I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!-Chapter 128: Shocking the Dwarf

His shoulders quaked as his breaths grew deeper, his nostrils flaring with an intensity that seemed to fill the air with raw energy.

His rugged face, framed by his long beard, twisted into an expression of fury that left no doubt about the seriousness of the insult.

The honor of the weapons—the honor of his craftsmanship—had been challenged, and Hamiel could not, would not, let it pass.

"WHO ALLOWED YOU TO JUDGE WHEN YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THESE CHILDREN THAT ARE BORN WITH THE SWEATS OF MY STUDENTS?" Hamiel roared again, his voice thunderous and sharp.

The students trembled under the weight of his fury. Even those standing far from him felt an instinctive dread—a primal reaction to the storm within Hamiel's voice.

Many students glanced nervously toward Ashok, their eyes wide with apprehension.

The thought of Hamiel, enraged and unpredictable, lashing out physically crossed their minds.

Alina's lips curled into a cruel smile as she watched the confrontation unfold, her thoughts dripping with malice.

'I hope he dies by the hand of that dwarf,' she mused, her disdain for Ashok evident in the glint of satisfaction in her eyes.

Lilia, standing nearby, struggled to contain the emotions bubbling to the surface. Her amusement was barely restrained, her lips twitching as she fought to suppress the grin threatening to break free.

'How fun!' she thought, her excitement growing with each passing moment as the scene escalated.

Roan, positioned not far from Ashok, gripped his wand tightly. He had followed Teacher Mia's instructions and chosen his weapon, but now found himself unable to step forward or interrupt the unfolding drama.

His gaze shifted to Ashok's face, and a single, undeniable conclusion formed in his mind. 'He is planning something.'

It was impossible to ignore the calculated smirk on Ashok's face, the way his crimson eyes bore down on Hamiel with an air of control that seemed almost unnatural.

Despite the dwarf's towering fury, Ashok's demeanor remained calm, his expression betraying no fear or hesitation.

Mia, meanwhile, struggled to reconcile what she was witnessing.

Her sharp blue eyes flicked between Ashok and Hamiel, her mind racing.

'How can he laugh in this kind of scenario?' she thought, incredulous. Most students, faced with the wrath of a senior teacher like Hamiel, would have already bowed their heads in submission, begging for forgiveness.

It was shocking for even a teacher like herself.

Ashok finally spoke, his voice was calm, deliberate, and carried a weight that demanded attention.

"You ask what do I know?" he began, his words ringing out clearly through the Weapon Hall. "I Know Everything."

The simplicity of the statement belied its impact, and Hamiel's fist clenched instinctively, the sheer arrogance in Ashok's words striking a nerve.

Yet Ashok continued without hesitation, his tone as commanding as ever.

"Let's talk about these weapons. No—these children," he said, his crimson eyes flickering faintly as though daring Hamiel to stop him.

Ashok's voice became sharper as he dissected the craftsmanship with an air of meticulous precision. "Their bodies—or should I refer to them as bones or muscles—are made from Valerian Steel, a metal widely known for its good durability, elasticity, and lightweight properties.

Most weapons across the world are crafted from this material due to its abundance and relatively low cost. However," he added, his voice dropping slightly, "Valerian Steel has its weaknesses. As mana is infused into the weapon, its durability diminishes over time."

"This is why Valerian Steel requires another metal as a catalyst to fully utilize its strengths. In the case of your children, let's call the catalyst their heart—Mycium.

An alchemical metal prized for its mana conductivity. However, Mycium, being alchemically created, carries a glaring weakness—it catches rust easily, compromising the integrity of the weapon if not maintained."

"Both metals are then mixed in precise ratios and under the right temperature, they are forged into various weapons—swords, spears, bows, and more.

Wands and staffs are no exception; they merely include the addition of mana crystals or mana stones.

Nothing particularly special," he added with a deliberate pause, as though the statement carried an unspoken challenge.

Ashok's crimson eyes locked onto Hamiel as he delivered his final point.

