Kirana rushes for the locked bars! But try as we might, it wouldn't budge. The bars are made of criss-crossing brownish metallic poles that seem to come out of one wall and into the other with no inkling of a door. Three thicker horizontal beams spread equilaterally riddled with holes for the more frequent but thinner vertical beams to pass through; creating a jail bar of sorts. It is maybe 2.5 meters tall and three meters wide. 'Inspect!' X2

Gaenotine Beam.

Gaenotine Alloy. A mix of Iron, Carbon and one or more secret Gnomish ingredient/s creates an alloy that is no stronger than steel, but has a ten-fold boost in strength and durability when in contact with the earth.

Cool! But also not, considering our current situation. The stone walls refuse any Shape Stone attempts, the Gaenotine beams, too, deflect any forms of mana infusion. There are no locks to pick, and the state of Kirana's dad is making us very impatient!

"Duis sit amet arcu nisi." A Dwarf weakly said from the cell behind us. "Donec eu ligula nibh!" Unfortunately, we have not a clue of what he is saying. Still, he would keep saying things we fail to understand once in a while, sometimes in what sounds like a different language.

Kirana began fiddling with her interface before saying, "we'll stand guard here, Zen can you fly out the way we came and guide the other dwarves here? Minedora and her party, they'll meet you by the entrance."

"Yes ma'am!" I reply in a salute, trying to lighten the mood. Micro Flight!.. ten percent of my initial volume means I am now about 75 centimeters tall… I look at the gaps between the bars, then at myself, then back at the bars…

The others might be thinking what I'm thinking as they silently watch me shrink, the same silence even from the talkative Dwarf. Slowly and carefully, I bring my-shrunk-self closer to the bars and easily slip through in between the poles. We were speechless for a few moments before I snapped out of it and jetted myself over to Mr. Franky; aka, Kirana's dad. He’s not looking too good.

I'm no doctor, but I hope what I cannot do with skill, I can with overwhelming power; so I cast Lesser heal on him, and again, and again, and again… though, after the first two casts, I made sure to reposition him to sleep in the upright position, and to check that none of his bones are poking at places it shouldn't be. All in all, his soul seems fine, albeit a little weak and his injuries are currently healing, visible even to the naked eyes.

Fortunately, all these weaker Golems are only truly capable of physical attacks and skill, as well as lack any emotion; cruelty included. And even then, as only the weaker Workers had suffice; the stronger variants did not lay their powerful hands and skills on him.

He will live!

As we watch him heal, Minedora the Dwarven Sharpshooter and her team arrives. The resolute expression on her face turns into sorrowful disgust at seeing the corpses, then into blissful excitement at the sights of her weak yet alive fellow clansmen. Of course, they soon converse animatedly between bites of Dwarven jerky and gulps of ale, as we wait and observe while Mr. Franky heals. Soon after, Kirana began typing around on her invisible interface.

The Dwarves explained how this whole area is protected by the infamous Gnome-tech—which is something like a formation or ritual—that made the stones practically indestructible to anyone whose means are below the average ability of a level 1000 powerhouses. There should have been something that also prevented the use of spells, but it is not as well made and had long since faded. Unfortunately for them, Dwarves had never been magical in a wield powerful spell kinda way, relying more on their supernatural physique and technological construct, so still imprisoned they are.

The sound of a person groaning in pain startled us out of the impromptu info dumping session. Turning to look at the source, we find Franky in the midst of lifting himself up into a sitting position with a confused look on his face. He looks up and sees me, the only other person in the cell. Then at Roy, the biggest guy there is. Before his eyes wander to see the various dwarves milling about.

"If someone can point me to the heaven with free wifi and an all-you-can-eat buffet from all around the world, I'll be mighty grateful and be off-ed!" He says… If there were crickets, we'd hear them chirping loud and clear with the silence that ensued.

"Not funny dad, even for your standards!" Kirana chirped instead, and it was Mr. Franky's turn to be dumbfounded. His head turned to and fro in a fluster, so we stepped away to clear the view… It's good that he is fine now! To exit; I had to shrink him down and pass him over a gap, then blink myself out, because of course blink works perfectly well for traversing all typical, non-magically protected locations.

Mission accomplished, we beat a hasty retreat! Outside, I found the Golem making machine dismantled and strewn about the area. "Uh, Kirana, why are they destroying the experience making machine?" I ask, hoping she would help translate.

"They want to bring the technology home for deconstruction, investigation, and reproduction." She tells me after a few minutes of typing on her VICOS. "Says they'll share what they get out of it since you were the one who had obtained it."

I shrug, nothing I can do about it now. Not that I can use it anyway. "Can you tell them that since they did not ask for my permission before dismantling it, I want compensation."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

She pointedly looked at me, "my mom and sister is under their custody. We will not antagonize them!"

"You're the one with the translator." I reply monotonically. We wait for the thie---Dwarves to finish packing up each and every important part, leaving behind any large easy-to-fabricate containers. The parts are then perfectly divided among themselves into packs that are about three times the size of their owners. Then, we depart for their hold.

