"I don't agree!"
Ironfelt was a gray dwarf who had just earned the title of 'master' — to be precise, it was only yesterday that he had passed the Magma City Craftsmen Association's assessment.
Being a craftsman who had been stuck at Gold Emblem for over thirty years, it was not his first time participating in the Craftsmen Association's Master Hammer Trial. However, the exam questions were too difficult each time, and coupled with the limitations of his innate talent, Ironfelt had been stuck at Gold Emblem until yesterday.
Even so, the Master Hammer Trial yesterday was unexpectedly easy, and felt no different from the exam questions he had to challenge when he ascended from Silver Emblem to Gold Emblem.
He had been puzzled at first, but the innate bold and boorish spirit of dwarves made him too lazy to think about it. Hence, he simply spent the night drinking and partying with his family who were delighted at his accomplishment.
In the end, while he was still tipsy and his head was hurting badly from the hangover, two people from the Craftsmen's Association came and handed him a beautifully decorated letter.
[Dear Mr. Iron Felt Slag,
According to Stoff's oracle which His Holiness had received yesterday, we are pleased to inform you that you have been chosen to represent the Craftsmen Association in the Frogmen Village of the Warty Shoals of the Silver Eagle Duchy of the Valla Empire and the Church of Games, our ally.
Please pack your belongings and leave Magma City before today, and hurry to the designated location.
Yours sincerely, 'Furnace Guardian' of the Craftsmen Association]
Ironfelt promptly frowned at the contents of the letter, and stuttered, "Y-You're looking for a m-master craftsman? What does that have to do with me, the Gold Emblem craftsmen?"
Neither of them said a word, and simply stared at Ironfelt's chest.
Ironfelt looked at his own chest as well, where the black scarf with the pattern of a golden hammer that symbolized his status as a master craftsman was glinting over his chest.
"Oh f * ck." Ironfelt sobered up at once, and yesterday's memories returned to his rather muddled mind.
No wonder the promotion exam questions were so simple, and no wonder Iron Shovel, who had connections in the association, didn't participate in the assessment yesterday. So you've already planned to throw me out as a scapegoat!
For most of the people in the Craftsmen Association, staying in Magma City and relying on the heat to forge various items was far more comfortable than forging weapons in human or other demi-human societies.
That was why the gray dwarves rarely left their residence unless it was something major like an oracle.
It was the same for Ironfelt.
"Shovel, you tricked me! Shovel —! "
It was a pity that there was nothing he could do even if he complained, and so Ironfelt could only go along with the association's arrangements.
It was the first time he was leaving Magma City as a child of a hundred and twenty-three. His parents could not help crying tears of worry, while Ironfelt himself was nervous as well. Still, he did his best to act mature and console his parents, before resolutely leaving Magma City.
Before leaving the city, Ironfelt had even asked the Forgemasters how long the so-called 'permanent residence' would be.
"About twenty years. It's not like you don't know humans. They're capricious and short-lived. You'll be back in twenty years at most." Even as the Furnace Keeper lowered the drawbridge of Magma City, he consoled Ironfelt. "Just consider it a trip with your pet."
"My Fang is much cuter than humans." Ironfelt stroked his unkempt beard to prevent the sparks from flying as he grumbled in dissatisfaction. "It can produce fine iron ingots after eating iron ores. Can those little human bitches do that?!"
"Heh. I didn't expect you to be rich too, kid. Most people can't afford to rear an Iron-eater." The Furnace Keeper said in slight surprise. "I've seen one when I was traveling above ground, but the food here isn't good. That thing was so hungry that it had to chew on bamboo …"
"You've traveled above ground before, uncle?"
Ironfelt stared at the Furnace Keeper who was moving slowly in surprise.
"Of course. I used to be a professional adventurer, until I took an arrow to the knee." The Furnace Keeper sighed and pointed the way for Ironfelt. "Turn left at the end of Tunnel Seven if you're going to the North. The portal there would send you near your destination, but activation would require twenty grams of 80% purity Illum crystals. Also, the astrologer said that the Month of Slime is around the corner, and the Slimes in the mines are proliferating. You'd better be careful …"
"They're just Slimes. This Superior Magma Warhammer of Ironfelt in my hand isn't to be trifled with!" Ironfelt brandished the hammer he had forged confidently, ignoring the so-called Slimes in disdain.
"Kid, you're quite good at coming up with names …" The Furnace Keeper who had been shot in the knee felt that there was no need to worry about Ironfelt's imposing manner. According to the statistics of the Craftsmen Guild's investigator 'Idle Pot', for some reason, the Slimes seemed to prefer attacking female creatures. If not for the fact that Slimes reproduce by splitting, the Guild would have thought that the Slimes were looking for breeding beds …
From a certain point of view, Magma City was a dungeon. To reach the surface, there were several dozen kilometers of fixed exits that led to a certain spot above ground, or teleportation portals.
It was fortunate that the dwarves were quite knowledgeable in building portals despite their mediocre mastery in magic. Moreover, dungeons could produce Illum crystals to power portals, which was why they were able to popularize portals much earlier than humans and elves who studied magic above ground. Now, portals could be found in most dwarven kingdoms as a standard means of transportation …
☆
"Finally, we're almost back to the Grey Fjord …" Jom walked feebly through the dense forest. He could already smell the faint scent of water in the air, and the higher humidity made this place colder than other places. Even if the Players could adjust their pain threshold, their limbs would still not listen to them when they were frozen.
"Don't tell me the event is over by the time we reach the Frogmen Village?" Terry, who was munching on a wheat biscuit behind him would tear off a small piece from time to time and toss it to Pikes the big dog beside his feet.
"The last Rotten Bones event lasted seven days. It's only been three days, it shouldn't be over yet …" Jom deduced.
Pikes' ears suddenly perked up, and started barking loudly towards their right.
"Jom, it's a Slime! What a big slime! "Terry shouted excitedly.
"Don't worry about that. The most important thing now is the event." Jom's expression became even more dispirited.
"But …" Terry scratched his head. "I think a dwarf drowned in a Slime …"
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