They dwell in the dim underworld, filled with a fear of the surface. It’s common knowledge among dwarves that without powerful magical protection, the light of the surface would destroy their delicate skin, turning them to stone and then to dust, scattering them on the wind.
Yet, this strange race is exceptionally skilled in crafting and mechanics. They excel at all manner of peculiar inventions and are the strongest builders among all living beings. They possess an almost obsessive love for minerals; no dwarf can refuse ore, just as no dragon can refuse glittering gold placed before them.
The small mine cart slowed noticeably. The dwarves’ pedaling became almost slow motion. They struggled to resist looking back at Lance and Misa, battling their inner desires. At this moment, Lance once again uttered his damnable tempting words.
Lance: “Oh, a new vein.”
Dwarves: “…”
Lance: “A whole—”
Dwarves: “…”
Lance: “No, many veins.”
Dwarves: “…”
The small mine cart swiftly changed direction, speeding towards the two at an almost frantic pace.
Misa sighed deeply, regretting that those human messengers traversing the world had to spread the news of dwarves’ love for minerals to the Blessed Lands, and tell this peculiar hero.
Lance didn’t hesitate to engage the dwarves in conversation. Once the two dwarves’ mine cart stopped before him, he spoke without hesitation, “I know of many ore veins nearby.”
The dwarves’ eyes shone brightly, filled with immense longing for beautiful metals.
“I can tell you the locations of the veins,” Lance said, “but I need your help.”
“No problem!” The dwarf on the left thumped his chest in assurance. “We can offer plenty of help!”
The dwarf on the right also thumped his chest, promising, “As long as there’s ore, humans can have anything they want!”
Lance curved his lips slightly, a satisfied smile.
“We need a place to rest,” Lance said, “and some medicine. My companion is injured; I need medicine to treat burns.”
Misa was slightly startled, remembering his scorched wings.
The dwarves nodded eagerly, readily agreeing to all the hero’s conditions. Then, expectantly, they looked at Lance, waiting for him to reveal the locations of the ore veins. Lance shook his head, saying, “I need to speak with the leader of your clan.”
The hero clearly didn’t understand the dwarves’ social structure. Misa quietly reminded him, “It’s the city lord.”
Lance nodded, saying, “Your city lord.”
The two dwarves exchanged glances.
Although they weren’t sure why the Demon Lord was with this human hero, since the Demon Lord didn’t object to the hero’s request, they could certainly accept it.
The dwarf on the left nodded, agreeing to the hero’s request, saying, “Human hero—”
Lance: “I’m Lance.”
The dwarf was taken aback, seemingly rarely encountering humans who volunteered their names. He scratched his head and said, “I’m Hilkin.”
Lance nodded, saying, “Nice to meet you—”
The other dwarf immediately interjected, “I’m Hillsilver!”
Lance: “…”
Those two names together sounded a little odd.
He turned to Misa, who lowered his voice and continued to explain, “Dwarves really love all kinds of minerals.”
Lance: “But…”
Misa: “So their names are all minerals.”
Lance: “…”
Lance thought he understood.
The two dwarves before him seemed like brothers, at least their appearances were indistinguishable to Lance. He led Misa to follow the two dwarves, walking towards the mine cart. Before he could ask how to follow them to the town, Hillsilver turned, looking at Lance, and said, “Beautiful human warrior.”
Lance: “…What?”
This was the first time he’d been called “beautiful,” and he was slightly stunned, wondering if he’d misheard. Hilkin also turned, lowering his voice to whisper to his brother, “Psst, humans don’t like others judging their appearance.”
Hillsilver: “Oh! Human female warrior!”
Lance: “Ah?!”
Hilkin loudly refuted Hillsilver’s opinion: “This is a human male!”
Hillsilver was incredibly shocked: “But he doesn’t have a beard!”
Hilkin proudly displayed his impressive knowledge reserve: “Humans are hairless!”
Hillsilver: “Then when they bow their heads, wouldn’t they see their chests directly?”
Hilkin: “Yes, smooth humans!”
Hillsilver: “That’s so ugly!”
Lance: “…”
Lance felt complicated emotions.
