***
"...and so I confess I was tempted, my flesh weak, my heart drawn away, but You, in Your mercy, preserved me. Please forgive me for walking that thin line. Strengthen me by Your Holy Word, that I might stand firm the next time. Guard me from the devil, the world, and my own sinful flesh, as Martin Luther teaches in the Sixth Petition of the Lord's Prayer: 'Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil'. I pray."
My words were quiet, uttered barely as a whisper. I was kneeling before a small bonfire, my fingers interlocked before my face, as I confessed, repented, and recited all the prayers I could think of throughout the night.
This was a mindless task, and a hollow one to boot. To repent, one needs to regret one's actions. I certainly am sorry for nearly murdering those two on an intellectual level, because it would've turned out to be a mistake. An error that could have caused me physical harm.
But on an emotional one, I felt nothing.
And so I felt that my repentance was an empty gesture in the eyes of God. Or were they? Some days, I felt it in my bones. The pang of anger at the fact that I, unfortunately, could not talk to a priest, to someone who studied the bible in depth, and knew not only the holy book, but the discussions and arguments around it and its message.
However, I long since got used to the fact that no one knew the Word of the Lord as well as I did in this world. It's pointless to rage at reality.
The best I could do was to spend the entire night in prayer, submerging my mind completely into it. Thinking only within the bounds of what other words of worship I can present before the Lord.
"...Guard and preserve me, O Lord, that the devil, the world, and my own sinful flesh may not deceive me or lead me into shameful sin. Strengthen me to remember Your Word and to stand firm, like Christ did, and not give place to the tempter."
"Amen." I finally finished, opening my eyes.
For a moment, I just sat there, near the bonfire, my eyes aimlessly watching the grey sky.
The sun was already rising.
I felt nothing, beyond exhaustion. This, in a sense, was an improvement. I wasn't very conflicted about what happened in the marshes, not as much as I know I should be… no, it's not that.
Not as much as a human should be. My own regret was still a mark that I stood beyond most demons.
I felt a strange sense of revulsion, confusion, and anger after that encounter. Probably something to do with the reality as I knew it, conflicting with the experience.
I did not expect someone to show mercy to me after they knew what I am.
I was likely confused and angry at that fact. Revulsed by the illogical behavior I saw, perhaps.
"But does it change anything?" I wandered to myself, simply staring at the sky through the tree crowns above.
No, I do not think it does. Even with this confirmation, I won't try to fool humans into believing I am safe to be around. I am not, not as I am now. I won't try to integrate into their societies.
My state of mind is fragile; I know it better than anyone else. I do not wish to be disappointed in humanity, because that may lead me to question my goal of dedicating untold decades, or more likely centuries, to returning said humanity to myself.
If I start questioning my goal so early on, I may abandon it.
Then this shallow existence will be all I will have left.
There are billions of ways I can live this life pleasurably. Many more in which I can live in a way my new body will find fulfilling.
Two things stopped me from doing so: my mind, which still found all of them wrong and destructive, leading to nowhere…
…and my pride. Because I couldn't evaluate the life of a demon as anything but the life of a beast. A lowly, pointless life.
The irony is that I never strived for greatness when I was a human. But now, as a demon, I will stop at nothing to achieve it. In my own way.
It infuriated me that I almost killed those people. I can tell myself as much as I want that it was an instinct of a demon, because it was. However, it's still my body that moved into a position to attack. My mind drafted the outlines of the spell I almost let loose.
I felt afraid, so I almost resorted to lethal violence. This, fundamentally, was the issue.
No matter how impaired my emotional state was, the decision was still mine to make, and I decided to kill, no matter how briefly.
Why did I? I was afraid…
"I see,"
This wasn't a sudden realization; it's more that the exhausted state of my mind allowed me to glance at it from a different angle. I faced so many monsters since coming into this world. I felt fear, but it wasn't difficult to channel it into an aggression that was useful in a battle. That part was instinctive.
But that's what I've been doing all the time. I felt afraid, and I struck the best I could, my mind, body, instincts, and all in between working in tandem to come out on top in battle.
In battle, there was no conflict beyond a human and a demon. In battle, I was complete.
But outside of it, I didn't know how else to deal with such fear.
That meant that when I was confronted with a situation when I was truly afraid… I only knew of one way to deal with that emotion. Not consciously, but subconsciously.
I didn't attack because it was a judgment call.
"I almost struck first because I am a coward," I mused to myself, nodding.
This made sense. I could work with this. If the issue was that my subconscious mind was pushing me into dealing with fear with the only proven way it knew…
…I could try conditioning myself.
