The Adventurer's Mission Log

Chapter 45 Calling for People

"He's being controlled?" Inside the tavern, the long-bearded dwarf put the silver coin back into his palm, stared at it for a moment, then hung it back around his neck. He snorted coldly, "He knows someone is watching him, so he can only do things secretly when no one is paying attention."

For someone possessed by a demon to be able to pull off such tricks right under someone else's nose, either the demon isn't smart enough, or Tinalius is smarter.

"Tinarius could not be more cunning than a demon, therefore, the demon did not possess him at all."

"I think so. How should we proceed?" Tenor posed the question to the dwarves.

“According to this child, ‘The Scholar’ is now a conscious puppet,” the long-bearded dwarf said to the dwarves in the tavern, pulling a pipe from deep within his beard and tapping it twice on the bar. “This is more troublesome than a mage’s fall. If he had fallen, we would have simply gone and killed him.”

"Elder Balin, what's the difference? Whether a knife is held to his throat or his brain is being gnawed on, he's no longer one of us," a butcher shouted.

The long-bearded elder Balin glared fiercely at the young dwarf, silencing the butcher.

Tenor understood the implication: "This is Lagetia. Killing an academy instructor without a proper reason will lead to war."

He then changed the subject, "But you don't need to make a big fuss. Just a few good men will come with me to chop down the beastmen. As for Grand Scholar Tinalius? I wish him good luck."

"Maybe he'll be free after we destroy the Beastman stronghold."

"Hey, do you know where the Beastmen are? They're still going to charge into the Mage Tower, aren't they?" a drinking dwarf shouted.

"Of course, if the Beastmen were hiding in Tinarius's laboratory, I would have found them there, but they weren't, so they're not in the Academy."

"Where else could they have gone? I think only underground. Let a few skilled men come with me to search the sewers!" Tenor's calm and collected explanation, which was confirmed by the demon's dying words.

The long-bearded dwarf Balin remained silent, adopting a stance of abandoning the matter. It seemed that he would take as many dwarves as Tenor could persuade.

This is actually quite simple; at the very least, it's easy to take away the butchers from the tavern.

Without the elders' restraint, the dwarves immediately erupted into chaos.

"The sewers?!" The butcher with the orange-red hair ornament was the first to slam his fist on the table, his glass bouncing and overturning, spilling ale halfway across the table. "He said the sewers! Did you hear that? He said the sewers! Hahaha~"

"Human brat, you're going to crawl into the sewers! Ha!" The butcher on the anvil shoulder next to him let out a rough, hoarse laugh.

The dwarves' underground districts are enclosed, with doors that are always closed and not connected to the city's sewers. Patrols must be dispatched regularly to clear the surrounding passageways, as there are even more dangerous enemies underground.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs, waking the sleepy-eyed Gottlieb. As he walked to the ground floor, he said, "What's all the noise about?"

No dwarf paid him any attention.

"Humans call that a stinking ditch; they have no idea what's down there," the dwarf in the corner said, raising his cup to take a large gulp and facing this way.

"Of course they don't know!" The butcher with the orange-red hair ornament turned to Tenor, a glint of sympathy mixed with mockery in his single eye. "Human, do you know what else is in the sewers besides beastmen? You think it's just a few rotten pipes?"

"You mean the Skaven?" Tenor's ears were ringing from the dwarf's loud voice.

"You know what a mouse is?"

"He's a Southlander, the kind from the stories." Gotley, suddenly wide awake, grinned, revealing his yellowed teeth, and boasted with a hint of arrogance, "Of course Tenor knows the ratmen, he's a cold-blooded one! A Thoros!"

The butcher with the orange-red hair ornament stopped laughing abruptly. His eyes darted back and forth between Gottlieb and Tenor, his mouth open but no sound came out.

"Gotley Battinson, how much did you drink last night?" The dwarf butcher closest to Gotley tilted his head and sized up Tenor. "This kid standing here has no scales, no tail, and isn't even two-thirds the height of my axe handle—"

But his height is not even two-thirds that of Ternor.

