-------------- Carla's Point of View ----------------
["Heh… haha… HAHAHAHAHA, kid, even though you seemed like the most sensible one, tell me, do you think that toy of yours has any value here?"]
[[Hehehe]]
The men mock Astrad, who has adopted a defiant stance while brandishing his rifle. It's not that they're wrong, because…
["Kid, these are real guns."]
"Bang."
["Understand?"]
[[hahahha]]
The man pulls the pistol from his waist and fires into the air. It's just as he says: his weapon is real, and he's not the only one with one. In contrast…
["The rat kid thinks that's not a weapon. The rat kid thinks this is a weapon."]
[[…]]
Perhaps it was because his movements were smooth, or because he spoke as if it were routine, or simply because the men didn't consider him a threat…
But before we knew it, Astrad had slung the rifle over his back and, from inside his hood, pulled out a familiar tool: the harpoon gun.
Was he carrying that the whole way? More importantly, how many harpoons does he have? And why am I thinking about something like that right now?
["See how manly the rat kid looks?"]
["…. …Heh. I admit defeat… But you still only have one shot, kid. Use it wisely."]
The leader was stunned for a moment when the harpoon was aimed at him, but he quickly regained his composure. However, he wasn't as confident anymore. Certainly, there's only one shot… but if you're the victim, you can't take it lightly.
["The rat kid is aware. That's why the rat kid always looks for the best shot."]
Astrad spoke as if it were someone else's problem as he moved the tip of the launcher…. Now he wasn't aiming at the leader, but at the bus parked behind them.
[[…]]
The men didn't raise their weapons. Despite having submachine guns, shotguns, and pistols, none of them dared to aim at him.
The silence was heavy. The echo of the previous shot still resonated among the rusty beams of the bridge.
Time seemed to freeze as that indifferent boy unhesitatingly threatened a group of armed men.
["Heh, bad choice, kid. We just have to get another one."]
The leader scoffed, but he didn't raise his pistol. Even though the harpoon was no longer aimed at him, his calm didn't return. On the contrary. He was more anxious than before.
["Feel free to do what you want. The rat kid will do what he wants too."]
If you think about it calmly, it's logical. In the current circumstances, a bus like that is valuable. If you see them from a distance, you'd say it's just a group of otakus who modified a bus to look like one of those vehicles from post-apocalyptic movies.
But… Is it easy to modify a bus and armor it in such a way that allows you to move through streets crowded with abandoned vehicles? Obviously not.
It wasn't a simple vehicle; it was a mobile fortress. The improvised armor, the reinforced wheels, and the welded front defense weren't for show. They were designed to forge a path in a stagnant world. After the "great event" left the city crowded with unusable cars and monsters, having something like that wasn't a luxury. It was power. It was the difference between being prey and being a hunter.
["Kid, you don't seem to value your life… But what about your friends?"]
[HIIK.]
The man was no longer smiling. He aimed his pistol at one of my companions. The tension and fear returned like a bucket of cold water. That was true for us… But not for him.
["The rat kid has no friends, the rat kid concludes."]
As always, the one who managed to be at the center of everything was oblivious to the mood, forcing the world to follow his rhythm.
The men seemed genuinely surprised by his blunt words. Realizing they couldn't read him, they turned their gazes to us, his supposed "companions."
But there was no reaction. "Friends"? There were none here. Companions? Just minutes ago, they wanted to lynch him.
I was the closest thing to a friend, and I'm technically his jailer, which is sad in many ways.
Then, for the first time, the one who uttered incomprehensible words wasn't Astrad, but the gang leader.
["…Leave,"] —he said, his suddenly tense voice catching my attention.
[[….]]
["Everyone, you can take everyone. If you're worried about us following you, go down that corridor. We'll back off and leave the bus here until you're gone. We'll do it your way. I just want you to go."]
["…B-boss, what…?"]
["Shut up. Everyone, fall back."]
In the midst of the confusion, one of his men protested but was silenced by the visibly agitated leader.
At first, I thought it was because of the threat to the bus. After all, even if the single shot didn't guarantee irreparable damage, they couldn't dismiss the possibility either.
But in his eyes, I saw something else, a different kind of urgency.
["He's just stalling for time… We're not the hunters here…"] – he finally said, and only then, the pieces clicked into place in my head.
I looked at Astrad, who was now deepening that smug smile of his. But… did he have companions?
