**Chapter Three**
Timothy walked through the dimly lit halls of the old laboratory, the flickering candles casting wavering shadows that danced upon the stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of dust and aged parchment, a stale reminder of countless hours spent in this place. He inhaled deeply, finding a strange comfort in the familiar atmosphere. As he strolled, his thoughts drifted to the choices that had led him here, mingling with the echoes of his past.
In many ways, Timothy was like any other dwarf: he had an immaculately groomed beard that flowed like dark silk and a sturdy build. However, what set him apart was his striking thinness, a stark contrast to the robust forms of his kin. Whispers of his human ancestry danced among the clans, tales of a lineage that had skipped generations. He often wondered how far back it went, but he knew it was there, lurking just beneath the surface. His grandfather had towered over most, standing six feet tall and as thick as a barn, while Timothy had inherited the opposite physique. In his youth, it had troubled him, especially when the other children mocked his stature. Yet, over time, he had come to accept himself, embracing his uniqueness.
As the time came for him to choose his calling, he felt the weight of his differences. Lacking the raw strength and resilience of many of his kinsmen, he shied away from the physically demanding fields like mining and warrior roles. Instead, he chose a more scholarly path. The Ironwood Academy beckoned to him, offering a plethora of subjects, from mineral composition to the intricate wonders of Magi-Tech aerodynamics. Timothy relished every moment spent within the academy's walls, losing himself in the pages of books and the thrill of discovery. But, as with all good things, his time there came to an abrupt end.
Graduating with honors, he found himself faced with a myriad of internship opportunities. One late night, as he shuffled through papers in a cluttered study room, he stumbled upon the names of various scholars—Redfist and Stonebeard among them—who were in search of eager students to aid in their groundbreaking experiments. Yet, as he read, a sense of disillusionment washed over him. Each project seemed lackluster, uninspired. They lived in the Empire, one of the most technologically advanced nations in the known world, and yet these so-called scholars devoted their time to trivial studies that even a bald mole rat could recognize as nonsense. Timothy's frustration simmered, boiling over as he grappled with his desire for something greater.
With the final year of his studies swiftly approaching its end, desperation gnawed at him, urging him to seek out any opportunity that might ignite his career. Then, amidst the disarray of his search, he discovered an old application crumpled and discarded in a waste bin. When he brought it to the receptionist, she let out a scoff, explaining that the office had been inundated with internship offers from what she described as a “crackpot old troll” who wouldn’t recognize genius if it bit him.
“Look, Timothy, you're a smart kid. During your time here, you've proven to possess a mind that only comes around every few generations, and I’d hate to see you waste your time on… this,” she said, flicking the form disdainfully with a pin. “I don’t want to see you squander your potential.”
Still, Timothy remained resolute. He took the application, determined to forge his own path. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he reached the end of the corridor, where he turned the heavy latch on the grand, oak door and stepped into the laboratory. Each time Timothy entered this room, he was struck by its chaotic beauty. Blueprints and intricate diagrams of various Magi-Tech designs adorned the walls, their edges curling slightly from age and neglect. Bookshelves overflowed with tomes, their spines cracked and faded, creating a labyrinth of knowledge waiting to be explored. In a word, Timothy would describe the laboratory as… messy. Definitely messy.
“Professor, I’m here! I have your breakfast,” Tim announced, carefully setting the plate of sizzling bacon and fluffy eggs on one of the cleaner patches of the cluttered table. The smell wafted through the air, mingling with the musty scent of old parchment and lingering smoke from the previous night’s experiments. Timothy often wondered why the old man insisted on being called “Professor.” He wasn’t one by any conventional means, but over time, Timothy had come to accept it as one of the eccentricities that defined his mentor.
A muffled shout erupted from the center of the room, where the old man's magnum opus stood in all its chaotic glory. This project was the very reason that had drawn Tim to the laboratory in the first place. Before him loomed a grand stone archway, raised proudly on a sturdy platform. Solid granite spiraled upwards, forming majestic pillars, interspersed with flecks of silver, gold, and other precious metals, seemingly scattered at random. In the center of the arch, a blank space awaited a gemstone, its polished surface gleaming in the dim light.
