Edward and the Seven Dwarfs
"An underwater prison? Why on earth did we come to such a dreadful place? I really don't want to work with criminals..."
I gestured to Lily and whispered.
"Shh, it's not like that. Just keep quiet and follow me."
We crept along the wall, carefully avoiding the guards' line of sight.
Outwardly, I calmly scanned every nook and cranny of the wall, but inside, I was growing increasingly anxious.
This is bad.
The secret passages that had definitely existed in the game were all blocked off.
How do we get in now?
Lily suddenly tugged on my arm.
"Hide, quickly. Someone's coming."
We quickly ducked behind a large boulder.
In the distance, a steel vessel was approaching.
I stared at the ship for a moment.
It was heading straight toward the prison entrance.
"Should we use that ship?"
I suggested in a low voice.
Lily looked at me with a puzzled expression.
"How?"
"Follow me. I'll explain later."
We slipped quietly into the sea.
The freezing water enveloped us, but thanks to the potion's effects, breathing wasn't an issue.
Cutting through the current, we approached the vessel.
Using the suction cups that had formed on our palms and soles, we clung to the bottom of the ship.
Dragging ourselves up onto the cold iron plating, we managed to sneak aboard.
The potion's effects were beginning to wear off.
Our scale-covered skin returned to normal, and our gills gradually vanished.
Lily was also reverting from her mermaid form back into a human.
We caught our breath and looked at each other.
With trembling hands, Lily pulled a short wand from her robes.
"O breath of fire, envelop us."
⟨ Ignis Aura ⟩
She chanted the short spell.
Instantly, a warm heat enveloped us, and steam began to rise from our soaking wet bodies.
In a flash, our clothes and hair were bone dry.
Lily immediately prepared another spell.
"Let all sounds fall asleep."
⟨ Silence ⟩
she whispered.
"Now, they shouldn't be able to hear our footsteps or sense our presence under normal circumstances."
I nodded at Lily's words.
We crept further inside the ship.
As we made our way along the iron walls, voices echoed from somewhere ahead.
I gestured to Lily and stopped.
We hid around a corner and listened closely.
The guards were talking nearby.
"This ship has pretty few prisoners for its size."
"Ah, you said you were only recently assigned to the prisoner transport, right? This 'Water Bubble Hell' isn't where normal criminals go. I heard they only lock up a select few high-value assets here."
"A criminal is a criminal. What do they mean by 'high-value assets'?"
"How should I know? We just do what the higher-ups tell us."
At that moment, something clicked in my mind.
This is it!
The sound of iron hammers striking anvils echoed throughout the labor camp.
Sweat poured down Grover Steelheart's thick forearms.
He paused his hammering for a moment to wipe his brow.
The rattling of dragging chains sounded from the corner of the workshop.
Grover turned his head to look at his companions.
Six dwarfs were working silently at their respective workbenches.
The iron chains bound to their ankles gleamed faintly.
Grover's heart grew heavy.
Once recognized as the finest blacksmiths in the Kingdom of Stonehelm, they were now bound in chains like common criminals.
Though the dwarfs lived as a minority in this human kingdom, their craftsmanship had always been deeply respected.
Every night, Grover lay awake, consumed by the guilt that they had ended up in this wretched state because of him.
Grover threw himself back into his work.
With every lift of his hammer, memories of the past flooded back.
The grand royal forge.
The shared laughter of humans and dwarfs working side by side.
And... that fateful day.
Duke Thorin, the younger brother of the King of Stonehelm, was a man blinded by ambition.
He had plotted to usurp the throne by exploiting the dwarfs' superior craftsmanship.
Thorin had secretly requested Grover to forge weapons for a coup.
When Grover adamantly refused, Thorin orchestrated a meticulous trap.
Fabricated evidence, false testimonies, and a rushed trial.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye.
Grover and his companions were charged with high treason. During the trial, Grover desperately proclaimed their innocence, but the words of a minority race carried no weight.
Ultimately, Grover and his companions were sentenced to perpetual exile.
But exile was merely a cover.
Thorin had imprisoned them in this Water Bubble Hell, forcing them to forge weapons for his personal army.
"Grover."
Finn Ironsoul called out in a low voice.
