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Doror Stonehammer led the way, the tiny little hairball of a girl on his heels. She clung the hem of his pants with one hand and gave me the occasional glance, her gaunt cheeks a stark contrast to the dwarf’s stocky build. Her eyes held the gleam of curiosity that only kids her age could have. Could she be his daughter?

Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to get some brownie points with the daughter of a Master Dwarven Smith, I smiled and gave a soft wave.

“E,e,eep!” Immediately, the girl turned around and hugged Doror’s leg with both arms and legs.

“What the-” He turned and growled at me. “What did you do, Boy?!”

“N,nothing.” I stammered. “I just smiled at her.”

“...Don’t do it again. I’m warning ye.”

“Understood, Master Smith.”

God damn it, screw this world. Why the hell was a criminal like Arione born in the body of a fantasy equivalent of a supermodel and I was stuck in this?

The path on the other side of the door took us deeper underground, each step taking me closer to the frigid embrace of Mother Earth. My breath fogged up and I looked back to check how far we’d come, but the way was completely black. It wasn’t that my eyes couldn’t pierce the darkness, it was just the combination of distance traveled and the angle of the slope. Luckily, there was only one way out of here so there was no fear of getting lost.

‘Perfect place for an ambush.’ A little voice told me inside. ‘Perfect place for someone like Coum or Horsehead or Tanya to show up, waiting for you with half a dozen other players.’

I shook my head, blocking out the small voice and focused on keeping up with Doror.

The small path finally leveled out, leading to a single door. It was more of a thick slab of rock with sharp corners, more akin to a coffin lid than a door that led somewhere. A gruesome thought. Doror reached out and opened the door easily, and contrary to expectations, it opened without creaking or the groan of stone. He held it open, waiting for me.

And I entered a whole new world.

First, it was another large cavern, just like the one I had seen the [Rot Slimes] in. But every inch of it had been shaved down to a smooth surface, so that the whole place looked like one huge box. Then careful rectangular holes had been carved into the walls and they held magic-stone lanterns, lighting up the place with an iridescent white glow. I saw box-like houses and in the first row alone, more than half a dozen Smithys. I saw dwarves of all shapes, sizes and color hammering away at their latest creation.

There were hundreds of them. Perhaps thousands. The sheer scale of the place was enough to make me dizzy. I tried to roughly estimate how big this place was as well as how many people could live here –but all I could think of was Times Square in manhattan. This wasn’t a small smithing village beneath the earth, it was a freaking city running on a factory of dwarves fashioning weapons.

Swords, Harlberds and Spears; Tower Shields that could cover two men and more –so lustrous that even I could feel the magical power coming off of it. This place was a treasure trove of weapons and my eyes wandered, mouth open in both amazement and greed.

Jackpot.

“Welcome to the city of Stonehammer.” Doror cleared his throat, a smile hinting at his lips and the corner of his eyes.

It could’ve been just my imagination, but he looked a little smug.

“Come this way, Boy.” He jerked his head and I followed him once more.

He led me down a staircase and we entered the city. Luckily, the tallest buildings here were two stories at most. I got a pretty good idea of the city’s layout. Unluckily, it meant that every single dwarf smith, housewife, househusband, kid and their pet dog came out to see the only human in existence this deep in the earth.

Some of the dwarven parents covered their children’s eyes, glaring at me and making it a point to walk in the other direction. The smiths eyed me, their gazes cold and calculating.

Was this how it felt to be a Beastman among humans? What Skaris and Stole felt walking amongst the Church members during this quest? Forget Beastman, how all other races, save for the elves maybe, in the majority of the Continent? The Turina Empire held the largest territory and most places were led by the Church. Their ideology of super superiority had been bred through generations. Even adventurers from those places tended to be more racist.

It’s hard to be treated like that. We all have a little something inside of us that wants to feel welcomed. To have a place we belong, even if we know it’s temporary. It helps us feel safe, and relax. For someone who was used to a warm welcome, this might’ve been a little nerve wracking. Even for adventurers, this was tough. Killing monsters is one thing, being unwanted is another.

But this wasn’t anything new to me. I’d been stared at before. I’d been whispered about before.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

And I had already been warned by Doror in the beginning. I had expected this.