Demons lacked many emotions, but they had pattern recognition.
I smiled to myself, from the sidelines, it must have been a peaceful smile.
After all, it felt so elementary that I wondered how I missed it before. If the behavior of the beast was incorrect, you didn't reason with it. You simply trained the habit out of it.
***
Elsewhere,
"...We bow twice in greeting,
We call your name with twofold clap or ringing bell,
And once again, we bow in gratitude
Thus our faith finds its form, our hope its voice.
In the name of Creation's Source, we pray,
Praise Be!"
Hanseln and Gluck stood side by side near a small church, amongst a dozen or so other early risers, quietly repeating the sacred prayer.
The small ceremony was practically over, and most of the workers quickly broke down into chatter and went ahead towards their daily duties.
To most people, the morning prayer was a religious exercise, but so mundane and interwoven into the way of life, that a pair could hear the construction workers some distance away, already insulting and cussing each other in a friendly manner.
The prayer itself was pronounced routinely, and afterwards, people immediately went to their daily duties.
"Thank you for coming with me today," Hanseln said softly, holding his soon-to-be wife's hand.
"It's nothing," She said, but he could see her glancing aside, "Been a while for me, that's all."
Hanseln knew that Glu wasn't a religious woman. He can't truly blame her. Not when he knew what kind of life she had to live.
Born in a war-torn region, being practically raised in the bandit tribe, seeing this tribe exterminated by the local Lord's war company when she was only a teenager, and applying for the only work she knew how to do… and getting a spot in the mercenary company.
"I still appreciate it," He once again nudged her softly, with a small smile. Partially because he wanted to thank her for being considerate, yes, but also because his heart melted when he saw that woman break down in embarrassment so much from him just being sincere.
It was a guilty pleasure he would never acknowledge aloud.
"It's really nothing," She insisted cutely, as she rubbed her cheek, looking aside, as if she noticed something very interesting there, "It's the kind of things people do, right?" She said hesitantly, unsurely, but the question was not directed to him, Hanseln could tell, "Meet up here every day, say the words, and just… move on with their lives. Without ever really looking back…"
Hanseln traced where she looked, and he spotted a mother chiding a pair of guilty-looking boys, not older than ten.
"We never really talked about it before, but you got me curious," He spoke up after a moment, catching Glu's beautiful eyes when she glanced back at him. "Why don't you believe in The Goddess? Most people in our line of work do."
Gluck was a very expressive woman. He loved that about her. So he could see as her expression turned thoughtful, as she glanced aside.
"People believe what they want to believe, I guess," She said awkwardly, after a moment. She always had trouble talking about how she felt about things, and because of that, when she did, it felt earnest. Hanseln loved that too. "Those who risk their lives constantly want to believe that there is Heaven, right? A place where they can meet people again, and well… be sort of alive, I guess," He could tell she was out of steam, due to being embarrassed how she phrased things, so Hanseln, as always, simply squeezed her hand in assurance, tighter, giving her time and space to think. She squeezed his hand back, he knew it was a sign of appreciation, "But I just couldn't believe that there was someone so kind, powerful, and wise as The Goddess… and we are still surrounded by all… well…"
"I think I understand," He told her quietly, and when she glanced at him, as if afraid of judgment, she only saw his beaming smile, "The world isn't always a nice place to live in."
He remembered how they met. In a war-torn region of Central Lands, he, amongst some mercenary companies and other knights, was hired for one side, she for the other.
There was a battle. For a town of… huh, he couldn't even recall.
His side won the engagement this time. They took captives, she was amongst them, pinned to the ground by a fallen horse, exhausted and battered. That day Hanseln was fighting side by side with a less savoury mercenary band, a sign of desperation and cheapskating from his employer. Their idea of taking captives was to kill the men and… have their way with women. Which he only discovered by the time the fight was over, and the bastards went around slitting the throats of surrendered men.
This wasn't normal even for mercenaries. Usually, the company bought back the mercenaries in captivity; it was a good and humane way for one side to earn coin, and for the other to come back alive. This band of cutthroats, however, didn't. It was something personal between those two mercenary companies, from what Hanseln understood.
Hansel may have been a hired sword, too. Yes, his father, unable to give him anything but a good sword and armour, told him to go and earn glory and coin for himself when he was fifteen, an extra mouth was too much for him to feed… but he was raised properly, as a knight, and couldn't abide to cruelty of this sort.
He was the one who defended Gluck, claiming her instead of his share of the loot, and made sure she was safe and comfortable before they were rotated back to the nearest city. He was as gallant as he could be, too; his sensibilities didn't allow him to be cruel to a woman, even if she was technically an enemy captive at the time.
