The workshop owner perked up, rising hastily:
"Sir wishes to buy a warhammer?"
He eyed Reyn: tall, sturdy, confident stride. No exaggerated muscles, but powerful, imposing build exuding pressure.
Definitely a Superhuman.
Seeing Reyn's nod, the owner turned and strained to unhook the warhammer from the wall.
Reyn took it effortlessly; his eyes lit up: perfect weight, fit his hand ideally.
He examined it closely. Entirely cast from dark-golden metal, simple yet elegant. Head nearly like a standard octagonal hammer—elongated parallelepiped, just larger. Surface bore simple decorative patterns, no runes.
Haft about forearm-length, three sections with diamond anti-slip knurling. End had chicken-egg-sized metal ball for balance.
Black with faint dark-golden sheen, weighing about one hundred twenty pounds.
A bit heavier than expected, but comfortable in hand. Plus, training would boost his strength further—perfect.
Via "Metallic Touch," Reyn analyzed its structure flawlessly: superb forging, no metal fatigue cracks, no shape flaws, head sufficiently hard. Peak craftsman work.
Of course, unenchanted, so not overly valuable.
"Owner, how much for this hammer?" Reyn decided to take it and asked price.
The owner replied bluntly:
"Six gold shields."
"So expensive!"
Reyn was taken aback, suspecting a rip-off.
Quality unenchanted weapons, unless rare materials, couldn't cost much. Two-three gold coins max—already good.
The octagonal hammer bought here earlier, a mere construction tool, cost three silver crowns.
This was a hundred times more!
Seeing Reyn's displeasure, the owner hurried to explain:
"Sir, this warhammer isn't ordinary materials. I used black iron mixed with over twenty pounds pure gold, smelted into a solid improved iron ingot, then forged this hammer.
"You know pure gold's price, sir?" the owner clarified, fearing misunderstanding.
Reyn nodded. Pure gold was one of Ellunes' most precious metals, possibly densest.
Twenty pounds sounded impressive, but volume-wise half a finger, worth about three gold shields.
Due to cost, pure gold warhammers were rare; few could swing them. Thus, alloying gold with iron for improved iron weapon stock was common.
Twenty pounds pure gold made this heavy.
Factoring improved iron cost and smithing, six gold shields was fair.
Reyn haggled no more, paid immediately.
Pleased with the sale, the owner took payment and gifted a leather baldric.
Worn cross-shoulder; back hook at shoulder blade for hammer head, haft diagonal to belt. Reyn could reach back, grip haft, push up to draw—very convenient.
Reyn tested it several times; sturdy baldric pleased him.
Back at his apartment with the hammer, he swung it. Over a hundred pounds felt obedient; he adapted quickly.
"This improved iron hammer should last me a long time."
Reyn set it aside, washed, and slept.
Midnight, he awoke.
Silently rose, donned new black suit, hatted up, slung hammer on back, slipped out quietly.
Deep night; street gas lamps out, faint moonlight lit the city.
Reyn activated "Voice of All Things" and raced streets, pausing to shadow-hide from passersby and night patrols.
Path clear; soon crossed bridge to Silver Star district.
Reyn memorized route, headed south along Ferreglen river, using buildings to evade the Eye of the Spiritual Demon on the tall tower. Unseen.
Soon reached a house near the river.
He looked up at Tower of Mages: two-three kilometers; night sky showed vague vertical silhouette, but summit light beam prominent. House still in its watch zone; major incidents detected instantly.
"Must act fast, quietly."
Reyn focused, listening. Two heartbeats inside. One much stronger—close combat warrior sign.
Rhythm familiar: Hogan, the fighter.
Other much weaker, likely normal woman. Close together, probably embracing asleep in upstairs bedroom.
Reyn hesitated briefly. Hogan, who saw his face, must die—no delay, even fresh Superhuman today; eliminate threat tonight.
But the sleeping woman... unknown relation to Hogan, evil god follower? Sort out during assault, avoid innocent kill.
Assuming his own safety first.
Life threat? No mercy.
Reyn waited patiently ten minutes. Breathing steady, occasional shifts—deep sleep.
He memorized Hogan's breathing, approached house step by step.
