Aslan noticed what the dwarf was hoping for. It was impossible not to notice.
The dwarf was hoping for a hug, for kindness. He was hoping that the kindness he threw out would return like a boomerang.
Truly a pure sight. Aslan’s moment of confusion was brief as the hairy dwarf approached with arms open.
“Friend?”
“…What is this…”
As the group looked at the dwarf in bewilderment, Aslan was astonished.
The dwarf was using language.
Considering that dwarves usually cannot use language, this was unusual.
A dwarf with intelligence barely above that of a chimpanzee should have no way to use language.
Moreover, the dwarf’s hands and arms were burned and distorted, clear traces of wild magic.
Despite being able to handle flames with wild magic, the dwarf didn’t seem mad.
Thinking about how rare this appearance was, Aslan focused on the language the dwarf was using.
“Friend, hug?”
The hairy creature tilted its head. Although it wasn’t using proper conversation, it was attempting basic communication through words.
‘Did someone teach him or did he learn by eavesdropping?’
A wild wizard was usually a level attained by those with high intelligence and senses. Wild magic was even more sensitive than regular magic.
And from that point of view, if a wild wizard wasn’t insane, there was a good chance they possessed remarkable intellect.
In that context, the dwarf’s use of language wasn’t strange. Just as humans learn foreign languages, this dwarf had learned and was using Imperial language.
But that wasn’t very important. The most crucial thing in the current situation was that this dwarf was showing kindness.
“Friend!”
The hairy creature shouted. After some thought, Aslan opened his arms, and the dwarf approached with a smile so wide even a human could see it.
Then they embraced. The dwarf, who reached around Aslan’s waist, patted his back while muttering “friend.”
“What the hell….”
While ignoring Tiamat’s bewildered voice, the embrace between the monster and Aslan was quite typical. Aslan, while smelling the strong animal stench invading his nostrils, thought.
The dwarf was undoubtedly a monster.
This stench, this untamed nature, was telling everyone that the dwarf was a monster.
Monster.
Ordinarily, monsters are hostile to humans and harm them.
Creatures with whom negotiation doesn’t work, and with whom communication isn’t possible.
Certainly, the dwarf was a monster, yet this dwarf defied the definition of a monster.
Aslan reached out a hand and patted the dwarf’s back. He could feel the body temperature and heartbeat through his fingertips.
Aslan didn’t think all monsters needed to die.
He didn’t kill every monster he saw.
What Aslan killed was always one of two things:
Either something that harmed humans or an entity that attacked him.
By those standards, this dwarf had no reason to be killed.
Though it shot flames, there was no intent to harm. The flames only went as far as threatening. So, it wasn’t hostile towards Aslan.
Kobil had said that no one was injured or killed. It seemed this dwarf didn’t harm or endanger humans.
No hostility, no harm, and, in fact, friendly towards humans.
Aslan couldn’t kill a monster that didn’t harm people.
It might not even be right to call it a monster. Aslan sniffed the stench and murmured.
The issue was why Aslan was here.
Aslan had come to exterminate the dwarves. He had come to make the acting chief into the true chief through the extermination of the dwarves.
Yet, he couldn’t kill even the dwarf standing right before him. For Aslan, who abhorred unnecessary killing, it was an extremely difficult situation.
What should he do? Aslan pondered and thought.
Let’s check if other dwarves are also friendly to humans like this one.
If that’s the case, then the direction would become clear. As soon as Aslan made the judgment, he grabbed the dwarf by the shoulders and pulled him away from the embrace. The fluffy-haired dwarf complied easily. Aslan held the dwarf by both shoulders, met his eyes, and asked,
“I don’t know if you’ll understand, but can you guide us to the other dwarves?”
The dwarf tilted its head. Right as Aslan was about to speak again,
“You don’t need to bother.”
A voice came from deep within the tunnel.
Footsteps followed.
Someone appeared under the light in rhythm with the steady steps.
It was a human.
Although his clothes were somewhat dirty, he clearly looked like a noble from the Mountain Kingdom, dressed in lavish attire.
With golden hair and blue eyes, the young man looked to be in his early youth, still retaining a hint of boyishness.
Anyone would have called him a gentleman. Walking out, he stopped under the light and spoke.
“This friend is smart but hasn’t fully learned to speak yet. He doesn’t understand complex sentences.”
A refreshing voice. His face gave off a sense of innocence, unlike Ereta’s cruel expression masked as kindness. Instead, it carried a genuine purity.