At that moment, a grimy face suddenly appeared around the arch, framed by the wildest beard Timothy had ever seen. It was as if the beard had a life of its own, a tangled mass that defied reason.
“Ah, Tim! There you are! Come here, come here! I have need of your skinny arms!” The old man’s voice boomed with excitement as his head ducked back behind the arch.
When Tim had first started working with Bendron Leadhead, he had no idea what to expect. Rumors around the academy spoke of the genius who had perhaps gone too far into the depths of his own mind. In his younger years, Bendron had been instrumental in the creation of the first prototypes for airships, now a common sight in the Empire. But somewhere along the way, he had veered off course, dedicating years to projects that seemed to lead nowhere. Yet, after spending several years in the old man’s chaotic presence, Timothy could confidently say that he still had no clue what to make of him.
Bendron was undeniably brilliant. In the last few years, Tim had absorbed more knowledge than he had in his entire life. The way the old man articulated complex theories and esoteric arcane concepts made the information resonate deeply within Tim’s mind. Yet, on the other hand, Bendron had to be the messiest, most easily distracted person in the entire world. One moment, he would be furiously scribbling in a dusty journal about his latest arcane insight, and the next, he would be dashing around the room searching for a wrench, only to finally find it buried within his own beard half, if you can even call it that, an hour later.
As Tim navigated around the arch, he took in the sight of the old man crouched on the floor, surrounded by an array of tools and scattered papers. Unlike any other dwarf he had encountered, Bendron possessed the absolute messiest beard that Timothy had ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on. It resembled the tentacles of an octopus, with every strand seemingly having a mind of its own, twisting and curling in every direction without any semblance of order.
“Sir, is your beard stuck in one of your devices again?” Tim sighed deeply, already imagining the next few hours spent untangling the chaos.
“No, what I need is this,” the old man replied, raising a small red gemstone high into the air, its surface shimmering like a drop of blood against the muted backdrop of the lab. “I need you to take this and put it in there. Reach as far as you can until you feel a small tug. I would do it myself, but my hand just won’t fit.” As he finished speaking, Tim noticed a small hole in the side of the arch, just large enough to accommodate the gemstone.
Timothy took a deep breath, feeling the cool smoothness of the small red gemstone in his hand. With a casual glance around the cluttered laboratory, he approached the archway..
As he gently placed the gemstone into the waiting hole, a soft hum began to resonate through the air, as if the archway was waking up from a long slumber. Timothy stepped back, a smile creeping onto his face as the stone clicked into place.
“Ah, yes! That’s it, Tim! Can you feel the energy? It’s alive!” Bendron’s voice boomed with delight, drawing Timothy's attention away from the archway.
“What does it do?” Timothy asked, his curiosity piqued as the archway began to shimmer faintly. Well, of course, Timothy, new bits and pieces, but Bendron never gone in to depth about it
Bendron waddled over, his wild beard bouncing with every step. “This, my dear boy, is the culmination of years of research! We’re on the brink of something monumental!” He gestured dramatically at the archway, his hands making grand circles in the air. “It’s a gateway—a portal, if you will—between realms! Imagine being able to traverse worlds, to discover what lies beyond our own!”
Timothy’s eyes widened, a sense of wonder washing over him. “That sounds amazing! But how does it work? What if it doesn’t lead anywhere?”
Bendron chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Ah, that’s part of the adventure, Tim! Not all who wander are lost! Besides, I’ve taken every precaution.” He waved a hand dismissively, clearly more excited than concerned.
Timothy felt a twinge of hesitation, but the thrill of exploration tugged at his heart. “And what if something goes wrong?”
Bendron placed a reassuring hand on Timothy’s shoulder, his expression earnest. “Life is full of uncertainties, my boy. You’ve learned that well enough. But think of the knowledge we could gain! The realms we could explore! This could be your chance to change the course of your life—our lives!”
