[No Title Provided]
The dwarves were probing me. "The atmosphere isn't all that great, actually," James said as he led me toward the grand hall where the demon army's envoy awaited. I fixed him with a cold stare, caught off guard by his unexpected words.
"Don't give me that look. Ah, this pussy isn't that pussy..."
"Shut up and get to the point."
I was already fuming, so the blunt command slipped out naturally. James seemed to get my position and didn't react to the insult.
"Ahem. Look, as the guy who brought you here myself, I'd really like you to fight the demon army for us."
"And?"
James gave me a troubled look and started explaining. "What the demon army wants is simple: kick you out and submit to them. And the leadership... they're viewing that proposal pretty positively."
"Ha. This is fucking insane."
His words hit me like a spark to dry tinder—my anger surged uncontrollably. I'd come to help these dwarves because they asked, and because I needed decent weapons. Hell, I was angrier now than when they'd shoved sex toys at me like they were some grand "items." Part of me even wished they'd just join the demon army outright.
Then I could slaughter the lot of them guilt-free, right?
"D-Don't make that scary face. Nothing's decided yet, is it?"
"Probing me in the first place is the goddamn problem."
"Hmm. I get why you're pissed, but the leaders are just being cautious—dwarven lives are on the line."
James defending his own kind like that stirred a fresh wave of killing intent in me, even if they were the same race.
"Fine. So what do you want from me? Should I sweet-talk them out of joining the demon army?"
I asked without masking my bloodlust. James broke into a cold sweat, eyeing me warily.
"Like I said, I'm on your side. No need to glare like you wanna kill me, yeah?"
"Got it. Just tell me why the king's summoning me."
"Ahem. It's not just the king—the whole leadership wants your take. This is a massive call for us dwarves."
Part of me wanted to tell them to do whatever the fuck they wanted and bail on this dwarf shithole right then. But what kept me hanging on—what was almost laughable—wasn't the dwarves. It was Bahamons. Why the hell would the Lord of Death, destroyer extraordinaire, bother sending an envoy to these rotten sacks of shit? And for someone like me, who'd keep clashing with the demon army, that intel was gold.
"Alright. Guess I gotta see this envoy myself."
"Y-Yeah, anything you need, just say the word. I'll back you up."
James flashed an awkward grin. I figured at least that much was sincere and gave a slight nod. As my killing aura eased, he sidled closer, sneaking a glance at Karen trailing behind before whispering,
"Kinda weird timing, but... you two shared a room—what'd you get up to? Fuck?"
"......"
Dwarves really were a hopeless breed.
"Dwarves, your roots lie with the earth spirits. And that means you share no true bond with us, risen from the deep underworld. So entrust yourselves to us."
Stepping into the grand hall, I spotted a lone skeleton hawking its pitch to the cluster of elderly dwarves. From its speech patterns, I clocked that Bahamons was scoping the place through this bony puppet.
"What a sight. Handing the enemy a full tour of your stronghold."
I bellowed that at the dwarves, who stood there like idiots soaking in the skeleton's spiel. All eyes—dwarven and empty sockets alike—snapped to me.
"...What do you mean by that?"
"Can't you figure it out? You're broadcasting your entire setup to the demon army right now. 'Our forces number this many, and here's all our weapons,' like that."
I spelled it out for the dwarf king, who'd finally clocked the weirdness and turned to me. My words sank in late, plunging the hall into heavy silence.
"Is that true?"
"Kekeke. What does it matter? If you take the demon army's hand, there'll be no attack."
The skeleton clacked its jaw in response to the king's question. Not a denial—more like admission. The dwarf king's face hardened as betrayal hit home, mirrored by the others.
"Isn't the skeleton right? We don't need to make enemies of the demon army, do we?"
I whipped around at the voice trying to shift the mood. A smirk curled my lips when I recognized the speaker: the axe-obsessed blacksmith the king had introduced me to. The guy was pushing demon alliance hard—probably still salty I'd taken my weapon business elsewhere.
"He's got a point. We'll treat dwarves well. Just boot the hero, and we're good."
"Mm."
The skeleton nodded along, drawing a grim hum from the king. He looked torn.
"We gotta do something, right?"
Karen shot me an anxious glance, but I had zero interest in convincing these dwarves. I just watched the shitshow unfold.
"Hero. Got nothing to say?"
The dwarf king, struggling for a decision, finally turned to me. I shrugged and strolled toward the skeleton in the hall's center. Its hollow sockets fixed on me—Bahamons peering through, no doubt.
Why just one skeleton, though?
I mulled that as I approached. To subjugate dwarves properly, sending a more convincing envoy would've been smarter. Bahamons had grunts to spare—cannon fodder he wouldn't miss. But sticking to a single skeleton? That screamed intent.
Like, maybe he wants the dwarves to reject the offer?
Drawing from Bahamons' personality in my past life, it fit. The lich who cursed all life? Yeah, plausible. The real question was why send a half-assed envoy he didn't mean. Lilite's intel on demon army woes gave me a hunch.
"Hey, Bahamons. You watching?"
"Hm? How do you know my name?"
"Doesn't matter. One question."
I cut straight to it with the skeleton. It stared silently—confirmation enough. So I fired off what burned hottest.
"Baal's orders?"
No answer from the skull.
"What, no reply? Did Baal tell you to recruit the dwarves?"
"You... how much do you know?"
I grinned at the jaw-clacking response. Dodgy as it was, it'd spilled plenty. I pieced it together: the demon army—Baal specifically—smarting from a prior L, wary of stretching lines thin. They'd greenlit hitting non-humans first, but alliances were a risk. Past success with beastkin made dwarf outreach logical. But Bahamons? He couldn't defy Baal outright, so this half-measure: if they joined, fine; if not, joyfully exterminate.
"You look dangerous. Dwarf king, decide: the hero, or the demon army?"
My intervention tweaked his play. Bahamons—or his bony proxy—pressed the king, who shot me a grave look.