"And finally, the mind of these children—a Magical Enchantment of Balance is casted upon them, designed to prolong their longevity even further."

Hamiel's initial fury had receded, replaced by a calm, thoughtful silence as Ashok's words settled over the Weapon Hall.

Ashok's then asked his voice commanding "Should I now spell out the Ratio of Mixture and the Degree of Temperature now?". A question which stood more like a challenge.

Listening to that arrogant tone the dwarf made no immediate response.

His fiery eyes, though no longer burning with anger, remained fixed on Ashok, their sharp intensity now tempered by something akin to contemplation.

Mia, standing to the side, couldn't hide her surprise.

The depth of Adlet knowledge had caught her off guard.

His words though informative dissected the weapons by referring to their Body, Heart, and Mind in a manner that was mocking to the way, how the Senior Hamiel called his weapons as children.

Mia, who lacked Hamiel's expertise in weapon craftsmanship, still realized that Ashok's analysis was not baseless arrogance—it was grounded in undeniable understanding.

For the first time, she grasped the weight behind his earlier claim, 'I know everything.'

Yet for all his insight, Ashok's demeanor remained infuriatingly proud, his sharp gaze and commanding voice laced with condescension.

Mia's sharp blue eyes flicked to Hamiel, who, despite his earlier rage, now stood contemplative, his shoulders no longer trembling with anger.

The students of the Aether Class were mostly nobles, who until now had barely understood the intricacies of blacksmithing, exchanged quiet glances, their expressions a mix of awe and surprise.

Many of them glanced at their chosen weapons with newfound respect, their previous pride now replaced by wonder at the enchanted items they wielded.

It was one thing to hold a magical weapon, but to understand the labor and complexity behind its creation was another entirely.

Breaking the silence, Hamiel spoke. His gruff voice had softened, carrying a clarity that resonated through the hall. "What about Soul?"

The atmosphere in the Weapon Hall was electric, every pair of eyes now fixed on Ashok as to listen how would he answer that question.

"If these were Ego Weapons, my answer would have been different, but currently your children are soulless," Ashok declared.

Hamiel's brow furrowed ever so slightly, the flicker of dissatisfaction still present in his sharp gaze.

But Ashok, reading the unspoken response as easily as an open book, pressed on with his explanation. "Though it doesn't mean it will remain soulless forever. The soul of your children will be decided by the hands who cradle them,"

This time, the dwarf's reaction shifted; a small, almost imperceptible smile began to form on Hamiel's lips, his fiery anger seemingly replaced by thoughtfulness.

Yet Ashok was far from finished. His crimson eyes bore into Hamiel's with unrelenting intensity as he drove his point home.

"At the end of the day, it doesn't matter how good the Body, Heart, Mind, or Soul of your children is. They will forever remain just well-made children. Even a needle made out of Mithril will poke holes in your children like it's nothing."

The weight of his reasoning settled heavily on the hall.

Ashok's words carried undeniable truth, his logic grounded in a fundamental principle long upheld by the Dwarven race: the inherent superiority of metals cannot be outmatched by craftsmanship alone.

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It was a fact deeply embedded in Dwarven culture, crystallized in the saying: "Even a lump of Adamantium is better than a Mythical Grade Weapon forged by Mithril."

Ashok's final challenge rang out, sharp and unyielding. "So tell me, am I wrong to say that your children are good at best?"

His crimson eyes blazed with intensity as they locked onto Hamiel's, his commanding voice resounding with a force that seemed to strip away any pretense. The sheer willpower behind his gaze caused the dwarf to flinch ever so slightly.

Hamiel stood silently, the flicker of respect in his sharp eyes betraying the internal struggle raging within him.

Ashok's relentless assault of facts had left him cornered, unable to counter the crimson-eyed student's reasoning.

Though the dwarf's instincts as a craftsman and his position as a Senior Teacher made it impossible to concede with words. To simply say, "You are right," would feel to him like a defeat—an unforgivable blow to his pride.

Hamiel decided to shift the matter to something else.