Chapter 88
Chapter 88
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 88
Chapter Title: Mischievous Ghosts Love to Play (1)
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“Guh!”
“Beer during work is the absolute best!”
“Human! Want a drink?”
It seemed dwarves drinking while working was a common sight.
There was a massive barrel set up outside the building, after all.
A magically enchanted beer barrel, no less.
“Dwarves mean beer. Beer means dwarves. Go on, try it!”
“Aren’t dwarves supposed to be blacksmiths?”
Suddenly, a mug filled with beer was thrust toward me.
It was heavy enough to require both hands.
The aroma teasing my nose was no joke.
I brought the mug to my lips and couldn’t hold back my admiration.
“...!”
A refreshing crispness that cleared my insides right out.
The heat from the forge and the cool beer formed a perfect harmony.
“It’s killer, right? Nothing like that watered-down swill—you know good beer.”
“Could you make some bowls?”
“And a few other things too.”
A dwarf who’d been chugging beer approached me.
This was the one who’d gotten a direct call from Old Man.
“What for?”
“Well... to serve the gods.”
“We’ll get the shapes from you later. Let me see your hand first.”
“My hand?”
He wasn’t a palm reader—why the hand?
I vaguely recalled they checked hands for custom weapons.
But that had nothing to do with me.
When I held out my right hand, the dwarf examined it closely.
“Ever held a bow?”
“Not lately.”
“You’ve set traps too, looks like.”
Dwarves really were something else.
I could suddenly understand how diviners felt about me.
To read even that from just a hand.
“Make a fist.”
The dwarf studied my fist intently before speaking again.
“Hmm. Just what the hell are you, human?”
“Pardon?”
“You can tell a lot from hands.”
There were indeed many things you could learn from hands alone.
Palm lines held a person’s life story, after all.
“No scars for someone who’s fought undead. Hands that haven’t gripped a sword or spear.”
Swoosh—
As the dwarf moved my hand, my fist relaxed.
“This is how you usually hold things, eh?”
Spot on.
It was the perfect shape for slipping on the rattle.
To notice even that—this race was sharper than I’d thought.
“That thing on your waist the famous rattle?”
His gaze was unreadable.
Curiosity? Something else?
The dwarf’s eyes were fixed on my waist.
“Hoh, so an item like this exists.”
“Pardon?”
He hadn’t even touched it—just looked and knew?
“It looks just like a raw mineral.”
“A mineral?”
“Meaning it wasn’t crafted by hand. It was always like that.”
My jaw dropped naturally.
Me, a shaman, having this kind of experience.
The dwarf was right on the money.
This rattle had just appeared in my hand one day.
“Not man-made, yet so intricate... Hmm...”
Suddenly, the dwarves crowded around me.
“Hard to replicate something like that.”
“Yeah. Looks simple, but it’s complex.”
“No weight to it, either, for its size.”
The dwarves, debating animatedly, turned their gleaming eyes on me.
“You wanted bowls made?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll make you some top-notch ones. Bring ‘em to wherever you live. Describe the shapes.”
Shapes they wouldn’t see around here.
Even with my clumsy gestures and explanations, the dwarves understood perfectly.
“Less for actual use, more for ceremony?”
“Still good if they’re functional.”
“Let’s tailor ‘em to his hands.”
No room to jump in.
The conversation flew by too fast.
“Sounds like shape and formality matter most. Right?”
“Exactly!”
I’d only described appearances, not uses.
Yet the dwarves already grasped the purpose from looks alone.
“Need enchanting?”
“Not necessary...”
“Got it. We’ll whip ‘em up quick. No charge. But!”
“...?”
“When you pick up the bowls, can we see that rattle?”
No issue there.
I knew the rattle wasn’t ordinary, but dwarves showing this much interest?
I welcomed it, actually.
Might learn secrets even I didn’t know.
As I opened my mouth to reply, the dwarves scattered.
“Time to craft something new.”
“Think about how they’ll look with food in ‘em.”
“Too impractical. Fix that part first.”
