The Beard Problem

I wanted to witness the evolution process with my own eyes. It had to be quite the spectacle, right? Would it evolve like Pokémon, or more like Digimon? Realistically speaking, it'd probably be closer to Pokémon.

Something like that, I figured. In the end, though, I didn't get to see it myself. By the time I opened my eyes, the sprout vine had already evolved.

"Saaak!"

Dungkel, did you see it?!

Dungkel's face was full of awe.

"It was... incredible...!"

You saw the evolution process?

"Yeah, I think it's the first time in my life. It was truly amazing..."

It must feel like this if you miss your kid's kindergarten graduation! It was amazing, an amazing sight. Even Pellelian had witnessed it. True to form as a pervert who loved chimeras and monsters, he had his eyes closed, clapping softly as he savored the afterglow.

Damn, I'm jealous.

Still, the sprout vine clearly liked me the most.

It hasn't changed as much as I thought.

Given its intimidating name, Demon Hunter's Vine Grass, I'd worried it might turn into something grotesque. But no.

It's just... a plant!

Twitch twitch!

Planted in the ground, the sprout vine had definitely grown. It still looked like a plant, though—like ivy not yet clinging to a wall. The leaves had changed a bit. Each one had five lobes, like a maple leaf. But the real surprise came right after.

The sprout vine pulled itself out of the ground!

"It, it's standing!"

Dungkel! If you're gonna say that, use a subject!

The sprout vine stood up from its spot. Had it learned to walk on two legs?! Maybe it'd say "I am sprout vine" next.

Thankfully, no. It wobbled forward and toppled over. It moved on four leaves in a quadrupedal gait. With its tail, it kinda looked like a squirrel—or slower, like a turtle. Or maybe a chameleon.

It crawled over clumsily and climbed onto my tail. Oh ho, so that's how you use the vine tendrils. It stuck to my tail like ivy. When I shook my tail, it fluttered back and forth on top.

Now I wouldn't have to carry it around in a pot anymore. Time to check its status window.

Yeah yeah, the sprout vine's still a baby. Its diverse traits had simplified. The crucial World Tree trait remained, which was a relief. What stood out was Hellfire.

I told Pellelian about it.

Hellfire... That's a trait that can't occur naturally.

Whoa! A unique trait.

The name sounded familiar from somewhere...

'Demon Hunter's Vine Grass'?

Compared to chimeras like OOO's or Little Trent, it was definitely an unusual entity name.

I've read about it in old books. It's a plant-type monster from the demon realm that doesn't harm other races but is lethally toxic to demons. No detailed records remain, though...

No wonder it's a special evolution. Maybe it's an ancient species or something.

It might have new skills too. I checked the sprout vine's status window further.

Huh, huh, huh, huuuh!

I was stunned. Flame Immunity. So there was a skill like that. Does max fire resistance evolve into something like this? If so, it had to be insanely powerful. To gain such an amazing skill from just one evolution...

And it wasn't just Flame Immunity. There was also Hellfire. This reeked of a high-tier skill too. Getting two incredible skills from its first evolution...

You're awesome, sprout vine.

I was proud myself. I'd have to check what Hellfire does later.

"You said you'd name it, right?"

Yeah.

It wasn't a snake anymore, or just a chimera. I couldn't keep calling it sprout vine forever. Time for a new name.

You aren't planning to name it something like Wangnuni or Daegari again, are you?

No, I'll give it a cool one.

Not that Wangnuni, Kkubugi, and the like were bad. Of course not. But the sprout vine went "Hmm..."

Dungkel pondered hard too.

"How about Greenie?"

Nah.

"Dunguri?"

Oh, that's not bad?

But Pellelian vehemently opposed Dunguri. Too cute only.

Consider its traits more. How about Kabbaladetridsephirotia?

Ugh, lame.

He was right about considering traits, though. It's a plant... that moves and breathes fire. Wait, that's totally...

"How about Aswharital?"

Ooh! Sounds cool!

No, that might cause issues, so let's skip it.

"How about Isil, short for Yggdrasil, another name for the World Tree?"

Hey!

Good one. Dungkel, not bad? The sprout vine liked it too when I asked.

Your name is now Isil, Isilie.

I didn't even need Domination Crown. Or taming.

Isil accepted the name I gave it.

No, did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Dungkel name it? Whatever.

Good, then.

"Phew, that worked out."

Dungkel wiped the sweat from his brow.

"You've done your part, so now I just have to do mine."

Thanks for helping, even though you're busy.

Dungkel actually had his own tasks. Soon, Rozena would gather all the dwarves in the mine. There, she'd announce she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was temporarily taking over as mine lord and introduce Dungkel as her successor.

"There are definitely people who hate me... Haah..."

Dungkel said that, but he didn't run. He was a man with ambitions to change the mine and the dwarves—a dream to become mine lord from the start.

"Should I wear a hat even if I'm bald?"

He said it seriously. He'd been ostracized his whole life just for being born without a beard or hair.

You could, but a hat covers your head—your beard's the problem.

"...You're colder than I thought."

I'm a snake, duh. Dungkel seemed worried about his looks.

Then, something amazing happened. Isil was smart. It understood Dungkel had helped with its evolution.

Isil approached Dungkel and shook its leaves. Dungkel knelt on one knee, bringing his face close, and Isil slowly scooped dirt from the ground with its leaves and smeared it on his face.

"Ack, what the—?!"

Dungkel tried to pull away. But Isil shook its leaves like keep going.

Dungkel sighed and leaned in again. And then, the incredible happened.

