"It's been years since a drop of nectar touched these lips. The real stuff, I mean."

"..."

"Don't worry, the lockbox preserves the bottles, so the heat doesn't degrade the quality."

"So... what's my prize?"

The joyish expression on his face goes bleak as he subconsciously puts his body in front of the box, shielding it from my eyes.

"W-w-well, a deals a deal. You can have anything you find... But do you really need it?"

"Yes."

"... are you sure you don't want the karma for doing an old dwarf a good deed? I heard most gods like that kind of thing."

"How about we make a separate deal, you can keep every drop of your alcohol, but you have to give me something else. Something tangible."

"So you don't want any of my booze? Your loss. No takebacks."

He reaches deep into the lockbox, farther than what should be possible, and pulls out a few items.

Half a sword, a mechanical eyeball, a book, a single arrow, and what looks to be a pogo stick.

He first holds up the half-sword. The sword is so heavily rusted that it looks like the blade was broken off not from combat but from the metal crumbling on its own weight.

"Alright, so this magnificent sword is called [Rust Eater], it needs repairs, but what it does it's supposed to 'eat' the rust off of other metals, transferring it to itself."

"..."

Next, he holds up a copper eye. It's sleek and looks anatomically accurate, including the optical nerve.

"This is a purely mechanical eyeball, no enchantments, just pure craftsmanship. It's a perfect replica of an eye, so It's perfect for a replica... well it's fitted for a dwarf, but it seems like we have similar head sizes, so maybe it could fit. Are you planning on losing an eye anytime soon?"

"..."

"Alright, alright. This book catalogs the best dwarvish insults; it's chock full of classic dwarvish sayings. It's mainly racial slurs."

"..."

"Not big on the racism, eh? Same here. I never could get into it. For the most part."

"The most part?"

"Yeah, goblins killed my father, and the elves are bastards. It's a pity 'cause I really like goblin cuisine, but I have to hate them all out of principle."

"That doesn't sound healthy."

"It isn't, but that's what makes it so delicious. Damn, I miss eating fried spiders and fermented mealworms."

That wasn't what I meant, but I won't correct him.

"What makes elves bastards?"

"Have you ever met one?"

"No, but I might head to their capital soon."

"Hehe. Sure, kid. But if even a sliver of what you're saying is true, you'll find out why they're bastards. Hehe."

"What about those other two?"

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Ehh, to be honest, this arrow is not that great. It duplicates while in a quiver, doubling the number of arrows you get by the second."

"Damn, really?"

"Yeah, but it caps out at four replications before all but one of the arrows becomes inert. At max, you get sixteen arrows from this before needing to let it 'rest.' The same arrow consistently keeps the enchantment, so you can view it as the 'mother.' Don't fire the [Mother Arrow]. You don't want to lose it."

"Why is that not that great? Free arrows sound great if you're an archer."

"Most archers get arrow conjuring skills or invest in an enchanted quiver. The [Mother Arrow] doesn't hold most abilities well either..."

"What about the last item? In my language, it's called a 'pogo-stick.'"

"Damn, the guy I stole the blueprint from said it was an original design. That's why you can't trust gnomes. They'll lie to save their hide."

"Do you hate gnomes as well? Also, what's a gnome?"

"I respect those rat bastards more than I hate them."

"Uh-huh."

"This 'pogo-stick' lets you reach heights. It has no safety mechanism for the pilot."

Ignoring my question, huh.

"Is that all? I expected something a bit more... you know?"

"...I said no takebacks. This booze is mine!"

"I don't want your liquor, old man!"

"Fine, fine, I'll look one more time."

Durnar digs through the chest before taking something out. He then puts it back. He pretends nothing happened and keeps rummaging through the bottles.

"What was that."

"What was what? It was nothing."

"..."

"...fine, I was embarrassed to present this since it's basically the craftsman equivalent of fanart."

He presents a pair of leather shoes. They are more similar to boots than shoes since the apparel covers the shins, stopping a few inches below the knee. The toe is plated with metal, and so is the wedge.

