Adamantine Ore

The Otherworldly Tracking Mastiff, a spirit beast from the Upper Planes, is a small canine breed said to carry the bloodline of the ancient God of Fate. Beyond their exceptional vision and sense of smell, their most peculiar trait is an innate intuition—a talent akin to a premonition of luck—that makes them the finest of adventuring companions. Yet, it is rare to hear of anyone capable of summoning such a legendary gift; even the most learned mages have never heard of them. Aelf was no exception, but that did not stop her from seeing through Sunderland's little ruse of using a magic scroll as a cover.

With the aid of the Otherworldly Tracking Mastiff, the group easily located the Kobold lair.

The Kobold den was situated in a small, distant cavern. It took the group a full hour (according to Sunderland's magical timer) to reach it. Everyone found it impossible to fathom why the Kobolds would travel so far to dig that tunnel, as the location held no rich mineral deposits—unlike the lair itself. This narrow tunnel, dug by the Kobolds and less than three feet high, completely restricted the entry of any creature or human larger than a Kobold. Among the group, only the little girl could barely crawl inside, but William would never allow the little one to take such a risk.

"There's nothing inside! The Kobolds have already migrated!" Sunderland said, wrinkling her nose after commanding the tracking mastiff to rush in and scout. "Only the tunnel at the entrance is narrow; it's quite spacious further in. Shall we still go inside?"

"Of course! I want to see exactly how much of my good ore those vermin stole!" The one-eyed dwarf greedily stroked the stone wall at the entrance. This was an excellent open-pit mine (open-pit?), with the entire wall composed of iron ore. The old fellow had already claimed it as his own, shamelessly labeling the Kobolds who previously occupied the site as "thieves."

"But we should patrol the vicinity first. Scouting the distribution of monsters here! That is the primary mission!" Torg, the other dwarf, raised an objection, and the two dwarves immediately began to bicker. The others stood to the side to watch the show, needing only small stools to complete the scene. Among them, Singers had come for the ore, as dwarves knew from experience that wherever Kobolds gathered underground, mineral veins were almost certain to exist. Torg was one of the security chiefs of Mirabar and had to be responsible for the city's safety. Sunderland was there to experience the life of an adventurer, and regardless of the outcome, Marquis Erastu Larim would claim his fair share. William was a "hired hand" serving the one-eyed dwarf, while the little girl and the others were essentially a "friends and family" group tagging along on a public-funded excursion.

Old Singers proved the meaning of "better safe than sorry" perfectly. The one-eyed dwarf won the argument because he had brought a pickaxe, and the old fellow happily began hacking away at the cave entrance.

Sunderland was gleefully goading the defeated dwarf warrior: "You should be ashamed of your blindness and brainless remarks! Saying 'I'll agree if you brought a pickaxe'—did you not see the pickaxe right on the old man's back? You should feel disgraced!" The Lady Magistrate's rubbing salt in the wound made Rammer so furious his lungs felt like they were about to explode.

"That's right! That's right! You should feel disgraced!" Aelf, who loved mischief, added fuel to the fire, while Mishaer, finding it amusing, cheered and waved her little fists on the sidelines.

"Shut up!" the nearly crazed dwarf roared. His bloodshot eyes scared the two little ones away. "Damn it! Little Sunderland! What exactly are you trying to say?"

The Lady Magistrate covered her mouth and giggled playfully: "Nothing! Just thought you were amusing and wanted some fun!" The stunned dwarf felt the world go dark, let out a great shout, and was actually so angered he fainted. The little girl, hiding behind William while clutching her head, poked her head out and asked in confusion: "Oh! Why did chubby Torg fall asleep?" This drew a roar of laughter from William.

The old dwarf's digging speed was truly too slow. William and the others had already eaten twice, and Mishaer had even taken a nap in her brother's arms, yet the old dwarf continued his fanatical excavation. The old fellow wasn't opening a cave entrance at all; it looked more like he was digging a pit. After half a day, the entrance hadn't widened much, but he had dug more than two feet into the stone wall, and the excavated ore had piled up into a small hill. Torg hid to the side, glaring at the Lady Magistrate, while Sunderland, ignoring him, occupied the Winter Wolf pelt reserved for Mishaer. She lay half-reclined, teasing her summoned pet, while the two little ones watched from the side, eyes burning with envy and mouths watering—naturally, they were looking at the cute pet, so don't get any wrong ideas.

With a strange expression, Sunderland asked with a smile: "Do you like it?" The two little ones nodded like chicks pecking at grain. "Do you want one too?" They turned into bobbleheads again. "Then—." Sunderland dragged out the long note, scanning the two, her gaze eventually landing on the top of Mishaer's head. The little girl reflexively hugged the helmet on her head with both hands and scampered back to William's side, looking at her brother with aggrieved, sea-blue eyes. William helplessly rubbed the little head under the helmet and pinched her soft, pink cheeks: "I really can't do anything with you! Fine! Brother will get an even cuter little one for you!" Mishaer immediately ran back, smiling, to continue watching the doggy, completely ignoring Sunderland's sullen expression.

