"Respected, er, I don’t know what you’re called, but since you call yourself Zog, I’ll call you Zog too."

Zog’s eyelid twitched. ’Zog, huh? Why does that sound so weird?’

"Guess who I am? The best craftsman of the Dwarves, the excellent Bane Furnace!"

’Wow, I totally didn’t see that coming.’

’Looks like the masters of this world are all a bit narcissistic. Still, he’s better than that old coot Soron. At least he doesn’t call himself "the Great."’

"I don’t know all that... you know, that stuff that’s hard to write and hard to read, the gibberish the Sharp Ears like to use..."

A line of text was crossed out.

"Sorry, wrote it wrong. I was actually trying to show off with some fancy words. I asked the great elder, but I couldn’t remember them when I got back. Why can the Sharp Ears do it and I can’t?"

’Seriously? Are you just padding the word count in a letter?’

"Anyway, enough of this nonsense. The reason I’m writing this letter is to tell you that thingamajig you wanted, the ’game machine,’ is done. If you ask me, why call it a game machine? Might as well just call it an auto-chess launcher.

"Speaking of which, our craftsmanship is truly amazing. This game machine is the second-best thing I’ve ever made in my career, second only to the comprehensive household chores machine I gave my mom. I think this thing will definitely have a market. It’s way more interesting than making armor and greatswords. I just don’t know how to mass-produce it."

Bane gives his mother a gift; Bane is good. Zog patiently reads Bane’s ramblings; Zog is also good.

"To praise my own fine craftsmanship, I even wrote a poem and gave it to a Minstrel to sing for everyone."

Zog had a bad feeling.

He looked down.

"This machine is truly odd,

"Its head is bright, its body is small.

"If you flip it over,

"Its body is bright, its head is small."

Zog was suddenly struck by a crippling case of second-hand embarrassment. The thought of this poem being sung by Minstrels made his claws clench, digging into the ground hard enough to carve out a three-bedroom apartment.

’It’s great. Never write again.’

’If Bane Furnace had been born on Earth, he definitely would have become good friends with a certain famous warlord "literatus."’

"If my old man hadn’t forced me to become an apprentice at the smithy when I was a kid, I’d definitely be the best writer in the clan by now. We’ve produced a lot of craftsmen, but never a writer. They all think my poetry is great, so I must have some talent in this area."

’There’s a reason your clan can’t produce any writers. Your sense of aesthetics is fundamentally broken.’

"I finally filled the whole page. When I was a kid, the teacher would smack my hands if I didn’t fill the page when writing essays."

’So you really were just padding the word count!’

"Come inspect the goods tomorrow, and hurry. Remember to bring that little girl who set me up last time. After this period of meditation and training, I feel my chess skills have greatly improved. I’m going to beat her, then get her so drunk she pukes, and after she sobers up, I’ll beat her again! It’s driving me nuts!"

At the end of the letter was a caricature of Bane’s own face. As expected of a craftsman, his drawing skills were leagues beyond his literary skills.

’The power of technical drawing!’

Zog tossed Elsa back into her bedroom. She probably wouldn’t be getting up tomorrow morning anyway. Besides, she was a terrible chess player. Forget auto-chess, she couldn’t even win a game of Gomoku with a two-stone handicap.

During the hustle that day, her main role was taunting. She didn’t actually play.

’Bane was a Dwarf who was several hundred years old, yet he was so petty, getting serious with a kid.’

’Wait, a kid?’

Downstairs, Toto was playing "Jump Jump" with her left hand and "Down a Hundred Floors" with her right. Two young men in Mage Robes were staring at her as if she were a goddess, their eyes filled with something akin to reverence.

"How old are you?" Zog asked Toto.

"Fifty-eight. Why?" Toto replied while breaking someone’s record, without missing a beat.

"Then you’d still be considered a little girl for a Half-Elf."

"Huh? What are you planning? I’m a respectable Half-Elf, you know."

"Who’s being improper with you? What kind of nonsense is rattling around in that young head of yours?"

