Reincarnated as an SSS-Ranked Blacksmith Who Refuses to Forge Weapons-Chapter 135. Voidsilver Ore

Chapter 135: 135. Voidsilver Ore
Greg stared at the person in the cloak, trying to figure out what was going on. The voice sounded like a woman, but it was old and had the weight of experience and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
Greg said carefully, "I don’t get what you mean," and backed away because of his suspicion. "Who are these people anyway? And what have I even done apart from making tools that are peaceful?"
The person reached up with worn hands and slowly pulled back the hood. Underneath was an old woman with sharp, calculating eyes.
Her face showed her age, but her eyes were sharp and alert, the kind that saw everything. She had a tight bun in her gray hair, and she wore expensive clothes under the cloak, even though they were worn from travel.
"You may call me Agatha Crowbane, and you’re honored to know it right now," the woman said, and her smile didn’t reach her eyes. "You, Greg Greyson, are the kind of naive idealist that this world chews up and spits out."
Greg clenched his fist. "Excuse me?"
"Don’t be offended. I don’t mean it as an insult with what comes next." Agatha waved her hand dismissively, indicating that she was unconcerned. "And... of course... I’m just telling the truth."
"You said you won’t make weapons, right? You believe in making things that help people, bring peace, and save lives?"
"That’s right," Greg said with conviction.
Agatha’s voice was sarcastic as she said, "How admirable, but also very dumb."
"Do you know what happens to blacksmiths like you? You get used like tools. Kings and nobles will smile at you and praise your values, but then they’ll turn around and hire someone else to make the weapons they need."
"You get to be the good guy, and they get to be the bad guy."
Greg said, "I’m not concerned about that kind of thing anymore. I don’t work for anyone, not even kings and nobles. If they need something other than weapons, then I would gladly make it."
"No, but they do." Agatha moved closer, and Greg saw that Hilda was shifting uncomfortably next to him. "Every blacksmith, every craftsman, and every artisan. They’re all just tools for people who have money and power."
"Do you think your idealism keeps you safe? In fact, your idealism puts you in danger of being controlled, manipulated, and used by others."
"Why are you telling me this? What the fuck is your point?!" Greg asked, getting impatient.
"Because I want you to know the truth before you make a fool of yourself, and the way of your perspective might help those frauds soon enough." Agatha said. "But enough with the philosophy. We’re here for work, right, Hilda?"
Hilda nodded slowly, but Greg could see a hint of doubt in her face. "The ore. You said you wanted to buy it after seeing Greg’s work."
"I did, didn’t I?" Agatha turned to the wagon and ran her hand along the canvas cover. "Show me."
Hilda went to the back of the wagon and pulled back a piece of canvas to show a locked wooden chest. She took a key out of her pocket and carefully opened it. There was a piece of ore inside that Greg had never seen before, wrapped in protective cloth.
It had an inner light that pulsed and changed from deep purple to bright silver. The surface looked like it was moving, as if metal had been frozen in the middle of a flow. Greg’s skin tingled with awareness of its power just by looking at it.
"Ahh... yes... the last piece I needed. Voidsilver," Agatha said, her eyes shining with desire. "Three years you’ve kept this, Hilda, and you waited three years, waiting for the right person to buy it, huh?"
Hilda said quietly, "I know it from the books, and it’s dangerous."
"Something made with this could be very bad in the wrong hands, and I had to find someone who got that."
"And you thought this young idealist was that person?" Agatha laughed, and the sound was harsh and mocking. "How sweet. But I’m afraid I can’t let someone who won’t use it to its full potential waste such a valuable resource."
Greg’s head was ringing with warning bells. "What do you mean?"
Agatha said simply, "I’m buying it." She took a small chest out from under her cloak and opened it.
There was a pickaxe inside, but not just any pickaxe. The tool shone with its own light and had runes on it that Greg knew were master-level enchantments.
Hilda’s eyes got big. "Is that the Deepforge Breaker? Those are famous. I’ve only heard stories about them."
"Found in the ruins of the old dwarven city of Khaz Modan," Agatha said. "Can mine through any material, even enchanted stone. It can find ore veins from a hundred feet away and never needs to be sharpened, and of course it’s more valuable than ten Voidsilver deposits."
"Now that’s a good deal. Alright, I’ll take this as a trade for a valuable item." Hilda said right away and reached for the pickaxe.
"Wait," Greg said, grabbing her arm. "Hilda, think about this. You said that the Voidsilver is dangerous. Are you sure you want to sell it to someone suspicious like her?"
"Greg, that pickaxe is worth a lot of money because of how rare they are these days!" Hilda said, still looking at the tool. "It’s the kind of thing that miners dream about their whole lives."
"With that, I could get to deposits that no one else could. I’d never have to worry about money again."
"But the ore..."
"Don’t worry. It will be in good hands," Agatha said smoothly. "I promise you, young man, I know exactly what I’m doing. For longer than you’ve been alive, I’ve been working with rare materials."
Hilda was already reaching for the exchange, but something about it felt off. Agatha gave Hilda the pickaxe chest, and Hilda carefully took the Voidsilver ore and put it in Agatha’s hands.
As soon as the ore touched Agatha’s hands, her smile turned into something scary. "Pleasure doing business with you both."
Hilda opened the chest all the way and took out the pickaxe to look at it in the moonlight. At first, she looked happy, then confused, and finally terrified.
"Wait... this isn’t right," she said slowly, turning the tool over in her hands. "The weight is wrong, and the runes are painted on are not even carved...!"
"This is not the Deepforge Breaker! This is just a normal pickaxe with fake magic on it!"
"What?" Greg turned to look, and sure enough, the spells that had seemed so cool just a few moments ago turned out to be nothing more than paint and illusion magic that had been used in a smart way.
The light was fading, and the pickaxe was now showing what it really was which is a regular mining tool dressed up to look important. "I fucking knew it..."
"You tricked us!"