Feeling the spark ignite within him, Timothy nodded slowly, a smile breaking through. “Alright, what do I need to do next?”
“Bendron’s expression shifted to one of contemplation. “There’s one more piece we need to complete the arch. Not to worry, though! I have someone we’ll meet with shortly to discuss acquiring it.” He waved a dismissive hand as if it were a minor errand amidst their grand adventure.
Timothy raised an eyebrow, glancing at Bendron’s wildly unkempt beard, which seemed to have taken on a life of its own. “You know, maybe you should consider a trim before we meet anyone. That beard looks like it could use a little… organization.”
Bendron chuckled, completely unfazed. “Ah, but it’s part of my charm! The untamed look is all the rage among the scholarly elite!” He turned to head toward his breakfast, but just as he did, a wayward strand of his beard got caught on the edge of the table. In an instant, he stumbled forward, arms flailing. “Whoa—!”
Timothy, having seen this spectacle unfold countless times before, sprang into action, effortlessly catching Bendron mid-fall like a seasoned hero. “Gotcha!” he exclaimed, his heart racing as he steadied the old man.
Bendron looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Ah, yes! Just testing the gravitational pull of breakfast!” He chuckled, attempting to regain his composure while still clinging to Timothy’s arm.
“Right,” Timothy replied, a serious note creeping into his voice. “But seriously, professor you need to be more careful. This isn’t just a game. You could really hurt yourself if you keep being so careless!”
Bendron waved a hand dismissively, still grinning. “Nonsense! A little chaos is good for the soul!”
Timothy’s frown deepened. “I get that you enjoy the chaos, but you treat that so called bread of yours like a your personal tripping hazard. We need to be focused and prepared, not tripping over your own beard! Its not just you that you are putting at risk.”
Bendron paused, his expression softening as he realized the weight of Timothy’s words. “Timothy, my dear boy,” he said gently, “I appreciate your concern. But you must understand, the world is unpredictable. If we let every little thing throw us off, we’ll never get anywhere!”
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“I understand that, but there’s a difference between embracing unpredictability and being reckless,” Timothy replied, his voice firm. “I just want to make sure that you’re taking this seriously. We can’t afford any slip-ups—literally.”
Bendron nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Alright, I’ll try to be a bit more mindful. But promise me you won’t try to give me a lecture every time I trip!”
Timothy couldn’t help but smile at the old man’s spirit. “Deal. Just promise to keep it under control!”
With a chuckle, Bendron replied, “Very well! Now, where’s that bacon?”
As they both laughed, Timothy felt a sense of relief wash over him. He knew Bendron’s heart was in the right place, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that a little caution wouldn’t hurt. With a playful nudge, Timothy led Bendron back to the table, ready to share breakfast, but his mind still lingered on the importance of staying focused as they prepared for the rest of the day.
As they settled at the table, Bendron piled his plate high with crispy bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, and golden-brown toast, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. He glanced over at Timothy, whose expression held a mix of pride and eagerness. “So, my boy, what level are you in your researcher job now?”
Timothy took a sip of his freshly squeezed juice, the bright citrus flavor invigorating him. “I’m at level 27, professor.”
Bendron’s eyes widened in delight, and he nodded appreciatively, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Impressive! Just a few more levels to go! Have you thought about which subclass you’ll choose when you hit level 30?”
Timothy leaned back slightly in his chair, the wooden seat creaking softly under him as he pondered the possibilities. “I’ve been thinking about it. I’m really interested in the magi tech subclass. It seems like it would open up a lot of exciting opportunities for our work.”
“Absolutely!” Bendron exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious as he gestured animatedly, nearly sending a piece of toast flying. “The magi tech subclass is a fantastic choice! You’ll gain access to skills that make the discovery of new inventions almost a guarantee! You know that's the problem with youth these days, no imagination. They all go after the tried and true methods. In fact I recently got a letter from Dr Stonebeard bragging about how one of his students took the steam power subclass at level 30. Can you believe him. Bragging about that as if it's some kind of accomplishment.”
