While Rugen was away, Belamus found himself in the scholar’s vast underground laboratory with time to kill. With no tasks assigned and nothing urgent at hand, he drifted toward the bookshelves that dominated an entire wall. The sheer number of volumes was staggering, but not surprising—Rugen had long dedicated himself to researching dwarven history. Most of the books were dense tomes filled with notes, diagrams, and historical records tracing the rise of the subterranean people.
Curiosity piqued, Belamus decided to delve into the dwarves’ origins. In his previous life, the race hadn’t even existed—or if they had, he’d never encountered them. Where did they come from? Why do they speak the halfling tongue? These questions had gnawed at the back of his mind since the first time he’d met one. If he was going to navigate this world intelligently, he needed answers.
Fortunately, one of the books offered exactly what he sought: a history of dwarven origins. According to its accounts, the dwarves had once lived quietly within the halfling kingdom, a modest and reclusive offshoot of the halfling race. The halflings themselves had viewed them as a kind of subspecies—different, yet familiar. Likewise, the dwarves had recognized their kinship but maintained a sense of separation. From the very beginning, they’d spoken the halfling language, a tradition that persisted through the ages.
Their small numbers and subterranean lifestyle had kept them hidden from all but the most observant halflings, and entirely unknown to the human world. It wasn’t until centuries later, after the halfling kingdom had collapsed, that the dwarves began to flourish. Sheltered in the underground remnants of that lost civilization, they entered an era of rapid expansion.
The text described a time when dwarven society was fragmented, divided into powerful clans. Among them, the Crystia Clan rose to dominance, unifying the others through war and diplomacy. From that unification, the Kingdom of Crystia was born, and with it came a new era of prosperity. Since then, the dwarves had steadily expanded and refined their civilization deep beneath the surface, safe from the chaos above.
So they were born from the ashes of the halfling kingdom… That explains the language. Belamus closed the book, his thoughts drifting. But the halflings themselves—are they truly gone?
He’d only ever visited their lands once, long ago, but Belamus still remembered their charm. The buildings were small, certainly, but their design had been exquisite, delicate architecture crafted with such care that it left a lasting impression. Now that he knew the kingdom no longer existed, a quiet melancholy settled over him. What a loss… he thought. It really was a beautiful place.
“Hey, hey, Belamus! This is amazing!” Delarosa’s shrill voice cut through his thoughts just as he reached for another book. She came bounding over, waving something in her hands with the giddy energy of a child showing off a treasure.
What she held was a long rod with a tip shaped like a pair of shears.
“What is that?” Belamus asked, raising an eyebrow. He had never seen anything quite like it. As he examined it more closely, the “shears” suddenly opened and snapped shut on their own.
“Cool, right? You can make it open and close just by squeezing it!” Delarosa chirped, gleefully demonstrating the mechanism.
It seemed to be a tool designed to grab objects from a distance. Likely dwarven-made.
To a magic user like Belamus, it wasn’t exactly groundbreaking; after all, spells could easily retrieve distant objects, and even without magic, a stool or levitation spell could solve the problem just as well. Still, the simplicity of the mechanism intrigued him.
“This is dwarven craftsmanship, right? Where’d you find it?” Belamus asked, tilting his head with a mix of curiosity and measured skepticism, eyes still fixed on the tool in Delarosa’s hands.
“While you were reading,” Delarosa said proudly, puffing out her chest. “We were exploring a bit. Found it in a room way in the back!”
Apparently, she’d helped herself. Then again, Rugen had told them they were free to use anything inside the lab, so it likely wasn't an issue.
“Wait till you see this!” Now Navasha appeared, lugging something much larger. At first glance, Belamus thought it was a heavy cavalry lance. But as it caught the light, he realized it was something else entirely: a massive, spiral-shaped contraption that resembled a seashell.
Another artifact, the purpose of which was completely unclear.
“Watch this,” Navasha said with a grin, her fingers fumbling around the device. After a moment, she pressed a small switch with a faint click. The moment she did, the device roared to life. In an instant, it began to spin. Fast. Unnervingly fast.
“Hah! Told you it was awesome!” Navasha shouted over the whirring noise, beaming like a child showing off a firework.
“Th-That’s insane!” Delarosa gasped, eyes wide with sparkling admiration.
“This is…” Belamus trailed off; even he was momentarily taken aback.
He stepped closer, watching the spiral shell blur into motion. At that velocity, it looked powerful enough to bore through solid iron. Could it really pierce metal? he wondered. He had no idea how it worked. There were no visible magic circuits, no magical power core. If he had to guess, though, he thought it was probably a mining tool. Maybe even the very thing used to excavate the corridors they were now walking through.
Whatever its purpose, one thing was clear: it wasn’t a toy.
