A dwarf in past life, but an artistic genius in this life

Prologue

In the depths of a cavern on the continent of Karlos, a dwarf named Blackhammer lay dying alone of starvation.

It was absurd, but he had forgotten to eat while creating his life's greatest masterpiece.

His end was unworthy of the titles he bore-"The God of Art Who Descended Upon the Continent" and "The Dragon in a Dwarf's Disguise."

Blackhammer, collapsed on the ground, barely clung to his fading consciousness.

'When did I fall?'

He looked at the sword and hammer scattered beside him, trying to recall what had happened.

The sword he had just finished with the final hammer blow-imbued with a hundred years' worth of condensed mana-shone with unmatched beauty.

It was a legendary blade capable of slicing through the scales of the most fearsome dragon and even severing the Demon King's head.

Yet, his eyes were hollow.

'Damn it.'

A weak sigh escaped from his cracked, pale lips.

It felt like his insides were being torn apart from hunger. But more than the physical pain, what tormented him was the bitter emptiness of not being satisfied with the masterpiece he had dedicated his entire life to.

Blackhammer's eyes slowly began to lose their light.

Just then, a young man appeared before him.

'Am I seeing things because I'm about to die?'

Blackhammer forced his heavy eyelids open.

It wasn't an illusion.

A real young man stood before him.

Dressed in elegant attire, the man alternated his gaze between the sword on the ground and Blackhammer, then grinned, showing his white teeth.

"So, you must be the dragon in a dwarf's disguise, the God of Art who descended upon the continent-Blackhammer? Your creations certainly live up to your reputation. Looks like you took after your legendary father, the master sculptor dwarf, and your mother, the elven dean of the Karlos Art Academy. Impressive."

"..."

"Do you know who I am?"

On the verge of death, Blackhammer didn't have the strength to identify the young man, let alone respond.

The man's voice dropped to a low murmur as he looked into Blackhammer's dimming eyes.

"I am Karot, the God of Art. I've seen countless artists die of starvation for lack of money. But you're the first fool I've encountered who had wealth beyond measure yet starved to death because you forgot to eat while working on your art. Even with the God of Art standing before you, where is your attention wandering?"

Karot furrowed his brow.

From the moment he arrived, Blackhammer's gaze had been fixed elsewhere.

Following Blackhammer's line of sight, Karot let out a chuckle.

At the end of that empty gaze was the sword Blackhammer had just completed.

"Oh? Even after crafting such a masterpiece, you still aren't satisfied? You're growing on me. Art is like seawater-the more you drink, the thirstier you become. Very well. If you give me that sword, I'll bring you back to life."

It was a sword he no longer needed.

If he could return to life and witness the true pinnacle of art, he would make a deal not just with the God of Art but with the devil himself.

With great effort, Blackhammer gave a slight nod. Karot responded with a grin.

"Good."

With a snap of Karot's fingers, Blackhammer's body began to rise into the air-or rather, his soul did.

"You'll awaken in a new world, in a new body."

A new world? A new body?

Blackhammer jerked his head up.

Something was wrong.

He didn't need a new world or a new body.

All he wanted was to see the culmination of art in this world.

But before he could voice his thoughts to Karot, his vision went dark.

In that darkness, a forgotten truth came back to him.

Karot wasn't just the God of Art-he was also the God of Lies.