Glen walked, swaying from side to side with every step. He could hardly carry a large barrel, half the size of himself, filled to the top with water. The dwarf was very focused, carefully searching for patches of ground that were level enough to step on. In the mountains where the clan of the future berserker was now located, this was quite problematic. The entire surface around was dotted with pits and hillocks, millions of cracks, like veins, covered the surface of the rocks.

Glen was sweating profusely, it was incredibly hard for him, yet the young dwarf was not even fifteen yet. However, he did not utter a word. Partly because Glen was too proud to ask for help, partly because asking for help would mean that the boy was still a child, not a worthy husband, and the boy would rather die than disgrace himself in front of his relatives like that.

Well, the third reason was that Glen understood perfectly well that his clan was now in a terrible situation. There were dozens of dwarves around, carrying their belongings. There was no one around who could help the guy, and if he asked, it meant that someone would have to take on additional work. Only small children and the seriously wounded had no luggage. Even ninety-year-old elders carried someone’s things as best they could.

The fact is that now the Stonehand clan was forced to flee from their caves. Creatures living underground are forced to constantly manually expand all passages and rooms, otherwise very soon they will not have a place to live. And while digging new tunnels, you can accidentally stumble upon other people’s passages and their owners... Which is what happened to Glen’s clan. A few weeks ago, they entered the lair of some underground horror, a heavy legacy from the dwarven homeworld...

This creature was so strong that it easily destroyed almost the entire clan, and now only its pitiful remnants sadly walked along the surface, looking for a new place. Along the way there were fewer and fewer of them. The wounded died in that battle without proper care, and the sick died. And, worst of all, followers of some cult began to attack them at night, reducing the already small number of dwarves.

However, the halflings did not give up. They walked, regardless of any adversity, stubbornly looking for a new place to settle. Glen knew the history of his people well, the dwarves incredibly respect traditions, so they even had records of how their people lived back there, at home. This was surprising, considering that the lifespan of a dwarf is only ten to twenty years longer than the lifespan of a human, and millennia have passed since then. The old sages passed on this knowledge by word of mouth, from stone tablet to stone tablet. And history was preserved. And knowing this history, Glen understood why their people still did not surrender. Why, they are still stubbornly wandering, we don’t know where.

Life in Svartalheim, the homeworld of the dwarves, was hard. Their world, although it was their home, was a terrible place. A world in which terrifying monsters of all stripes have seized all power. Svartalheim was a place of eternal carnage. Here, millions of all kinds of monsters devoured each other in continuous battle. Titans, hydras, flying snakes, leviathans, chimeras, creatures from underground that have no name. All of them were always fighting with each other, and in between they hunted smaller animals swarming under their feet.

On smaller animals like dwarves. They were at the lowest position in the food chain. Any common animal like a harewolf or a pillarfish was better suited to survival than the dwarves. Even the mimics who came later with the dwarves into this world had better innate abilities. Their appearance changing skills were amazing and caused the Halflings a huge amount of problems.

It was not because of a good life that the dwarves went to live underground. It's dark, there's no space, there's no vegetation, there's no food. No one in their right mind would live there. But they had no choice. They could only bury themselves deeper into the ground to avoid the attention of the monsters that had captured the entire surface. Bury deeper, but not too deep, so as not to disturb those who live down there, although they periodically crawled up themselves, destroying entire cities.

This is how the dwarves lived for centuries. On the verge of life and death, barely balancing, afraid to make an extra movement. They could only develop the art of working with metals, of which they had in abundance, and run away in fear as soon as they saw the reflection of someone’s eyes, or heard the rustle of someone’s steps. After all, in their world, one on one, any creature could easily kill a dwarf. And they ran away.

This life made the dwarves short in stature for easy movement in small spaces, but at the same time they became stronger and more resilient, more resistant to disease and cold. But more importantly, such a life could not help but influence the worldview of an entire race. And she influenced. The dwarves became proud and hot-tempered. In a world where any creature is a source of danger, you must constantly be on alert. And at the same time, the halflings developed an incredible sense of unity. It was impossible to draw an even clearer line between friends and strangers. We hate strangers. And what about friends...

For the sake of any member of his clan, Glen was ready to sacrifice his life. And he knew that his relatives would do the same for him. Their people were able to survive only thanks to their amazing unity. When they could not do anything individually, it was necessary to increase the power of the entire team. Therefore, dwarves rarely ventured outside their clan, living in isolated, xenophobic communities. Only those who were expelled from their own clan roamed the outside world. Dirty criminals.