Even asleep, Hogan might sense Discord Seal in range and wake.
Distance shrank; bedroom still quiet.
Reyn vaulted low wall, landed softly, unslung hammer. Straight-line to Hogan now under fifteen meters.
"Discord Seal detection radius for evil god followers seems under fifteen meters, not the hundred I thought.
"Of course, maybe he's just asleep and senses nothing."
Reyn pondered. For him, of course, the smaller the perception radius, the better—fewer chances of being detected by the followers of the evil god.
The doors and windows of the first floor were tightly shut; there was no way to get inside. He cautiously circled the house from the side, easily jumped up, grabbed the edge of the balcony, and climbed over to the top.
Thanks to the gyroscope on his phone, his movements were precise and didn't make the slightest sound.
From the balcony, he slipped into a room separated from Hogan's bedroom by just one wall.
In the bedroom, the strong heartbeat suddenly quickened, and the breathing became ragged, clearly unnatural.
"He's awake!"
Reyn immediately noticed the change and, without hesitation, stomped his foot hard, breaking through the wooden floor, and slammed his entire body into the wall.
With a crash, Reyn burst through the wall and found himself in Hogan's bedroom.
He had already pinpointed Hogan's location and, bursting out from behind the wall, immediately swung his warhammer, bringing it down on the figure on the bed.
Bam!
The bed splintered into pieces, but Hogan was no longer there.
Hogan reacted like lightning, rolling aside a split second earlier. He sprang up like a coiled spring, pushed off the wall by the bed with his feet, and, like a nimble cat, climbed onto the ceiling, flipped over, and dove down at Reyn from above.
"A-a-a..."
The woman who had been sleeping beside him woke in terror, fell to the floor, and screamed.
Reyn saw that she was an ordinary human and casually stunned her with a palm strike.
Meanwhile, Hogan was already in front of him. He wore only short pants, his entire body covered in knotted muscles. Clenching his fists tightly, he directed the flow of internal energy coursing beneath his muscles into his fists, which whistled through the air.
A furious gust of wind from the strike crashed into Reyn.
Reyn calmly raised his hammer, perfectly positioning it under Hogan's fist.
At the moment of impact, Hogan's fist exploded with multiply amplified power. The strike was incredibly short but produced a stunning effect.
A sharp pain pierced Reyn's arm, and he involuntarily stepped back half a pace.
Hogan, however, received a much stronger counterblow and flew back, slamming into the wall.
Terror froze in his eyes. He had put all his strength into that strike, intending to knock the warhammer from the enemy's hands, but the foe had only retreated half a step, unscathed.
"What monstrous strength!"
The thought flashed through Hogan's mind, but there wasn't a shadow of fear. Under the influence of the "Balance" Element, he instantly regained his composure and charged at the enemy again.
Kill this man and take the Seal of Discord, and he would receive divine blessing!
A fighter's path to victory—close combat, swift attacks, tight contact, not giving the enemy time to recover and use any techniques.
Attacking, Hogan quickly shifted from side to side, trying to deceive the opponent's vision.
"Interesting technique."
Reyn wasn't fooled by the trick. He pretended to misjudge the direction and swung the hammer to the left.
Whoosh! The heavy hammer whistled through the air but missed its target.
Boom!
Hogan was on the right and delivered a crushing blow to Reyn's ribs. A dull thud echoed.
The internal energy fully unleashed. A smug smile appeared on his face—he already saw his victory. A fighter unleashes power instantly, and even an Iron Guard couldn't withstand such a strike—one hit, and the opponent was gravely wounded.
But in the next second, the smile froze on Hogan's face.
At the impact point, the clothing turned to rags, revealing a patch of dark gray metallic sheen. A sharp pain shot through his arm, as if he had struck not a human body but a steel plate.
In the darkness, he couldn't make out what Reyn looked like at that moment: his entire skin had dulled, even his hair had hardened, as if he had turned into a steel statue.
In an instant, Reyn, who was prepared for this, spun half a turn. The hammer, initially swung left, arced right by inertia, and its head struck Hogan squarely in the head.
Crack!
Blood sprayed. It seemed to Reyn that he heard the sound of a bursting watermelon.