Stone Town, at the easternmost edge of the Hiss Empire, seemed like a pile of stubborn rocks carelessly cast onto the desert by the gods, where over three hundred souls struggled to survive on this harsh land. Fierce winds whipped sand against the low sandstone houses, producing endless hissing sounds.
The town's lifeline was its massive quarry, producing sandstone with tight, uniform grain—ideal building material. Overseeing it all was Magis, an old retainer exiled here by Count Beck. After serving the count's family for over sixty years, he had offended the young heir and been "respectfully" banished to the empire's edge.
Merchant leader Billy was the town's other pillar. Legend said he had once thrown money around freely in the capital, but fled to this desolate land due to gambling debts. Using his merchant's instincts, he monopolized all trade between Stone Town and the outside world, accumulating considerable wealth once again.
When Nayse arrived as a blacksmith, the entire town rejoiced. Before this, every broken iron tool meant waiting months for Billy's caravan to replace or repair it.
Nayse never lied about his origins. He openly stated that he was a human adopted by mountain dwarves, now striking out on his own. This actually made the townspeople respect him more—everyone knew dwarven craftsmanship was extraordinary. Occasionally, dwarves appeared in human towns for trade, and their products were highly sought after by nobles.
After spending a year in Stone Town, Nayse prepared to return to the dwarven settlement. He needed to replenish his refined iron ore, but more importantly, he needed a place far from prying eyes to perform his second summoning.
Half a year ago, his Beast Spirit System had advanced to the second stage—Possession. Now he could expend mental energy to directly control his summoned beast, able to possess Ferrari for four to five hours at a time. And now, he had finally gathered the materials needed to summon a second beast.
At dawn, Nayse closed his smithy doors and rode Ferrari eastward. His mount stepped steadily over the stone-scattered wasteland, its twin horns glinting in the rising sun.
Three days of travel left civilization far behind. Here lay only endless wasteland with sparse vegetation, where wild wolves, vultures, and rock mice could occasionally be spotted. For experienced hunters, roasted rock mouse was a rare delicacy.
On the fourth evening, Nayse made camp in a clearing surrounded by massive boulders. He lit a campfire, then carefully drew a summoning array with charcoal on the flat rock surface. The complex patterns extended in the moonlight. Halfway through his work, distant wolf howls broke the night's silence.
Nayse sighed. This pack had been tracking him for three days, and they chose this moment to attack.
He drew the single-handed axe from Ferrari's side. This was the first weapon he had forged at age twelve, its edge already marked with signs of wear. The dwarves had once joked that it was "good enough for chopping wood," but for Nayse, this axe carried too many memories.
Years of dwarven life had accustomed him to all manner of brawling. Drink until drunk, fight after drinking—this was the dwarven lullaby. Combined with the brute strength developed from hammering iron, he rarely met his match among the dwarven settlement.
He favored heavy weapons, his combat philosophy simple and direct: break finesse with force, be unbeatable through speed alone.
Nayse hefted the axe in his hand, thinking it was time to forge a new weapon. Though opportunities were few, what hero in any story lacked a weapon worthy of legend?
Ghostly green lights appeared in the darkness as over thirty wolves completed their encirclement. Ferrari moved close to his master, massive horns aimed at the wolf pack, hooves pawing the ground restlessly.
The standoff was broken by a wolf attacking from behind and to the side. This was the moment Nayse had been waiting for.
Just as the claws were about to make contact, he spun violently, his battle axe tracing a deadly arc. The blade bit precisely into the wolf's neck, tremendous force hurling the corpse several meters away. Blood gushed out, and the wolf died without even time to struggle.
Nayse flicked the blood from his axe, a familiar thrill climbing his spine. In this otherworld, only strength was the most reliable companion.