The Attacked Dwarf Village

"How should we handle this? Are we going to step in?"

Rhode felt somewhat nervous. This was the first time he had faced such a large number of Monsters, and he was even more tense than when he had faced the wolf pack and the Demon Bear.

Serie rolled her eyes at him. "Why wouldn't we? Did you think I came here just to watch?"

Only after hearing Serie did Rhode realize that this revered master of his loved situations like this most of all.

She was probably already itching to make a move.

I hope the Werewolves are okay.

Rhode's prayer was destined to be useless. Miss Serie had no concern for fighting fair either. While the Werewolves and Dwarves were locked in fierce battle, she circled behind them and raised her hand, unleashing an enhanced Light Arrow Rain.

And it was a rapid-fire version at that.

Golden Light Arrows poured down like a torrential storm, instantly pinning more than a dozen Wolf Demons to the ground.

The Dwarves were stunned by the sudden support and turned toward the direction from which the arrows had come.

Dwarves were famously inept at magic. The gods had granted them powerful physiques—an adult Dwarf could tear apart a Demon Bear with bare hands—but at the same time, had sealed away their magical talent.

Thus, there were naturally no mages in this Dwarf Village.

Serie stood on high ground, her long golden hair fluttering in the wind, a somewhat fanatical smile on her face.

Sure enough, only situations like this could make her happy.

Still, the spell that man had improved was truly useful. Serie had already abandoned her old single-shot Light Arrow spell. Now, she opened with an Arrow Rain at the slightest provocation.

It covered a wide area and fired in great numbers. It was far more useful than individual Light Arrows.

Rhode did not remain idle either. He swiftly cast the Improved Great Detection Technique.

A Magic Circle spread out. After confirming there were no hidden Werewolves, he immediately shouted to the Dwarves, "Don't just stand there! There are four more on the left!"

Serie's Arrow Rain had not wiped out all the Werewolves. A few had survived, and two Werewolves were still fighting Dwarves outside the range of her attack.

Prompted by Rhode, the Dwarves snapped back to their senses. Several rushed to confront the Werewolves before them, while the rest went to deal with those on the left.

With Rhode occasionally providing Light Arrow support, the battle soon came to an end.

An elderly Dwarf who appeared to be their leader stepped forward. "Thank you for your help, you two. My elven lords."

His tone paused slightly when he looked at Rhode.

He had never seen an elf with short ears, but since Rhode was traveling with an elf, he must have been an elf as well.

After all, elves were famously aloof and exclusionary.

"I'm not an elf. I'm human," Rhode explained helplessly.

Humanity really had a pitifully low profile in this era.

"Human?" The Dwarf leader looked confused. What was a human? Was it another race?

Seeing the puzzled expression on the other man's face, Rhode gave up on asking whether he had ever encountered other humans.

"Never mind. I'm Rhode, and she's Serie. We're currently traveling."

"Traveling?" The Dwarf leader nodded. "I am Amro Ironfoot, chief of this village. We plan to hold a feast tonight. Please, both of you must attend so that we may repay this life-saving favor."

"What do you think?"

Rhode looked at Serie. She had been the main source of damage just now; most of the Werewolves had died at her hands, while he had merely played a supporting role.

"Fine."

As night fell, the Dwarves lit a bonfire.

Rhode took the initiative to handle the lighting. His finger-snap Fire Magic made the Dwarves' eyes shine.

If they could master such magic, they would no longer need to painstakingly drill wood for fire, then carefully preserve the flame.

Unfortunately, they could only envy it. Dwarves were famously hopeless at magic and simply could not learn it.

"Thank you once again, Mr. Rhode."

Amro approached Rhode with a cup of wine. When they had dealt with the Werewolf corpses earlier, Rhode had helped a great deal, leaving him immensely grateful.

The most troublesome thing about Monsters was that their spilled blood contaminated the land. Even their corpses had to be burned, or they might turn into undead corpses and become even more terrifying monsters.

"It was nothing, Chief Amro." Rhode raised his cup and clinked it against the Dwarf chief's.

Amro's beard was long and already turning white. He looked quite old.

Rhode remembered that Dwarves in this world seemed to live far longer than humans, usually around two to three hundred years. After all, several decades had passed since the Xinji Era in later generations, yet Eze had only just entered his old age.

He claimed he could no longer swing an axe, but in truth, he could still cut down Demon Race members one after another with ease.

There was also Furu, the Dwarf warrior who guarded the village. He looked even older than Amro, yet he was still absurdly strong.

It could only be said that a Dwarf's age truly could not be used to judge their strength.

"Does Miss Serie truly need nothing?"

Amro looked toward Serie again. She sat to one side, holding only a cup of water.

"No. I don't like alcohol, and the elements in your cooking are far too chaotic."

Rhode was somewhat surprised to hear that. When he cooked for this elven lady, she had never been picky, nor had she refused his food because its elements were too chaotic.

He bit into a grilled skewer made from the meat of some unknown animal. He could taste the coarse salt grains sprinkled over its surface. The flavor was extremely rustic and indeed far inferior to his own cooking.

Amro did not say anything about Serie's refusal. After all, if she had simply joined his celebration, that would have been what he found strange.

Compared to Serie, Rhode simply did not seem like an elf at all.

Amro spoke again. "It seems Mr. Rhode is not an elf after all. I wonder what humans are like. This old man has never encountered one."

Amro stroked his beard, a trace of reminiscence appearing in his eyes.

"When I was young, I also traveled across this continent and encountered creatures of many different races. Some could communicate, while others could not communicate at all. Unfortunately, I later encountered the Demon Race and nearly died at their hands. Since then, I have never left the village again."

Amro exposed his arm, revealing a deep scar that extended all the way to his chest.

"Is the Demon Race very strong?" Rhode asked.

"Very strong!" Amro's tone was grave. "Every member of the Demon Race evolved from one of the most powerful Monsters. Neither their combat ability nor their understanding of magic can be underestimated."

"Do not underestimate the Demon Race. You should know that the destruction of the original Dwarven Kingdom was connected to them."

Serie, who had not spoken until then, suddenly opened her mouth.

"This continent once had five original nations, and the Dwarven Kingdom was one of them. But that nation was destroyed overnight, and its people split into eight clans that wandered across this continent."

Rhode noticed a flash of pain appear in Amro's eyes as Serie spoke.