(Third Person POV – Dwarven Capital)
The great gates of Dwargon loomed ahead, carved into the mountain itself. Torches flickered against the stone walls, their light catching on runes etched long ago. Soldiers in steel armor stood at attention, their spears gleaming sharp even in the dim torchlight.
For most, the sight of the Dwarven Kingdom was intimidating. For Nova, it was… ordinary.
His mismatched eyes swept across the gates, tails drifting lazily behind him. Rimuru hopped along at his side, still bubbling with naive excitement.
"Wow… it looks just like a fantasy city from an RPG," Rimuru said in awe.
Nova didn't respond outwardly, but his thoughts rippled.
(Another checkpoint. Dwargon. A place of craftsmen, politics… and a certain dwarf king who will prove useful later.)
Ciel's voice resonated calmly within him.
<
'Exactly what I needed confirmed. We'll use that later.'
He kept walking, his presence radiating subtle pressure that made the guards hesitate before speaking.
"Halt! State your business in Dwargon!" one guard barked, though his voice wavered under Nova's chilling gaze.
Rimuru quickly hopped forward, trying to smooth things over.
"Uh—we're adventurers! I, uh, need a blacksmith. My gear's kinda… nonexistent."
The guard blinked down at the slime, clearly confused. His eyes darted back to Nova, and his throat tightened.
"…And him?"
Rimuru panicked a little. "He's my… companion?"
The word hung in the air.
Nova's tails flicked once, but he remained silent, simply letting the weight of his presence press down until the guard swallowed nervously and waved them through.
(Too easy.) Nova thought, his expression as cold as ever.
(Inside Dwargon – Third Person POV)
The streets of Dwargon bustled with life. Dwarves shouted prices for steel tools and weapons, merchants haggled over rare ores, and the air smelled of hot metal and burning coal.
Rimuru hopped in excitement, eyes darting everywhere.
"This place is amazing! It's like… alive!"
Nova walked beside her without pause, his human form flickering briefly in his mind.
(Eventually, I'll need that form. Blending in becomes more efficient when they see me as one of them, not a beast.)
Ciel chimed in.
<
'Noted.'
Their wandering drew attention, especially Nova's aura that dwarves couldn't quite comprehend. Conversations hushed whenever he passed, like sparks dying in cold water. Rimuru, oblivious as ever, simply kept hopping forward.
(Blacksmith District – Third Person POV)
It didn't take long before Rimuru's excitement got them into trouble.
A drunken adventurer bumped into them, sneering down at the slime.
"Oi! What's a weak thing like you doin' here?!"
His companions laughed, weapons half-drawn. But when Nova's gaze turned toward them, the laughter stopped.
The man froze, sweat dripping down his neck. For a second, he felt as though a predator older than the mountains itself had marked him for death.
"…Tch. Whatever," the drunk spat, backing off quickly.
Rimuru sighed in relief. "Thanks, Nova. That could've gotten ugly…"
Nova gave no reply. He simply stared toward the deeper part of the district.
(We don't waste time on insects. Focus—Kaijin is near.)
Ciel confirmed his suspicion.
<
'Perfect. Another piece on the board.'
(Kaijin's Workshop – Third Person POV)
The workshop was smaller than expected. The forge still glowed faintly, but tools were scattered carelessly, and Kaijin himself sat slouched over a table, a half-empty mug in hand.
When Rimuru and Nova entered, Kaijin looked up. His eyes widened at Nova's presence first, but then softened slightly when he noticed Rimuru.
"What do ya want?" Kaijin grumbled.
Rimuru bounced forward eagerly. "Hi! I need equipment. And, uh, you look like you can help!"
Kaijin snorted, clearly unimpressed. "I ain't cheap."
Before Rimuru could stammer, Nova finally spoke, his voice flat but sharp enough to cut through the air.
"Price is irrelevant. What matters is quality."
Kaijin blinked. Something in the fox's tone made him sit straighter, as if instinct reminded him this was no ordinary customer.
"…You've got the eyes of someone who understands weapons," Kaijin muttered.
Nova didn't correct him. He simply let the assumption linger.
(Let him believe what he wants. That will make the coming negotiation smoother.)
(Chapter mid-point pause – without ending)
Rimuru bubbled happily, already imagining new gear. Kaijin sighed, rubbing his forehead as though dealing with children. But his gaze kept flicking back to Nova—measuring him, uncertain, yet undeniably curious.
Outside, the forges of Dwargon roared with life, and beyond the mountains… greater storms of fate were already waiting.
(Third Person POV)
The silence inside Kaijin's workshop stretched. The crackle of embers in the forge was the only sound that dared to move.
Kaijin leaned back, mug in hand, eyes narrowing on Nova. "You've got the look of someone who's seen battle. But you… you're different. Can't quite place it."
Rimuru tried to cut the tension. "Um, anyway! Could you maybe make me some armor? Or at least a weapon?"
Kaijin chuckled dryly. "Armor for a slime? That's a new one. You're ambitious, I'll give ya that."
Nova didn't smile. He simply let his tails shift slowly behind him, each movement deliberate.
"Don't underestimate her. Appearances mean little on the battlefield."
The dwarf froze for a heartbeat. He hadn't heard the slime referred to as "her" before. His eyes flicked between Rimuru and Nova, curiosity sharpening.
(Careless, Nova. But perhaps it works in our favor. Let him stew in the details he doesn't understand.)
Ciel's voice rang softly.
<
'Hmph. Then let it stand.'
Kaijin placed his mug down with a heavy clink. "Alright, ya got me interested. But forging quality gear isn't just about skill. It's about materials—and those don't come cheap."