Somehow, they struck it off during one of those days, when she was technically his captive. Then, when one of the many confrontations with his cutthroat allies grew too heated over Gluck, he had to strike two men down and escape with her in tow.
Had to become a deserter.
It was one of the most confusing and scary days of his life. He was promised land for fighting in that war, and left it all behind.
Looking back, he would do it again in a heartbeat.
"Yeah, that," She said quietly, likely blushing again, as she averted her eyes, "I just couldn't believe in the Heaven priests preached."
She finished lamely, shaking her head.
But a small smile appeared on her lips, as Hanseln noticed her hand lying on her belly,
"But you know, maybe there is something to… well, to all that. I don't think I can believe in the beautiful world that was created for us by the Goddess of Creation, yet..." She looked up at him and beamed, and Hanseln felt his heart skipping a beat, "But I damn sure want to!"
Hanseln couldn't help it; he smiled back. Glu was infectious like this.
"This is my duty to help with that, I believe."
For a while, they simply stared into each other's eyes.
"To what, help maidens delude themselves?" She snickered.
"Maidens?" He questioned in response, lifting an eyebrow.
She blushed.
"M-maybe not anymore, but it's the thought that counts!"
He couldn't help it; he chuckled.
She did too, after a moment.
***
A month later,
I am working with outdated information - I realized.
There were a few tells that my destination wasn't what I expected it to be.
Sturmkamm was a particular mountain in a small mountain range on the northwestern side of Central Lands. More western than northern.
The mountain range may have been small, but it was remarkably treacherous. Whatever mines the more accessible part of the mountain range had were long exhausted, and some valleys of the mountain range were rumored to be unexplored. Specifically, the Sturmkamm Valley, which lay in the deepest part of the mountain range, was supposed to be quite spacious.
Why were such places unexplored, you may ask? They were monster-infested, of course, otherwise I wouldn't have considered this place a good place for a lair.
Now, the information I had was decades old, as was the small map of the area. However, when I was just approaching, I immediately noticed the… discrepancies.
First were the roads. Well-maintained, paved with stone and pretty wide, which for this world was still a sign of luxury. It meant someone hired a few mages and kept them on payroll to do this work. Of course, ordinary people could build roads too, but it simply wasn't as cost-effective.
Then there was the road itself. Since I stepped onto it and ventured into the mountains, I had yet to be attacked by any monster worth noting. And this road, while not on any of my maps, seemed to be leading deeper into the mountain range, exactly where I needed to go.
So, I traveled.
The road wound higher into the peaks, and with each turn, more subtle signs emerged that this wasn't the abandoned wilds I'd expected. Fresh gravel had been scattered over muddy patches - someone had been maintaining this route through the recent rains.
Stone markers appeared at regular intervals, their surfaces clean of the moss and weathering that should have claimed them after decades of neglect. The symbols carved into them were crisp, recently recut, marking distances in a script I recognized… and below them was a language I didn't know.
Some sort of odd rune-like script. Not enough text for my demonic language comprehension to get a grip just yet.
Where my old maps showed treacherous switchbacks through monster-haunted ravines, I found instead a series of well-engineered bridges spanning the deeper gorges. Their stonework was solid, modern, built to last, and to carry heavy loads. The approaches had been cut and reinforced, creating gentle grades where there should have been hazardous climbs.
Most telling of all were the trees. Rather than the wild, twisted growth I expected in an untouched valley, many showed signs of selective harvesting. Stumps dotted the slopes at regular intervals, their cuts clean and purposeful. New growth had been encouraged in organized patterns, creating natural windbreaks and clear sightlines along the road - this was clearly not the work of a few peasants who lived in some remote villages around here; this spoke of resources and time.
It took a day of travel, when I finally climbed another ascent… and beheld the valley.
It was clearly a Sturmkamm Valley. A large river split the valley, and it was completely surrounded by mountains. The tallest mountain around ominously loomed over it, the Sturmkamm itself.
The road immediately trailed south without heading into the valley, and I could see why. Chimneys were smoking there, and vaguely I could see an outline of the outer walls of some relatively grand settlement.
For a moment, I just stood there, feeling a distant anger.
How and why did the humans establish a civilization here in mere decades?!
***
The following are select diary entries.
…and so, I managed to create a functional fishing rod, though with some help. I am not sure if all the effort was worth on.
On that note, speaking of wasted efforts, today I visited the creatively named Sturmkamm town. Or Sturmkamm Mining Town, I suppose.