Or those in whom the spirit of individualism and adventurism began to prevail over the collective principle. Glen sincerely did not understand them. How could you exchange your clan, your relatives and loved ones for the illusory delights of the outside world? Although, since the Second Coming, as the local residents called the moment the dwarves arrived in this calmer world called Earth, such individuals began to appear in increasing numbers, wanting to discover the secrets of this new mysterious land. Although the old threats have not gone away, they came along with the dwarves and mimics. That underground horror that drove the Stonehands from their lands was one of the creatures of Svartalheim...

- That's enough, stop! – The elder’s voice rang out. Despite his position, he was very young, because the previous elder died while leading the defense of their home...

With a tired sigh, Glen put the barrel on the cold rocks, stretching his stiff shoulders. The elder himself approached the boy for the first sip of water. The boy immediately stopped his warm-up, taking out the bowl. He hurriedly scooped up some water, handing it to the sturdy dwarf. He emptied the vessel with pleasure and smiled at the boy with a satisfied grunt.

- How are you, Glen? Are you holding on? Not hard?

- Absolutely not, elder! – The guy boasted, hiding his red hands behind his back. - I can carry at least as much more!

- Ha-ha, this is not necessary, my friend. Don't push yourself too hard. If you feel that you need help, say so. We are all family here, we will be happy to help you.

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- I know, elder. And that’s why I won’t ask for help, even if necessary. But I don't need it. How can I then look in the face of those on whom I pushed my work, just because I’m a little tired?

The elder smiled brightly at the boy in front of him and ruffled his hair.

- I see our future will be wonderful! Everything will be fine with us as long as there are people like you, Glen. Know that I appreciate you very much. Grow up and be the support of our clan!

The boy blushed with pride and smiled stupidly at the elder’s back when he went to check on the rest of the clan. Estimating their ages, Glen thought: “He could be my father.” The fact is that dwarves did not have parents. Any child born into the clan was taken from birth by the caste of teachers. They raised and raised their children with love and care. Thus, everyone in the clan was one big family, without being divided into separate cells. One big whole, acting in the name of one single goal. This is how the dwarves survived, and they were not going to change anything.

Glen looked at the faces of all the dozens of halflings gathered here. He carefully peered into the faces of each of them. And he knew each of them. Everyone here was his family, everyone was dear to the young guy. Peace filled his soul. The boy felt like he was part of something bigger, and it was wonderful.

Glen should have enjoyed this more. After all, that night he watched as all these clanmates were slaughtered like pigs. The cultists again made a night raid, attacking the awakened dwarves. But this time they brought goblins with them. Tens, hundreds of green little monsters sprinkled the entire surface of the rocks, overwhelming the dwarves in numbers.

The ancestors of the Stonehands could be proud of their descendants. They died with honor and pride. They fought like furious incarnations of Tyr, sending dozens of goblins to the next world. However, there were hundreds of them. And behind their backs the cultists were conjuring, using their damned bloody magic. Each dwarf gave his all two hundred percent for the sake of the others, for the sake of the clan. Each was like a log burning in a common fire, and the elder shone brightest of all, like the sun.

But any flame goes out over time. And his sun set, immersed in the sweat of a heap of green bodies into oblivion. Everyone fought as a united front, both old men and women, only very young children threw stones at the enemies from behind their backs. Everyone except Glen.

At the beginning of the battle, he was attacked by several goblins who broke through the protection of the elders. The vile, fanged, mocking faces of the armed creatures snapped in front of Glen's face. He tried to fight, tried to hold off the enemy. Until I felt the cold steel of the dagger in his flesh.

The guy screamed in pain and fear. And no one came to his aid. The unity of the dwarves, who fought as one, did not consider the life of one boy more valuable than maintaining a strong defense. No one left their position to save Glen. He lived his whole life as part of a team, someone was always next to him. But now the young dwarf suddenly realized that he was about to die. Completely alone. And he trembled. He was scared. And he ran, leaving everyone to their fate.

Hiding among the rocks, Glen watched the death of his people. Your family. He knew every one of them. And I saw each of them die. The night dragged on for an eternity. And for an eternity the little dwarf watched the death of his clan, trembling in fear. When the sun was almost up, he heard footsteps behind him. Glen turned around in horror, and his worst nightmare came true: they were goblins. They found him. Five greenskins stood in front of the dwarf, and they wanted him dead.

