Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Became a Mom. (5)
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The valiant Dwarf warrior Gordol, Garen Gordol Landrock, remembered everything.
How could he ever forget?
He had watched his wife get torn to shreds right before his eyes by the clutches of a demon. How dare he even think of forgetting that.
Her body parts scattered in every direction before he could even scream.
Even as those chunks splattered and stuck to his face, he clung to the hope that it was all just a nightmare.
"Gordol, snap out of it!"
If not for his old friend who had happened to visit his forge that day, his own fate would have ended right there too.
For Gordol, who had lived his whole life alongside iron, that day marked the first time he ever used his hammer—his other self—to kill something.
The demon who had shredded his wife in an instant was now reduced to a pile of minced meat.
A man who had never fought more than childish scuffles with his brothers in youth could slay a demon only because rage consumed his entire body.
"Run! The demons are coming! The demons are here!"
"Abandon the forge and flee! Dead dwarves are worthless!"
Fleeing kin and those staying to face their doom.
Gripping his hammer, slick with viscous flesh and the stench of iron, he hesitated for a moment.
Should he abandon everything and leave his homeland?
Or stay and fight to the end?
"You go first."
"Are you insane?! Dying here is just a dog's death!"
A dog's death. Maybe so.
But he couldn't retreat.
How could he abandon this place soaked in memories with his late wife?
Strength surged into his hand on the hammer's haft, smashing the face of the demon blocking his path in an instant.
"I've got unfinished business."
"Think of your daughter!"
His daughter, the last gift from his wife.
For a split second, the image of his tiny girl shook his resolve, but a dwarf's stubbornness couldn't be swayed even by fellow dwarves.
The demons had to break through here to reach the rear anyway. Better to stand and fight than flee claiming to protect others.
"If we don't hold here, we're all dead anyway."
"...Fine. Do as you will."
His friend hurried away, leaving him alone.
Determined to defend this place etched with memories of his wife, the weight of his daughter hiding in the back pressed heavily on his shoulders.
I'll come to you soon. Just stay safe.
Gordol shattered the flank of a charging beast with its fangs bared, then crushed its skull, and bellowed at the top of his lungs.
"I'm right here! Come at me! The dwarf you want to kill is here!"
He slammed his blood-soaked hammer down rhythmically, drawing the demons' eyes, then pulverized the head of a beast sprawled on the ground.
Demons were a race thirsting for blood and flesh.
They lived for battle and died for it—fierce beings who never refused a challenge.
In that instant, the melee began, and Gordol's body sprang into action.
His hammer shattered blades, smashed skulls, and crushed legs.
The landscape, swiftly dyed red with blood, stung his eyes.
"That's the end of you."
Gordol muttered shortly, gazing down at the demon who died without a scream, then turned away.
His body, pushed far beyond a dwarf's limits, creaked ominously—as if one more move would send him collapsing.
But he had to check.
His daughter's safety. And the survival of his kin.
"...Makina."
Forcing his body along the long path, what he found at the end wasn't his evacuated kin or his daughter rushing to greet him.
Bodies.
He had believed that if he held out and won, they'd be safe.
His fatal mistake: assuming the vile demons would keep targeting only him to the end.
If he'd kept his daughter by his side, maybe things would have turned out differently.
"Sorry for leaving you alone."
His quiet murmur rode the blood-scented wind, drifting slowly toward the sky.
All that remained in the dwarves' homeland were chunks of flesh and pools of blood.
That day, Garen Gordol Landrock buried three hundred sixty-seven bodies.
Each grave's headstone, crafted with dwarven skill, stood neat and proper.
No neighbors' names escaped his memory, so all three hundred sixty-seven names were engraved.
"...What's the point of a man who couldn't protect his family wearing this."
And finally.
Standing before a tiny pit, he muttered in a hollow voice.
A ritual for male dwarves who failed to protect their families and lost them all.
Gordol pulled down his trousers, gripped the blade he'd forged himself, and swung his arm.
Etching world-shattering pain into his body, he swore never to make a wife or child again.
To repeat it endlessly, until death.
Thus, Garen Gordol Landrock became a man who could never father children.
Forever.
"...So then, whose child is this, exactly?"
I muttered dejectedly, feeling the saintess's hands pressing firmly on my still-bleeding head to staunch the flow.
No matter how twisted this world was, a dwarf born between a demon and a human was next to impossible.
At first, I'd thought that damn dwarf had raped me.
Of course, hearing he was impotent afterward made me feel a tiny bit sorry for him.
Just a tiny bit.
How does someone even cut off their own dick and balls?
Chilling just to imagine.
Like a phantom shiver from organs that no longer existed.
Honestly, guts alone, this dwarf deserved a spot as a hero or demon king, dwarf or not.
"There's a way to check if it's really yours. Want to try?"
"There's a method for that?"
"Of course! Whether a child from your wife's womb is truly yours is a huge deal, theoretically speaking."
...I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious.
Even though it came from my belly, umbilical cord and all, I wanted to confirm at least once.
Of course, being the mom was unchanged, so it'd be the hero getting tested.
"Anyway, what's this 'theoretically' crap? The hero and I aren't like that."
"Come on, sex and a baby make you a couple and family. What else is there?"
"...Gross."
Her words were so repulsive, I'd have vomited if I had anything in my stomach.
Me, family with him? Married to him?
The hero?
I was too stunned to even speak.
Married to that trash? I'd sooner marry actual street garbage...
Real trash at least doesn't rape, assault sleeping women, or stomp on pregnant bodies while spewing abuse.
"I've changed my mind. No need to check. It's enough that it came from my womb. Whether it's the hero's or not, I don't care, and I don't want to know."
"If you're that sure..."
I shot a sharp glare at the saintess dragging out her words awkwardly, then turned away.
The dwarf—Gordol, was it?—cradling my child like his own, gazing down with tearful eyes, rubbed me the wrong way.
One minute ranting about killing the baby, now this. Ridiculous.
"Hand it over now. It's my child."
"..."
"Hey, are you listening?"
This won't do. If I don't do something about this guy right—
"Take it carefully, Demon King."
"Ah, uh... No, yeah. Got it."
Caught off guard by the sudden handover, my body instinctively cradled the baby.
So small. So tiny. Incredibly small.
Poking its cheek with my index finger brought a puff of baby scent and soft, plump flesh welling up.
Cute. So soft.
Dangerous...
The masculine part of my mind thrashed wildly, but I barely reined it in.
"Oh right, we forgot something important."
"...What?"
"It's this—"
As I basked in the baby's cuteness, the saintess approached with a grave expression and tone.
Important? What? Isn't birthing the end?
I swallowed dryly and asked; she said it wasn't serious, so relax.
Then spit it out already without the suspense!
Urging her with my eyes as I grumbled inwardly, her gaze dropped from my face.
Her eyes flicking to my chest felt odd, but answers first.
"—Colostrum feeding."
"What?"
"You need to feed it colostrum."
"...?"