["Ohhh, if it makes you feel better, the rat kid isn't the hunter either."]
It was in that instant.
A hum in the air. The vibration of the bridge's metal. The smell of gunpowder mixed with something else: an animal stench.
"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
A thunderous roar pierced our ears, filled with so much hatred and resentment that even we, who had lived in a peaceful society, could discern its meaning.
["Here, we are all prey."]
.........…..
-------------- Astrad's Point of View ---------------------
There are many things the rat kid is proud of: his eloquence, his bearing, his gallantry, and generally every part, section, or action of the rat kid.
But, if the rat kid had to choose just one thing from the innumerable list of the rat kid's virtues, then the rat kid would have to say that "luck" is the first, immediately followed by my instinct.
I know what you're thinking. How can such a perfect being choose "luck" as his main virtue?
Well, in a situation where I had no idea how to get out of, suddenly, for some reason, the intimidating man with a gun tells me to leave and that he'll do whatever I ask.
I mean, something so convenient can only happen for one of two reasons: luck, or he was hypnotized by the absurd beauty of the rat kid.
If not, how do you explain why, after such a mediocre bluff, this happened?
And since I don't want to believe I'm the center of a man's adoration, I'll convince myself it's luck. Yes, let's go with that.
Now, how did I get into this? I obviously could have escaped before these guys even arrived.
I only need to take the police girl with me anyway.
But to miss the opportunity to see the faces of these idiots who annoy the rat kid submerged in the deepest despair? Definitely not.
But Louise must never find out that I let my most primitive instincts win, or she'll kill me. The rat kid concludes.
As I was thinking about nonsensical things, my gaze focused on a certain creature. Only then did I reflect and understand my mistake, even without Louise killing me: "I must not let my desires dominate me."
["He's just stalling for time… We're not the hunters here…"]
Time? Well, he certainly was… Isn't that a good thing? The tactical rat kid concludes.
["Ohhh, if it makes you feel better, the rat kid isn't the hunter either."]
It was at that moment.
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
A thunderous roar pierced everyone's ears, filled with so much hatred and resentment… For some reason, I can't enjoy it this time.
["Here, we are all prey."]
"Nya."
Shut up, you.
["Shit!"]
["What is that thing?"]
["It's huge!"]
["Hiik!"]
Panic takes over the place as a giant cat lunges towards us at full speed.
The armed men are no longer paying attention to me; instead, they're looking at the cat, terrified. What's with the damn insistence? Damn stalker.
"Nya~~~"
If you really believe that, you're a bigger idiot than you look.
["You bastard!"]
The bandit leader looks at me with resentment as he aims his weapon at me for the first time. I was wondering why he hadn't done it.
I thought he was just an idiot, but now that he's aiming at me at the most unnecessary moment… Yeah, he's an idiot.
["The rat kid thinks you have bigger problems."]
["Tsk… WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! SHOOT THAT DAMN THING!"]
Without taking his aim off me, the leader looks at his men and orders them.
Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!
The rain of bullets begins. Many bullets miss, and the ones that seem to hit don't do much damage to the cat, which continues to approach with fury.
["B-boss…"]
["Tsk. Bastard, this is… What?"]
["The rat kid says goodbye."]
["What the fuck?"]
["Smoke?"]
While they weren't looking, I threw some smoke grenades around the bridge, more specifically between my group and the bandits.
I also threw some in the bandits' direction.
["You wretch! Keep firing, we have to kill that thing! Use the smoke for cover!"]
Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!
It won't work, because it's blind… Heh…
["Wh-why do you have smoke bombs?"] - the police girl asks.
["Why wouldn't I?"]
Nyaa~~
The rat kid doesn't understand modern values.
.................
JOURNAL ENTRY NO: 012
SCIENTIFIC NAME: Homo montanus faber
REGIONAL ALIASES:
Norse and Germanic Folklore: Dwarf, Dvergr, The Mountain People
Anthropological Hypothesis: The Forge Clans, Stone Men
The Network's Nickname (Theoretical): The Miners' Syndicate
NICKNAME (ASTRAD): The Stubborn Engineers
📊 THREAT ASSESSMENT
CLASSIFICATION: TERRITORIALIS / ANOMALY
Their conduct is that of a territorial guardian in its purest form. Their kingdoms are the fortress-cities they excavate in the heart of the mountains. Their nature, however, is an anomaly of craftsmanship. They are not just builders; reports and myths suggest they possess an innate affinity with stone and metal, allowing them to create marvels that defy conventional metallurgy.
