Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest

Wearing a mask of solemness, yet his brows furrowed in guilt and traces of fear swirling in his eyes, Gork bowed low before Adam.

"This is the result of our week of collaboration with the incredible human forger called Muramasa and the woodcarver, Dimitris."

He pinched the piece of fabric, drawing everyone's attention and eagerness to see what mysterious item it covered.

However, his fingers twitched, and he lingered for a second, then two.

Adam's lips quivered after five seconds of stillness as he observed the goblin's twisted expression and tensed shoulders as if he hesitated to show his work.

Rolling his eyes, his voice echoed gently to contrast with his earlier cold display and appease Gork's potential fears.

"Relax, friend. Even if it's not fully developed, I won't get angry." He offered him a warm smile to add weight to his words. "I value your diligence and effort. Thank you for the hard work."

As if he saw an oasis after being lost for two days in a scalding desert, Gork's eyes brightened, and his fingers tightened on the fabric.

"I'm sorry for my earlier disrespect, my lord." He pulled the fabric, relief and pride melding in his voice. "Without further delay, here is the prosthesis."

Adam leaned closer and squinted. His breathing hastened as his fiery eyes landed on an archaic-looking yet technological marvel.

Dense plates arranged with the utmost precision not to impede movement glistened before his opening jaws. But he gawked at the engraved symbols the next second.

Pulsing with blue mana, they contrasted with Muramasa's usual demonic or abyssal creations, giving it a healthy, even noble, allure.

His eyes trailed down, leaving the metal to land on a wooden arm. Polished and oiled to perfection, the fine grain reflected his battered face and crooked smile. The same type of magical engravings covered the surface.

Running from the shoulder down to the fingertips, they added a profound sense of mysticism that made his heart pound in wonder and his mind question how Muramasa, Gork, and Dimitris designed such an outstanding prosthesis in a brief week.

He unglued his eyes from it, noticing Luna and Karna's narrowed eyes. Even Durgrim's desperate laughter stopped. His tears dried, too, and the sorrow in his eyes gave place to longing.

With a chuckle and a nod at Karna, he left his side.

Despite his muffled grunts accompanying each of his steps, he walked to Gork and patted his shoulder.

"You can be proud of yourself."

However, Gork bit his nail, his eyes darting between Durgrim's missing arm and the prosthesis.

"It's not finished yet. We wanted to make it a perfect product to celebrate our first cooperation." His knuckles whitened and trembled. "But look at it! It doesn't match Durgrim's skin tone, and the metal makes it unnatural. No! Let me find something to coat those ugly lights, too."

Adam's hand tightened on Gork's shoulder, and his lips twitched at the ridiculous idea.

"And break its magical appeal? No way!"

He snatched the prosthesis and walked to Durgrim.

A bright smile broadening on his lips, he handed it to the dwarf and nodded

"It's not your real arm, but it'll help until we find a method to regenerate it."

Durgrim's fingers twitched around the smooth wood before he clasped it against his drumming chest like a treasure.

He jumped to his feet and bowed, his cracking voice echoing with raw emotions.

"Thank you for fulfilling your promise so fast."

Warm tears streamed down his parched cheeks as happiness replaced his earlier turmoil—the happiness of crafting jewels and accessories again after a decade of decay.

Then, his voice sharpened, and his eyes narrowed in determination.

"You're different from most. You prove your words with actions." He inhaled sharply, every fiber in his body tensing with his rising chest as he prepared to share what he saw in his inheritance. "Sigh. I don't know about other gods, but Loki used Baldur's remains to order Mjölnir and the ring of Draupnir from my ancestor. I can make the ring without trouble as long as you provide me with the material.

But the hammer?" He shook his head. "You'll need a grandmaster smith at the very least."

Despite his interest in the topic, Adam shrugged in response.

"We'll have time to discuss this matter later. But today is your day." He pointed his finger at the dwarf's chest and grinned. "Congratulations on recovering. I hope you'll remain healthy and live a long life."

Focusing on Durgrim's well-being, he turned towards the grumbling Gork and laughed.

"I know you aim for perfection now that skilled craftsmen help you bring your designs to life. But I assure you we're all satisfied. So, why don't you show us how it works instead of pouting?"

He heard Gork's heavy sigh and saw his deflating shoulders.

With a defeated tone, and his back hunched, the goblin moved to Durgrim and began explaining.

Since goblins could use mana but weren't versed in its usage, he kept the prosthesis simple and only designed a single enchantment: to connect its movements to the user's thoughts.

"I wanted the prosthesis to transmit feelings like a real limb but couldn't implement my idea without magical knowledge. Could you please consider recruiting mages?"

Meanwhile, Adam tucked his fingers around his chin, a pensive frown creasing his brows.

"Mages don't run the streets and are highly sought after. Let us complete the obelisk construction first. The mana it provides might attract them to the territory." His lips curled into a confident smile. "Don't worry, Gork. I'll recruit alchemists and mages soon."

With an eager yell, the goblin jumped and clapped his hands in delight.

Then, he unbuttoned Durgrim's old shirt and inserted the prosthesis on his shoulder. Draping it like a glove, the engravings brightened, and mana hummed softly in their ears. Under their influence, the plates squirmed to life and tightened in a firm grip.

A soothing stream washed over Durgrim's brain as the engraving connected his thoughts to the arm's movement before the mystical phenomena receded and calm returned to the living room.

In the settling silence, Durgrim trembled and flexed his new arm as an inferno of determination ignited in his old heart. This favor, he would never forget it!