After observing it for the last week, I wrote that it didn't look nearly as big or developed as I feared. Turned out I wasn't incorrect in my assessment.
The town itself was relatively small, and it only started to establish the defences. I was told it still suffers occasional attacks from monsters, which is why it had a stationary force of adventurers on standby.
For the first time in my memory, I was thoughtfully searched. Apparently, a demon was spotted somewhere in this mountain range a few years ago. I was glad that I cut off my horns before I went to visit the town.
Now, the town's situation was pretty interesting. Apparently, this mountain valley was producing a lot of precious ore for the Old Empire. However, the mines did, indeed, run dry one day. Still, a sizable population of dwarfs kept living in the area.
Eventually, those dwarfs, a few decades back, accidentally discovered a big deposit of Silberherz. I am, admittedly, not very adept in metallurgy of this world, but it was described as a 'sort of silver, that helps conduct magic better'. I was unsure if it was an analogue of some metal from Earth, or some purely magically created formation.
Either way, I would search for some books on the subject; the topic seems interesting enough to explore.
Anyhow, I believe I got distracted. Dwarfs uncovered the metal and started to construct a mine. Built an initial mining town and made some mountain trails to sell what they mined. The news traveled, so the Lord of this region decided to invest some resources to build newer roads and defences, and expand the mine, which happened five or so years ago. Hence, what I observed on the way here and in the valley proper.
Today, the Sturmkamm town is still expanding slowly, and it's a mixed-race town of humans and dwarfs. Surprisingly, with less racial tensions than with the Veikin, as I was yet to notice any.
In any case, today I have to stay in the town. Not out of my own free will, but because there is apparently a festival today, and leaving the town is more complicated than I initially realized, mostly due to all the defenses people were setting up.
I am writing this in a tavern, though I am not planning to rent myself a room. I will leave early in the morning, and I can't afford to fall asleep with my horns cut, or I risk regrowing them partially.
As for the surrounding area, I investigated a little bit.
The valley itself was still mostly an untamed wilderness, and the neighboring valleys were even worse, as some of the monsters who were spooked by the strong presence of civilization decided to move there. In other words, while this place was not what I imagined and not ideal due to the near presence of humanity, I will still be able to do my research here, with some luck.
For privacy, I will probably have to build my lair far into the untamed territories. After Tiefholz, with all my experience, it shouldn't be too challenging to establish territory there, but I think it would still be a herculean task.
I am not overly concerned about the other demon spotted in the area years ago. From what I understand of my kind, we constantly travel, and it was unlikely that one was still around.
I will cut my thoughts short here, I have to leave the tavern now, it's getting a bit too noisy and crowded.
***
… leaving the tavern, while maneuvering between some intoxicated humans, I finally had my peace only ten or so meters away from the entrance to the eatery. A lot of cheering people seemed to gather around it; this was… getting on my nerves.
I allowed myself a deep inhale of air.
The gesture was rather pointless and didn't help much.
With my horns cut, I was in constant pain. It usually subsided to an annoying, but always noticeable buzz, but sometimes spiked to a truly agonizing extent. I had a bandage covering the top of my head, under my hair, so my own hair wouldn't tickle the exposed bone of the root of my horns, but the pain spikes occurred even when the stumps of the horns weren't stimulated in any way.
Some phantom sensation, probably.
In any case, while emoting due to pain was a matter of choice to a demon, it didn't mean I didn't feel the pain. Or that my tolerance and willpower allowed me to endure it freely. It always took me some time to wind myself up to cut my horns, and only the necessity of it made me do it time and time again.
Pain is a terrible sensation. I always wished to experience it as little as possible, which was why I only visited human settlements when absolutely necessary, as briefly as possible, so I could regenerate and go back to normal.
This occasion was warranted - I needed to know the goings in this region, but being stuck in the town for an entire night was too much.
I didn't notice how I wandered deeper and deeper into the town. Past the busy streets with happy families, past small carnival stalls, past the lanterns and small bonfires, seemingly ceremonially lit up in the streets.
I wandered deeper and deeper, approaching the looming mountain, and eventually I started to see storage areas and industrial distinct. There were still people there, so I went further in, approaching the closed mine.
I stopped, glancing around, and spotting a trail up the mountain. The whole mining town was walled off; however, the broad side of the Sturmkamm mountain served as one of the walls. I could see and smell an outpost up there; it probably overlooked an entire city.
I also saw a mountain trail upwards. After a brief moment of hesitation, I decided to climb it.
With some luck, I will manage to leave tonight after all, provided that atop this natural wall there was a decent trail down, into the valley, and outside of the city walls.