Nova stepped forward, eyes narrowing slightly. "Name your price."
The dwarf barked a laugh. "Money, is it? Figures. You look like the kind who has plenty of it hidden away."
Nova didn't answer. He simply reached into his cloak, pulling out a small pouch. When it hit the table, the unmistakable glimmer of rare ores spilled free—ores too pure for any wandering merchant to carry casually.
Kaijin's eyes widened, his rough hands trembling as he picked up a chunk of magic ore. "This… this is higher grade than what the royal mines produce. Where in the nine hells did you—?"
"Does it matter?" Nova interrupted coldly. "The question is whether you can forge it."
The dwarf swallowed hard, his pride warring with disbelief. Then, slowly, a grin split his face. "Hah! Now that's a challenge I won't refuse."
(Inner POV – Nova)
As Kaijin bustled toward the forge, clearing tools, Nova's gaze lingered on the dwarf.
(Broken pride, dulled spirit… but the talent is still there. A craftsman who once forged for a king, now reduced to drowning in drink. If handled carefully, he can be turned into something greater.)
Ciel agreed.
<
'Exactly as planned.'
He said nothing, only watching the forge spring back to life under Kaijin's hands. The glow of molten metal painted the workshop in orange light, shadows flickering across Nova's calm expression.
(Third Person POV – Workshop)
Rimuru hopped closer, eyes shining. "Whoa, you really came alive all of a sudden! Guess blacksmiths just need the right push, huh?"
Kaijin chuckled, sweat glistening on his brow as he worked the bellows. "Aye. You could say that." His gaze flicked briefly to Nova, who stood silent and unmoving. "Or maybe I just needed the right customer."
Rimuru tilted her head. "Huh?"
But Nova already understood. Respect. Kaijin had recognized it in him—the same recognition predators gave one another in the wild. Not submission, but acknowledgement.
The hammer rang out, steel striking steel. Each strike echoed through the walls like a heartbeat, rhythmic and unyielding. Rimuru bounced in place excitedly while Nova observed quietly, committing every detail to memory.
(This kingdom… its foundation rests on forges like this. Weapons, armor, steel—symbols of power. Break their forges, and you break their pride. Control them, and you control their strength.)
Ciel spoke again, her tone clinical.
<
'Good. Then we keep him.'
(Tavern Nearby)
While Kaijin worked, voices echoed faintly from the street outside. A group of dwarves passed by, their tone hushed yet bitter.
"Guildmaster's at it again. Raising tariffs on ore shipments."
"Corruption runs too deep. Even the king can't stamp it out."
"Bah, the commerce guild will strangle this kingdom before the monsters do."
Nova's ears twitched. His gaze slid toward the window, catching the whispers of discontent.
(So it begins. The cracks are already showing.)
He looked back to Kaijin, who hammered with renewed vigor, as though forging against his own failures. The contrast was sharp—corruption outside, passion rekindled within.
Nova's lips curved slightly—not a smile, but something colder.
(This kingdom may not know it yet, but its path will soon run through me.)
(Workshop – Resolution Scene)
The final hammer blow landed, sending sparks into the air. Kaijin pulled the blade free, its surface glowing with molten heat. He quenched it in oil, steam hissing violently before the weapon cooled, gleaming like a mirror.
Rimuru's eyes went wide. "Whoa! It's perfect!"
Kaijin set the blade down carefully, exhaling. "It's been too long since I've worked like that. I'd almost forgotten the feeling."
Nova stepped closer, eyes appraising the weapon with cold precision. "Acceptable."
The dwarf blinked, then barked a laugh. "You've got high standards, fox. But I'll take that as praise."
(It is praise, though he doesn't realize it. Good. Let him chase it.)
Ciel's calm voice confirmed.
<
'Exactly.'
Kaijin wiped his brow, looking between Rimuru and Nova. "I'll admit… ya two are strange customers. But… if ya need a blacksmith, I'll work with ya. Payment upfront, sure, but…" He hesitated, almost embarrassed. "…I'd like to see where this road leads."
Rimuru clapped—well, bubbled happily. "Yay! We've got a blacksmith!"
Nova didn't speak. He simply turned toward the forge, his tails swaying slowly. Beyond the stone walls of Dwargon, beyond the safety of its forges, greater storms were indeed waiting.
And Nova intended to shape them all.
Extra: Whispers Beyond the Mountains
Far from the forges of Dwargon, in a land shrouded by endless mist, a scholar sat beneath the branches of a withered world tree. His ink-stained hands trembled as he etched the latest fragments of history into a tome bound in dragon-hide.
"Even the smallest figures… can shape the tide of fate," he muttered, quill scratching across parchment. "A blacksmith's hammer, a beast's whisper, a monster's hidden will. They appear as trivial sparks, yet from sparks… infernos rise."
His apprentice, a young scribe, frowned. "Master, why do you waste words on such minor actors? Would it not be better to record only kings and heroes?"
The old man chuckled, his voice hoarse with age. "That is where most storytellers falter. They chase the glare of crowns, forgetting that thrones are built on the shoulders of countless forgotten lives. To write well… one must see beyond the obvious."
The mist stirred, carrying whispers of names—Kaijin, Rimuru, Nova.
The scribe shivered, though he did not know why.
The master closed the tome with a sigh. "Remember this lesson, child. Stories are not only about those who shine brightest. They are about the unseen—the ripples no one notices until they crash upon the shore."
And with that, the scene faded, leaving only the scratching of quills and the faint rustle of forgotten pages.