CHAPTER 117: AN ORIGINAL NOR-DWARF.

I guess, for now, we’d need somewhere to rest. Somewhere to get our bearings, take a breath, and decide what to do next.

"Fear not," Levi went on, unable to keep her mouth shut. "Master Raven is unlike any Lord you’ve ever met or served. If you devote yourselves to him, if you serve him loyally, you—"

"Nah. I don’t need any more service," I cut her off.

The dwarves collectively gasped, their eyes widening like they’d seen a ghost.

"Eh?" Levi turned to me with a drawn-out whine. "But this is a perfect opportunity to seize these rare breeds and force them to work for us until we’ve squeezed out every last drop of their blood and sweat!"

Levi, please. Just wait until we’re indoors before you start broadcasting your evil plans to everyone.

Hahhh.

Well, at the very least, no one died. That’s a win. And everything had ended relatively peacefully. Now, we were on our way to their so-called hidden village.

The giant rodent-like monster from earlier had returned and now trembled like it had barely escaped with its life. Was Levi really that terrifying?

Right now, it was serving as our ride. Alicia, Levi, and I sat on its broad furry back while the dwarves led the way. Bina, of course, declined to ride.

"I’ll walk," she said with a grin. "This way’s more stressful," she added cheerfully.

Damn masochist.

We hadn’t traveled far—only a short distance—before we reached a wide, empty clearing surrounded on all sides by towering jagged boulders. It looked like a natural trap, but there was something off about it.

Then Vilskapa, the dwarf who’d earlier tried to attack Alicia, stepped forward and muttered a few words under his breath.

The entire area around us began to shimmer, and the air itself seemed to flicker like the surface of a disturbed lake.

Then wow—this truly was a hidden village.

Never underestimate dwarven technology. Even with God Wolf Eye, I couldn’t sense anything. To me, it was just an empty, barren pocket of space nestled in the wilderness.

{Indeed. The mechanism at play appears to transmit false information to anyone who lays their gaze upon it. It manipulates both magical and perceptual senses.}

(My, my, my. So Professor Platform finally chooses to appear and give a little commentary? Where exactly were you when we were fighting those dwarves?)

{Master, the dwarves posed no real danger. Therefore, I concluded that my interference was unnecessary.}

(Really now? They sexually harassed me—your supposed Master—if you’ve already forgotten.)

{Ah yes. It was a sight to behold.}

...Okay. I’m officially done talking.

We descended a winding slope into what was now clearly a settlement.

They called it a village, but in truth, it was closer to a medieval township with a touch of subdued digital sophistication.

The paths were cobbled in a crude but deliberate pattern. Low stone buildings with shimmering alloy joints lined both sides of the streets.

The roofs bore heavy slabs of mineral-glazed iron, some of them humming with slow pulses of light, perhaps hinting at geothermal power cores underneath the mountain-like area.

The air carried an earthy tang—stone dust, coal, and molten metal drifting from multiple open forges.

At a glance, the population couldn’t have exceeded 500. And yet, nearly every corner we passed held some rare or exquisite artifact, placed casually like it was common furniture. Magnificent carvings. Miniature golem models. Engraved blueprints pressed into bronze slates.

Curiously, there seemed to be more workshops than actual homes. It was as if these people lived to create, and only slept when invention permitted.

At the very heart of their mountain village stood a taller, broader structure. Made of forged stone and blacksteel, it rose slightly above the rest, though it was still squat by human standards. It looked separate from the other buildings—more refined, or perhaps more important.

Before I could ask if that was the Chief’s home—

The door burst open with a loud bang, cutting the air like a thunderclap and making everyone around jolt.

Then...

...Something stepped out.

It... lumbered into view.

A thing of dried skin and ancient bones.

The creature—if you could still call him that—stood nearly twenty feet tall. His clothes were in tatters, barely hanging from his gaunt frame. His skin, ghostly pale, looked stretched and leathery, like the hide of a long-dead beast. His eyes were two hollow pits, darker than Hell itself.

His fingernails were dried and jagged, curling downward like claws that hadn’t been cut in centuries.

A tangled mass of grey beard dragged behind him, sweeping dust and stone as he moved forward in slow, eerie strides.

As for a nose? Couldn’t find one. Probably those two faint indents above his lip.

His entire face was an unsettling composition of decay and quiet dread.

He was terrifying to look at. Like something the underworld itself had spat out.

I turned to Alicia, hoping she’d show a bit of human fear for once—

Nope.

She still gazed at the scene with cold, disinterested disdain. Like they were gnats crawling through garbage.

Typical rich-girl attitude. Should’ve been glad she wasn’t talking or causing problems like the other troublemaker who dragged an entire civilization into a festival nobody asked for.

The tall figure turned to us, standing just a few meters away.

Now this one—he was the real thing. A rare specimen.

"Levina, what is that monster?"

Alicia!!

He might be the king, shut up!

"That, Alicia," Levi smiled faintly, "...is an original Nor-dwarf. That was how they looked like thousands of years ago... No, millions of years ago."

She was right. Even I had only seen one back in Asgard when I was very, very little.

These originals—there aren’t more than six of them left in existence anymore.

But every single one is at least half the age of the entire universe. Older than most gods. They are the supreme craftsmen who helped mold parts of the Heavenly Piece itself.

True legends. I never thought I’d ever come across one out here, of all places.

Now it makes perfect sense why Sarvest would set his eyes on these folks.

STEP... STEP...

"..."

STEP... STEP...

"..."

STEP... STEP...

He walked like a snail, though.

So slow, we ended up having to move to him. And he smelled like... indoors. Like old rooms and ancient tombs.

"Brokkr. Long time no see, I suppose."