They are strikingly similar to the ones on my foot and Durnar's foot. Except these ones seemed to be in mint condition.

"Are those..."

"These can let the wearer walk on most surfaces without issue. I made these after seeing the sabatons Vanderbliz created. I didn't want to be a complete copycat, even though I couldn't even dream of reaching Vanderblitz's level, so I made them from leather instead of pure Vanderblitzium."

"He has a metal named after him?"

"Well, he was the one who created it."

"I see. What did the metal do?"

"A little bit of everything, almost perfect for enchanting. Anyways this is one of the two pairs of shoes I made. The better of the two I constantly wore since these are slightly defective."

"In what way?"

"It needs mana from the user to work... five points a second."

"..."

"I know. I should've destroyed those shoes instead of locking them away."

I hold my tongue and instead ask a question. It's been sitting in the back of my mind.

"So, why did you put your lockbox deep into the volcano anyways?"

"I was trying to limit my alcohol consumption since my addiction was harming my crafting skills."

He gestures to the pair of shoes like that proves his point. He continues by saying.

"So I put them in a box with my personal items. Unfortunately, I forgot to put one away. It was high-proof, so I drank it all and got smashed. Then I brought the box down to the forge to open it.

I forget all opening incantations when I'm drunk. One thing led to another, and it fell down the hole.

I decided I'd climb down in the morning and just go to bed instead. I can't stress enough how intoxicating that sweet amber was. It was one of the best things I've ever put in my mouth.

That was the same night I died in a tragic door accident."

"Why didn't you just go down and get it after you died."

"At first, I procrastinated, seeing this as an opportunity to kick my crippling alcohol addiction. Then eventually, I noticed that the core of the forge located deep within the volcano was damaged, and I wouldn't be able to fix it in my spiritual form. I may be able to interact with objects physically, but I don't know how to project my mana in this state.

I couldn't bear to go down there, just to see my inadequacies shoved right in my face."

I pat him on the shoulder to console him.

"Good thing I managed to fix it. Even if it's just the spiritual memory of this place, it's restored."

"Yeah... anyways, what with that metal ball you have hidden away in your pocket."

I use [Scientific Insight+] on this strange orb I found. It comes up as question marks.

[???]

"No idea."

"Cool. I don't know what that thing is, but is that what you want to keep?"

I came to a realization.

~

I go pick up Berly, leaving behind the angry shouts of a dwarf calling me many colorful names from the dwarvish insult book.

With my antlion in my hands, I turn off [Broken Liver], and the world around me changes. From a dilapidated temple to a god I've never heard of before to a barren and flat mountain top.

I took everything, everything he showcased, at least. Durnar didn't stop me because I made some compelling arguments, but it still wasn't a good feeling for him. Since he's a spirit that exists on the spirit plane, and I'm a person that lives in reality, I should have the real stuff. Also, I threatened to never visit again, and he'll never try the human's take on alcohol.

I search the horizon for anything I can spot.

Maybe I should spend my time doing tamer things. So I can try and get a better class for my class advancement.

The exit of a fracture takes the form of a tangible rift in space, but the conditions of its appearance can differ from fracture to fracture.

Sometimes you have to kill a 'boss monster' because the fracture is bloated and unstable. My first fracture was like that.

Also, fractures can have more than one exit, but since I haven't found a single clue, I can assume something powerful lurks in the desert and keeps the exit closed from their ambient mana.

Or at least the exit closest to them. I stand there for an hour before seeing something.

On the horizon, I spot something moving. It looks like a massive worm. I can't make out too many details from this distance, but It's one of the most titanic creatures I have ever seen.

"..."

I don't know if this is good or bad luck. The strongest creatures I've seen so far were level 200. The top of the "environmental totem pole" in these lands would inadvertently cap the level of those under them.

That behemoth is either double my level or beyond.

Maybe I should be playing my role...

I jump off the mountain with Beryl and all my stuff on the pogo stick. With my resistance and healing, terminal velocity shouldn't be more than an annoyance as long as I don't land on my head or organs.