"Are you alright?"
Grover forced a smile.
"I'm fine, Finn. Don't worry."
Concern clouded Finn's eyes.
Ever since he was dragged here with his family held hostage, he hadn't smiled once.
Finn Ironsoul had once been a simple blacksmith in a peaceful dwarven village.
His blade-crafting skills were renowned throughout the entire kingdom.
But his talent had brought him ruin.
He had caught Duke Thorin's eye and was dragged away by force.
Deceived by false promises of his family's safety, Finn had worked in the royal forge, only to end up imprisoned here alongside Grover.
"One day..."
Grover muttered to himself.
"One day, the truth will come to light, and we will be free."
Just then, the workshop door creaked open, and the overseer walked in.
"Is the work progressing well?"
The overseer's cold voice echoed.
The dwarfs kept their heads down, working silently.
In their eyes flickered anger, despair, and a faint glimmer of hope.
Grover raised his hammer once more.
Along with the metallic clang, a tiny spark ignited deep within his heart.
Heavy footsteps and the clanking of dragging chains echoed down the corridor.
The guards arrived in front of the labor camp with new prisoners.
They paused for a moment and began to converse.
"Huh? Weren't there supposed to be five prisoners arriving today?"
one of the guards asked, sounding puzzled.
His colleague replied indifferently.
"Well, I guess some got added along the way. Doesn't matter if it's five or seven."
The first guard scrutinized the two prisoners with a suspicious look.
His eyes swept over them one by one.
"Still, isn't it strange? Where are those two going?"
"Ah, they told me to send those two to this workshop, and the rest elsewhere."
The guard stared for a moment, finding it odd, but soon chuckled as if it were no big deal.
"Right. It's not our place to decide anyway."
Soon after, the sound of iron bars opening echoed through the workshop.
The heavy iron door creaked as it slowly swung open.
"Alright, here are the new prisoners."
one of the guards shouted loudly.
"Get in there!"
the other guard ordered roughly.
Grover raised his head to look at the newcomers.
Two figures dressed in prison uniforms were shoved into the workshop by the guards.
More new recruits.
Grover muttered to himself.
He gave the new prisoners a brief glance before returning to his work.
Ever since he arrived here, new blacksmiths had been brought in constantly, but most of them were of little help.
In the end, they couldn't last more than a few days before being kicked out or transferred to other labor camps.
They'll probably just be transferred somewhere else soon anyway.
Grover thought, continuing his work without sparing them another glance.
The poorly ventilated workshop was stiflingly hot.
After working for a long while, Grover raised his head and wiped the sweat with his sleeve.
But something was strange.
By now, new prisoners would usually be complaining about the difficulty of the labor, but it was abnormally quiet.
Feeling puzzled, Grover turned his gaze toward the newcomers.
A black-haired human was working, and his hand movements were anything but ordinary.
Grover's eyes locked onto the prisoner's movements.
That fellow seems to have quite a bit of skill.
Next to the black-haired man was a female prisoner, who was holding a hammer awkwardly as if she didn't even know how to handle the tools.
At a glance, she clearly lacked even the basic fundamentals of blacksmithing.
"Did you really graduate as an A-rank?"
"No, I told you, magic engraving is just like a liberal arts class."
the woman grumbled in response.
The two humans exchanged incomprehensible banter, clearly familiar with each other.
Just then, Finn approached and spoke.
"Master Blacksmith, here is the order form."
As Finn handed over the order form that the guard had dropped off along with the materials, Grover shook his head as he took it.
"Drop the title. We're all just prisoners in the same boat now."
Grover examined the contents of the order form in detail.
The item requested this time was exceptionally unique.
[Order Details]
Crustacean Dragon Scale Armor
Quantity: 10
Grover's eyes widened as he double-checked the order.
The Crustacean Dragon.
It was a legendary creature that inhabited only the deepest swamps of Stonehelm.
Though it resembled a giant lizard, its size was overwhelming, easily rivaling that of an adult dragon.
Its entire body was covered in rock-hard scales.
Armor forged from those scales was dozens of times sturdier than standard iron plate, yet significantly lighter.
Furthermore, the scales could be ground down and used as medicinal ingredients.
Since the dawn of time, this land had belonged to the kingdom of the dwarfs.