"Saaaaak!"

"Huuuuh?!"

Both I and Dungkel were shocked.

"I-is this okay?!"

"Saaak, sa saak."

"Even so..."

"Saaak!"

Convinced by me, Dungkel gave in.

"Fine, let's go with it."

His voice brimmed with resolve.

* * *

Rozena was straightforward.

"...So, I nominate Dungkel as successor."

The other dwarves murmured. Dungkel's image in Red Anvil Mine had shifted dramatically these past few days. But opposition arose, as expected.

"He's too young and inexperienced."

"That's for me to teach. The master smiths will train him as mine lord."

"There are other candidates for mine lord."

"Who? Raise your hand if you want to challenge for mine lord."

No one did. Not out of fear of Rozena—few dwarves actually wanted the job. It meant endless work, continent-spanning travel, and diplomacy. Why bother? Unlike humans, dwarves weren't power-hungry.

Dungkel stood with his hood pulled low. Some saw his cowering as even worse.

Finally, the critique Dungkel feared emerged.

"His looks are off! No beard, no hair."

There was reason to it.

"The mine lord represents our mine. He'll attend the Twelve Anvils Council someday. They'll look down on a hairless, beardless Dungkel and treat him poorly!"

A sharp point. But Rozena suddenly burst out laughing.

"Don't worry—Dungkel's grown a beard."

"...Pardon?"

"Come on out, Dungkel. Show them!"

Dungkel just clutched his hood. Rozena slapped his back, and I whacked his calf with my tail. He finally fumbled the hood off, revealing his face.

A brief silence from the shock. Then laughter erupted from everyone.

"Wahahaha!"

"He really grew a beard!"

Dungkel's face now sported a beard—thanks to Isil.

"Good now, right?"

"Uhahahaha!"

Mud smeared on his face. From it sprouted thin green blades—moss or sprouts?—in lush abundance. Definitely a full beard.

"Dungkel, don't be shy. Everyone loves it."

Rozena was right. The dwarves were delighted. Dungkel with his plant beard.

And someone shouted:

"Green Beard! Green Beard!"

Greenbeard Dungkel. The birth of his new epithet.

The dwarves cheered wildly. Dungkel awkwardly extended a fist to me. I bumped it. Isil offered a leaf too.

"Thanks, guys."

I appreciate it too, Dungkel.

Greenbeard. A parting gift from me and the vine grass before leaving.

* * *

Farewells aren't eternal goodbyes.

Let's leave the fiery hell we shared as memories.

Time to find our own paths and depart.

That melody kept looping in my head. Still, I didn't shed damp tears leaving the mine. Dungkel sniffled a bit, though. Weak guy—it's not forever. How's a future mine lord gonna manage with such a soft heart?

On the day of the successor announcement, I joined the dwarves for a massive drinking party. Terrifyingly, we polished off dozens of fresh beer barrels from Kalea City in one night. Ham and beer overload—my head still throbbed from the hangover.

"Chew this."

Helmuth handed me some weird herb as we headed into the Gray Mountains. I traveled with the old dwarf.

The odd companionship had a reason. Red Anvil's top swordsmith was none other than Helmuth. For a lucksteel sword, a master smith was essential, right? But making it at Red Anvil proved tricky.

Handling lucksteel required proper facilities. That fire lizard wrecked most of them. Smelting and refining gear collapsed too.

"Gray Hammer Village should be coming up."

So, we headed to the neighboring dwarf village. Rozena wrote a letter, and Helmuth was respected among them. No way they'd refuse tools and facilities.

"Tired? Hop in the bag. I can carry your size."

I'm fine.

"My eyes are dim. Write bigger."

I'm FINE!!!

Our awkward journey began. Blunt dwarf craftsman, but kinder than Pellelian.

Haa...

Unlike me, hyped for the lucksteel sword, Pellelian looked conflicted. After forging at Gray Hammer, we'd go deeper. Into Delphram in the mountains, where Pellelian's dungeon lay. When he tracked himself from the Great Forest, the signal led there. Maybe his skull awaited.

A journey to confirm his own corpse. Heartbreaking...

"Gray Hammer Village."

Whoa! Finally!

I hopped onto Helmuth's shoulder. First time meeting these dwarves—they might wary of me. Gotta stay cute snake.

But...

"Why's no one here...?"

Gray Hammer Village was empty. Eerily quiet.

Did they move?

"Seems so... in a hurry."

Stuff they'd take in a proper move remained. Especially forge tools.

If Helmuth were human, the ghostly village might've spooked him into investigating. But the master smith just entered the empty forge, pulling out celestium buckets, hammers, and prepping.

"Let's make one right away."

"Saaak!"

I was thrilled the lucksteel sword forging was starting. But things went awry.

"Hmm..."

Quality charcoal was needed to heat the forge properly.

"The charcoal's damp."

Helmuth scratched his head, regretting it.

"Won't get enough heat. Gotta find a kiln and make new ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠charcoal first."

As it got complicated, I tapped his ankle.

"What? Move?"

I went to the forge and wrote on my notepad: This fire should work. Watch.

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠asked Isil. It positioned itself at the hearth. I quickly backed away with Helmuth. Far away. Very far.

"Such fuss..."

Helmuth smirked. But his face froze as Isil breathed fire.

Fwooooosh!

Purple flames shot into the forge. A blast of heat erupted.

Feeling like my face might peel, Helmuth shivered.

"Yes... more than enough."

Then let's start!

Damp charcoal? Irrelevant before Hellfire.