Things quickly calmed down once Numig realized he was outmatched. He put his golden sword away and released control over the mechanical arms. The old dwarf didn't react as Mindplay manipulated every electronic visible while Harqu watched in amazement. I asked Numig why he retaliated when he was going to give up easily.

"I have never seen another person who could control technology like me," he began. "I wanted to see how strong he was."

"A warning would have been nice," I retorted.

Meanwhile, BD was jittering on my shoulder. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the apathetic dwarf.

"Numig Anvilmane," she said in disbelief. "I thought you were dead. I haven't heard hide nor hair of you after your forced retirement."

"That was the point," Numig replied. "And my retirement wasn't forced."

"So, who were you, and why is your retirement preventing you from helping us?" I asked. The name "Numig Anvilmane, the Master of Soul Molding" didn't ring any bells in my head.

"Wanting to stand out amongst other dwarves, I discovered and mastered an ability to take a piece of someone's soul and put it into an item. This gave whatever I created unbound potential but with multiple side effects. Proximity was the big one. If the item and the person were too far away, the person would get weaker. After my first project, however, I thought the pros and cons were well balanced."

"And what was your first project?"

"I created the fraternal twins, Judge and Execution, during a witch hunt in Massachusetts. The young boy I created them for used them well, and I thought I had something, so I created more. However, each person I created a weapon for gained nothing but infamy, and before I knew it, my goodwill was gone, and my skills were never sought after. Now I'm old and washed up. I have no descendants and no one to take up my craft."

Raya, who was also listening in, raised her head at the name of the swords. "Judge and Execution. A bowie knife and a longsword, correct?"

Numig was taken aback. "You know about my work?"

"I've run into people who have wielded those weapons," said Raya, straight-faced. "I didn't know you were the one who made it."

Raya wasn't telling the whole truth, though I understood why. She was still a monster hunter trying to keep a low profile in a world of monsters.

I remembered the guy she was fighting with using the large, coal-black knife and the long, pearl-white longsword. I didn't see what the swords could do, but I was sure the other hunter caused the wind that kicked up when I chased Shadow Fang.

Numig surprised us both with a smile.

"Even after all these years, someone is still using my weapons." Numigs eyes started to fill with water, but the old dwarf didn't let a tear roll down his face.

Raya looked uncomfortable. I wondered if Numig would be as pleased if he knew who was using his weapons. Perhaps not. He seemed like someone who wanted to make weapons to be used even if the said weapon was used against him.

"I'm still unclear whether you will help us," I said. "It doesn't sound like you're bound by law."

Numig was quick to replace his tears with a stoic gaze. "You're right to specify 'by law.' I know how Claymore operates, and he would never look at my records and severely punish me for making my armaments. The other dwarves," the old dwarf's eyes shifted at the other workers as if to accuse them of speaking foully, "made it clear that if I ever took up my craft again, they would not hesitate to banish me."

"Even if I asked you to help save their home?"

"That is how low they think of my work."

"I've seen what those weapons can do," Raya explained. "I've seen men go into fights with ghosts and trolls with nothing but their armor and those two blades and come out the other side without a scratch. If you speak truthfully about being the maker of those weapons, you are the best dwarf to forge armaments to fight a jinn."

"As much as I want to save my home, I also want to make weapons for heroes and legends, and none of you fit that description. You all are the type who would rather keep their heads low like agents of shadows. Silver is the only exception, but he already has a legendary armament."

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"You want to be famous?" Raya asked.

Numig sighed. "I would become famous, but that's not my goal." He started to daydream, looking past the two of us at something only he could see. "In my younger days, I was told stories about the Aesir, Vanir, the Knights of the Round Table, and so on. I wanted to see paragons of righteousness use my armaments to slay evil and be immortalized in stories." Numig's eyes darkened as he returned to reality. "But the age of heroes and gods is no more. If I help you, I will be banished and left with nothing."

In other words, Numig could die with his people or live the rest of his days as an outcast. Both seemed equally bleak. And what were we offering him that would compensate for his loss? Based on how he spoke, Numig was not a man who was driven by money.