Timothy smiled, appreciating Bendron's excitement. Timothy eyed the piece of toast that Bendron nearly sent flying as it slipped off his plate and onto the floor. He sighed internally and made a note to pick it up after breakfast.
“Yes, I can see how that would be beneficial. It would certainly help us upgrade our equipment and make experiments more efficient.” Timothy stop for a moment and looked around before continuing. “ I mean seriously Professor isn't most of this stuff a little outdated.”
“As I keep telling you my dear boy we just don't have the budget for the latest equipment. Ever since the university cut me off of my grants we've been forced to make do.” Bendron said with a huff. “Uninspired brats. Just because I've been working on this for 10 years doesn't mean I haven't made any progress.”
“Well professor, I'll make sure to redo the whole laboratory after a few more levels.”
“Thank you Timothy.What would I do without an assistant like you. Bendron said, his expression shifting to a warm smile.
“Probably choke yourself to death with your own beard.” Timothy mumbled as he munched on a piece of toast.
As they finished breakfast, Bendron leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the ceiling as if searching for inspiration among the cobwebs and dust. “You know, Timothy,” he began, his voice taking on a reflective tone. “When I hit level 30, it was a turning point in my life. I had so many dreams, so many possibilities laid out before me.”
Timothy raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
Bendron chuckled softly, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “I chose the Gemstone Analyst subclass, thinking it would be my ticket to greatness. They were very few notable records on the subclass and none of my peers seem to know anything about it either. I thought I could unlock A new field of science that never been studied before. But in hindsight, I realize I may have limited myself.”
Timothy leaned forward, eager to hear more. “What do you mean by that? Wasn’t it a useful subclass?”
“Oh, it certainly was,” Bendron replied, his eyes twinkling with the memories of his past. “I became adept at analyzing gemstones, enhancing their magical properties, and using them in my experiments. It was a fascinating journey, and I learned a great deal. Here let me illustrate for you.” As he spoke Bendron reached into his pocket and pulled out a small blue crystal. “ Now because of my skills I can tell you the exact quantity of mana that this Stone Is currently holding in how much more it can take before it cracks.
Bendron stopped talking for a moment. He stared down at the gemstone that he held in his palm raising a finger he swelled it around as little tendrils of mana leaked from his finger and into the stone. The crystal seemed to drink in the strands of Magic as a blue light began to shine from within after a few more seconds the stone began to levitate about an inch over his palm.
Timothy stared fascinated. Of course Timothy could use magic as well. It was one of the required courses at Ironwood University. But to see a enchantment like levitation plays so easily in a gemstone was remarkable.
“That's an incredible professor.” Timothy said, all creeping into his voice.
“Bah, Nothing but a parlor trick.” Bendron continued grumpily , “It's a waste of skills. if I had taken another subclass I would have been able to learn how to do the same in a few months of practice.” As Bendron spoke he tossed the little Stone over his shoulder. The stone made of slight clattering sound as it bounced on the stone floor. “I often found myself wishing I had chosen differently. Yes, I could play with my rocks all day, but I was not creating anything truly groundbreaking. I was stuck in a niche that, while valuable, didn’t allow me to innovate in the ways I had hoped. My work became... methodical. I realized too late that my true passion lay somewhere else. I could have been at the forefront of pioneering inventions, transforming the very nature of our understanding of both realms.”
“But you still made a significant impact, Professor. You helped create airships and contributed to the field in many ways.” Timothy jumped in hoping to cut the professor out of his mood.
“True, but imagine if I had made a different choice instead of confining myself to my gemstones,” Bendron lamented, his expression reflective. “I could have been a part of something bigger, crafting devices that could change lives, crossing the very boundaries of possibility.”
