MaeveMcCarthy
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Chapter 67
🕑 Added 2025-01-28 22:00:18 +0000 UTCThe dwarf’s stone eyelids cracked open—literal shards of rock chipping away. He lurched forward and almost fell out of the chair.
Monica lunged forward, steadying him before he toppled.
“Easy,” she murmured, softening her tone. “You’re in Viscera. I used something to bring you back. Just… breathe.”
Despite the initial clumsiness the Dwarf soon straightned up and looked at Monica with a deep frown.
"Are you okay—"
"What are you doing here?" The Dwarf asked with a gruff tone, before eyeing some stone tablets that Monica had placed on the table before him since she had yet to read them all. "What are you doing?!"
The Dwarf slammed his hand on the stone tablets.
Monica took a step back and frowned.
"I'm confused. What's the problem here?"
"Do you have any idea what kind of knowledge this is?!" The Dwarf looked beside himself as he started checking the stone tablets and then suddenly shot to his feet. "Broken steel! That monster ravaged the place!"
The man shouted with such genuine pain while looking at the bent metal between some of the shelves that Monica felt guilty about having tried to pry more of those open.
The man immediately ran up to a section that had apparently been ransacked completely and then fell to his knees.
"No..." He gurgled, shaking his head. "NO!"
Monica just watched silently, not feeling like it was her place to intrude on the man's suffering. Clearly, whoever had been here before her had taken something of great value.
"Our secrets," the man said, growling. "I knew I shouldn't have recorded them down. That fool thought he could fight. He told me that if I forged his new weapon..."
The Dwarf started crying out loud, and Monica felt more and more embarrassed.
Monica swallowed hard, shifting her stance as the dwarf sobbed into his trembling hands. She glanced uneasily at the scattered tablets on the table.
Gently, she knelt a short distance away, one hand hovering near his shoulder in a gesture of concern. “I… I’m sorry,” she began, unsure if any words could soften the dwarf’s anguish. “But can you tell me—what exactly did they take? And who is ‘that fool’ you mentioned?”
“We dwarves,” he rasped, “we hold forging secrets deeper than the roots of mountains. I spent years… decades… perfecting them. We recorded them here so our legacy wouldn’t die with m... us—but it was a mistake.”
His gaze drifted to a split seam of metal near the shelves, dark black shards peeled away like a scab. “Someone tore these archives apart, rummaging for knowledge they had no right to wield. My friend… he insisted we had to fight back. He wanted a new weapon, something that could stand against—against that which devoured our city.” His breath hitched, voice cracking with grief.
Holy, Monica thought to herself. This guy is a big shot. Have I just gotten some crazy strong Blacksmith on my side?
“He thought my craft would protect him. And I—” he broke off, jaw clenched. “I caved. I forged it.”
“A weapon? What… was it?”
Suddenly, the Dwarf recoiled, realizing he had spoken out of turn and turned to Monica with a disgusted expression painted over his face.
Monica opened her mouth to speak, but the dwarf pulled back like a cornered animal. His eyes flicked over her from head to toe—her ragged armor and the dirt all over her body.
He snorted, obviously unimpressed.
“Who are you, wench?” he demanded, voice rough. “You’re no Dwarf. Some blasted human who prances about forging? Or worse—” his lips curled and something seemed to flash behind his eyes, “an Avatar?”
Monica drew herself up straighter, having no idea how the Dwarf could have guessed who she was.
“I am the Avatar of the Twin Phoenix,” she said, careful to keep her tone steady. “I came here for forging knowledge. All of you were turned to stone—there was no one left to learn from. So I’ve been teaching myself.”
The Dwarf's scowl deepened.
“Avatar of… is that so?” He shook his head, crossing his arms. “Bah. You outsiders come stomping into dwarven lands, messing with forces you know nothing about. Viscera is lost and whatever magic you used to bring me back is not going to last forever. Just—go and let me mourn my people.”
"The reason I'm here is to take it back," Monica said, narrowing her eyes at the Dwarf. "Listen, I don't know who you are or what your problem is. Yes, your people got turned to stone by Nexa, but that doesn't mean everything's lost."
The Dwarf raised an eyebrow at her mentioning the Goddess of Death, the Queen of Stone, but otherwise seemed much less scared of her than Monica's allies.
"The Avatar of the Twin Phoenix," the Dwarf chewed on the words, looking her from head to toe. "The only good piece of gear on your is about to lose all its durability. You are bare-handed, half-naked, and you clearly have no idea what you're doing."
"I came to this world without memories, yes. And yes, I have no idea what I'm doing. I know, however, what my powers can do."
The Dwarf's eyebrows jumped for a moment, and he nodded to himself.