The ascent was steeper than I had initially anticipated, but my demonic constitution made the climb manageable despite the constant throb from my severed horns. Each step upward took me further from the noise and revelry below, and with it, brought some small measure of relief.
When I finally reached a suitable vantage point on the rocky outcropping, I paused and looked down.
The festival lights below created a harsh glare that made it difficult to discern much beyond the town's borders. The lanterns and bonfires formed bright pools of orange and yellow light, their intensity washing out the subtler details of the surrounding darkness. My eyes, sharp as they were, especially with some rudimentary enhancement unconsciously cast upon them, found the contrast jarring.
The town's layout was clearer from this angle. The older dwarven section near the mine entrance was distinguishable by its more compact, methodical arrangement; rectangular blocks of sturdy buildings with what appeared to be communal courtyards. The human districts sprawled more haphazardly toward the smaller branch of the local river, following less rigid patterns.
From this height, the people below were reduced to small moving shapes. I could observe their behavior without the annoyance of direct interaction. There was nothing better to do as I climbed, in any case.
Clusters of figures gathered around the larger bonfires, their movements suggesting dancing or some form of organized celebration. Other groups moved in more purposeful lines between what I assumed were food stalls and temporary structures erected for the festival.
The main thoroughfare was particularly active. A steady stream of people flowed back and forth along its length, occasionally bottlenecking at certain points, likely where popular attractions or vendors had been set up.
Children, identifiable by their smaller forms and more erratic movement patterns, darted between the adult figures. Some appeared to be carrying lanterns or other festival implements.
Near what appeared to be the town's central square, a larger gathering had formed. The people there moved in more synchronized patterns, possibly some form of group dancing or ceremonial activity. I wandered for a moment, wondering whether it was some traditional event or a spontaneous thing. Judging by the fact that I could vaguely hear music from around there, when I was walking through the town, probably a pre-planned event.
The guards were also visible from this vantage point. Their patrols followed the town's perimeter in regular intervals. Unlike normal city guards, those seemed more like militia, with some adventurers here and there mixed in. I would guess it's hunters and miners who were saddled with security duty tonight.
Eventually, I reached the end of the trail.
Up top, the natural 'fourth wall' of the Sturmkamm town was a relatively wide, relatively flat area. With some vegetation, but also quite a few rocks. There was also a small fortified structure up here, probably an outpost for the guards, that had a sizable bell. Likely an alarm.
I also noticed the fortification built atop the cliff; it seemed to be built to prevent landslides and avalanches. During the day, I spotted some similar defences built further up the mountain, constructed, likely, by mages, judging by the fact that they were made from blocks of stone without any visible support.
If the guards were present, they probably were holed up in their little outpost, judging by the laughter I could hear from there, and the light in the archer loopholes of the fortified, stout building.
I didn't spend much time admiring the scenery, and immediately, I went across the long platform trying to find any way down.
There was nothing. The cliff face was truly almost completely vertical; falling from this distance would kill me. And trying to climb it was legitimately dangerous for my life, one slip up, and even my demonic constitution may not be able to survive the fall. Not with the sharp rocks lining the ground below.
"A curious one, ain't ye?"
The voice behind me didn't make me jump or freeze; however, it caught me as I was walking across the edge, carefully looking down.
With one smooth movement, I turned around, raising my staff, ready to defend myself.
"Peace," I only saw the man when he spoke again, and raised a single hardy hand in a placating manner.
He was a dwarf. Hidden by some cloak that seemed to blend him with the surrounding rocks, I passed right by him.
Internally, I could feel irrational anger igniting for a brief moment. I couldn't sense him because my horns were cut, and my sensitivity was reduced to that of a common human mage.
Now that I focused my attention, I felt him. He was relatively powerful. But judging by that build, and this enchanted axe… no, not just enchanted, the metal was special too. In any case, he was clearly a warrior.
"Don't mean ye no harm. Just curious why a new face would be sniffin' around the high wall."
The dwarf was stocky and broad, with thick arms and a barrel chest. His beard was a deep reddish-brown, braided with small iron rings that clinked softly when he moved. His eyes were dark, almost black, and he watched me with steady attention. Nothing aggressive in his body language yet.
He wore the aforementioned heavy cloak. Beneath it, I could see leather armor reinforced with metal plates across the chest and shoulders. His boots were thick-soled and well-worn, designed for mountain terrain. A wide belt around his waist held various pouches and tools, though I couldn't make out their specific purposes in the dim light.
The axe in his hands was definitely crafted from Silberherz. The metal had that distinctive silver gleam I had seen from the products sold by merchants in town. The weapon was clearly made for someone of his height and build, with a handle proportioned for his shorter arms and a head heavy enough to make use of his natural strength.