DANGER LEVEL: ORANGE (2 stars)
A solid 2-star Orange. Don't be fooled by their short stature. A single dwarven warrior, clad in their runic armor and axe, is a walking fortress capable of facing beasts much larger than themselves. A phalanx defending the entrance to their home is, for all intents and purposes, a wall of shields and death. Their danger is not their agility; it is their absolute, unbreakable resilience.
I won't use the same logic as with the elves, because dwarves are by no means positioned as great mages. Even if they use magic, it's specialized in their smithing. Does this mean that as a tribe they are weaker or less threatening? Hell no. What if one suddenly shows up with a medieval version of Optimus Prime? Are you going to fight Optimus Prime? You'll get fucked up.
In fact, individually, they might fuck you up much faster than an elf, regardless of the version.
But they have a great disadvantage, which is that their technology can turn against them if it falls into enemy hands.
Don't get complacent, noob. The most dangerous monsters are those with human-level intelligence, because for these guys, just measuring their abilities isn't enough.
AGGRESSIVENESS LEVEL: REACTIVE
They are as reactive as the mountain itself: unmovable and peaceful until you try to drill into them. They do not seek to expand or attack, but they react to intrusion, theft, or an insult to their honor with a direct and unadorned violence. Their response to a threat is a shield wall; their response to an offense, an axe.
🧬 COMBAT FILE (TL;DR)
TYPE: Humanoid
AFFINITY: Earth (Metal and Stone) / Physical
🎯 PRIMARY WEAKNESSES (Theoretical):
Combat in open terrain (they are slow and not very agile), Ranged attacks (longbows, rifles), Their own pride and stubbornness (can be deceived or provoked).
📌 KEY STRENGTHS:
Legendary physical resistance and durability, Mastery of combat in enclosed spaces, Weaponry and armor of anomalous quality, Unbreakable clan cohesion.
📚 ORIGINS AND COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY
The Mythical Hypothesis (The Fantasy): Norse myths, like the Prose Edda, claim that dwarves were born from the maggots in the flesh of the giant Ymir, beings of earth and stone to whom the gods gave form and reason. This theory holds that they are a non-human race, with a biological connection to the minerals of the earth. Their skill for forging would not be learned, but instinctive.
The Rational Hypothesis (The Logic): The anthropological view proposes that they are a human population that adapted to subterranean life over millennia. Their short stature and robust build would be adaptations to life in tunnels and the low availability of certain nutrients. Their famous beards would protect their lungs from mine dust. Their blacksmithing "magic" would actually be a form of lost science: a deep knowledge of metallurgy, geology, and perhaps acoustics to create alloys and structures of a resonance and durability impossible for modern science.
Astrad's Analysis: Were they born from a dead giant or did they just spend so much time underground they forgot about the sun? The evidence of their creations—weapons that never lose their edge, walls that do not erode—suggests that something more is at play. It doesn't matter if it's science or magic. When a faintly glowing axe is coming at your face, the distinction becomes rather academic.
📝 DETAILED ANALYSIS
PHYSICAL AND SENSORY DESCRIPTION:
Accounts describe short (1.20 - 1.50 m) but extremely broad and muscular humanoids. Both men and women tend to wear long, complex braided beards, often adorned with metal rings that indicate their status or clan. They wear heavy plate and chainmail armor, forged with a quality and design that surpass any historical record. Their preferred weapons are war hammers and axes, often covered in what are described as "runes" that glow with an internal light.
BEHAVIOR AND ECOLOGY:
They are a clannish and communal society that inhabits vast underground cities known in legends as "Holds" or "Halls." Their culture revolves around three pillars: the clan, the forge, and honor. They are master craftsmen, and their lives are dedicated to mining precious metals and creating objects of legendary beauty and durability. They are known for their stubbornness, their memory for grievances, and their absolute loyalty to their oaths. Their rivalry with the "Elves" is a recurring theme in folklore, often described as a conflict between industrial pragmatism and natural preservation.
☣️ PROTOCOLS
RECOMMENDED ENCOUNTER PROTOCOL (Theoretical):
DO:
Show respect for their work and their territory.
Trade is possible, but they value rare materials and craftsmanship over gold.
An oath made before them is a binding contract.