At first glance, it reminded one of the gentle priests outside Geladridion, on Earth.
Beneath that gentle face, the aristocrat exuded a strange familiarity. He stared steadily at Aslan.
As Aslan looked at the aristocrat and the aristocrat examined Aslan, Aslan realized where the familiarity originated.
The aristocrat resembled Kobil.
Realizing this, the aristocrat spoke.
“…Did my elder brother send you?”
The aristocrat was Kobil’s younger brother.
Aslan immediately thought upon realizing this.
‘They claimed they were just on guard and that no one had been sent… It was a lie.’
As Aslan mulled over Kobil’s deception, he glanced at the aristocrat.
*
Kobil drank deeply. The liquid filled his wooden cup and slid down his throat, warming his stomach.
Though it was too potent to drink without food, there was no time to be picky. With a troubled expression, Kobil tried to hide his sigh.
The smell of alcohol lingered after the sigh, giving him courage as he momentarily hid his uneasy look and shifted his gaze.
At the edge of his vision, a peculiar existence caught his eye. Noticing Kobil’s sideways glance, it smiled faintly.
It was a unique figure.
Clearly decayed skin covered by leather armor reinforced with rings formed a bulky appearance. Contrasting this bulkiness was a confident smile, a shaved head, pale white eyes that seemed distant, and an old red surcoat worn on the outside.
It resembled what a knight or noble might look like if properly preserved and slightly decayed.
With a self-assured baritone, the old man muttered,
“Why so troubled, Kobil? Are you afraid of something?”
The swirling voice of the old man made Kobil frown.
“Is this really the right way?”
“The ‘this’ you’re referring to?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
At Kobil’s irritation, the old man chuckled and picked up the mace at his feet.
Seeing Kobil flinch at the movement, the old man seemed pleased and spoke with a smiling face.
“Are you talking about sending your younger brother to a dangerous place? Or… sending the priest-slaughterer to clean up after your younger brother’s death? I’ve given so many orders, it’s hard to remember everything.”
Priest-slaughterer. The title used by the evil deity’s priests to refer to Aslan. Kobil, startled by the title, lowered his gaze and spoke.
“You know…”
Kobil’s weakened voice. The old man chuckled, crossed his arms, and placed them on his knees.
“Yes, this is the way. Trust me, Kobil.”
The calm voice darkened Kobil’s face further as he clenched his teeth. With an irritated expression, he gripped the table, his pupils trembling.
Watching his anxious state, the old man smiled contentedly.
“Or is there another way? I value individual will. Even if no other way seems visible.”
Though the soothing tone suggested otherwise, Kobil knew the old man was mocking him.
When Kobil clenched his fists, the old man chuckled softly and added,
“Do you believe you can surpass the achievements of your brother and become chief? If so, I won’t stop you.”
That addition angered Kobil, but he had no way to respond. Everything was true.
His younger brother was more competent than Kobil. He had achieved far more than Kobil, and Remul, the former chief and their father, also believed the younger brother would become chief.
There was no fair way for Kobil to win against him.
Thus, there was no choice. Though Kobil disliked the attitude and options presented by the old man, he had no choice but to follow.
Swallowing his frustration, Kobil quietly asked while gripping the table.
“If I become chief… will I truly receive the blessings of the Three Evils?”
Hearing the quiet question, the old man answered. His tongue flicked like a snake.
“Of course. If you become chief and give us what we desire… you shall rule the holy land of the Poison-Spitting Dragon.”
I guarantee it. The old man’s words were light, but Kobil knew they carried significant weight.
The Poison-Spitting Dragon, currently the largest power among the three evils.
Its high priest.
Artist.
Recalling the identity of the figure before him, Kobil trembled briefly but then clenched his fists tightly.
The figure before him was fearsome, but he had a task to perform. Kobil resolved himself.
The world was changing drastically.
Kobil knew this well.
Priests were overflowing, and the gods were gradually extending their influence over Geladridion.
Cities, nations, the world—they were mere toys before them.
To survive in this changing world, one had to abandon old values and cling to evil deities.
To save more people and preserve the tribe, he could do anything.
Though dishonorable, Kobil believed honor only existed if one survived.
For the survival of the tribe, he could do anything.
Even if it meant forsaking humanity and killing his younger brother.
Suppressing the rising nausea inside, Kobil forced a pitiful smile.