His hands were scarred and weathered, in an almost unfamiliar way. I do not believe I've seen a man so scared in either of my lives.
He sat there, watching me. His spot was a good one, with a vantage point towards the city, and into the valley beyond its walls, too.
The fact that I didn't sense him magically or didn't see him was one thing, but I didn't smell or hear him either. For both, the reason was likely the wind, which was rather strong here.
"I was curious if any trails were leading down," I explained after a moment, lowering my staff. "This part of the wall looked the least defended, and a commotion like this ought to attract some monsters."
The dwarf grunted.
"Culled most of 'em a week before. No way to scale this cliff from outside the walls. Hired mages made sure of that. One of the reasons we built the mine here - easy to defend," He answered, studying me, "Don't believe I've seen ye around before."
I inclined my head in agreement.
"You wouldn't have," I responded, glancing down towards the town below, "I've only arrived today. I am Albert, a mage."
"Odd name," He said into his thick beard, "I'm Berg, a warrior."
I nodded at that.
This interaction was already annoying me. Not out of any personal issue I might have had with the dwarf, if anything, his explanation of why there were no trails down already made me more inclined to his presence. But the pain made me twitchy, and my temper short.
I knew I couldn't leave yet. I understood how social interactions were supposed to work, just saying I had to go or leaving without saying anything would make me look more suspicious. So I kept quiet for a moment, collecting my thoughts and mentally steeling myself.
To my surprise, the silence lasted a while. I was watching the town below, but even so, I could hear Berg moving in place a little, due to all the metal he wore.
"Ye an adventurer?" He asked, after a few minutes of silence.
"No," I denied simply, "Researcher. I study rare monsters."
The dwarf grunted again. Normally, I would be surprised how I could interpret it as both acknowledging and a bit approving, but not only was I not in an ideal state of mind, but I was also simply used to the social instinct of a demon.
"Plenty of those around these parts," He finally said slowly.
Once again, the silence lingered for a solid few minutes. I could hear him shift behind me again. Something clanked.
Suddenly, I heard the liquid being poured, and a strong stench of alcohol.
I turned around, seeing the dwarf filling up a… mug. With some alcoholic beverage. Apparently he was sitting on a small barrel.
If I were a human, my eyebrows would've likely disappeared behind my hairline, such was my confusion.
"Aren't you standing guard?" I asked, feeling some annoyance at the incompetence.
The dwarf blinked, glancing at me.
"'Course I am. This is just ale." He said, as if it explained everything, "As long as it's a barrel or two, it'll only warm me up."
I knew what beer smelled like to a demon. This smelled more like concentrated alcohol. Could probably kill a horse with a glass of this.
The dwarf interpreted my silence and long stare in his own way.
"If ye want a mug, I have a spare right here," He said, showing me the aforementioned metallic mug, tied to his belt with a few bags and smaller blades.
"This barrel is enchanted," I said, my eyes focusing on it.
He grunted… proudly.
"Aye, me aunt's work. Keeps the ale always cold." He nodded to himself, screwing back the tap, "Most amazin' magic I've ever seen."
The alarming part was that I couldn't tell if he was serious.
The dwarf interpreted my silence in his own way.
"Ye should've gone to the festival." The dwarf spoke conversationally, as he carefully placed the first mug down, and took out the other, "Hard to tell how ye folk age, but ye look pretty young to me. Fun like that… should be enjoyed in yer age."
The way he talked was gruff. He didn't seem to mean to sound unwelcoming or unfriendly, just not very used to long conversations.
"I don't like gatherings of people," I said slowly, a bit out of it, trying to interpret the dwarf's sudden decision to give me life advice. I assumed I was still under suspicion for climbing the cliff. "Too loud for me, too little space… it makes me twitchy."
The dwarf let out an understanding sound before offering me one of the mugs.
For a moment, anger flared up. I've seen him pour beer into the second one, but didn't connect the dots. Too distracted. Too out of it.
I forced myself to throw my anger aside a moment later, accepting the mug.
I didn't want to drink alcohol. It didn't affect me, and the taste did nothing for me. But I was a bit curious how dwarven beer tasted.
"May the flames of hearth and forges never waver!" The man presented what I think was a traditional toast, raising his own mug towards me.
After a second of hesitation…
Clink
"May the flames of hearth and forges never waver…" I repeated, and we both knocked back the mug of beer.