William was speechless at Old Singers' "vicious" behavior. He said to Phinia, who was gnawing on smoked meat: "Phinia! Lend me your axe for a moment!" Phinia, her mouth full, smiled at him and picked up the Frost Giant Axe beside her with one hand, handing it over.

"Old Singers! Move aside!" William held the giant axe and stepped up to the cave wall. Focusing his spirit, he planted his feet and swung the axe with both hands. The iron-rich stone wall was cleaved as easily as wood. Then, to the terrified gasps of the onlookers, William demonstrated what it meant to cut through iron like mud. The hard stone wall, as if made of soft clay, was carved away by the giant axe in chunks, without even the sparks usually seen when metal strikes stone.

In less than half an hour, William, like a mountain-cleaving deity, had forcibly carved out a tunnel nine feet high, six feet wide, and nearly twenty feet long. Covered in dust and aching all over, William walked back to the resting spot, gasping for breath. Everyone avoided him as if he were a plague god, and Mishaer sat there with her mouth agape, staring at him in a daze.

William, who had picked up a waterskin and was chugging it down, looked at the shifty-eyed group and asked curiously: "What's wrong with you all? Is there something on me?" He wiped a two-finger-thick layer of mud from his forehead and muttered: "Oh! It is a bit dirty."

Who cared if he was clean or dirty? A guilty Sunderland laughed awkwardly: "Haha! Hehe? It is a bit dirty, huh! Ah! The weather today is so nice! The moon is so round!" The two dwarves and Aelf echoed her with silly grins. Good grief! They were underground! Big sister! Where would the weather and the moon come from?

Phinia foolishly flipped through her axe. Was this a legendary divine artifact? Had she not noticed before? William looked somewhat embarrassed as the female half-giant inspected her weapon. There were many scratches on the axe face, and the blade had chipped in several places—wear caused by William's inability to perfectly control his strength as his stamina depleted in the latter half. It seemed he still had a long way to go before his strength was fully restored.

Leaving William to find a water source to wash off the dust, eat, and recover his strength, the dazed Phinia carried her giant axe into the tunnel and swung it hard against the edge of the stone wall. With a deafening "clang," the teary-eyed giantess dropped the axe and walked out, her hands trembling. Hearing that something was wrong, William hurried over to take a look. It turned out Phinia's web of her thumb had been split by the shock, and her hands were shaking like the claws of a stroke-afflicted chicken. William, caught between laughter and tears, massaged her arms and acupoints to soothe her muscles and blood flow while comforting her. Phinia squatted down like a child, leaning against the man and sobbing. The scene, which should have been heartwarming, was filled with a slightly sour, comical air.

Seeing such a ridiculous scene, the others lost their fear of William and began pointing and laughing from the side. The little girl also ran over to hug her brother's leg and join in the fun.

The Kobold cave was narrow outside and wide inside. After William's excavation, the original cave height was now nearly five feet. Except for Phinia, who was too bulky, everyone else could barely squeeze in.

The Kobold gathering place inherited the traditions of Goblins—dirty, messy, and smelly! It was indeed much more convenient to have a mage present; Sunderland used [Wind Breath] to disperse and replace the air in the cave, though she cast the spell under the cover of a scroll.

The Kobolds had moved in a hurry. Weapons (Kobold-style), ore, pickaxes, and various household items were scattered everywhere. After resting for most of the day, William felt his strength fully restored. He picked up the giant axe Phinia had dropped—the silly girl likely had a hairline fracture in her hand bones and couldn't use heavy tools for a while, and even drinking a healing potion wouldn't be as effective as the one he'd seen Aelf use. There was a fingernail-sized notch on the blade of the giant axe. William tried to strike the same spot Phinia had hit. As the blade touched the stone wall, he immediately felt something was wrong; a hard object, extremely dense, had suddenly appeared inside the wall, blocking the axe's momentum.

William immediately held the handle loosely with both hands, twisted his body, and tapped his fingers several times on the vibrating grip to dissipate the rebounding force. However, the rebounding giant axe was thrown to the ground uncontrollably, the axe head smashing a foot-wide pit into the hard floor. These few movements alone consumed nearly half of the stamina William had just recovered. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and looked at Phinia's axe with a mournful face; a palm-sized chunk had broken off the blade of the Frost Giant Axe.

Just then, Old Singers, who was rummaging through the Kobolds' ore stash, suddenly shouted excitedly while holding a piece of purple-black ore the size of a fist: "My heavens! By the supreme Moradin! Look at what this is! Torg! William! Look at what Old Singers has found! Haha! Adamantine!"