Timothy felt a pang of sympathy for the old man. “As they finished their breakfast, Bendron’s gaze drifted back to the archway, a wistful expression painting his features. “You know, Timothy, hitting level 30 was one of the most exhilarating moments of my life. But it wasn't until I hit Level 50 that I found my true calling.
Timothy nodded. His eyes wandered over to the arch standing silently in the center of the laboratory. Timothy could feel the power coming from it. The magic seemed to thrum through the room tickling the back of his mind. Sometimes he would lose himself staring at the arch as if something about it called to him. Staring through the pillars it was almost as if he could see…
“I just want you to promise me one thing.” Bendron's voice Cut through Timothy's thoughts causing him to shake his head and look back at his mentor.
“What’s that Professor?” Timothy asked, intrigued.
“Promise me you won’t let the fear of The unknown hold you back. I see so much of myself in you. No matter what opportunities you get, don't be scared to reach out and take what you want.” Bendron said.
Before Timothy could respond, a sudden commotion erupted from the back of the laboratory. The heavy wooden door swung open with a creak, and a figure stepped inside—a tall, lanky man with an unsettling demeanor that sent a shiver down Timothy’s spine. He moved with an odd gait, as if he were both too rigid and too loose at the same time, resembling a marionette with tangled strings.
“Ah, I see you’re busy,” the man said, his voice smooth yet somehow unnerving. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything… important.”
Bendron straightened in his chair, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. “Ah, Roderick! Just the man I was hoping to see! Come in, come in!”
Timothy’s unease deepened as Roderick stepped further into the room, his eyes darting around at the chaotic surroundings with an unsettling curiosity. There was something about his smile—too wide, too forced—that made Timothy instinctively take a step back.
Timothy felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Roderick wasn’t the safes person to associate with. The last time he had assisted them, things had gone awry, and Timothy wasn’t eager to revisit those moments.
“Hello, Bendron,” Roderick replied, his smile wide but somehow devoid of warmth, revealing teeth that appeared just a bit too sharp. As he entered the room, he moved with an unsettling grace, his head tilting at odd angles, as if he were constantly assessing the space around him. .
Bendron spoke losing his previous excitement now in a flat tone that conveyed only business. “ We need you to secure us a silver rank dungeon core. And I must stress—no one is to get hurt this time. We can’t afford any more… incidents.”
Roderick’s smile faltered for a split second, but he quickly regained his composure. “Oh, come now, Bendron. The last incident was hardly my fault! I had the dragon scales you requested, but it’s not my fault the dragon mate or should I say widow decided to burn a city in retaliation.” His tone was light, but there was an edge beneath it that made Timothy’s skin crawl.
“Let’s just keep things calm this time, shall we?” Bendron replied, his voice firm but tinged with an underlying worry. “I don’t want to see any more townsfolk injured because of our endeavors.”
“Of course, of course,” Roderick said, waving a dismissive hand. “But you must understand, these things happen in this line of work. You can’t expect all creatures to be as reasonable as we are.” He chuckled, but the sound was unsettling, like a crow cawing in the dead of night.
Timothy shifted uneasily, glancing between the two men. “Are you sure we should be relying on Roderick again? I mean, after everything that happened last time…”
Bendron cut him off, his voice resolute. “There’s no one else who can obtain the core as quickly as he can. Trust me, Timothy. Roderick has his uses, even if they come at a cost.”
Roderick grinned, his teeth glinting like polished obsidian. “Ah, you see? It’s all about perspective! Now, about the payment…” He gestured, and Bendron reached beneath a cluttered table, retrieving a small box that seemed to be shifting and twitching.
Timothy’s eyes widened as he looked at the box, his heart racing. “What’s in there?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“There are some things you don’t want to know.,” Bendron replied, his tone calm, but Timothy could sense the tension in the room. “This should cover it, Roderick. Just remember to be careful with it.”
Roderick’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he took the box, the twitching becoming more pronounced. “Oh, I do love a good surprise. You really shouldn’t worry so much, Timothy. It’s all part of the experience!”