DON'T:
NEVER TRY TO DECEIVE OR STEAL FROM THEM.
Do not insult their beard or their craftsmanship.
Do not enter their domains uninvited.
Avoid ostentatious magic (they despise it, considering it a "shortcut").
FIELD REPORT (Fragment from a prospector's letter in the Rocky Mountains, 1875):
"…I found the vein, but the gallery was not natural. The walls were smooth, reinforced with arches of a metal I do not know, and without a single wooden beam. At the back, there was a war axe stuck in a rock as if it were butter. It had no rust, and its edge was so perfect it looked like a black mirror. There was no one. It had been there for centuries, perhaps millennia. I did not touch it. There are things a man knows he should not claim. I left a gold nugget as an offering and departed. That night, I heard the echo of a hammer striking an anvil from the heart of the mountain."
🎤 ASTRAD'S NOTES (THE ONLY SHIT THAT MATTERS):
And here we have the counterpart to the arrogant vegans: the miners' union with a bad temper. While the elves are out there doing yoga with the trees and judging your carbon footprint, the dwarves are underground forging axes that could split an atom and drinking something that is probably rocket fuel.
Their rivalry is the oldest story in the world: the artists versus the engineers, the hippies versus the factory workers. The elves will kill you passive-aggressively with poisonous pollen. A dwarf will make it clear: he'll crack your head open with a hammer that has its own name and probably a longer family tree than yours.
Are they a magical race or just a bunch of short, work-obsessed humans who had a private industrial revolution ten thousand years ago? Honestly, I don't care. Their ability to create things that don't break is the real magic in a world where everything is falling apart. If I ever meet one, I won't ask for a magic weapon. I'll ask him to fix the fucking generator.
.........…
< Chat Channel: #Rat_Kid_Network >
RatKid6: [IMAGE attached: impossible_axe.jpg]
RatKid6: I found this in an old abandoned mine. It doesn't have a single fucking speck of rust. And the edge… I think I could shave a ghost with this thing… Honestly, I don't know whether to be excited or to start getting seriously worried about this apocalypse.
RatKid8: LOLOL, 6 found a legendary item! Watch out, a skeleton might pop out and give you a quest!
RatKid7: Fuck, look at that craftsmanship. The runes are glowing. That's a +5 damage against undead at least!
RatKid4: Ssss… Those "runes" aren't decorative… They look like a circuit. We need 9 to analyze them.
RatKid1: I'm not surprised anymore, not since the vegans showed up.
RatKid2: Dwarves? Seriously? Are we in The Lord of the Rings now?
RatKid3: I think we need to update the file. I don't even want to imagine what dwarves will do after they get their hands on our technology.
RatKid8: To hell with that, the important thing is that they have treasure! Mountains of gold! And beer!
RatKid10: Exactly! The loot!
RatKid1-Astrad: Loot? Their best loot is them not cracking your head open with a hammer that's probably named "Skull-splitter" or some original shit like that. Unlike the arrogant vegans, these guys aren't going to kill you passive-aggressively. They're going to be very, very direct about it.
RatKid7: But the technology! Medieval Optimus Prime! I need you guys to help me build a mecha! A fucking dwarven mecha!
RatKid5: Actually, it's quite likely they'd get along with 7.
RatKid7: Right? We can share technologies.
RatKid3: Are you even reading me?
RatKid7: This 30 IQ point guy is too far behind to justify my attention.
RatKid3: YOU BASTARD, SAY THAT AGAIN.
RatKid4: The rational hypothesis is the most likely. A human culture with lost metallurgical science. Still, extremely dangerous in their environment.
RatKid1-Astrad: And who cares if it's science or magic? The result is the same. But you're missing the point. They're not an enemy to be killed. They're a resource to be exploited.
RatKid3: Exploit? 1, have you seen the "weaknesses" section? "Their own pride." How the fuck do you exploit that without getting split in two?
RatKid5: You don't ask for their gold. You don't insult their beard. You ask them to fix something. Something that's so fucking broken that it's a challenge to their engineering pride.
RatKid7: ...
RatKid8: ...
RatKid10: ...Fuck.
RatKid1-Astrad: Exactly. The rat kid doesn't need another axe. The rat kid needs someone to fix the fucking generator so he can play without lag.
RatKid2: Approved. New protocol: if you find a dwarven fortress, don't attack it. Bring them the broken router.