—Any news, Trok?
—Nothing new.
—Any word from the surface?
—Messengers take time to arrive. No sign they'll be answering anytime soon.
Swar ran both hands through his hair. The situation was worsening by the minute. Today alone, they had gone from a simple demon to the possibility of an army approaching.
—The area where the demon was found has been inspected. It was only a temporary shelter he had been shaping. It doesn't seem old. At most, he'd only been there a few hours.
—Any messages? Weapons? —asked Swar.
—Nothing.
That was what worried him most. A known enemy could be managed. But an enemy that appeared from nowhere? One you knew absolutely nothing about? That terrified him.
The city had entered a period of tense peace, with miners working longer shifts and soldiers accompanying them longer than usual. If there truly was an army on the way, it was the worst possible scenario.
The question still unanswered was simple: what was a demon doing here?
This was a distant dungeon, far from the battlefront. If a demon was here… what remained of the zones closer to the front? And beyond that, a demon scout did not simply arrive by chance in a city. There were always reasons.
To strike the supply line?
If so, the city would have to evacuate… and the supplies would—
Swar shook his head.
That was impossible.
They survive.
That was what had been established, and what he tried with all his strength to believe. They had no other choice. Truly, there was none.
Swar went out to patrol, making sure everything was in order. This was his daily life: first checking the supplies that arrived every twelve days—food for the miners, the soldiers, and reports of the requested quantities. They had to meet shipping quotas.
He checked that all minerals and runes were in order, ready to be sent to the surface. Everything was correct, but the quantities were lower than before. Perhaps the area's resources were running dry… they would need to search for new sources.
—Hey, Swar —said Trok, pulling him from his thoughts.
—Yes?
—You're too tense.
—I can't relax. I need to stay focused.
—Swar.
—Don't think you'll convince me otherwise.
—An impatient mind cannot value what truly matters.
—It doesn't sound convincing coming from a drunk.
—Doesn't matter if it comes from a drunk or not. You need to relax. Come to the tavern. My treat.
—Don't take back what you just said.
Trok nodded.
—I won't. Just got paid.
The two walked toward the establishment. Dwarves were scattered around the place: soldiers and miners at the tables enjoying their beers during a well-earned break. Swar and Trok exchanged a few greetings before sitting at the bar.
—The usual for me and my companion.
They were served two giant mugs of beer. They emptied them in a single gulp.
—That's good —said Swar.
—I told you —replied Trok.
Other dwarves approached their seats, especially Swar.
—Hey… is it true you captured a demon? —asked one.
—I'm not working right now —replied Swar.
—Leave him alone —said Trok.
The dwarf kept insisting.
—This affects all of us. We deserve to know.
Murmurs began to spread. Swar noticed the looks of fear and hatred beginning to form in the eyes of those present.
—I won't confirm anything —he finally said.
The dwarves nodded.
That was confirmation enough.
There was no panic like long ago, when they abandoned their homes and fear paralyzed them. Instead, there was a kind of lucid resignation: a ravenous hunger for revenge and a clear objective.
An evil demon had dared enter their city.
That demon would pay dearly.
The resolve of the dwarves hardened.
Meanwhile, deep below in the dungeon, where only a torch dimly lit the place, a hero slept deeply after his first day in the new world. Curled up in his bed, unaware of the plans being formed against him.
He awoke early in the morning—or so he believed. He had no way to know what time it was. He stood and stretched, making the chains around his ankles rattle.
He began jumping from side to side, forcing the chains' movement to the limit.
—One… two… three…
He started a basic exercise routine. It was the only thing he could do at that moment.
—Done.
He sat on the bed. His routine was over.
Shortly after, a foul-faced dwarf arrived. He placed a tray on the ground and kicked it toward him. It was a plate with some kind of wet rice, a strange purple color, along with several green spots he preferred not to know the origin of.
He paid it no mind and began eating.
It was surprisingly good. A strange taste, a little bland, but it was food, and food should not be wasted.
—Maybe a little chicken would complete the menu, but this is fine for a start. The chef did a good job. I give it a six out of ten.
—How can you eat… that? —said Star from the next cell.
—Is something wrong with it?
Star did not respond.
So he continued enjoying his meal until his stomach was satisfied.
—Star, I've been thinking about escaping this place.
—You've only been here one day.
—Long enough.
—It won't work.
—Yes it will. All we need is a distraction.
—We're in a fortified dwarf city. Even if by some miracle we got out, our height would give us away. We'd die before leaving this prison.
—If the plan works, we'll leave in perfect condition.
—You truly cannot be reasoned with.
—...
He knew it himself. Escaping this place really would be difficult.
But even if it was difficult, somehow he had to do it.
—Umm… do you have a cloak or something?
—I wonder how you've survived with your level of intelligence.
—Hey!
—How would I have a cloak?
—I don't know… I thought maybe you had something.
—I have nothing.
Star said nothing more, until an unexpected thought crossed his mind, as if an idea had just been born within him.
—Hey… what if you guide them toward that army? —asked Star.
—And escape that way? Doesn't sound bad…
—You'll tell them you sensed the presence of your kind and lead them there. When they let their guard down, we escape.
—But how? We'll be watched the whole time.
—I'll create the opportunity. Trust me.
Froggy nodded.
The plan began to take shape.