Chapter 10
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Chapter 2. Dwarf Village
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Having toured the lair, Eirana was utterly delighted.
Rakan's lair was truly magnificent.
Above all, what she loved most was the demonic energy that the Black Dragon had imbued into the place over countless years of living there.
Erannis stroked the head of her excited daughter.
At times like this, she was unmistakably a parent.
Eirana diligently began preparing for the move.
Her family soon heard the news and came to visit.
"You're going to use that old codger's lair as Eirana's lair?"
Elencan said.
Following him, Karman spoke up.
"So you've finally decided to move? Father will leave behind some treasures and books."
In response to Karman, Leranas said,
"The lair is already so vast, but if it were completely empty, it would feel a bit hollow. So we've decided to divide up some treasures and place them there."
Eirana beamed as she replied.
"Thank you, Grandma."
Leranas hugged Eirana and said,
"To think the little child you once were has grown enough to have her own lair already."
Eirana replied,
"Yeah. It's already been 450 years since I was born."
For a human, that was a span of time they could scarcely dream of unless under extraordinary circumstances.
But dragons accepted 450 years as something utterly ordinary.
Then, a sudden thought crossed her mind.
I wonder how many years have passed in the Murim world?
Has the same 450 years gone by here?
If so, all her acquaintances might be dead by now.
That realization made Eirana's stomach ache faintly.
Why was that?
Whenever she recalled those thoughts, pain emanated from the burn scars she'd suffered at the moment of death.
Eirana tried to shake off the notion.
As if remembering something, she turned to Karman and said,
"Dad, didn't Great-Grandpa say he wouldn't let you off easy?"
"Huh? Why?"
Karman asked back, sensing something ominous.
But it wasn't Eirana who kindly answered.
"That old codger said something about living just fine without seeing his granddaughter? Oh! I think he said he wouldn't let you off because of that remark?"
At those words, everyone's gazes turned that way.
There stood a man with his arms crossed imposingly, glaring at Karman with dignified poise.
"Long time no see, Leranas."
Leranas greeted him with a bright smile at Rakan's words.
"Long time no see, Rakan. Sleep well?"
"No, I slept poorly."
Rakan smirked cynically.
Rakan and Leranas were friends of similar age.
Elencan asked,
"Why'd you crawl all the way here?"
On top of that, he had a bad relationship with Elencan.
"None of your business. I'm just here to thrash that brat."
With that, Rakan began glaring at Karman with terrifying eyes.
Karman, flustered, asked Erannis,
"Why's Father acting like this?"
Erannis, the culprit, innocently explained the situation with a guileless expression.
Karman's face hardened as he listened.
He needed to quickly soothe the ill-tempered old codger before him.
"Father."
"Shut it!"
BAM!
"Argh!"
As if that would work.
A week flew by.
Though they said "a little," from Eirana's perspective, it was an enormous quantity of treasures and copied books that filled her lair's treasure vault and library.
Given the extraordinary lifespans dragons lived, the wealth they amassed was equally extraordinary.
Once the move was complete, Karman visited and said,
"The closest lair from here is mine. Come visit often."
He meant it kindly with a gentle smile, but the reactions around him weren't favorable.
"Hmph! With a warp gate, you're there in an instant—what's close or far about it?"
Erannis joined in Rakan's childish jeer.
"Right? Did you have to say it like that? It sounds like you're telling her to come to your lair often because it's the closest!"
"Exactly! Well said, Erannis."
Elencan and Leranas shook their heads at the childish antics of the two dragons.
Why on earth did their daughter get along better with her in-laws?
Watching Erannis unilaterally harass Karman, Eirana secretly shook her head.
No matter how she thought about it, Eirana couldn't fathom how her parents had ever gotten married.
'It's a mystery.'
As her family promised to visit often until Eirana got settled—explaining this and that before departing—Eirana waved goodbye.
The first thing Eirana did upon settling into the lair was tidy it up.
There were already guardians that Rakan had set up, so no need to create new ones.
What Eirana encountered first was the treasure vault.
True to a lair once inhabited by an ancient dragon, the vault's scale was beyond imagination.
Eirana crossed her arms and gazed at it with a serious expression.
Comparing it to the vault's size, the treasures inside did seem rather sparse.
Approaching the treasure vault, Eirana pulled something from a pile of gold coins.
It was magical silver—a crown made of mithril adorned with sapphires.
Apparently a dwarven piece worn by some renowned noble of a past kingdom.
If it appeared in human society, it would cause an uproar.
Of course, Eirana tossed it back into the pile with a face showing no particular interest.
Everything here was treasure, and dwarven crafts were everywhere.
Crucially, Eirana had no special interest in treasures or pretty jewelry.
Her appearance might be feminine, but her insides were all man.
Eirana stood with arms crossed, staring indifferently at the gems.
Shiny things were pretty enough, but they didn't move her much.
