claims it's the killer."
"Killer? Impossible!" Elena and Holls said at the same time.
The guard blinked, confused.
"You know him?" Holls turned to Elena eagerly.
"Kind of… he saved me yesterday," she admitted softly. It was her first time speaking to a dwarf, and the man's intense excitement made her blush.
"Oh, wonderful! Wonderful!" Holls exclaimed, rubbing the smooth surface of the iron ingot like a nervous habit, eyes shining with passion.
He was desperate to learn how this "being" forged such perfect metal. To a blacksmith, it was like discovering the divine.
But Steve, of course, didn't respond. He just stood there, silent, detached, doing whatever he pleased—like always.
Still, now that Holls had met someone who could communicate with Steve, his heart blazed with hope.
For the first time, the future looked wide open.