Chapter 480: Unite(3)
Chapter 480: Unite(3)
There are countless differences between Earth and this world, but the most significant is the existence of "monsters."
While ferocious beasts are sometimes classified as monsters, the biggest distinction lies in the fact that they do not heed the words of Hirt, the Goddess of Nature.
No one knows who created them, but they have established their own independent domains, entirely outside of Hirt’s influence.
Some scholars hypothesize that monsters emerged through a process similar to the birth of the Demon Clan three thousand years ago. The mere fact that they are beyond Hirt’s reach lends significant weight to this theory.
[The only good monster is a dead monster.]
The rampages of monsters are the worst threat in history for all of civilization, but especially for humanity.
Other races possess unique strengths that allow them to handle most threats with relative ease, unless they are facing colossal entities like dragons, krakens, or behemoths.
Humans, however, are so fragile that even a lone goblin poses a major threat to their daily lives. Even now, villages in remote areas with little foot traffic remain constantly exposed to the threat of monsters.
Furthermore, while wild beasts can be painstakingly repelled with swords and spears, monsters often walk on two legs and utilize weapons.
In such cases, it isn't a mere skirmish but a war—and the moment a village loses that war, it is annihilated.
Through sheer persistence and the power of unity, humans managed to build a civilization. They established order and mastered various combat tactics, including the use of mana, to stand against the monsters.
The emergence of professions like adventurers was made possible because various byproducts could be harvested from these creatures. Nevertheless, for humanity, the threat of monsters remains an ongoing reality.
To make it easier for an ordinary person to hunt a monster, high-quality "weapons" are essential. Even without the ability to use mana, a good weapon can pierce the hide of an ogre.
And there is only one race capable of "mass-producing" such high-quality armaments: the Dwarves.
"If we stop weapon production, the Minerva Empire will immediately pressure us, demanding to know why the supply has been cut. What would that make us look like? And it’s not just the Empire. Albenheim buys our goods, too. Perhaps even Helium could become a valuable customer."
"Then what about our kin who suffer to make them? Do you not care for our own people at all?"
"We give them money. Money! Our favorite thing in the world."
Bourgeois V let out a greedy chuckle, rubbing his thumb and index finger together. Everyone knew exactly what that gesture meant.
Eins looked at him with an expression of utter disbelief at his brazen words, then squeezed his eyes shut. To think his great invention was being used to build even larger "factories."
The bigger problem was that Bourgeois V wasn't wrong about the logistics. The sheer volume of weapons used by the Empire was incomparable to any other nation.
The backlog of orders piled up in front of them was enough to make one's jaw drop. Moreover, the movements of the Barbarians in the north and the people of Stavirk in the east were suspicious.
Crucially, the territory of the Minerva Empire was insanely vast. To protect such an expansive land, the demand for weapons had to increase exponentially.
If Machina were to halt production, the Minerva Empire would fly into a rage. Using that as a pretext, the "factories" would be forced to work through their tears.
What infuriated Eins most, however, was the mention of wages. Feeling his temper reach its boiling point, he spoke quietly.
"…Money? Did you just say money?"
"Indeed. Money. They can use that money to drink cold beer and rest in comfort, can't they?"
"…"
Eins closed his eyes again. He wanted nothing more than to bury his fist in that annoying face right then and there.
The wages Bourgeois V mentioned were pathetically low compared to the labor the Dwarves put in.
How could anyone rest when they spent over twelve hours a day swinging hammers and working bellows?
How could they find time for a cold beer when they were drenched in sweat in front of a scorching blast furnace?
If they misjudged a strike and crushed a finger, could they even receive proper treatment?
What was even more infuriating was that even those meager wages were snatched away under ridiculous pretexts.
For instance, if a worker was late or happened to nod off, their pay was docked by ten percent. They pressured the "artisans" by reducing their wages for any absurd reason they could find.
Even women and children could not escape the factories. To reiterate, Dwarves were a race that naturally loved to create.
They volunteered to become artisans, harboring dreams of one day crafting their own masterpieces, only to find a horrific purgatory waiting for them.
When exactly did we become so corrupt?
Eins opened his eyes and looked at the king before him. Bourgeois V was adorned with all sorts of gaudy, glittering jewelry.
A Dwarf's lifespan was roughly three hundred years, slightly longer than a human's. Bourgeois V was the son of Bourgeois IV, who had lived through the Race War.
But while Bourgeois IV had allowed each Dwarf the freedom of their own "creativity," Bourgeois V suppressed creativity and enforced nothing but "labor."
Only a handful of factory owners amassed immense wealth, while the hardships of the artisans were ignored entirely.
If my invention had been born from the hands of those factory owners…
The reason Eins had been able to immerse himself in the mana engine was simple: he was a blacksmith—a technician—not a factory laborer.
While most items were handmade, it wasn't as if machinery was entirely absent.
Eins was a technician who invented machines to regulate the temperature of blast furnaces or to gauge the heat of the fire.
He didn't just focus on technology; he also worked as a miner. But thinking back on it, the life of a miner was just as grim.
Even when tunnels collapsed and caused numerous casualties, the authorities would merely click their tongues and offer no proper compensation.
Even the wages were subpar. It was just that, for a long time, it had been considered "normal," so he hadn't truly realized it.
He knows nothing of the artisans' lives. He is simply blinded by greed.
Suddenly, the Dwarf King described in the Xenon Biography—Wrath—came to mind.
He was a case of someone who defected to the side of the demons out of a desire to create the ultimate masterpiece. That greed eventually consumed him.