"How am I supposed to organize all this?"
After pondering briefly, Eirana sorted them: gold coins together, gems together, accessories together, weapons together.
For clothes, she stuffed all the dresses and skirts Erannis had packed into the wardrobe.
The best part of getting her own lair was this: no one forcing her to wear women's clothes.
It took about a week to roughly organize the lair.
In that time, Erannis came and went five times, watching Eirana diligently tidy up.
Eirana had asked for help since she was there anyway, but was refused on the grounds that one must handle one's own affairs.
Eirana was convinced she was just dodging the chore.
With the lair sorted, Eirana headed to the armory.
She scanned the weapons and grumbled in dissatisfaction.
"Nothing here catches my eye."
Every weapon here was exceptional.
Sturdy and sharp.
Some were even enchanted magical arms.
There were countless famed swords, but none truly appealed to Eirana.
For starters, their designs were worlds apart from Murim weapons.
Someone of Eirana's caliber wouldn't be bound by such things, but for some reason, she yearned for a sword like the ones she'd used before.
After a moment's thought, Eirana muttered,
"Maybe I should visit the dwarves?"
Dwarves were master craftsmen.
They could forge the sword she desired.
If she requested a Murim-style blade, they'd surely craft something superb.
Recalling the nearest location Rakan had mentioned, Eirana swiftly headed to the dwarf village.
Unfamiliar terrain.
And hordes of monsters.
Eirana hurled spells at the monsters charging fearlessly and barreled straight toward her goal.
In no time, she arrived at the dwarf village Rakan had described.
Eirana stopped and glanced around the area.
Smoke rose in the distance, and stone walls seemed to fend off monster attacks—she was mildly impressed.
To her eyes, the dwarf village resembled a natural fortress.
As she admired it, a group of dwarves spotted her from afar and looked shocked.
Eirana approached them with light steps.
The apparent leader of the dwarves stepped forward and said,
"Who are you? How did you get here?"
Eirana regarded the dwarf with curiosity.
It was much like her first time seeing an elf.
No real difference between book illustrations and reality.
'They're really small, huh? And those muscles—impressive.'
Coming up to her chest, with bushy beards and bronzed, rippling muscles. Just like in the books.
A solid hit from those arms would send an ordinary person straight to the afterlife.
Pointing toward the valley housing her lair, Eirana said to the wary dwarves,
"I just moved to that valley over there a little while ago."
"What?"
The dwarves looked baffled at her words.
Following her pointed finger with their eyes, their faces gradually stiffened one by one.
"N-No way. A dragon?"
"Yeah. I'm Eirana."
The dwarves greeted the nodding Eirana.
"Forgive us for not recognizing you. What brings you to the village?"
It was a fitting greeting—neither too stiff nor overly servile.
Dwarves were proud by nature.
Thus, they observed a certain decorum with dragons but nothing excessive.
Eirana said to the dwarf,
"I'm here to meet some craftsmen."
"Craftsmen, you say?"
"Yes. Weaponsmiths."
If a human had said that, they might've swung an axe while calling it nonsense.
The dwarves exchanged glances, then nodded.
Like the bond between dragons and elves, dragons and dwarves were on friendly terms.
A dragon seeking dwarven smiths wasn't rare, so no cause for suspicion.
The highest-ranking dwarf among the village guards escorted Eirana inside.
In dwarf villages, elders were the finest artisans.
Every decade, dwarves competed in their specialties to select the best, appointing them as elders.
The village chief was traditionally a retired elder.
In this Arcon dwarf village, Dris—the elder swordsmith—frowned at the hatchling before him.
"You want me to make you a sword?"
"Yes."
Eirana nodded, grimacing occasionally as the low ceiling of the dwarf-sized house chafed her.
"I'm sorry. I'm currently working on a sword. I have no intention of making another right now. Just crafting that masterpiece—my life's greatest work—is keeping me busy enough. Handling Oriharcon, such a fantastical material, is no easy task. So I can't accept your commission at this time."
Dris refused flatly, without batting an eye.
Oriharcon.
The strongest metal on the earthly plane—hard to mine and even harder to work.
Light yet indestructible, it withstood even dragon breath, truly deserving the name "god's metal."
Among dwarves, wielding Oriharcon marked one as elder-level.
Naturally, aside from artisan dwarves, no other race could handle it.
Not even long-lived elves, let alone dragons—though they lived longer—could manage it easily.
Humans? Impossible.
Dris was planning his life's masterpiece with Oriharcon.
He wanted no interruptions from anyone.
Dwarven stubbornness was legendary.
Even a dragon would typically yield to such words.
Dragons weren't tyrants or thugs extorting wealth from other races on whims.
Only mad or demonic dragons rampaged without provocation.
Eirana, who had listened quietly, suddenly declared,
"Then give it to me."
Dris made a face that said not a chance.