"Kalalin." He raised his voice to catch the Scholar’s attention, "Come take a look at this!"

    "Is this... a Dimensional Bag?" As a Scholar seasoned in a variety of rare artifacts, Kalalin quickly recognized the item in Lancelot’s hand, "Just a moment."

    The Scholar took out a scroll and unfurled it.

    It was a scroll for a 1st-level Magic Identification Spell, allowing Spellcasters to learn various information about an item they touched.

    Lancelot glanced at the scroll’s content. Despite not recognizing a single Arcane Symbol on it, he vaguely understood the magic power those symbols represented.

    The text soon vanished, and a complex surge of Magic Power flowed into Kalalin’s brain. The Scholar’s hand clutched the bag tightly, yet his eyes lost focus as if reading some text that didn’t exist in the real world.

    About a minute later, he finally came out of the trance. It was a relatively simple spell, but even for a Scholar, casting it was no easy task. Noticing the three pairs of curious eyes fixed on him, Kalalin knew everyone was awaiting his verdict.

    "This is indeed a Dimensional Bag, though its effect is weaker. It can store about 25 cubic feet, carrying no more than 150 pounds, which is roughly a third of a normal Dimensional Bag’s capacity."

    "Not that impressive," grumbled Bruto, arms crossed. "The head prospecting leader of Rivet Fort has a bag that can hold two thousand pounds. Now, that’s a real treasure."

    "This is more than enough for our use," Lancelot was quite satisfied with the bag’s performance, "Just think about how much supplies we can carry in here, it’ll save us a lot of effort."

    "By the way, whatever was originally in here has now been reduced to nothing but the Acid of mud creatures. I suggest you refrain from putting your hand or any items into it," Kalalin added, "Turning the bag inside out will not cause the contents to fall out, as the bag actually holds an independent, extradimensional space unaffected by the gravity of our world.

    There are two ways to retrieve items: one is to reach in, and the other is to turn the bag inside out, which will cause everything inside the bag to fall out at once."

    "We don’t currently have anything to put in, and the Acid inside might prove unexpectedly useful," Lancelot handed the bag to Bruto, "Take care of it, Dwarf. Just don’t mix it up with your gemstone bag."

    "Stone above, that will never happen," Bruto muttered as he hung the bag at his waist, and Lancelot noticed that he tied the bag’s opening tightly with a string. That way, even if he made a mistake, he wouldn’t be able to put anything in it.

    "Now let’s go meet those unfortunate colleagues of ours," Barrend gestured for the group to move forward, the sound of the Cross Pickaxe became clearer after the mud creatures were exterminated, "I hope they’ll show us at least a bit of gratitude."

    The structure of the sixteenth workface resembled a belt carelessly thrown on the ground. The party followed the sounds through the low corridors for about a quarter of an hour until they finally saw who they were looking for—nine dispirited Gray Dwarf Miners with low morale.

    "Alright, maybe it wasn’t your doing this time."

    "Don’t mention it," Bruto replied sarcastically.

    "We’ve left some supplies in the rest area; you can get some rest there before heading back to Twin Bridges Town," Barrend offered in a gentle tone, fully aware of the deep hostility between the Gray Dwarves and their near-surface dwelling cousins.

    "Damn it, what are you playing at now?"

    "Just giving a little help to our kin in distress," Barrend spread his hands.

    The Gray Dwarves fell silent, torn between their longstanding hostility and the Dwarves’ innate sense of honor.

    Finally, a few nearly inaudible words of thanks were heard, though they were addressed to Lancelot. Perhaps for the Gray Dwarves, thanking a human was somewhat less difficult.

    "No need to thank me," Lancelot nodded. "We haven’t found what we’re looking for. We’ll part ways here."

    "May I have your name, sir Knight?" asked the Gray Dwarf who had stopped them earlier, seeming to be the least hostile toward his cousins and likely the leader of the group of miners, as Lancelot felt his strength was significantly above his companions.

    "My name is Lancelot."

    "I am Dunif, captain of this mining team," the Gray Dwarf introduced himself awkwardly. "I think we owe you thanks. What are you looking for? Do you need any, well, help?"

    Lancelot stared at Dunif for a moment and finally said:

    "No, thank you. I think we can manage on our own."

    "Are you sure? I know this mine very well," the Gray Dwarf captain persisted. "There are still many dangerous creatures deeper in, and we were recently attacked by a terrifying monster."

    "I’m sure we’ll be fine, goodbye," Lancelot declined again, then turned and left decisively.

    As he turned, he did not miss the flash of disappointment that crossed Dunif’s gaze.