The Demon Flame That Enthralls Dwarves
I'd been an elementary school reading champion, so I went all out with glowstones and torches, creating the brightest setup possible. But hey, an underground is still an underground—it couldn't compete with the surface light. And darkness? That's the perfect stage for a stealthy assassin like me.
I slithered silently through the shadows.
Stealth lv10
With my stealth skill at its peak, I concealed myself completely and crept forward slowly. The dwarves followed behind me on tiptoe.
"Eek!"
Dungkel tripped over a rock. You idiot! Manjin and Trall flinched and dropped low in surprise. Luckily, no one noticed. The dwarves moved clumsily, and there weren't many with sharp senses anyway.
Trall returned, his face pale as a ghost, and spat out something shocking: Bluebeard had burned a dying patient alive. And that fire? It didn't seem ordinary. That's why I'd come to check it out myself.
Sure enough, the barbaric act was unfolding right there. Crackle, pop. I couldn't say for sure if they'd burned him alive or not. But dwarves who had once been alive and moving were now being cremated. Vivid orange flames roared. It was definitely the fire demon's blaze that the vine snake had devoured—the one infused with mana.
I'd stolen their buckets and chains, so maybe they'd stockpiled this fire ahead of time? Burning patients alive would've sparked resistance, even under the mine lord's orders. But no one was protesting Bluebeard. The dwarves gathered around the burning man, staring at it like they were entranced.
It's the demon fire, alright.
-It's bewitching the dwarves. That flame that even made my mind reel...
Not a fan, huh?
Pellelian scowled. Unlike the other dwarves, he wasn't entranced by the fire. Though he'd admitted it looked strangely beautiful at first glance. Now, he spat curses every time he saw it, calling it ugly.
-A mage who has reached mastery has a mind like steel—unyieldingly tough.
Self-praise much? A sudden curiosity struck me.
By the way, dwarves like Bluebeard seem pretty tough. Isn't it too easy for them to fall under its spell?
-It's because dwarves as a race are especially susceptible to fire. Like how grass Pokémon are weak to fire types. A matchup disadvantage, maybe.
-More importantly, I've noticed this before, but you're completely unaffected.
My mental strength is pretty solid.
I tapped my head with my tail. Never imagined I'd say something like that in my past life. I glanced back at the dwarves. They must've been shocked too, right? But no—they stared blankly at the flames.
"Saaak!"
No! I leaped up and slapped their cheeks one by one. They clutched their faces and bowed their heads.
Snap out of it!
Damn. Even from this distance, I'd nearly fallen under its spell myself.
"Huff... that fire's seriously dangerous."
Dungkel took deep breaths. Seeing that made the dwarves' susceptibility understandable. Luckily, viewing from afar or briefly snapped them out of it quickly.
-If Bluebeard steals their souls completely like that, it's too late. Those dwarves around the flames now? They might all succumb in time.
The orange blaze devouring the dying dwarves grew larger. Definitely not normal fire. It seemed to feed on their flesh and souls, bulking up. Even with nothing left to burn, the flames persisted, flickering endlessly.
Bluebeard, standing by the fire, barked orders to his minions. A few dwarves transferred the flames to a brazier. Ah, that looked like celestium too. More than just hammers, huh? They carried part of the fire deeper into the mine.
Observing the process sparked a thought.
They kept that fire hidden from the other dwarves before. Now they're parading it openly?
Exactly. Even Rozena, Bluebeard's lover, hadn't known about his shady deeds. But now he'd brought the fire demon's blaze right up, burning patients alive and entrancing dwarves left and right.
-Classic demon playbook. Step three in dismantling a community.
Pellelian said it like it was no big deal. How demons destroy groups: A dormant demon starts weak, lying in wait like a trap for someone to stumble upon it. Hiding behind coincidence for that first prey. That's step one. Probably Bluebeard himself or a dwarf digging deep.
-Step two: Quietly expand influence. Block access to the depths, secretly feed dwarves to the fire pit. Those working down there would've succumbed gradually. A few tail slaps wouldn't snap them out.
-Step three: Go public. And when I stole their celestium bucket, Bluebeard went all-in, spreading the flames to enchant everyone.
Maybe the fire's will guided his actions. The will of the flames...!
What's step four?
-What else? Total annihilation. Everyone ends up demon chow.
Got it. So Red Anvil Mine falls like that.
"What do we do?"
"What do you mean? Douse that fire with water."
Trall snorted at Dungkel's worry. He'd respected Bluebeard, so this betrayal hit hard. I told them dousing it wouldn't matter—there was a lava lake deeper down.
"Still, putting out that fire might snap some comrades back to their senses?"
True enough. Trall was a respected big brother among the young dwarves, pretty capable. His impromptu plan sounded solid.
"Form a strike team of fast guys like me, douse the fire. Then help the others recover and ambush the mine lord."
Ambushes are always right. If it goes to plan.
Think you can pull it off?
"Don't worry. Squint hard and avoid looking—we got this."
