Dwarven Choice

"It seems you'll have to stay here and keep practicing."

After saying this, the automaton stopped moving.

Frieren was unconvinced. The girl puffed out her cheeks. "That last round doesn't count. Let's play again!"

Shane couldn't take it anymore.

How could someone lose so badly at rock-paper-scissors? No wonder even a Mimic could take her out one-on-one. Watch this! I'll show you what Strong Luck looks like!

Five seconds later.

Shane: 0 wins, 20 losses.

Huh?

That can't be right!

It's rigged!

With both of their chances to play exhausted, the automaton fell silent.

The stone statues at the entrance wouldn't let them through.

The situation was extremely awkward.

Frieren pondered for a moment, then took out her staff again, ready to force her way through.

Shane looked down the passage at the seemingly endless line of stone statues and shrank back. He was mentally drained and had lost his weapon, leaving him "extremely vulnerable."

As for forcing their way through—forget it.

He circled the Rock-Paper-Scissors Automaton twice and noticed a small bump on its back.

The bump was inconspicuous, about the size of his thumb.

Curious, he pressed it.

Something amazing happened. The automaton, which had just been inviting them to play rock-paper-scissors, spoke again and invited them to play cards.

He pressed it again, and the automaton invited them to request a song. He pressed it once more, and it invited them to go upstairs to a private room and enjoy some personal service.

"..."

Well, would you look at that. It really was a service automaton.

Shane decisively chose the "private room."

So, guided by the automaton, the two of them passed safely through the entrance, turned right, went upstairs, and headed for the private room.

The so-called private room wasn't small at all.

The entire second floor was elegantly furnished, with a refined atmosphere, like a public lounge.

What surprised Shane was that one side of the second floor was piled high with damaged automaton parts, forming a towering heap of rubbish that reached all the way to the ceiling.

Judging by their appearance, the parts belonged to automatons just like the one guiding them.

"Please choose your personal companion. We hope you find happiness here."

Shane and Frieren looked at the wreckage, then at the oblivious automaton, and couldn't help feeling a little sorry for it.

It seemed to have no idea that the Dwarf Kingdom had fallen and its own kind had become a pile of scrap metal... It was still dutifully serving its guests.

Shane fell silent for a moment as he looked at the automaton's stiff smile.

"Let's go. We'll look somewhere else."

This time, the statues didn't stop them. The two of them passed through a long passage and came to a foundry.

The foundry had been built underground beside a cliff, right up against its steep rock face. A bottomless abyss lay beside it, and they could faintly hear rushing water far below.

Shane guessed the Dwarves had made direct use of the geothermal fire and underground water.

Bold and clever.

The iron furnaces, sealed away for thousands of years, had long since rusted. Countless chains of varying lengths hung from the ceiling, connected to crucibles of all sizes. An unfinished battle axe still lay on the casting table.

Clearly, the war between the Demon Race and the Dwarves had come upon them very suddenly.

The two of them followed the steep stairs upward in a spiral.

Before long, they reached the center of the entire underground city: the Golden Hall.

This was where the leader of the Dwarf Race had once lived.

Complex, twisted Dwarven characters were carved into the tightly shut doors. Shane studied them carefully. They formed a poem:

Across the cold and mist-shrouded mountains,

For a thousand years in caverns deep below,

The Dwarves of old chanted mighty spells,

To the clanging music of the hammer's blows.

In the depths, dark creatures lie asleep,

Travelers who come this far, take care.

Shane studied the poem and wondered: Mighty spells. A sleeping dark creature. Could the Dwarves of old have sealed something away here?

Or was it just an ordinary Dwarven folk song?

Before he could figure it out, Frieren had already begun slowly pushing open the long-sealed doors.

At once, a dry, ancient scent washed over them.

The sight before them left them stunned.

The Golden Hall was packed with Dwarves of all kinds. A serious meeting was underway.

Shane and Frieren immediately went on alert, gripping their weapons and quickly scanning the area.

They'd already fallen into an illusion once. They wouldn't be fooled again!

But something was strange. There were no enemies around them.

Even the people in the hall acted as though they couldn't see them, paying no attention to what they were doing.

Shane glanced at Frieren. He saw the same suspicion in her eyes. Then he stepped forward and walked straight into the nearest Dwarf.

Nothing happened.

He passed right through the Dwarf's body.

The Dwarf didn't notice a thing. He continued holding his battle axe and quietly talking with another Dwarf beside him.

Shane couldn't help remembering the dream he'd fallen into in the mine, the one about the "Mad Sage Charles."

As before, it seemed they had entered a dream.

But why?

Why was there a glimpse of the past in this hall?

The two of them tried to leave, only to find that the way they'd come was gone.

There was nothing they could do.

Shane and Frieren had no choice but to slowly enter the hall, walking among the Dwarves and watching what they did, hoping to find some clue.

Clang, clang, clang—

Someone struck a piece of metal.

The entire hall fell silent in an instant.

Shane looked toward the sound, at the raised platform deep inside the hall.

A human girl stood there, dressed in leather armor. She had a spirited bearing and a solemn expression as she signaled for everyone to quiet down.

"King Alan has something to say."

After speaking, she silently stepped aside.

Behind her, an aged figure slowly rose from a golden throne. He stood up and walked to the front of the platform, looking down at the Dwarves below. After surveying the hall, he spoke in a deep voice:

"You've all heard the Demon King's declaration of war. Quite a few of our tribes have already been slaughtered."

"I've called you all here today to hear everyone's opinion. Should we fight or surrender?"

The king's question rang out calmly.

Below the platform, the Dwarves looked at one another. Some were deep in thought, some were furious, and others were lost and unsure what to do.

Suddenly, a young warrior stepped out from the crowd.

He wore a steel helmet and armor. A small tuft of golden-yellow beard adorned his face, and his features were resolute.

Facing the king and all the Dwarves gathered there, he spoke with force and conviction. "Begging our enemies for mercy is the most foolish thing we could do."

His words instantly ignited the fury of everyone present.

The Dwarves erupted in a unified roar. Their cries of rage rang out without end, filled with hatred for the slaughter of their loved ones and boundless killing intent toward the Demon Race.

A surging battle spirit swept through the entire hall.

Shane looked at the young figure and let out a startled, "Huh?"

Frieren was just as surprised beside him.

Because they had both noticed that the figure looked far too much like Aze... But that was impossible...