LootGoblin smiled awkwardly.
"Uh-haha, that thing looks so new—has it really been used for over sixty years?"
"Of course, it's because I maintained it… Wait, how do you know what it looks like?"
Facing the dwarf's skeptical gaze, LootGoblin didn't blink, nor did his heart skip a beat.
"I guessed. I once visited the goblins' warehouse and saw a hammer that matched your description."
Then, before the other party could ask more questions, he shifted the topic first. "By the way, stop being so vague! What exactly happened back then? How did you suddenly see the light and leave that Warhammer Church?"
"It's the Melting Hammer Church!"
Hawkes rolled his eyes at him in exasperation.
"That's a sacred ground all dwarves dream of reaching. You, young one, have no manners!"
"Tch, you got kicked out, and you're still speaking up for them?" LootGoblin curled its lips disdainfully. "Besides, I'm not interested in it. How can it represent all dwarves?"
Hawkes stared at him for a long moment before sighing and calming down.
"Sigh..."
Always being annoyed by this guy seemed to have tempered his temper considerably. He gazed at the firelight flickering in the hallway and fell back into his memories...
"Pfft!" After listening, LootGoblin spat out half a mouthful of water.
Coughing a few times, he shoved the cup into his game inventory and looked up in shock.
"Wait, so they suspended you from the church just because you wanted to study steam?"
"Steam? Steam..." Hawkes repeated the word silently a few times, eyes lighting up in appreciation. "What a vivid term!"
He rose from the haystack and walked to the extinguished campfire.
Buzz!
A flicker of flame reignited the firewood.
Looking at the flame radiating warmth and light, a smile tugged at Hawkes' lips.
"You're completely clueless. I have no idea how you've survived this long. Fire and forging are the most precious gifts our Father bestowed upon us. They're the very foundation of dwarven survival."
"The power of steam belongs to the Goddess of Water. If it succeeds, it would shake the very foundation of the dwarves!"
When he decided to use steam machinery as the key to becoming a legendary forger, he knew he was destined to stand against his entire race. Thinking of this, a sense of desolation filled his heart.
No warmth from the campfire could reach him.
Plop!
Two potatoes rolled into the fire. The flames flickered momentarily before returning to normal.
LootGoblin crouched down beside Hawkes.
"I thought it was something big. Aren't dwarves natural craftsmen? Do you mean you only made fire-based magical devices before?"
Hawkes' expression grew even gloomier.
"That's what I thought at first, too. But the more I studied it, the more I felt the extraordinary power of steam. It's a force even ordinary people without a trace of magic can wield!"
"It's the lingering might left behind by a fallen god! If dwarves are the ones to develop it, what will happen when the Goddess of Water, Eileen Alves, awakens? How will we face her then?"
At that point, their entire race would likely become irrevocably tied to her! And how could they face Bern, their creator?
LootGoblin's entire face scrunched up.
"Isn't that a bit much?"
Why did the conversation suddenly get so philosophical?
Hawkes sighed heavily.
"The Melting Hammer Church realized the uniqueness of steam long ago. Hundreds of years ago, a predecessor even took the first step..."
"And then?" LootGoblin pressed on.
"And then… Of course, he failed miserably!"
Hawkes poked the potatoes out of the fire with a stick and chewed them dryly. Talking about dwarves' dark history made his tone even more sour.
"If I hadn't also discovered the wonders of steam and begun studying it... In my eyes, that guy was just a traitor to Father—cowardly, talentless, and utterly without principles!"
He let out two grunts from his chest.
"I don't even know what he was so stubborn about back then. The truth is so easy to explain..."
"Sounds like you had quite a high opinion of him, huh?"
"How could I!" Hawkes jumped up in protest, his reaction extreme. "I only had a shred of pity left for a foolish clansman!"
"Sure, sure," LootGoblin replied dismissively.
He glanced at the game interface, noting the extra 10 experience points it had awarded. He generously tolerated the "walking experience farm" before him.
"Go on. Oh, and by the way, eating raw potatoes might upset your stomach."
"I know what I'm doing!"
Feeling he had explained things perfectly, Hawkes sat back down, took a roasted potato from LootGoblin, and resumed eating.