But at least that king had been pure in his intent. Above all, had he not departed satisfied after creating the ultimate "masterpiece"?
In contrast, look at the king before him. He was nothing more than a pig who cared only for money, with not a trace of the Dwarven desire for creation left in him.
He wasn't a Dwarf; he was a demon of greed wearing a Dwarf's skin. Could one even call him a Dwarf?
This isn't right.
With the elderly and children already being exploited in factories, what would happen if the steam engine fell into their hands?
It could lead to a situation even more horrific than the present. If that happened, the very meaning of being born a Dwarf would vanish.
Yet, he held onto a sliver of hope. If the steam engine could replace that grueling labor, perhaps the quality of life for the artisans would improve.
"…Your Majesty."
Eins spoke with a rare degree of formality. As he spoke, the greedy expression on Bourgeois V’s face shifted slightly.
Eins slowly opened his eyes and looked at the king. His eyes still burned with passion, but there was one major difference.
It wasn't the gaze of a somewhat eccentric "technician," but the gaze of a "man" representing the hearts of countless people.
"If my mana engine can replace the labor of the artisans, can you tell me what benefits you will provide them?"
"I don't follow. Say that again."
"I am asking if you have any intention of using my invention for the sake of the artisans."
For reasons he couldn't name, Bourgeois V raised an eyebrow at the now-calm Eins. The minister beside him also watched, wondering what he was thinking.
But regardless of his intentions, the most important thing was Eins's mana engine. Whatever Bourgeois V was thinking, he nodded with a satisfied expression.
He clasped his hands together, highlighting the rings on every finger. In contrast, Eins's hands were wrinkled and thickened from hard labor.
"Of course. With your mana engine, the artisans will be able to work much more comfortably. However, as efficiency increases, we will also increase their working hours."
"Why? Why would you increase the hours? If efficiency goes up, can't we meet the order deadlines sooner?"
"The volume of goods the Empire wants is simply too great. It can't be helped."
"…I see."
Slide—
As if he had nothing left to say, Eins stood up before Bourgeois V could even give him leave.
The minister hurried to scold him for his rudeness, but Eins cut him off by speaking first.
"I shall take my leave now. Do as you wish with the mana engine."
"Thank you. I won't forget your dedication."
"Then, I wish you health in the meantime."
Eins walked out of the room with heavy steps. He heard Bourgeois V snickering behind him but forced himself to ignore it.
After walking for a while on his short legs, he finally made it outside. Eins looked up and gazed ahead.
The royal palace where the king resided was built halfway up a mountain. It was terrain that could easily collapse, but the transcendent construction skills of the Dwarves had made it possible.
And spread out before him were the "smithies," their lights still burning despite the late hour.
Machina is famous for its beautiful night view.
But within that night view, countless artisans were swinging their hammers. Even now, couldn't he hear the clang, clang of the hammers?
And what of the palace? Eins looked at the screams buried within the beautiful light before turning around.
Most of the lights in the palace were out. Except for the guards carrying lamps on their rounds, it was time for the palace to sleep.
Some couldn't even sleep properly because they had to hammer away, while others slept in comfort.
The ones working through the night were the artisans, but the ones receiving the money were the factory owners.
At some point, instead of being praised as master craftsmen, Dwarves began to be despised as a race obsessed with money.
For the artisans and other Dwarves, it was a prejudice so unfair it could cause a stroke. And that prejudice was created entirely by the factory owners.
What is money worth? I—no, we—just wanted to…
They just wanted to create "works" like the mana engine. They just wanted to make strange but interesting things.
To have all of that taken away was bad enough, but to think it would make the artisans suffer even more than before. He felt like cutting off his own two hands.
Eins felt the conflict between rage and cold reason in his chest as he trudged along.
He wanted to wash away this unsettling feeling with a cold beer, but even that didn't seem possible.
"Hey! Eins!"
"Huh?"
A familiar voice reached Eins's ears. He had been walking dejectedly with his head down, but now he looked up.
He saw Handai, his friend and colleague who had helped him invent the mana engine, waving as he walked toward him.
"Handai…"
Just as he was about to rejoice at seeing his friend after so long, Eins noticed something strange about him.
The hand waving so cheerfully looked odd. He narrowed his eyes and examined Handai's hand.
"Hey. Your hand…"
"Hmm? Oh, this? I messed up a hammer strike and the bones were completely crushed. So I just had it cut off."
Handai showed him his hand as if it were no big deal. About two joints of his ring finger were gone.
He even chuckled, reacting with typical Dwarven joviality, but Eins didn't find it funny.
"What about the money? Did you get compensated?"
"How do you get money for a cut finger? I just got it patched up and went back to hammering."
"…"
"Anyway, where have you been? Why the long face?"
That’s considered normal? No, they probably pressured him with money so he had no choice but to show up for work.
Eins felt his dying passion begin to flare up once again. It was definitely not a passion for creation.
Instead, a passion of a higher, more transcendent nature surged within him.
A different kind of "creation"—one that would tear down and rebuild the entire nation.
"Why aren't you saying anything?"
"…Handai."
"Yeah?"
"If I were to create something truly strange, would you have the courage to follow me?"
Handai looked puzzled by Eins's out-of-the-blue question. However, Eins's expression was dead serious.
Perhaps sensing something in that look, Handai’s eyes darted around before he spoke quietly.
"…What are you going to make?"
"Nothing much. Do you know where Geas is?"
"Geas? He's probably hammering away right now."
"Go get him. Now."
If you leave a tiny spark unattended…
"Because I'm going to create something very big and beautiful."
It is bound to turn into a massive inferno.