Dwarves are beings who cannot endure without digging into the earth if they don’t, thorns sprout in their mouths, and their flesh chafes unbearably.
Not being vampires, yet still voluntarily avoiding sunlight, these short folk picked up their pickaxes and delved into the ground.
During the Millennium War, as with any race, the dwarves suffered great losses.
They wielded the latest magical weaponry of the time and tore through countless demons without mercy, but against dragon scales, their attacks were nothing more than a tickle.
The black dragon scoffed at their assault and, in retaliation, unleashed its dark flames upon the tunnels where they had taken refuge, turning them into a scorching inferno so intense that not even debris remained.
Though humanity ultimately claimed victory, the dwarves, having endured devastating losses, vowed never to let such a tragedy repeat.
From then on, they dug deeper, built stronger, and fortified their tunnels like never before.
A thousand years passed.
Before anyone realized it, the dwarves had established their own fortress beneath the northern lands.
“That really happened, huh.”
“You don’t know? You read the book.”
“I forgot.”
“Ugh… Th-then… if my identity gets discovered here…”
“Wouldn’t thousands of dwarves come charging out with battle axes?”
“Uh, um… Can I just stay outside? I’m fine even if I have to sleep rough…”
Tene felt deeply uneasy. He had set foot in a place where, for generations no, since the very existence of their race the dwarves had regarded him as an enemy to be torn apart.
Of course, that crazed black dragon back then was technically a different entity, but since he was now inhabiting that very body, it was hard not to feel uncomfortable about what had happened.
“The whole reason we came here is because of your scales. What are you even saying?”
“I just… What if I get found out…?”
“You won’t. It’s fine.”
“Anyway, why did they build the entrance all the way up here on such a high mountain? If they’re just going to dig downward for minerals, wouldn’t it make more sense to put it at the base?”
Felix, overtaking the teary-eyed Tene, approached Louis and asked.
“Oh, did I not explain? This fortress has multiple entrances, not just the one we passed. There are… maybe a few dozen?”
“What? Why did they make that many?”
“Well… since it’s underground, having multiple access points makes things more convenient, and there are a lot of benefits to it at least, that’s the official reason.”
“Official?”
“When they were building this place, going back and forth between the surface and underground was a hassle, so every time they needed to leave, they just dug a new exit. Over time, those exits stuck around.”
“…So basically, instead of using perfectly fine doors, they just smashed through the walls every time they wanted to go inside?”
“Exactly.”
“Are they stupid?”
“Apparently, if they came out too late after mining, they’d have to drink lukewarm beer. And, well… dwarves are a smart race, but they also have a tendency to use their heads for headbutting, so…”
Felix, having had his curiosity about the fortress resolved in the most ridiculous way, looked dumbfounded.
“Well, I get it! That’s what you call romance!”
Even so, Louis, seeming to share some kind of understanding with the dwarves, muttered while stroking the area under his nose.
Kugung—
“We’re here.”
As they exchanged idle chatter, the stone platform they had ridden on descended and made contact with the ground. Before they knew it, they had arrived at the entrance of Karak-Zar.
“There he is, old man!”
The moment Louis jumped off the floating stone and landed, he dashed toward a building that resembled a guard post and shouted.
“Old man, my ass. I’ll have you know I’m only 72, you little brat!”
The dwarf, who had been gripping a spear, snorted and shouted back, apparently recognizing Louis.
His voice was so loud that, despite being roughly 200 meters away, it felt like he was yelling right next to them.
“Then what should I call you? Honestly, old man was me being nice. To the kids here, you’re basically a grandpa.”
“Tch, whatever. So what is it? You went off raising all kinds of hell, running away from the academy or canary or whatever just the other day, and now you’re back with humans, no less?”
“Uh… hello?”
“Nice to meet you.”
“A-ah, hello…”
“My academy friend and my professor. Oh, and a noble. That one’s a servant.”
“Heh, noble or not, I don’t give a damn.”
“Let me introduce you. This is old man Kabal from the guard post. Just think of him as a jobless drunk who’s always stuck here chugging beer.”
“Kabal of the guard post, you human bastards.”