"Before that guy was expelled from the church, he did make a lot of very practical steam devices..."
"Well, that's a good thing, right?"
"And it caused a massive war spanning seven major nations, four races, and one-third of the continent of Aeltia. Do you still think it was a good thing"
"..."
"In the end, all seven nations were wiped out in the last continental magic tide that occurs every three centuries."
"… And all he got was expulsion?"
"It was supposed to be the death penalty, but he used his own machinery to escape."
"Oh," LootGoblin said, immediately cutting through the pretense. "So, you couldn't beat him and just claimed it was expulsion, huh?"
"You brat!" Hawkes raised his hand as if to strike but stopped halfway, letting it drop. He gazed into the void, his expression melancholic.
"All this is recorded in the restricted section of the Melting Hammer Church's library. Later, all the machinery he made was lost during the magical tide, and those who knew the truth took it to their graves. No one knows about steam machinery anymore..."
"But the church has never forgotten its lesson. The upper echelons tightened control over books, even those unrelated to steam, stifling us dwarves' progress!"
He clenched his fists, his expression grave.
"I admit this machinery has flaws, but it shouldn't be dismissed outright! With monsters growing ever bolder, we dwarves are stagnating, retreating to migrate away from them... If we want to change things, we must break the old to build anew!"
He took a bite of the potato, his voice muffled.
"I don't know if the path I've chosen is right or wrong. I'll probably never see the end of it or the results... But someone has to walk this path!"
In the space around them, only the crackling of the firewood could be heard. LootGoblin stared at the emotions in Hawkes' eyes, stunned for a long time. Had NPCs in games evolved their emotions this far?
He extended his hand.
"You'll succeed, Master Hawkes!"
This was the confidence of someone from the future. He eagerly awaited the day Hawkes would find his way and bring an industrial revolution to the magical world.
"Thank you." Hawkes laughed heartily and extended his right hand in turn. "But don't act like I'm making some grand sacrifice. A forger's dream is to create the perfect magical device. A lifetime spent in pursuit of knowledge is only natural."
And the pursuit of knowledge is a lifelong pilgrimage in itself.
After chatting for a while, the atmosphere between the two became much more amicable than it had been in previous days.
"Hahaha, talking too much about the future is meaningless," Hawkes said, resting his hand on his knee and speaking in an unusually relaxed tone. "For an old man who's fallen into the hands of goblins, it's uncertain whether I even have a future…"
His wisdom was enough to secure him a private cell in the dungeon and to deduce the origin of the LootGoblin. But it wasn't enough to escape the goblin nest or the Great Oak Forest.
LootGoblin frowned disapprovingly. "Who says you have no future? My organization plans to act tomorrow. By then, you'll be our prisoner! If you're going to build a steam engine, you'll definitely get along well with my friend!"
After midnight, the players would begin to take action anyway. Telling a prisoner in advance wouldn't change anything significant.
Hawkes turned his head, glaring at LootGoblin. "Hey, I've been talking for ages, and you haven't gained any insight?"
"Insight?" LootGoblin replied confidently while staring at his increasing extra experience points. "Oh, I've gained plenty!"
He had insight that, once he returned to Honeyvale Town, he'd have a third skill unlocked and could start his job transition. The thought brought a smile to his face. But the more he smiled foolishly, the more pained Hawkes became.
"You! You wouldn't even know if you were being sold out!" Hawkes lamented, earnestly trying to persuade him.
"I've spent my entire life in the Melting Hammer Church and barely scratched its essence. Can you be so sure that the people behind you, the organization you believe in, are truly what you think they are?"
LootGoblin suddenly understood. "Oh—I get why you're telling me all these stories now."
It turned out Hawkes was projecting his own experiences, assuming he had also been betrayed.
"Don't worry. I joined my organization willingly, and they have no plans to harm me," he reassured.
But Hawkes didn't buy it. What could a naive dwarf, brainwashed since childhood, possibly understand?
"If they cared about your life, they wouldn't have sent a young mage into a goblin nest!" Hawkes retorted.
"Uh…" LootGoblin hesitated.
Hawkes' expression grew more serious. "Tell me, what's the plan for tomorrow's operation? What's your role?"