The first gulp hit like a chapter from 'Revelation'. This wasn't the watery, mass-produced swill that had dominated Earth's markets in my previous life. The dwarven brew was dense, almost chewy, with a complexity that unfolded across my palate in layers.
The initial taste was malty and rich, with a deep caramel sweetness that spoke of grains roasted to perfection. But beneath that foundation came something else entirely. A mineral undertone that I recognized immediately as coming from… mineral water! It added a crisp, clean finish that cut through the beer's natural heaviness without diminishing its character.
I took another long draught, letting the liquid coat my mouth properly. The carbonation was lower than what I remembered from Earth's commercial beers, but that only enhanced the texture. This beer had body. Substance. Each swallow carried weight and flavor that lingered pleasantly on the tongue.
The hops were present but balanced, providing just enough bitterness to prevent the malt from becoming cloying. Nothing like the aggressively hoppy IPAs that had been trendy before my death, nor the flavorless lagers that had dominated the mass market. This was beer as it was meant to be brewed. Nourishing, crafted with skill rather than engineered for maximum profit margins by soulless and godless corporate drones that only wished to desecrate anything and everything sacred in the Fatherland.
A third gulp confirmed my assessment. The alcohol content wasn't just higher than standard Earth beer, it was probably comparable to watered-down vodka. But somehow it was so well-integrated that the strength enhanced rather than overpowered the flavor. The burn it added while the beer went down was an outright amazing artistic touch. The finish was long and warming, with hints of honey and something that might have been wild herbs gathered from the mountain slopes.
This… dwarfs truly surpassed my expectations.
"It's amazing," I said honestly, looking into the empty mug. I couldn't feel the joy from drinking such an amazing beverage, but I could tell that on absolutely every level, it was a delight I would've loved, were I a human. "The best beer I've ever had."
"'Cause ye humans drink donkey piss and call it ale," Berg grumbled, but with some approval in his voice, as he cradled the mug in both hands, "Sometimes they let the donkey drink proper ale first, and that's how ye get what humans call good brews."
The sheer disdain in his voice made me immediately realize that trying to defend human breweries may earn me an enemy for life.
"I didn't see any farms around here," I said slowly, glancing at the dwarf, "Certainly nothing with barley."
Berg let out an afronted 'humph'.
"Many of us dwarves moved to Sturmkamm Mines from the villages scattered around. It's in our blood to get excited when a good, proper mine gets built. But many didn't. Most of the food ye'll eat in town comes from those villages."
I nodded. That made sense.
"And ye… hold up surprisingly well," Berg looked at me carefully, and nodded in tact to his words, seemingly pleasantly surprised, "Most of yer kin can hardly hold any proper ale."
"I think you've yet to meet any of my real kin, master dwarf," I said, allowing myself to shake my head, "I try not to drink, but tasting an entirely new type of ale… is unexpected." I mused honestly, looking down at the mug in my hands. "I was sure that the world had nothing so good to offer, and yet…" I carefully shake my head again, trying not to disturb my hood, mostly due to habit rather than necessity, "I must thank you again for this reminder."
Drinking alcohol was pointless to the current me. Eating good food was too, it was wasted on my palate. But collecting memories like this… wasn't pointless.
One day, I will be a human. One day I will be able to relive such moments, and truly savour them.
So my gratitude was genuine, or as genuine as a demon's gratitude could be. I couldn't feel appreciation, but I could feel a sense of accomplishment for doing something meaningful. However little, when I thought of it as something I would be able to savour in the future… it felt meaningful.
"Guess I can't fault ye there," He said after a moment, "Not very many of me kin left around the world. Most live in places ye humans normally don't go to."
From what little I knew of this world's dwarfs, they certainly lived up to a fantasy stereotype… up to a point. They preferred to live in the mountains, usually those were the lands where their ancestral clans lived for throughout entire generations.
But unlike the usual trope, there were no underground cities that anyone knew of. No Lonely Mountains or Morias. Mostly just villages with occasional mining towns.
"It will change in time," I said quietly, "Eventually humanity will spread far enough that there will be no more unexplored land left, and few mysteries to speak of."
The dwarf chuckled, shaking his head.
"Don't think I'll live long enough to see that day," He said, sounding honestly amused, "Such a thing isn't possible while Demon King lives to begin with."
"Demon King will be slain one day," I said, no trace of doubt in my voice. "It's a matter of time."
Berg didn't answer for a while.
"Aye. 'Suppose everything is."
I nodded to that.
We spent the entire night on top of the cliff that served as the wall of the mining town.
Looking over the celebrations below, right up until the sunrise.
We talked about merriads of little things. It was challenging for me sometimes, but I was acquiring enough useful information about the area and the town for it not to be unbearable.