"You made it sound like you haven't kept up with how your weapons have been used, correct?" asked Raya.

"I have heard nothing about them over the years… but no. I have not actively followed whose hands they have been in."

"If you were banished, then it gives you a reason to look for them. I don't know if you will find good stories surrounding them, but you'll never know if you stay here."

Feeling inspired by Raya's words, I followed up by saying, "What's more, it might give you inspiration to make the weapon you want and find the right person to become a legend."

"Perhaps." Though Numig sounded skeptical, he took a moment to think about what we said. "But are you willing to use your souls for this?"

"What if we used this?" Harqu inserted himself into the conversation while holding up his vessel before Numig. "Could you use the soul of a jinn as a substitute?"

The question shocked the old dwarf. "I never could test my technique on an artificial soul. I doubt the items will come out the same, but it should still work. You do understand that doing this will weaken the jinn."

"That might be better for me in the long run. I doubt this vessel will break again after what I had to do to fix it, but if the jinn is weakened, that will be less of a concern."

Numig took another moment to think. His eyes gleamed with inspiration. It was hard to tell if he decided to help us, but thankfully, we didn't have to wait long for a response.

"I'm on my last legs. The rest of the dwarves might hate me, but at least they won't be snowed in." Numig quickly slid off his seat and hobbled to Mindplay while dragging Harqu. Addressing Mindplay, he exclaims, "You will help me."

Mindplay stopped moving the mechanical arms and turned to Numig. "Why am I helping?"

"These pansies," the old dwarf waved his hands to acknowledge the other dwarf workers, "will be too afraid to help, and your powers are like mine. If you want these items done soon, you better roll up your sleeves."

Numig didn't give either Mindplay or Harqu time to object. It was funny to watch the PI get bossed around.

I turned to Raya and was surprised to see her smiling—a small, reserved smile. She quickly noticed I was staring at her and reverted to her stoic look.

"What were you smiling about?" I asked.

"I know what it's like to lose hope in a dream," she said vaguely.

"What dream did you lose hope in?"

Raya responded first with a sharp and quick glare. Her pupils changed again, and I wondered if it had something to do with Gahara.

"You may be willing to share your life story, but don't assume I am. You know too much about me as is."

A growl rumbled in my chest. "Why are you getting mad at me? I was just asking--"

"Stop asking. I just want to be done with this."

Without hesitation, I walked away from Raya to the furthest corner of the inn. She stayed where she was until Numig called her to the workstation and asked for her weapons.

For some reason, I was starting to think that these people were my friends. I was slowly convincing myself that they were people I could rely on when I needed them. Perhaps I was being immature. We had a job to do, and that was it.

The snowstorm was still raging when I dozed off. Since Numig didn't see it necessary to make a weapon for me, there wasn't much reason for me to stay awake. BD let me rest on her enlarged body, which made it easier for me to fall asleep.

Hours passed like minutes, and I didn't dream.

Numig's voice rattled the room as he yelled that he had finished everything. The artificial sunlight flowed through the windows. Nothing was barricaded anymore, most likely because the storm was over. I ignored Numig and everyone else, stirring awake, and went outside.

I struggled to open the door, but snow and ice filled the entrance once I could slide it open. The sunlight bounced off the snow and ice, blinding me until BD pulled my hood over my head. The hood turned into shaders, which gave me a better look at the town.

There wasn't much of the town covered in ice and snow, including the mountain's side. Stone and buildings had deep cuts, and it was a marvel that they were still standing. Everything else that wasn't built into the mountain was leveled to the ground.

I scanned the area for bodies but didn't see any. Did the Elementalist succeed in saving everyone? Were the Elementalists safe?

I looked down the road where the female dwarf who directed us to the Do-Not Inn was standing. She wasn't anywhere to be seen, but the path she worked hard to clear was buried in snow. I made my way to her door. Before I reached the door, my foot kicked something under the snow. I dug and found that her shovel was left behind. The metal was ice cold, and the spring was clogged.

I knocked on the lady's door, but no one answered.

The city can't take another hit.

I agree. It's time to get to work.