“There’s no doubt…” the man murmured, voice rough with emotion. “To think you’ve survived this long… truly, I’m grateful.”
He dropped to one knee, his stern demeanor cracking under the weight of relief. Then, standing swiftly, he straightened his shoulders with purpose. “I’ll take you to our hideout. My master is waiting.”
As he turned, ready to lead Mimi away, Rugen held out a hand to stop him.
“Wait. It’s not just Mimi and me who need to go,” Rugen said firmly. “These people should come with us as well.”
The scarred dwarf turned his sharp gaze on the group, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “So, these are the humans and goblins you mentioned. You’re sure they can be trusted?”
“They’re the ones who brought Mimi here safely,” Rugen replied without hesitation. “They’ve proven themselves.”
Even so, the dwarf’s expression remained hard. His eyes lingered on Belamus with open distrust.
Sensing the tension, Belamus stepped forward and spoke with calm dignity. “My name is Belamus. I’m the governor of Beresdral.”
Delarosa and the others followed suit, each offering their name in the dwarven tongue, just enough to show they had made an effort, to show respect.
“Hmph. Speaking our language to play nice?” the dwarf scoffed, folding his arms. “Rugen might trust you, but I’m not so easily won over. What would a human or a goblin gain from helping a dwarf? You expect me to believe there’s no hidden motive?”
“If you doubt me,” Belamus said, his voice steady, “then I’ll tell you everything.”
He took a step forward, meeting the dwarf’s gaze directly.
“First, I made a promise to Kuusha, Mimi’s guardian, on her deathbed. I’m not the sort of person who can turn his back on the final wish of the dying. Second, I’ve grown close to Mimi. It’s only natural to want to protect someone you care about. And finally… I want to establish trade between Beresdral and the Kingdom of Crystia. If her death would bring disaster to your people, then helping her is the only way to preserve that future hope.”
The room fell silent. Belamus stood his ground, his eyes locked on the dwarf’s, unyielding, unflinching. For a long few seconds, the two stared at each other, wills clashing in silence. Then, finally, the dwarf looked away.
“Doesn’t seem like you’re lying,” he muttered. “Hmph. I suppose even humans can surprise me sometimes.”
It was a grudging acceptance, but it was acceptance nonetheless.
“My name is Gregald,” he said at last, voice steadier now. “I’m a field agent in Gagagamoor. My job is to gather intel on the inner workings of the Crystia Kingdom.”
Belamus nodded slightly. That he gave his name and rank meant he had accepted them fully.
“I might be willing to trust you,” Gregald said gruffly, “but letting you come along is a different matter. Hard to judge human age, but if you’re shorter than me, you’ve got to be a kid, right? You expect me to believe someone your size is actually strong?”
“Belamus is strong!” Mimi said quickly, stepping forward with a spark of defiance in her voice.
Gregald glanced at her but didn’t look convinced.
“Well, he’s clearly not weak, I’ll admit that,” he said coolly. “He got Lady Mimi here in one piece, after all. But going up against palace assassins is something else entirely. If he can’t fight at that level, bringing him along will only slow us down.”
“So, I just need to prove I’m strong enough,” Belamus said calmly. “Fine. Let’s take it outside.”
The group moved out of the lab and into the open air, the tension thickening with every step.
“Let’s start with defense,” Belamus suggested, turning to face Gregald. “Attack me however you like.”
Without waiting for a response, he raised one hand and conjured his magical barrier. It shimmered into place around him; though invisible to the eye, it was solid as iron.
“What did you just do?” Gregald muttered, narrowing his eyes. Reaching for his belt, he pulled out a knife. He still had a gun holstered, but he clearly thought better of using it. This was just a demonstration, after all. Gripping the blade tightly, Gregald lunged forward, slashing at Belamus with swift, practiced precision.
The knife halted in mid-air, just centimeters from Belamus’s body, as if stopped by an unseen wall.
“What the hell?” Gregald muttered, eyes narrowing as he stared at the invisible force that had stopped his blade cold, his grip tightening in disbelief.
“That would be a magic barrier,” Belamus said calmly. “You won’t be cutting through it with a knife. Especially not if you’re holding back.”
Gregald stiffened. He hadn’t expected to be read so easily, but Belamus had caught it instantly. The dwarf hadn’t truly gone in for a kill; he’d held back, just enough to avoid causing real harm. Belamus saw right through him.
This time, Gregald didn’t hold back. He lunged forward with real intent, his blade slicing through the air in a swift, deadly arc. But even then, despite the full weight behind the swing, the knife met the same invisible wall and stopped dead, unable to breach the barrier. It didn’t even ripple.
“Next is offense—” Belamus began, but Gregald raised a hand, cutting him off.
“No. That’s enough,” he said with a grunt, stepping back. “I can see it now. Your control over magic is advanced, far beyond average. If your barrier’s that solid, then your offensive spells must be just as dangerous.”
There was no bitterness in his voice, only the blunt, straightforward acknowledgment of a warrior recognizing another’s strength.
One by one, the others stepped up. Delarosa and Medello each demonstrated their command over magic, launching elemental spells that burst with controlled precision. Navasha and Liza followed, showing off their blade skills: quick, fluid movements that revealed clear training and discipline.
Gregald observed them all with the sharp eye of a veteran. And slowly, his scowl shifted into something closer to awe.
“To think such capable fighters would come out of a place like Beresdral,” he murmured, half to himself. “That town might be more dangerous than I realized…”
“There’s no need to worry,” Belamus said with a small smile. “We don’t seek conflict with anyone. So long as we’re not provoked, you’ll never have to fear us.”
“Good,” Gregald replied under his breath, the tension easing from his shoulders.
“All right then. Let’s move. Follow me,” Gregald said, his voice firm but no longer guarded, as he turned on his heel with the steady confidence of a soldier leading comrades, not strangers.
The group fell in behind him, setting out toward the hidden dwarven stronghold.