“Oh… uh…”
Before arriving in the dwarven lands, the three humans had their own preconceived notions about what dwarves would be like.
Short, stout, big-bellied. Hot-tempered, rough-mannered, and sporting thick beards.
And upon seeing an actual dwarf for the first time, they realized that prejudice was really just a collection of long-accumulated big data.
Because the dwarf named Kabal was exactly the kind of dwarf you’d imagine if someone told you to picture one.
“So? What’s your business here? You made such a damn fuss running away, so why’d you come crawling back? And with humans?”
“Well, I got my hands on some really good material, but… the academy doesn’t have the facilities to process it. So, I was thinking…I’d like to use Dragon’s Breath.”
“…Dragon’s Breath, you say?”
Kabal, who had been frowning at Louis’s chatter, widened his eyes in shock at the mention of Dragon’s Breath.
“What kind of high-grade material did you get your hands on? Orichalcum? Adamantite? Don’t tell me… Gromril?!”
“Shh, shh! It’s a top-secret material. I have to forge it myself!”
“Hoo… If that’s the case, then I can see why you came rushing back.”
It was clear that the dwarves knew about Louis’s dramatic departure from the fortress.
Kabal had been eyeing her with suspicion at her sudden return, but upon hearing that she had obtained a rare material, he nodded in understanding so very dwarven of him.
“But you do know this, right? If an outsider you brought in causes trouble, you’ll be held responsible too?”
Kabal, showing that he was indeed a guard and not just some drunkard, quickly threw a sharp look her way.
If entry between nations was that easy, any mutt or stray could wander in and create havoc.
And given the dwarves’ naturally isolationist tendencies, it was only natural that Kabal was scrutinizing Rosaria’s group with suspicion.
“Y-yeah, I know. But look over there. Do they look like the kind of people who’d cause trouble?”
“Hehe…”
“…..”
“…..Hi.”
“Hmm, well. Since you’re all just skin and bones, at least you seem well-behaved.”
At Luis’s words, Cabal slowly looked over the three once more before shrugging his shoulders.
From the perspective of dwarves who, though short, were packed with muscle and bulk—Rosaria’s group looked as fragile as twigs that might snap with a mere tap.
“Anyway, I’ll grant you a temporary entry permit, so head straight to the main building and complete the procedures once you’re inside.”
“Of course!”
“Looks like it’s settled?”
“I was a little nervous… but thank goodness.”
“Whew…”
Sensing that the atmosphere had eased a bit, the group let out sighs of relief.
It was incredibly difficult for outsiders to enter a dwarven fortress, but if there was one defining characteristic of dwarves, it was their strong bonds.
Academic ties, regional ties, family ties, and even drinking ties.
Dwarves had a social network similar to the guanxi system in China, where the acquaintance of a friend was treated no differently from a direct friend.
Since Luis, though only half-dwarf, was still a dwarf, and this was someone he knew, passing through was relatively simple.
(Also, from a dwarven point of view, the group looked extremely frail.)
Had they arrived without any connections to the dwarves, they wouldn’t just have been turned away—more often than not, such intruders ended up staining the dwarves’ well-honed axes with fresh blood.
“But it’s a shame…”
“What’s a shame?”
While Rosaria’s group was filling out the paperwork for their temporary entry passes (despite their closed-off nature, the forms were available in both Imperial and Dwarven languages), Cabal clicked his tongue as if disappointed, prompting Luis to ask.
“You brought some great materials, but the timing isn’t great.”
“What? Another fight? What is it this time? Did Bobgin’s gang steal the beer supplies again? Or was it Saokin’s lot? No, wait Breckan’s?”
“No, you fool. That was Helchanki’s group last week.”
“Then what is it?”
“……Hmm.”
Hearing Cabal’s response, Luis immediately listed the worst-case scenarios that came to mind—most of which involved stolen beer.
Whenever dwarves got into a brawl, they would abandon their work, grab their axes, and charge out, completely halting all production in the process.
“The thing is… it’s about Dragon’s Breath.”
“Dragon’s Breath? What about it?”
But what came out of Cabal’s mouth was a statement so serious that it made all the previous issues seem trivial.