On the HoverBus, it took us a little more than half an hour to pass the cross-shaped river that separates this island into four and into Dwarven land. Then, soon after, we stopped at the foot of a rocky mountain. The Bus, Hover as it may, cannot make it through these steep climbs. Minedora and her team each rummaged about the packs on their encumbered belt pouches and pulled out a pair of guns that looked a lot like a grappling hook gun… nevermind, it is one, just of much higher technology.

"My VICOS translate those as a Dwarven Anchor of Climbing, " Kirana said from behind me. "If you think it looks like a tool futuristic magical Batman would use, you're not too far off. This one has no rope..."

All excited, they yelled at each other and began rushing up. All six Dwarves aim up and at almost the same time, shoot out an ethereal gray metallic bolt of sorts. Each bolt easily pierces into their respective target—all highly uneven rocky surfaces—before they expand into a claw-like construct. Miraculously, perfectly visible due to their ethereal nature, their passage does not cause any external damages. With a loud cackle from Minedora, all six launch off towards their respective hook-claws. Already aiming with their second anchor-gun-thingy. A little while after use, the anchors dissolve into the ambient mana, leaving behind no trace of their passing…

"Why are they in such a hurry?" I ask myself out loud…

"Who knows," someone muttered, barely audible.

“Oh~, they're racing!”

"Well, let's move it!" Roy yelled in excitement before he started wall-clambering up. I stare at him, one part of my mind dumb founded, another summoning Gon. A few minutes later, my party and our trusty familiar-mounts, excluding the overly healthy senior, caught up to the racing six. Casually keeping pace as they ascend the mountain and the day comes to an end.

Panoramically, from where I am high above the land, our sun sets beautifully over the new sea. The current crisis over with, the warmth of its orange glow gently seeps into my soul. Bringing with it a serene sense of peacefulness… A deep exhale of breath escapes my lungs, taking along any lingering pressure I had unknowingly held in my heart. Under my armor, unseen by anyone but The System, I smile.

—

The Dwarves are friendly enough, they live within the mountains, carving their home on the insides, living like cavemen—very technologically advanced cavemens. A bunch of them left in haste to rescue their breathrens from jail, while we were provided a room to rest and were fed their usual diet of mushroom, meat and ale. Alone at night, laying down on a Dwarven bed—when mortals rest or make merry—I claimed my sales after more than a month of neglect, and got my VICOS its equivalent of Google Translate. Therefore, I am now 35,520,510,585 Creds richer, then 39,441 poorer. Awesome!

A short commotion broke out a little past midnight, heard even through the wooden door of my 3 x 4 meters room. This being not too long after I Mana Sensed a pair of scout-like marksmen's return—guest rooms are probably, purposely situated nearer to the exit, which in turn means said exit is within my range—then, not too long again after, my Mana Sense notices an approaching Dwarf who halted before the door to my room; a gentle knock can be heard through it.

"Come in…" I half-yelled, they have no locks; or at least not here in the guest rooms. But instead of coming in, another knock can be heard, louder this time. I seriously need to get a telekinetic-something of some sort… begrudgingly I stand up and open the door while another thread of thought opens the System Store. 'Search telekinetic.'

"esse quo maiores amet?" Right… language barrier! I gesture to the empty space before my eyes. After a moment of confusion, the Dwarf had a look of understanding, he fiddled with his and soon the chime of a new text message rang within my mind. You can message someone without knowing and searching for their name or VICOS Id? Who knew…

To summarize his purpose, Gravand, the Dwarf currently texting with me, is here to request my assistance with freeing the captured Dwarves. I agreed—for a price. So, we end up in a hasty, informal meeting between their leaders and I.

One; for dismantling and taking away the Golem making machine without my, the one who claimed it by combat's permission; that I, as an individual, own the rights to access the results of their analysis of the construct. And that me and mine own may use said construct to grind for experience or combat practice, should they successfully reconstruct or replicate the technology.

Two; for my assistance in liberating their breathens, they agree to a system contracted alliance or, at the least a non-aggression pact, between their clan and our future territory here on Quadholm, the island we currently stand on. For the next five years.

And three; we get to purchase some of their technology at a discount. Any exact details to be further discussed at a later date between their treasurer and the other members of our council… now, I have no idea how much of a benefit versus loss this is to me, but I feel it suffices for now. Peace and new tech in exchange for lives.

An agreement is made and so, I find myself spending the rest of my morning back in Gnomish golem’s jail shrinking and de-shrinking Dwarves from inhuman jailers, literally. As an act of goodwill, I even healed and provided them with food, if the situation necessitates… though, my mind cannot help but wonder as I work on this monotonous—plus a bit of extra gift—trade.

Strength + 6

Constitution + 8

Dexterity + 10

Intelligence + 4

Wisdom + 2

Will + 2

Charisma + 2

I even had time to devour two level 5 Earl Vespas… Oh, how I can't wait to get our own territory on this island where I plan to purchase a higher rank Mana Tower. Words are there is so much more to them than being mere residence for a spellcaster.