And Glen ran. He abandoned his clan again, running further and further from his still living relatives. Glen ran for a long time, ran as hard as he could, losing his breath, shedding tears of shame and fear as he ran. He ran until he tripped. The guy fell and rolled down the sharp stones. Having risen, he saw that he was covered in blood. He also saw goblins running along the surface of the rocks much faster than the short-legged dwarf.

“They were playing with me,” Glen suddenly realized, seeing the five goblins approaching, giggling happily, “they could catch up with me at any moment...”. The sun rose, and under its rays the young man could see in all details the approaching monsters bringing death to him. He was incredibly scared, because the dwarf didn’t even have a weapon; he threw it away at the very beginning of his escape. And now Glen couldn’t even die as a warrior should, and he certainly wouldn’t get to Valhalla to the gods in whom the dwarves believed... And fourteen-year-old Glen began to cry like a little child. He shouted into the void in despair:

- I don’t want to die!

- You won't die. - The void answered him in a male voice. – [Stone Projectile].

From somewhere behind the boy's back, a whole block of stone flew out, completely erasing the head of one of the pursuers. And after her several arrows flew, finishing off the rest.

-Are you okay, boy?

Glen, still not believing in his salvation, looked at the speaker. He was a young man of about thirty, dressed in military uniform. In his hand was a staff, which clearly indicated his magical origin. And behind him stood a dozen armed men. “Army,” Glen realized. He pointed them towards the battle with the goblins, pleading with tears in his voice:

- Please... Save my family!

- Sorry… - Robert answered him, looking down. - We... We couldn't. When the army arrived, all the dwarves were already dead. My squad was sent to look for goblins who might have escaped... Sorry, baby, we didn’t save your family...

Glen listened to these words in despair. He hoped to the end that at least someone would survive. And now those hopes have been crushed into dust. Bitterness and anger, like an impending flood, gradually drowned the dwarf. Meanwhile, the man continued, unknowingly injuring the boy:

- You did the right thing by running away. It was impossible to survive there. Now at least you're alive. Even if your whole family is dead, but... Life goes on. And... Listen, if you have nowhere to go, I can adopt you. – The magician shifted from foot to foot in embarrassment. His heart broke when he saw this boy, and he wanted to help with all his might, but did not know how. - My wife and I will accept you as our own!

Glen was furious. In a dead voice he asked:

- What... What about the cultists? And goblins?

- We killed them all. Sorry, it's our fault. – Robert sincerely repented, looking into the dwarf’s eyes with pain. - We... It was we who missed this goblin nest... We should have cleared it earlier, but we got distracted... I'm sorry... It's my fault...

Something snapped inside Glen. He... He couldn't even avenge his family. He couldn't die like a hero. He couldn't even join them in afterlife! And this man was to blame for everything. Hatred boiled inside the boy, blackening his soul. Everything suddenly became so clear!

Of course, someone must be to blame for the death of his clan. This couldn't be just a coincidence, the Stonehands were incredibly strong, and it couldn't have been the goblins that made them extinct by some coincidence! And now, the man who was to blame for everything was standing right in front of Glen. It was because of him that the goblins appeared. Without them, the cultists themselves would not have been able to cope! It is probably his fault that Glen ran away, leaving everyone behind. No, he didn't run away! He was looking for the one who was guilty of everything! And he found it. Plus, he himself says that he is to blame!

Glen found a place to vent his rage and said in a murderous tone:

- Fight me.

- Um, sorry, what?

- I. Said. Fight. Me. Bastard. – The dwarf clenched his fists, preparing to fight. - You scum, you didn’t even let me take revenge or die trying to do it! I will kill you and get my honor back! Fight me!

- Um... - Robert was clearly confused. He didn't know how to react to this. He was bad with children and didn't know what to say. - I... I won’t fight with you. You're still small and weak, it wouldn't be fair.

The vein on Glen's forehead bulged with rage at those words. He no longer doubted who was to blame for all the troubles of the Stonehands clan. And Robert continued.

- Let’s first grow up, become stronger, and then when you have a chance, I’ll probably accept your challenge, okay? – And he continued under his breath. - I hope by now you’ll have forgotten about everything and I’ll understand enough about dwarven culture to resolve the situation...

- Fine. Certainly. – Glen answered gloomily. - I'll grow up. And I will become stronger. And I will defeat you in a fair fight. One on one, without any tricks. I will not find peace until I kill you. I swear. Wait for death, moron.