LootGoblin thought about it. Truthfully, he was eager to share. Such a thrilling, drawn-out undercover mission—he'd been holding it in for so long without anyone to talk to!
So he spilled the beans without hesitation.
"We're waiting for the monster the goblins worship to show up for their feast. I'll coordinate from the inside to take it down!"
"M-monster…?!" Hawkes nearly choked on a potato.
As soon as he recovered, he grabbed LootGoblin's wrist, his eyes full of disbelief. "You're planning to destroy the monster as well?!"
Hawkes had assumed the organization was acting just before the sacrificial ritual to avoid letting the goblins grow stronger and to loot the nest. But now he realized their ambition was much greater—they were targeting the monster behind the goblins!
When LootGoblin confirmed this, Hawkes pressed further.
"Why kill the monster? Do you want its corpse? The land it occupies? Are you followers of Kalil, reclaiming the ruins? And why are you attending the ritual? Do you even know what that entails?"
LootGoblin froze, unsure which question to answer first. Hawkes, however, had already drawn his own conclusion.
He looked at LootGoblin with a mix of pity and shared suffering.
"Kid, you've been abandoned."
A sacrificial ritual wasn't just any ceremony. Monsters were remnants of gods, transformed by their divinity. But that didn't mean the gods behind them were truly gone. Participating in a god's sacrificial ritual without being a believer? That was blasphemy of the highest order!
It would result in a curse that haunted the offender until their death—typically within a month, through any number of causes.
LootGoblin frowned, deep in thought. "No wonder I've been allowed to explore more places after participating in the ritual…"
Even the lack of urgency about curing the rash disease seemed suspicious now. He'd thought it was because he'd been promoted. But no—it was a sign his trustworthiness had increased!
Hawkes looked at him gravely. "I've heard of the god they worship. Their domain is fear. If you're cursed by them, your death won't be pleasant!"
He shook his head, sighing at the unfortunate fate of this naive youngster. From the beginning, the mysterious organization had no intention of letting LootGoblin return alive.
LootGoblin scratched his chin. "But Viktor said the God of Fear doesn't exist. The ritual is just a facade, and there's no such thing as a divine curse."
Viktor had reassured him not to worry about the ritual's success or consequences. Surely a faction leader in the game knew what he was talking about, right?
"Doesn't exist?" Hawkes' eyebrows furrowed into a line.
"Thirteen ancient gods, countless new ones, each with unique personalities and timelines. Who can guarantee a god's nonexistence? A reclusive god from the Age of Deities might simply be unknown!"
But LootGoblin remained unconvinced, showing no signs of doubt.
"Viktor said no one understands gods better than he does!" With that, he began to mimic Viktor's deep, gruff voice while pulling out his accordion.
---
Meanwhile, far away in Honeyvale Town, where Viktor was inspecting the warehouse and making final arrangements, he sneezed.
"Achoo!"
"Wow, skeletons can catch colds?" his companion, ProGamer_Daddy, asked curiously.
"No, someone's badmouthing me," Viktor muttered, touching the runes on his ribcage. The defensive runes he'd carved had started to activate as his injuries healed.
But at this moment, who could be spreading rumors about him?
At the door, the rumble of wheels heralded a large contraption. he immediately put the thought aside to inspect the arrival.
Probably just Luminaris pinning something on him again. He'd deal with him later.
---
Back in the goblin dungeon, Hawkes snorted. "That guy sure has a big mouth. A non-believer daring to discuss gods… How could anyone claim to understand all of them?"
Then he paused, a thought striking him. "Wait. What's your organization called?"
"The Watchers," LootGoblin replied.
Clatter!
The potato in Hawkes' hand rolled into the fire, its creamy interior smudged with soot. A buzzing sound filled his ears as his voice trembled.
"Th-that Viktor you mentioned… Is he an undead?"
"Wow, even you know him?" LootGoblin looked curious. "He really must be famous! Does he have another name?"
Viktor!
Hawkes nearly fainted on the spot. Trembling, he leaned back, hitting the wall with a thud as he slumped down, clutching his head in despair. He'd thought the naive boy was part of some obscure, harmless organization…
But no—how unlucky could he be? Captured by goblins, only to cross paths with the Butcher of Flesh and Blood himself?!