The group gathered on the bleachers, and everyone looked at Ted, not knowing if he had just conceived the best idea of his life or the most foolish one. Ted was sweating profusely and had to wipe his hands on his shirt several times before taking the vial from Monica's hands with shaky fingers. Monica had gotten a reward after killing the Crystal Wolf Boss that everyone had forgotten about. But when Ted had seen the mural with the Bard's blood flowing all around, he had realized something.

"Ted, are you sure?" Monica said. "We don't know what—"

Ted nodded, interrupting her. "It must be it," he said.

Ted felt a hunch, similar to the one he had felt when he had realized that the markings on Thraldrirlum's pickaxe were a song, not a message. And now, seeing the thick scarlet blood in the small vial, he had the same hunch. He didn't know if it was the Bard Class making him more attuned to these hunches or maybe just the realization that the System wouldn't have given Monica something useless like vials of blood.

Lucas had postulated that perhaps they could have been used in enchanting, in blacksmithing, or a host of other professions. Blood was not that uncommon of a material for craftsmen. However, knowing the significance of Thraldrirlum's heritage, Ted just knew that this could be it.

They all gathered around the stone general as Ted uncorked the vial and, holding his breath, poured its contents on the head of the general. Everyone watched as the thick liquid descended and trickled over the man's head. They had taken to calling him the general because of his demeanor and because he looked like the most important person in the barracks. Most important statue, at least.

Ted’s idea had been pretty simple: they weren’t strong enough to face the nest full of monsters and the Matriarch. Even though they might have been able to face the monsters individually, there was no way for them to kill them all together. To be honest, it would have already been close to impossible to kill the Matriarch on its own.

That’s why they needed someone even stronger than Sir Tristan, someone who could lead them to victory against unfathomable odds.

And Ted had realized that Thraldrirlum’s blood might be just what they needed to bring back statues to life. It was too convenient that the System had given them three vials—one for each floor of Viscera. If they could really manage to bring three Dwarves back, considering how strong their people were, they would make the fight against Machina a hundred times easier.

Sure, the group wasn’t guaranteed to level up that much anymore if their ally was so strong, but it was still preferable to just having to retreat.

And so, the young man prayed he was right.

The blood trickled down the general's face. Nothing happened at first. Everyone held their breath and waited.

Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. The blood just kept dripping down, making small red pools at the statue's feet.

Heidi let out a long breath. "Well, that was a waste."

"Give it time," Monica said, but her voice didn't sound confident.

A full minute passed. Sir Tristan shifted his weight, making his armor creak. Dotty's shoulders slumped. The statue remained stone, now just stained with red streaks.

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"I really thought..." Ted's voice cracked. He stared at the ground, his face burning with shame. "All that build-up for nothing."

"It was worth trying," Monica said gently.

"Maybe I was wrong," Ted said. He looked down at his feet. "I thought—"

A crack appeared on the statue's surface. Everyone jumped back. The crack spread across the general's face like a spiderweb. Small pieces of stone started falling off.

"It's working!" Dotty whispered.

More cracks appeared. They ran down the general's neck and chest. His stone armor began breaking apart. Chunks fell to the ground. Under the stone, they could see skin.

The stone kept falling off the general in chunks. His skin was gray at first but slowly turned normal colored. His beard was long and white. His armor looked old but well made.

He opened his eyes and blinked a few times. Everyone held their breath. This was their chance to get a powerful ally.

Then he let out a huge laugh that echoed through the barracks.

"Ha! I can move again!" He stretched his arms wide and cracked his neck. "Gods, being a statue is boring! Do you know how long I've been stuck looking at that wall? Too damn long!"

He jumped down from the bleachers into the courtyard and almost fell over.

"Whoa! Legs are a bit wobbly. Give me a second here."

They looked at the tag above his head.

[??? - ???]

“You see anything?” Monica asked Sir Tristan.

The Knight shook his head.

“He’s too high-level. I can’t see anything. He’s above Level 250.”

Monica and Sir Tristan shared a confused look. This wasn't quite what they expected from a dignified dwarven general.

"I'm Gromorlig!" He slapped his chest with both hands. "And you lot just saved me from the most boring experience of my life. Seriously, do you know how many times I counted the stones in that wall? Seven thousand four hundred and twenty-three! I counted them again just to be sure!"

Ted stepped forward nervously. "Sir, we were hoping you could help us..."

"Help you? Of course I'll help you!" Gromorlig grabbed Ted in a bear hug that lifted him off the ground. "You freed me! I'd kiss you if you weren't so tall!"

He dropped Ted and turned to the others. "So what's the problem? Need someone killed? Something built? A party started? I'm good at all three!" He winked at Monica. "Though I must say, starting parties is my specialty. I was organizing the annual festival when that damn thing struck us down!"

"Actually," Monica said slowly, "we need help clearing out a nest of corrupted spider constructs. There's a matriarch and..."

"Spiders!" Gromorlig bellowed. "Perfect! I hate spiders! Always crawling around, making webs in my beard while I was stuck as a statue. Disrespectful little bastards!"

He patted the warhammer hanging at his belt.

"This beauty hasn't squashed anything in ages. She's thirsty!"

Sir Tristan cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should discuss strategy first..."

"Strategy?" Gromorlig laughed again. "Here's my strategy—I run in screaming and hit things until they stop moving! Hasn't failed me yet!"

He looked around at their worried faces and grinned. "Oh, come on, lighten up! You look like you're at a funeral!"

Gromorlig was already marching toward the door, singing loudly in dwarven. He stopped and turned back. "Well? Are you coming or not? These spiders won't squash themselves!"

Ted looked at the others helplessly. This definitely wasn't the dignified general they'd hoped for.

But then, Gromorlig stopped dead in his tracks and hissed.

"Uh, this might be a problem," the dwarf said, cracking his neck.

"What?" Monica had found the Dwarf absolutely ridiculous, but if he was high-level enough to kill all the spiders, what did she have to complain about?

"Well, it appears I can’t access Skills, Status, nor do I feel any of my Attributes," Gromorlig huffed.