Besides, I had no intention of becoming stronger without a price. And if this was the price that I had to pay for the strength so that I could protect my comrades, I’d pay it a thousand times and more.

I held my head high, refusing to cower. Neither did I glare back at anyone, belligerence wouldn’t help here. I took a couple of long steps, walking closer Doror and no longer far behind him like a prisoner. But next to him, as a potential guest might.

Doror noticed this and gave me the side-eye. But he didn’t comment. I thought some of the smiths nod appreciatively. Others simply scoffed and went back to work. But most of them continued to glare.

The Master Smith and the little girl took me past the main-block of the city and to the outskirts.

He led me to a Smithy, looking identical to the others and gestured me in.

There was a bona-fide forge sitting smack-dab in the middle of the place. I could imagine the heat coming off of it in waves, the dwarves singing their songs to the beat of their hammers and the rhythm of the fire. But there was no fire nor were there smoldering coals ready to be lit at a moment’s notice. The whole place was in disarray. Tools lay on the ground, cobwebs had taken over the rafters and the cacophony of disarray, disuse and indifference gave the place an abandoned look.

The child finally let go of Doror, running off somewhere in the smithy. Not long after, I began to hear the banging of tools and delighted laughter.

Doror calmly walked over to a table and sat down. He rummaged around the floor and brought out a bottle, obviously alcoholic in nature. He rummaged around some more, found two metal tins that could pass off as cups. He gestured at me to sit down in front of him, wiping the metal cups on his beard.

Hiding my disgust, I sat down in front of him.

He studied the metal cup with a discerning eye before wiping it on his beard again and setting it down in front of me. Doror looked at me.

“You old enough to drink, Boy?”

“Er, yes.” I looked at the cup. There was a strand of white hair in it.

I reached to pick it out but Doror was faster. He poured the mystery liquid in the cup.

Our eyes met.

“Drink.”

…This fucker, he saw the hair. He was doing this on purpose.

Was this some sick dominance play that Dwarven Smiths did to a Human Swordsman? Was it a Race thing or a Profession thing? Either way, I had to play along. I hadn’t expected to find a Hidden Village so early on in the game. Usually they existed around level 70 areas. All the ones I knew were in the Turina Empire, Zimmskar and deep within the recesses of dungeons owned by Field Bosses.

So hiding my disgust, I took the cup and sniffed at it.

“To a Dwarf’s Beard!” He cried loudly, slamming his cup against mine and downing it.

He was still watching me while drinking.

…Shit.

‘Just… just do it. Think of a new Spear for Skaris, a Shield for Aurora and an Arbalest for Stole. Kyrian can get something too.’ I put the cup on my lips and downed it.

Hot liquid fire burned everything from my mouth, to my throat and sat in my stomach, roiling and churning. I coughed and slammed the cup down, wincing at the taste. That thing had tasted like rubbing alcohol except worse. Not only that, when I licked my lips there was something stuck in my molars. I picked it out and found the Doror’s stringy white beard hair, wet and half-chewed.

He looked at me. “Huh? Was there a hair in there? Why didn’t ya pick it out before drinking it?”

This mother fucker, I’m going to kill-

“Here, drink another.” Doror poured me another cup.

This time, he didn’t down his in one gulp. He took a slow drink, taking his time to actually taste the damned thing before it lit his insides on fire. He saw me hesitating and grunted. “It’ll go down better this time, Boy.”

Whatever. It’s not like anything I tasted in MSS had tasted that good anyways.

I took the second drink, imitating Doror and swishing it around my mouth.

To my surprise, it burned considerably less. This time, it wasn’t just fire. There was a hint of honey and something citrusy –maybe a Tangerine or something similar– combined with undertones of fine-aged whiskey. I took another sip and this time, the sweetness was much subdued, allowing my tongue to detect more earthy tones –some kind of smoked wood? Was that possible?

“Be honored, Human.It’s called Dwarf’s Blood.” Doror said at last, “And this is the last bottle in this forge-forsaken city of ours.”

“What is?” Then I quickly added, “Master Smith.”