"Let's say, Avatar, that there was a way for my people to be back from this curse. Let's assume, for a moment, that they could turn back into flesh from their prison of stone. What, then? Do you see what's around us? I can feel the monsters crawling everywhere in Viscera, even inside the Great Forge. And in the lower levels, in the Royal Chambers? Do you know what's awaiting for you there?"
Monica had no idea how this Dwarf could sense anything since he wasn't supposed to have access to his magic or Skills.
"I know there's Machina at the end of this. And I've already cleared the first floor of Viscera. There are just two more in front of me."
"That doesn't answer my question. How many of my kin are gone up there because of your battle—"
"None. The monsters don't touch the statues. It has something to do with the Old Gods' rules or whatever. And we battled away from them. They're all intact."
That seemed to stump the man who looked at the ground, confused. There was pain in his face, but a flicker of something different, much closer to hope, finally went through his eyes.
"They're all intact?" He asked in a low growl.
"Yes. All those we saw were intact. Even here, in the second floor, all the statues I met were all good. None of them were destroyed."
The Dwarf took a sharp intake of breath.
"Now," Monica continued, "I'm here because I need someone to help me learn forging and teach my friends the Fire Breathing Skill. They can't stand the temperatures down here."
"You, forging?" The Dwarf didn't seem immediately disgusted by that proposition. Actually, he seemed intrigue that Monica had mentioned forging. But that lasted only a moment before his features went dark again.
"And what do you think makes you worth of forging? Avatar, even if my people came back, there'd be not much for them. All the knowledge we accumulated throughout the years, all the tools, the equipment—Dwarven forging is our pride and our way to survive."
Monica felt a pinprick at the back of her neck.
This guy hadn't refused to teach her and her friends the Fire Breathing Skill, but he clearly was about to make some request of her.
"Ok, tell me what you want," Monica said. "If it's in my power, we can trade."
"I want the Great Forge to be preserved."
"The Great Forge?"
"Yes, the pride of my people. These monsters haven't yet managed to break it down to absorb it, but they will if let to their own devices. I can feel them trying to nibble down at our greatest creations."
"Alright, I'll help you with this forge. I was going to exterminate the Wasps anyway."
"No, Avatar," the Dwarf shook his head, "you don't seem to understand. "I'm not asking you to just kill the monsters that plague Viscera, I'm asking you to protect our legacy. Whatever happens, the Great Forge has to be preserved. It's the only way my people could ever thrive again and not be forgotten by history if they managed to come back."
"I need the Great Forge intact, myself," Monica sighed. "It's fine. I forgot to mention it, but we opened the Temple of Dhoznil and I had a vision. I know that your people had the Spear of Dhoznil broken down. I imagine that to put it together, we would have to use this Great Forge of yours."
Monica had half-expected the Dwarf to laugh her off or get angry at the mention of the Spear of Dhoznil, but he seemed to take the mention of the Divine Weapon in stride.
"Of course. You don't have your armament. You need something to eliminate the scourge that invaded Viscera."
"And you would give the spear to me just like that?" Monica asked skeptically.
"Save the Great Forge, Avatar, and you shall have the Spear of Dhoznil. Save our heritage and you'll receive our greatest creation, yes."
"Alright," she sighed. "That sounds like a good deal. Now, do we start learning—"
"No," the Dwarf cut her off. "First, I need to see the Great Forge."
"Wait, what? How?"
"I know passages that the monsters cannot reach. You will bring me with you. Once I see that our heritage is still standing. We can go back and see whether your lithe hands can handle real forging."
"Listen, I currently have a malus that halves my fighting capabilities because my Secondary Class, my Blacksmith Class, is not Level 25. Can't we just level it up and then we go?" "You're too weak anyway," the Dwarf shook his head. "You couldn't face the monsters with your full power. You need gear and levels. Gear, first. But I need to know that my people's heritage still stands. Do not make me repeat myself, Avatar."
"Alright, alright. And my name's Monica, by the way. Also, how are you not burning up? When I brought Gromorlig back, he didn't have any power. You say you feel things around Viscera? You shouldn't have any access to magic, including the Fire Breathing. Now, I know Dwarves are probably sturdier than Humans, but how do you just survive considering the heat here?"
"You're not wrong," the Dwarf gave her a smug smile. "If I was any other Dwarf, I would be dead, by now. You... were extremely lucky. None of my people had seen me for a long time. I was secluded, recording our history, our techniques, and waiting for my time to finally expire."
The Dwarf walked up to Monica and with a smirk, extended his hand.
"It's your pleasure, Monica, Avatar of the Twin Phoenix, to meet me, Dworsul, son of Dworznel the Blacksmith God, forger of the Divine Spear of Dhoznil—the greatest Blacksmith to ever live and spite the Divine temptations that killed my father."