Trall rolled up his sleeve, flexing. Has nothing to do with muscles, Trall.
Alright.
But I'd trust him once. Trall nodded with resolve. I gently stroked the vine snake. It preferred being out rather than in my subspace. So now I carried it around like Léon with his Mathilda plant pot. The vine snake rustled its leaves. Hungry, huh? But don't eat that filthy fire recklessly.
It had devoured the fire demon's flames, but some tendrils had charred black because of it. Come to think of it, the vine snake's level was already 9. It could evolve too, right? Maybe at 10? Or with its high potential, maybe 20? If it outgrew me, that'd be trouble. For now, let's expect big things from Trall.
We hid for days, observing Bluebeard.
Two days later, Trall assembled his strike team for the op. Dungkel was too slow, out. Manjin and I stayed back to watch.
And Trall... put on a hell of a show.
"Uuuuh..."
At first, I thought he was joking. Squinting, he crept toward the fire cautiously, then froze blankly upon arrival.
"Uuuuh, uuuh..."
He dropped his water bucket and squatted entranced. His "strike team" (lol) followed suit.
-That moron!
Agreed with Pellelian.
Squinting-up-close fire-dousing plan: scrapped.
I declared the failure solemnly. Dwarves just couldn't resist that flame. Turning into brain-dead zombies like that? Resistance to mental attacks probably varies by intelligence.
Dungkel groaned. "Can't solve this with mine dwarves alone anymore."
Only a few from Trall's group remained sane, like Dungkel and Manjin.
"They used to only burn the dying before. Today they torched folks who could still move!"
Manjin fretted. Bluebeard's atrocities worsened. Red Anvil dwarves suffered a mystery illness: pale skin, sunken eyes, bleeding mouths. Bluebeard quarantined them as "contagious," tossing the worst into the pit. Normally, dwarves would've revolted. Instead, they squatted by the orange flames like it was a campfire.
"Deeper in the mountains is Grayhammer Village. We ask for help there."
Dungkel insisted. Beyond our capacity now. Rozena had said seek Helmuth the elder. But even I doubted that'd work.
"We sneak out quietly."
Manjin said. His crew of four, Dungkel, and me—six total. We climbed stealthily. Getting out unnoticed was tough, but dwarves glued to the fire made it easy.
Until the mine entrance. Situation: fucked.
"It's completely collapsed..."
The entrance was blocked.
"Blasted with explosives?"
"Why the hell..."
"Didn't think ahead."
Bluebeard sealed it with mining dynamite. We could dig out eventually, but guards watched the rubble.
Let's hear what Grandma Rozena said first!
I patted gloomy Dungkel's shoulder.
"Yeah, to Grandpa Helmuth."
Had Bluebeard hit the pig farm already? Luckily, no. But an unforeseen problem arose.
Steel hogs clustered together—bad omen. They poked something with their snouts. A dwarf elder lay there.
"G-Grandpa!"
Dungkel screamed and rushed over. I followed. The hogs hadn't harmed him. The steel hog king I'd tamed snorted welcomingly. With their feeder down, they'd guarded him.
Helmuth's face was pale, blood trickling from his mouth. Still breathing, thank god.
"This is..."
But no joy here.
Was he hiding the illness?
Same symptoms: classic dwarf plague du jour. If Bluebeard hit first, he'd be firewood.
"Tricky, sigh."
"What now..."
"Don't even know the disease... Dungkel bro, any ideas?"
Dungkel shook his head gravely. He knew some medicine better than most, but no real doctor. No diagnosis, no cure.
Tears streamed down Dungkel's face. Understandable—his adoptive grandpa. Watching made my nose tingle. Past-life parents scared me, but grandparents were kind. Felt for him.
Um, all-knowing Reverse Heaven Archmage?
-...
Know what this illness is?
-Hmm, no clue...
Pellelian shook his head, pride wounded. Disappointing.
No cure? Potion might help temporarily.
-Potions don't cure diseases.
Sigh.
-Don't sigh. ...Ah!
Pellelian perked up.
-Deep sleep, nutritious varied diet, rest. That'll do it.
Siiiigh.
Thought he had a genius idea. ...Hmm.
Sudden itch in my brain. Like grasping a clue. From infinite internet and YouTube dives. Something useful now...
Elementary reading king here. Devoured books.
Dungkel lamented: "How'd he catch it? Never leaves, no contact..."
Aha! "Contagious" disease in impossible spot. Means it's not contagious?
Plus Pellelian's words.
Need nutritious varied foods.
-Obvious.
But dwarves don't.
Red Anvil dwarves traded before, imported fruits etc. But tapered off; last few years, just potatoes, ham, underground cabbage.
Cabbage has vitamins, but grown underground? Who knows.
Bleeding mouth, pale face, sunken eyes: screams one condition.
Dungkel.
The terror that killed sailors on long voyages eating only preserved food. Cured by a few oranges.
I'm no expert, but just a hunch.
"Yeah?"
Isn't that scurvy?
Legend has it the god of medicine is symbolized by a snake.