The art of processing Crustacean Dragon scales was one of their oldest secrets.
However, thousands of years ago, everything changed when humans set foot on this land.
Recognizing the value of the dragon's scales and meat, humans began hunting them indiscriminately.
Over time, the population of Crustacean Dragons dwindled rapidly, until they became virtually legendary.
The dwarfs were also pushed back by human expansion, gradually losing their territory.
Eventually, most dwarfs scattered across the continent, and their numbers steadily declined.
A few dwarfs, like Grover and his companions, remained in this land, living among humans.
They kept their heritage alive by sharing their craftsmanship with humans, but most dwarven techniques were forgotten over time.
Advanced techniques, particularly the method of working Crustacean Dragon scales, became exceedingly rare.
Grover let out a deep sigh.
To demand ten sets of such high-grade armor in a single day was absurd.
The only ones skilled enough to handle Crustacean Dragon scales were Grover himself and Finn.
But suddenly, the black-haired prisoner approached the raw materials.
"Oho... this is actually pretty decent."
The newcomer was touching the precious materials without knowing any better.
Grover watched him with a bewildered expression.
For some reason, the human prisoner looked entirely relaxed, not at all like someone who had been captured.
He picked up a Crustacean Dragon scale and carried it over to his workbench.
"Hey, those materials are strictly measured for our quota. Besides, that's not a material you can handle."
Grover spoke in a concerned tone.
But the prisoner didn't seem to be listening to Grover at all.
"Give it here this instant. If we don't meet the quota, we'll all be severely punished."
Grover warned him once more.
Yet the prisoner paid him no heed and began working anyway.
"Hey, are you deaf?"
Feeling frustrated, Grover stepped forward to stop the prisoner.
But his footsteps ground to a sudden halt.
Grover couldn't believe his eyes.
His gaze was locked onto the prisoner's hands.
The prisoner was handling the Crustacean Dragon scales with the deftness of a dwarven master who had worked them for decades.
In fact, his speed seemed even faster than Grover's own.
And it wasn't just fast.
The way he trimmed and shaved the rare material was astonishingly precise.
"How is he doing that..."
Grover muttered in disbelief.
Having finished prepping the scales, the prisoner immediately moved to the next step.
First, he began arranging the scales with meticulous precision.
Taking into account the curvature and thickness of each scale, he assembled the base form of the armor in perfect harmony, like fitting puzzle pieces together.
Grover realized that the process was strikingly similar to the legendary 'Dragon Scale Weaving' technique of the ancient dwarven masters.
The prisoner's movements grew even more spectacular.
After finely shaping the scales, he began employing a heat treatment unique to dwarfs.
Delicately adjusting the intensity of the forge fire, he fused the edges of each scale with movements that made it look as if he were commanding the flames themselves.
The way he monitored the shifting colors of the scales was like that of a master who had honed his craft for hundreds of years.
With a specialized hammer, the prisoner struck the joints of the armor with pinpoint accuracy.
Every single strike was precise, and the metallic ring echoed rhythmically like music.
As the armor neared completion, Grover's eyes stretched wider and wider.
The ideal armor he had pursued his entire life was being realized right before his eyes.
The armor taking shape beneath the prisoner's fingertips was more than just protective gear; it was a work of art.
But his work didn't stop there.
Blue mana began to ripple from the prisoner's hands as he started chanting in a familiar tongue.
It was ancient Dwarven.
Astonishingly, he began engraving runes onto the armor, one by one.
His hand, carving the ancient Dwarven script onto the scales, was as swift and precise as a lightning strike.
With every stroke he drew, a faint blue light flashed, leaving behind a vivid runic character.
Each rune was the core that would bestow special properties upon the armor.
"This is... a technique I've only ever heard of in legends..."
Grover muttered, holding his breath.
He couldn't hold back any longer.
This was the very image of the ideal dwarven blacksmith he had aspired to be his entire life.
It was the state of mastery that had been deemed unreachable, lost to time along with so many other dwarven smithing techniques.
Before Grover's eyes, the ancient arts believed to be lost forever were being resurrected by the hands of this strange human.
Finally, he cried out.
"You! Where on earth did you learn those techniques?!"