“Enough of that Master Smith nonesense, Boy,” He waved a hand at me, taking another sip. “Call me Stonehammer.”

“Then you can call me Slaveborn, instead of Boy or Lad. Or human.”

“No, Boy.” Doror put an end to the matter. “This drink is called Dwarf’s blood. It takes more than three dozen Good Dwarven Men to make one barrel. We light the barrel on fire as it ages, you see. Then we take turns keeping watch over the damned thing, making sure the wood burns just enough to give it that smoky flavor but doesn’t come into contact with the alcohol. Takes a good part of a year.”

I took another sip. Scientifically, what he was saying shouldn’t be possible. Fire and Alcohol? That was an arson case waiting to happen. But then again, I myself could melt into shadows and create magical ink that turned into deadly tree branches on my opponent’s bodies. I shouldn’t be the one to judge.

Doror continued. “When the Stonehammer Clan first arrived here, it was infested with monsters. It still is, ain’t it? An ugly volcano? That strange spell over the entire island that slowly drives men mad with anger?”

I nodded in silent agreement.

“We weren’t used to the sounds back then. We were smiths, not adventurers.” He said wistfully and looked at the bottle with something akin to longing. “We had loads of these bottles. These were our Clan’s specialty, ya see, before your people pushed us out. Drank this to keep our minds from being driven rage-mad, and to keep the monster’s roars from growing fear-roots in our hearts..”

He probably hadn’t meant to, but he gave me the answer to the Special Field outside. Alcohol. If I was right, there was a way to stave off the Special Field’s effects even without the [Fruit of Clear Mind].

“What’re you here for Boy? Are you here on behalf of the Empire?”

In a sense, I was here with the Empire. Internal politics aside, from an outsider’s perspective, the Church of Light, Flame and Shield was synonymous with the Turina Empire, just as how the Great Houses of Turina were synonymous with the will of the Turina Royal Family. But Doror had already shown his dislike of the Empire, and I had a feeling he wouldn’t have brought me here this far if I said I was from Turina.

If I wanted any chance at all of having a ‘Special Event’ happen here, I should have lied.

I decided not to.

Not because I’m a saint. But because I had a feeling Doror would know if I lied.

“In a way, yes.” I explained, “I’m an adventurer from the Free States of Jayu. I took on a request for the Church. I’m here with an advance party, checking to see if this island is good enough for us to make repairs.”

“What do you think?” Doror challenged.

“I think…” I took a deep breath. “I think it’ll be tough. But it might be doable.”

“Even with all those monsters running around?”

I smiled and shrugged. “We’ve already killed one. What’s another thousand or so?”

“Bah. So you’re the reason there’s all a ruckus out there.” He looked at the ceiling, speech slightly slurring.

He poured us another cup before holding it up to me. I met his cup with mine and we both took a swig.

“I led you to my village.”

“Yes.” I said.

“...Will you lead the others here?”

I looked him straight in the eyes. “No.”

I could not live with myself if I did. But I kept that to myself.

He nodded, satisfied. The elderly dwarf rummaged in his back pocket and brought out a tattered scroll. He opened it up, revealing a map of the island.

Not just a map.

Monster Lairs, location of the fruits. There was also information about the cavern I was just in and the network of tunnels that ran underground. Hell, there was even a freaking Fracture on this island which opened up twice the year, if I was reading it right. Doror’s fingers traveled over the map while I made a mental note of every single place that could be of use to me.

He tapped a spot. “Here. There’s a ruin here, should provide cover for your ships to make repairs. Enough wood around and a nice defensive spot if ye be attacked by monsters.”

I memorized the spot. “Thank you.”

He nodded, satisfied. “Now leave me, Boy.” He took another swig, spilling it over the map.

Hesitating, I looked around the smithy. Seeing the rusted tools and the forge covered in dust –not ash. The hammer –the one tool that a Master Smith could never go without– was nowhere in sight.

Then I looked at Master Smith, drinking himself into a drunken stupor.

I came here with something specific in mind.

But not like this. I wasn't that cruel. Whatever had happened here, Doror wasn’t ready to talk about it. Nor was he ready to face it.

No, now wasn’t the time yet.

“I’ll be back, Stonehammer.”

Then I left.