“This is impressive, no doubt,” Belamus said, voice firm now as he stepped in front of the device, “but it’s dangerous. Shut it down. Now.”
“Okay, okay, I got it!” Navasha replied, fumbling at the base of the device again. “To stop it, you just—here!” She pressed the switch again, and the spiraling motion slowed before grinding to a halt.
Belamus gave a small nod of approval, then folded his arms. “Where did you find that?”
“In that back room,” she said casually. “Mimi showed me how it works.”
“You mean… even though you don’t speak the same language?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah! First, she just used it herself, then she started showing me with hand motions and stuff. I kinda figured it out from there!” Navasha explained brightly, her hands mimicking the motions as she spoke, clearly proud of her interpretive skills.
Belamus gave her a long look. You figured out how to use a potentially lethal dwarven mining tool through hand gestures? It sounded ridiculous, but then again, the device’s operation didn’t seem overly complex. Maybe it was that simple.
“There’s a bunch more dwarven tools back there, too,” Delarosa chimed in, tugging at his sleeve. “You should come see them!”
“Hmm,” Belamus murmured, his gaze drifting toward the hallway as the hum of curiosity stirred beneath his calm exterior. He glanced at the books he had yet to read, then back at the now-silent device. As fascinating as the written word was, the opportunity to study authentic dwarven engineering up close was far more enticing.
“I’ll take a look,” he said, setting the book aside.
Delarosa and Navasha grinned and motioned for him to follow. They led him deeper into the laboratory, down a long stone corridor that opened into a wide chamber beyond.
Inside was a treasure trove of dwarven ingenuity: tools, gadgets, and devices of all shapes and sizes, arranged in careful rows. The room felt like a hidden workshop, and Belamus’s eyes lit up with curiosity as he stepped into the heart of it.
“Oh, Belamus. Done with your reading already?” Liza looked up from a nearby workbench, her voice warm and casual as she noticed him approaching.
“Yeah. Those two brought over some dwarven tools that caught my interest,” Belamus replied, glancing toward the corridor.
“Ah, I see,” she said with a nod. “There are some pretty rare tools stored here, actually.”
“I’d like to see them,” he said thoughtfully. “But before that… earlier, I saw a spinning spear. Do you know how it works?”
“Oh, the drill?” Liza tilted her head, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “Well, I know how to use it, but not really how it functions. I heard a special kind of stone powered it, called ‘Regronite’ or something like that. Supposedly, it holds a ton of energy. But if you want specifics, you’d have to ask an engineer.”
Regronite. Belamus frowned. The name didn’t ring any bells.
Even if he did ask a dwarven engineer, he wasn’t confident they’d be able to explain it in terms he could easily grasp. The dwarves’ scientific understanding seemed fundamentally different from what he’d known in his previous life. If he wanted to understand their technology, he’d have to start from the ground up.
“Wait a second. Could this be…”
Liza’s voice drifted over from the side of the room. She was staring intently at a narrow, iron tube, some sort of device constructed from dull, forged steel. Belamus had no idea what it was. But judging from her expression, Liza seemed to recognize it.
“Ah, w-wait! Don’t touch that!” Mimi cried out. She rushed forward, waving her hands frantically. Even without words, her urgency was clear. Realizing she’d stumbled on something dangerous, Liza quickly released her grip and stepped back.
“What is it?” Belamus asked, eyeing the object with new caution.
“That’s a gun,” Mimi said gravely. “It’s a deadly weapon. Mishandle it, and someone could easily die.”
“I see… so that’s a gun,” Belamus murmured, his gaze lingering on the weapon with quiet fascination, as if committing every detail to memory.
Belamus had heard of such weapons from Mimi before, though she’d never described their appearance. The design was different from what he’d imagined: more primitive, perhaps, or simply unlike anything from his previous world.
“So then, is it safe to assume dwarven assassins might be armed with those?” Belamus asked calmly, his voice low and measured, as if already running tactical scenarios through his mind.
“Maybe,” Mimi replied with a thoughtful frown. “Guns are powerful, sure, but they’re kind of unstable. Their accuracy isn’t great, and reloading them is slow and clunky. A lot of people still prefer other weapons. Take Kuusha, for example. She was much better with a sword. Never used a gun at all.”
So, guns were dangerous, yes, but they weren’t the definitive weapon of the age. Just another tool in a growing arsenal.
“But even so, it’s still a powerful weapon,” Mimi said softly, her tone edged with concern. “I wouldn’t be surprised if some assassins do choose to use it.”
“I see,” Belamus replied, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “It would be easier to prepare for it if I could see how it’s used. Would you try it out for me?”
“M-Me?” she echoed, blinking in surprise.