Misa murmured in his ear, “Dwarves can’t distinguish human faces.”
Lance nodded, indicating he understood.
Most dwarves have excessively thick hair and can’t distinguish human faces. So, a beardless human might indeed look no different from a female in a dwarf’s eyes. He sighed, not intending to join the two dwarves’ argument, but couldn’t help but ask, “How do we get to your city?”
Hilkin turned and looked at Misa beside Lance.
He had heard clearly that the human hero said his companion was injured, and only the Demon Lord was with the hero now, meaning the injured one was the Demon Lord. They would naturally provide the Demon Lord with the best and most convenient help.
Hilkin shifted his bottom, making room on the mine cart, wanting Misa to sit.
Misa was a little embarrassed, repeatedly waving his hands, saying, “No, no need.”
Lance looked bewildered.
Hillsilver thought the seat was too small, so he also shifted and jumped off the cart, offering both seats to Misa.
Misa: “I can walk!”
Lance’s expression grew even more strange.
Hilkin and Hillsilver looked at each other, but still didn’t sit on their mine cart. Instead, they pushed it and walked with Misa and Lance towards the town. This was their respect for the amazing and beautiful Demon Lord; they didn’t find anything unusual.
But Lance’s expression became increasingly strange. He finally lowered his head slightly, frowning as he looked at Misa walking beside him.
After so many days together, Lance had become familiar with Misa’s appearance, but had never observed him closely. Now, it seemed that the youthful Divine Messenger beside him had a far more delicate face than most people. In the dream, and under the lava earlier, he’d seen Misa’s other face.
Slightly different from his current appearance, it didn’t look like the face of a holy person, yet it lacked the aloofness of a superior being. It was as if within those fiery red eyes, there lay an irresistible temptation and an uncontrollable ambition from the depths of his being.
Would dwarves really mistake him for a female with that face?
Lance frowned and softly asked Misa, “They…are very gentlemanly.”
Misa: “Ah?”
Lance said again, “So dwarves also have female priority.”
Misa: “???”
Misa finally couldn’t help but shout, “I’m different from you!”
Hilkin and Hillsilver both turned to look at them. Misa thumped his chest and yelled, “I’m the injured one, not mistaken for the opposite gender!”
Lance: “…”
Misa: “They’re just taking care of the injured!”
Lance: “…”
Lance shut up.
Misa snorted but caught sight of Hillsilver’s terrified expression. He grabbed Hilkin’s hand in confusion.
“Brother, originally the…originally he…” He automatically omitted the title of Demon Lord, swallowing nervously, “Originally, he’s also male!”
Misa: “…”
Misa hung his head dejectedly, following the dwarves back to their city.
The dwarves had all seen the Demon Lord’s appearance, and Hilkin and Hillsilver had tried to hint at it, so they passed without hindrance, and arrived smoothly at Hilkin and Hillsilver’s home.
Hillsilver rummaged through boxes, looking for burn medicine, while Hilkin hurried to the Crystal District to see the Dwarf King and convey the hero’s request.
Lance sat opposite Misa, unsure if his request was presumptuous, but still insisted, “Can you spread your wings?”
Misa: “…”
Misa should have been wary, knowing he shouldn’t show his wings, the symbol of the Demon Lord, to the hero. But looking at the hero’s sincere eyes, and considering the hero had already seen his wings, he sighed softly and used magic to condense his dark red wings behind him, slightly tattered from the burning. They hung down, and Misa softly said, “Actually, I’ll heal myself.”
The wound was indeed serious, but for a powerful Demon Lord, as long as he slept and waited for his magic to recover, his wings would return to normal.
Lance was genuinely worried, “Let’s put some medicine on it.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Hillsilver ran over with a large jar.
He was vigorously pounding the “medicine” in the large jar with an iron pestle, loudly agreeing with Lance’s opinion, saying, “Of course we should apply medicine!”
He lifted the jar, revealing the scattered meat scraps and incompletely crushed limbs inside.
“The Roafoo insects we raise are the best burn medicine,” Hillsilver nodded seriously. “Just apply a little, and all the pain will go away!”
