Chapter 67: Is This Really a Diplomatic Delegation? (4)
Chapter 67: Is This Really a Diplomatic Delegation? (4)
(67/225)
One way or another, the soccer Jinseo had unintentionally introduced to this other world exploded in popularity among the dwarves.
The single makeshift field they had first thrown together quickly multiplied into three. Once their workday ended, dwarves gathered to relieve stress by kicking a ball around, and when they were done, they naturally drifted toward the food truck. There, they guzzled beer while using bunsik as bar snacks, laughter and shouting carrying across the plaza.
“But didn’t you used to hate customers drinking at the food truck?” Hayward asked. “That even caused trouble with the Raven Mercenary Corps. I mean, I’m fine with it, but are you really okay with this?”
“With dwarves, there’s no real choice,” Jinseo replied.
“Yeah. For that race, beer isn’t alcohol—it’s basically water. I’ve never seen anyone who can drink every day and be completely fine. No, not people. Dwarves.”
Normally, unless it was a special situation, Jinseo discouraged drinking at the food truck. But when it came to dwarves, he had long since abandoned that policy. He couldn’t even imagine them eating bar snacks without beer.
“Phew… that really hit the spot.”
After finishing his bean sprout ramen without leaving a single drop of broth, Hayward rolled his shoulders, his body finally loosening.
“You going to play soccer again?”
“Of course. While I was passed out, those guys must’ve gotten better, right? I can’t fall behind.”
Pulling a player T-shirt over his clothes, Hayward headed toward the third soccer field.
“Hey! Sub me in!”
The moment he stepped onto the field as a substitute, Hayward charged straight at an opposing attacker who was dribbling the ball. Even without coffee, his speed far outmatched the dwarves’. He stole the ball cleanly and surged forward into enemy territory.
Whoooosh.
“H—huh?”
Mid-dribble, Hayward suddenly felt his feet kicking at empty air instead of solid ground. Panic flashed across his face as his body flailed helplessly—and in the next instant, a blast of wind slammed into him.
“Aaaagh!”
He went flying, blown far across the field by a wind spell cast by a dwarf mage playing sweeper on the opposing team.
A week after the Doren Kingdom’s delegation arrived on the Ashred Continent, soccer had fully embedded itself into everyday dwarf life.
Some dwarves ran across the fields as players. Others gathered around the food truck, beer mugs in hand, watching the matches while snacking. The central plaza split naturally into those two groups, bustling with energy from morning until night. The soccer fever showed no sign of cooling down—especially with the delegation’s humans joining in as well.
The one exception was Craid.
Unable to participate as a player, he spent most of his time watching matches from the sidelines. When it became obvious that he wanted to be involved somehow, Jinseo casually suggested refereeing.
The reasoning was simple. With Craid’s overwhelming height and build—even among humans—no one would dare argue with his calls.
In practice, no one protested anyway. His judgments were fair, and with visual acuity honed through real combat with monsters and countless hours of arcade fighting games, no foul escaped his notice.
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“Number fifteen,” Craid announced calmly, holding up a yellow card. “Warning for using magic.”
“Ah—sorry! I didn’t mean to! It was just reflex—”
After soccer arrived on Ashred, a new rule had been added—one that hadn’t existed before.
No magic during matches.
On the third day, dwarf mages had begun joining games alongside Geshtain, unleashing cannonball-like shots, binding defenders’ feet with roots bursting from the ground, and even generating wind behind goals to deflect shots. The spectacle looked straight out of Soccer King Shoot X or So X Soccer.
Jinseo drew a hard line.
Magic was banned.
The reason was simple: it wasn’t just about preventing injuries. It was about preventing deaths.
To drive the point home, Jinseo played them a “reference video.”
So X Soccer.
“For safety reasons,” Jinseo explained solemnly, “magic became taboo in soccer from that point on.”
It was a lie—but a necessary one.
Disappointed, the dwarves still accepted the ruling. Instead, they redirected their enthusiasm into officiating tools, applying magic there instead—and controversy vanished entirely.
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The moment the detector sliding along the touchline flashed red, Craid blew the whistle without hesitation.
“Whoa, it caught that?”
“That was that close!”
“Slow your passes down! You’re too fast!”
The offside detector, invented by the dwarf mages who had been assistant referees just days earlier, performed so precisely that even the players could only click their tongues in admiration.
Once they fully understood offside, the mages no longer wanted to stand on the sidelines.
They wanted to play.
“Wouldn’t a magic tool be more accurate than our eyes anyway?”
“Yeah! Let’s go build it!”
Their execution was immediate—to the point that they abandoned an active match and rushed to the lab.
By the next day, a square-shaped offside detector had been completed and installed.
“Hey! It’s already ten to three! Hurry up and come out!”
“Let us play too!”
With limited space and too many eager players, Jinseo introduced another sport to ease the frustration.
Jokgu.
It required fewer people, less space, and still involved kicking a ball.
On the jokgu court set up beside the soccer fields, dwarves with short limbs leapt high, throwing out overhead kicks with explosive enthusiasm.
When they asked for more sports, Jinseo showed them baseball—but the response was lukewarm. The rules were complex, and the stop-and-start pace divided opinions.
Still, a small group took to it, throwing and swinging in a compact area. Julien, having mastered the rules, served as umpire.
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With Craid’s whistle, the match ended.
“What a shame! If we’d had ten more minutes, we’d have turned it around!”
“From ten to five? Stop dreaming.”
“Then let’s go drink!”
Now all that remained was cooling their overheated bodies with beer—and satisfying their mouths with chicken.
“What? You’re out of chicken?”
“Yes.”
The words crushed them.
Even with limits, the chicken had sold out faster than expected.
“Other bar snacks go well with beer too—”
“We know… everything you make is delicious… but chicken is different…”
They collapsed where they stood.
In dwarf society, now divided into “before the delegation arrived” and “after,” beer without chicken had become only half of life.
“Then get ingredients!”
“What are they? Tell us! We’ll go get them right now!”
Jinseo explained about Cockatrice King meat.
“…Cockatrice King?”
That name was unfamiliar.
Eventually, they realized the creature they hunted was likely a basilisk.
“…I think it’ll work.”
The moment Jinseo said it, dwarves sprinted off.
Soon, a hundred fully armed dwarf warriors gathered at the food truck.
Their stats stunned Jinseo.
B to C across the board.
Even Geshtain had B+ physical stats.
“Leave the ingredients to us.”
Behind the food truck, Wigenburg strode forward, staff raised.
“Our target is the basilisk! The more you bring back, the richer our tables will be!”
“He’s coming,” Jinseo muttered.
“……”
In a candlelit room, Marquis Horus stared at a report.
“So he really was a dwarf.”
He crushed it in his grip.
“A food truck…”
He would not tolerate the sight of someone else being happy.
Not while he watched.