"Did you drink yourself silly last night?"

"I said he's a cold-blooded creature." Gottlieb stood still, his expression serious.

Seeing that their argument was about to escalate into a fight, Tenor began to mutate. His body rapidly expanded and lengthened, and his magic cloak extended accordingly. Soon, before everyone's eyes, a monster that shouldn't have appeared appeared.

"You should go out and see more of the world. I just killed a demon last night. If you're patient and ask around, you should know what I look like after my 'mutation'."

He lamented the dwarves' lack of access to information, which was understandable, as dwarves only pay attention to human gossip when they have nothing better to do.

"So, who's willing to come underground with me?" Beast Eyes looked around the tavern.

...

If carrying weapons normally attracts attention, now he's turning heads like crazy.

The team rolled across the road like a moving piece of steel.

Bare-chested butchers carrying rune axes walked behind Tenor, followed closely by engineering apprentices clutching blueprints and explosives. Together with the crossbowmen and rune apprentices, they were surrounded by twenty-one clan warriors.

The dwarf warrior, his entire body encased in metal and wearing a horned steel helmet, with only his eyes and beard showing, trudged with heavy footsteps that made the stone slabs tremble slightly.

The crowds along the way all dispersed, and even the most unruly adventurers cowered.

At first, only eight dwarf butchers wanted to come, then two engineering apprentices also wanted to join in the fun. As a result, the news spread during the argument, and by noon, the tavern was packed with dwarfs who came to apply for jobs.

Many dwarves had old grudges against the ratmen and beastmen, and with Elder Balin's deliberate encouragement, many dwarf warriors eager to make a name for themselves responded.

Twenty-one clan warriors—these are the professional warriors among the dwarves. They wear heavy, fully enclosed rune plate armor, moving as if nothing were there, their shields forming a mobile wall when closed.

Six crossbowmen—they also carried spare muskets and were fully armored.

A rune apprentice—who had originally come from Hippogryph Keep to visit relatives—came to join in the fun upon seeing such a grand spectacle.

The armed forces following behind Tenor were more than capable of easily pacifying the territory of a Baron Ronan and posing a deadly threat to the Earldom.

—Don't let their small size fool you, in the mountains bordering the grasslands to the east of the empire, there are numerous records of hundreds of dwarves defeating thousands of green-skinned orcs.

As an ancient race second only to the cold-blooded race and elves, an adult dwarf possesses combat strength equivalent to that of a human professional, and they become even stronger as they age and their skills improve.

Having just left the dwarf district, fearing being blocked by the army, Tenor found the nearest sewer entrance and led this army disguised as an "adventure team" towards the north of the city.

The heavy stomping of the dwarves echoed through the sewers, disturbing the original inhabitants of the place.

The soldiers remained absolutely silent throughout the march, and no one spoke. Even Tenor felt somewhat uncomfortable during the monotonous march.

The pipes began to descend uneasily, going deeper and deeper underground, as if heading into a bottomless abyss.

It can be determined that some passageways did not conform to the original city planning and were later modified.

Having reached a depth of unknown depth, if Tenor were alone, he might feel uneasy, but for now, he only felt a thirst for the enemy.

He looked back and saw that the clan warriors' ranks had closed in. The Butcher began to slow his pace and landed in the middle of the formation, while the dwarves further back were ready to deal with any threats from behind.

He slowed down to accommodate the dwarves' formation, and the dwarves maintained remarkable discipline in their actions.

As they passed the fork in the road, a beam of green light shot out from the side tunnel and, unsurprisingly, struck the dwarf's rune shield.

Then came the sound of some kind of weapon spinning, like a drill, but no!

Ternor stared in disbelief as he watched as two ratmen carrying Gatling guns were illuminated by the oily green light of the machine guns firing, and a barrage of bullets, trailing green trajectories, rained down upon them.

Times have changed?