Berg's tolerance of long silences that seemingly were comfortable to him, as much as they helped me take my time to focus myself for another round of conversation, helped tremendously too.
When I was leaving the following morning, surprisingly, I wasn't in bad spirits at all.
…
Once again, I missed a few days of writing while establishing a base of operation. Unfortunate, but much like in Tiefholz, understandable.
The local maps proved their worth. The dwarves' generations of mountain dwelling have created a cartographic legacy that was certainly invaluable to me. Where the ancient documents I could recall with Resonant Soul only showed vague terrain markers, their detailed charts revealed every significant landmark in this range. Not comprehensive, naturally - no map could capture every hidden cave or monster den - but for major features like entire valleys, their knowledge was quite comprehensive.
Dornpass Valley lives up to its name in the most literal and fascinating way possible.
The approach itself should have warned me. Unlike the maintained roads leading to Sturmkamm town, the path here quickly deteriorated into little more than animal tracks winding between increasingly hostile vegetation. The very air seemed thicker as I descended, heavy with an almost sweet scent that alarmed me. Which, considering my demonic senses, was a big warning sign.
What initially appeared to be a simple thorn-choked valley seemed to be a complex ecosystem built around mutual hostility and adaptation. The thorny vines that give this place its name are indeed prominent - massive, carnivorous growths extending from ancient trees, their serpentine tendrils guarding every water source with predatory intelligence. But they are only one factor.
The monsters - mutated animals that is, not true monsters with a core - have adapted remarkably to their thorny environment. I observed several species of armored quadrupeds, their thick hides scarred but functional, that seem to have some sort of symbiotic relationship with the vines. They move through established corridors, careful not to trigger the plants' hunting responses, while the vines allow them passage in exchange for... something. Perhaps they serve as mobile pest control, clearing smaller creatures that might damage the root systems.
Will investigate further.
More intriguingly, I witnessed aerial predators with crystalline wings that slice through vine clusters with surgical precision. These creatures appear to harvest specific parts of the thorny plants, not for sustenance, at least I never saw them devour what they stole, but to use the toxic secretions as a coating for their claws. Their nests, perched high in the few vine-free trees and cliffsides, glisten with collected thorn fragments.
The proper monsters present an entirely different dynamic. I witnessed a few, but most of them seemed more interested in destroying the vine-infested trees around them to establish their territories.
Water procurement, as I suspected, remains the central challenge governing all life here. The few truly safe sources appear to be high-altitude springs where the thorny trees cannot establish root systems. These locations have become neutral ground of sorts, though heavily contested.
Most fascinating is the apparent hierarchy that has emerged. The largest monster I've observed - a towering assemblage of floating stone segments wreathed in crackling energy - seems to hold dominion over the valley's central region. Even the most aggressive biological predators give this entity a wide berth, and the thorny vines themselves recoil from its presence. I could feel its mana, and that monster seemed stronger than I.
Though I may still win in a battle. Especially seeing how dormant it appeared to be, I could probably prepare a battleground before engagement.
For all its complexity and danger, Dornpass Valley offers exactly the isolation I require. The layered threats ensure that casual exploration is impossible, and even experienced adventurers would need extensive preparation to survive more than a few hours here.
In the last few days, I was in the process of carving a piece of the vine-infested lands for myself. Covered in vines or not, this was still a forest, so creating a secluded territory here was a matter of experience, which I had plenty of.
If the surrounding valleys are as fascinating as this one, or as full of monsters, then my expedition here was a fruitful affair after all.
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Announcement: I suppose I should start this with a small announcement: I ran out of chapters to post daily. From here on out, things are going to be slower.
I do have a Patreon with a single advanced chapter (15k words in length) if you are curious. With some luck, I'll write the next chapter within a week and post this 15k chapter here too.
If you want to check it out, it's: patreon (.) com/wiererid/
I will be posting some reference art there, and other supplementary material for everyone to enjoy.
Through Patreon you can also find other platforms where I post, and read some of my other works if you want!
Don't feel obligated, while I do need money right now, me making a Patreon is a sign of desperation, not intent to monetize myself while keeping hundreds of chapters behind the paywall. I am a hobby writer first and foremost; I am not here to milk you for all you are worth.
Author's Note: This chapter is mostly a setup for the next small adventure. Just like Frieren manga had small arcs around the places they traveled, I aim for a similar feel. Tell me what you think. The Gluck and Hanseln scene is here because people asked, and I felt like it's a nice little ambiguous happy end for them. Will those two show up again, or influence the future in any way? Who knows! :)