Their focus had already shifted to the items.
A race mad for creation and art.
True to the species said to grab hammers at birth.
“What just happened?”
“Bau! Grandpa?”
“Not grandpa... but is he? Didn’t even get his name.”
Sir Randolph’s voice came from where he’d stood quietly beside me.
“The one who touched your hand is called Drant. The others haven’t shared names with us.”
“Hmm...”
“Business done? I’ll escort you out.”
“Ah, yes.”
Luna wriggled excitedly on my back and cried out.
“Kka?”
“You know what that means, huh?”
“Awoo!”
Like me, Luna was quick on the uptake.
She’d probably sensed good stuff coming her way ages ago.
Rare for her to urge me on like this.
“Now let’s go get Luna some treats.”
“Kka!”
A quiet mountainside.
In front of the shrine Chris had set up.
Mages clustered together, staring at something.
“I definitely saw it. The item moved on its own!”
“You’re sure?”
“Quiet down. What if the spirits don’t respond?”
The noisy mages fell silent in an instant.
This was important to them.
Phenomena without mana.
Something unprecedented unfolding before their eyes.
“...”
“...”
After a long silence.
Something happened on the table in the yard.
A still fruit rolled off onto the ground.
“Gasp...!”
“It really...!”
No hand had touched it.
No mana stirred.
To the mages, this was a whole new world.
Potentially the birth of new scholarship.
“Ahem.”
“Lord Closel?”
“I’ve heard plenty traveling with that friend Chris.”
Closel spoke in a deep voice, staring at the table.
“Spirits exist in various forms, he said.”
“Hoh...!”
“Especially around this shrine—tons of them.”
Chris had said as much.
Grave spirits and stray ghosts frequented the shrine.
Some even lived here.
“Name was... Headless, I think.”
“A spirit named Headless?”
“Chris named it. Looks like a dullahan.”
“No way...!”
Murmurs spread.
A human spirit taking dullahan form was mysterious in itself.
“Apparently, spirits with strong grudges or high rank have some power.”
“So that phenomenon just now...?”
“He mentioned this place is full of yin energy—perfect for spirits to exert force.”
Murmur murmur—
“I reckon that was Headless’s doing.”
“As expected of Lord Closel!”
To Chris, no big deal.
To them, even this was a new realm.
No one knew about it.
“No one could see spirits till now. Seems unique to here.”
“Lord Closel is right.”
As praise erupted, Closel raised a hand to quiet the mages.
“So, I plan to try communicating with this Headless.”
“...!!!”
“...!”
“Everyone, be quiet.”
Closel approached the table and picked up the fallen fruit.
He placed it at the table’s edge.
His deep voice echoed into the air.
“Lord Headless, can you hear me?”
“...”
“...”
“Sorry for calling you by a name I don’t truly know.”
“...”
Closel cautiously joined the mages’ line.
Scanning around, he spoke again.
“If you hear me, move the fruit like before?”
A small sound rang from the still table.
Thud—
The upright fruit wobbled.
“It... really!”
“The spirit responded!”
“Record it quick!”
A mage scribbling furiously trembled.
“S-someone just touched my hand!”
“Come here now.”
Pulled by senior mages, he sat at the table.
Paper and pen on the table, mages circled him.
“If spirits can touch hands, maybe simple communication via these?”
“Brilliant idea.”
“Let’s try.”
Closel spoke once more.
“Lord Headless, are you here?”
The mage at the table gasped.
“Hah...!”
Something touched his hand.
Something tapping the pen’s tip.
Following the feel, he drew a small circle.
“I wanna feel it too!”
“Me too!”
Mages piled hands around the pen.
Dozens of hands gathered in one spot.
“...Lord Headless! Was that your answer?”
Thud—
“...!!”
Thud—
“Guh...!”
Another small circle formed.
And one person watching with jaw agape.
Chris, back from the village.
“Holy shit, this is nuts.”
“You’re back?”
Chris’s dumbfounded mutter scattered into the air.
“They’re playing Ouija here of all places.”