Timothy took a step back, his instincts screaming at him to reconsider their trust in Roderick. “This isn’t right, Bendron. We can’t keep involving him in our work. What if something else goes wrong?”
Bendron placed a reassuring hand on Timothy’s shoulder, his expression softening. “I understand your concerns, but we have no choice. Roderick is the only one that is willing to work with us. I have tried every one else. We need him to move forward.”
With a hesitant sigh, Timothy nodded, though doubt still gnawed at him. “Alright, but I don’t like this.”
“Wise decision, my boy,” Bendron replied, a glimmer of pride in his eyes that turned cold as he looked back at their visitor. “That will be all Roderick please remember what we said!”
As Roderick turned to leave, the box in his hands still writhing slightly, Timothy couldn’t shake the feeling that they were stepping into dangerous territory.
As Roderick stepped out of the cluttered laboratory, the heavy door creaked shut behind him, sealing off the light and warmth of the space he had just left. A smirk curled upon his lips as he glided down the dimly lit corridor, but beneath that facade, an insidious darkness brewed in the depths of his mind.
“Filthy dwarfs.” He hissed, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it dripped with an unsettling malevolence. “They believe me a mere merchant, a purveyor of rare and exotic goods. They have no inkling of what I truly am.”
With each step, he felt his body shift, the muscles in his limbs contorting, his spine elongating ever so slightly as he erased the form of the lesser created he pretended to be. A familiar tingling sensation coursed through him, a sinister reminder of the power he possessed. The sharpness of his teeth grazed his lips, a constant reminder of the predatory instincts he had to suppress in front of the unsuspecting pray.
“I despise having to alter my form for the livestock,” he thought bitterly, a scowl twisting his features. “These simpletons believe they can put limits on me, that they can confine me within puny ethics.”
His fingers brushed against the box he clutched tightly under his arm, the twitching inside growing more frantic with each heartbeat. A low, chilling chuckle escaped his lips as he quickened his pace, eager to reach his solitary haven. “They think they can bargain with me,” he murmured, a dark thrill surging through him. For a moment he wondered about the mysterious Arch that they worked on but dismissed moments later.
Once he was alone in the shadows of a secluded alley, Roderick finally allowed his true form to unfurl. The transformation was swift and exhilarating, his features sharpening, the pallor of his skin shifting to a more vibrant hue that seemed almost unnatural. The gleam in his eyes intensified, a predatory glimmer that spoke of insatiable hunger. His suppressed senses heightened, as the world around him sharped and grew more vivid, pulsating with the energy of the night.
He knelt down, placing the box on the ground, his heart racing with anticipation. With a flick of his wrist, he opened it, revealing the creature inside—a small, writhing mass of magical energy, pulsating with a faint, scarred light. Roderick’s lips curled in a sinister grin, the anticipation sending shivers of delight through his body.
“Delicious,” he murmured, his voice low and hungry, echoing like a whisper in the dark. Without hesitation, he reached in, his “fingers” wrapping around the quivering creature, feeling its warmth and frantic energy. He brought it to his maw, and with a swift, ravenous motion, he devoured it whole, the essence flooding through him like liquid fire, igniting a primal hunger within.
The surge of power was intoxicating, and he reveled in the feeling as the creature’s magic coursed through his veins, igniting something deep within him. But it was gone as quick as it had came siphon away only leaving the insatiable hunger that controlled him.
As he swallowed the last remnants of the creature, Roderick’s thoughts darkened further, twisting into something malevolent. “Let them play their little games. Let them think they hold the reins.”
With a final glance back toward the laboratory, a satisfied smile curled at the corners of his mouth, a chilling promise lingering in the air. “This time, it’s my turn to dictate the terms.”
Just then, his gaze fell upon a small figure huddled against the cold, damp wall of the alley—a homeless child, filthy and frail, with wide, frightened eyes that reflected both innocence and despair. Roderick paused, the corners of his mouth twitching into a predatory grin. Here was yet another soul, one that no one would miss, a mere whisper in the cacophony of the city.