"I used to be a Thief, you know. Given that kind of upbringing, you pick things up, okay?"

’It seems the cultural level of the thieving profession is a bit higher than Bane’s.’

"Wow! Master Toto used to be a Thief? That’s so cool!" one of the young Mages chimed in, acting as her hype man.

"Were you there that day we hustled Bane into joining?" Zog asked again.

"Of course. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to play along with those rookies?"

"Alright then. Tomorrow, you’re coming with me to the Dwarves’ territory again."

"It’s not that I’m trying to slack off," Toto said, pointing with her chin at the price list on the table. Breaking a personal record: 5 Copper Coins. Beating a specific person: 5 to 20 Copper Coins, depending on difficulty. Getting on the overall leaderboard: starts at 1 Silver Coin.

"It may be a small business, but I make a few Silver Coins a day. It’s not easy for me to earn money, unlike some people..."

WHAM!

Zog slammed a glittering gold coin onto the table.

"Who are you trying to kid with that act?"

"You just said you were a respectable Half-Elf!"

————————

「The next day, at Iron Hammer Mountain.」

This was a small hill outside Twin Tower City, and also the residential area for the Dwarves.

Due to their adherence to tradition, Dwarves insisted on living in caves, and their city had to be connected to a mine. Thus, they chose to build their home on Iron Hammer Mountain, the only place outside the city that could generously be called a mountain.

This brought another benefit: the Dwarves’ ridiculously nocturnal schedule wouldn’t affect the other races living in the city.

A Dwarf’s day consisted of sleeping at the crack of dawn, waking up in the afternoon to go into the city for drinks, and then heading down into the mines to work at night after getting plastered. Yes, Dwarves typically got drunk first and worked later.

Amazingly, their rate of engineering accidents wasn’t high despite this absurd method. They were truly gifted. Or perhaps the accident-prone Dwarves were weeded out in childhood. In any case, if a safety inspector from Earth ever saw their construction sites, they’d have a heart attack on the spot.

"Welcome to Furnace Castle! The home of the Furnace Clan. ’Furnace’ is a title only the most prestigious Dwarves in the clan can earn, you know." Bane welcomed Zog enthusiastically.

"A small suggestion: next time, you can have your assistant pretend to be a stranger and ’casually’ shout, ’It’s the Furnace! The most prestigious Dwarf in the clan!’ when you appear."

"Ooh!" Bane’s eyes lit up. "You business types have all the slickest ideas!"

"Takes one to know one."

"By the way, what did you think of my poem?"

"Even the royal scholars would have to praise it as the second coming of a poetry sage."

"Hahaha..."

His hearty laughter echoed through Furnace Castle.

’The world isn’t about fighting and killing. It’s about connections and favors.’

Bane led Zog through numerous small, clanging workshops to the very center of Furnace Castle: his own workshop.

Eight game machines were lined up neatly.

Finally, they no longer needed eight people sitting together to start a game. Now they could connect to the Divine Remains Network and play as soon as they found a match.

The machine was smaller than Zog had expected, only about the size of a gashapon machine. When running, it projected an Illusion that was twice the circumference of the machine itself.

’So it really was a "bright head and small body."’

"Quick, quick, I can’t take it anymore! My chess addiction is kicking in! Let’s start a game! Where’s that little girl from last time?"

Zog pushed Toto forward.

"Huh? A Sharp Ears? How did I not notice last time?"

This proved that everyone was face-blind when it came to other races.

"I just knew her annoying look was exactly like a Sharp Ears! The Furnace is sure to win!"

"Hold on. Just playing is boring. Why don’t we set some stakes?"

"Alright! What are we betting?"

Setting up bets, drinking, and heading into the mines—these were the things Dwarves loved, and they never tired of them.

"If the little girl wins, we have many more long-term projects to cooperate on."

"Hah, and if she loses?"

"I’ll find a way to mass-produce your comprehensive household chores machine."

"Can you do that?"

"Just as I can mass-produce this game machine."

"Alright, the Furnace is in!" Bane rubbed his hands together excitedly. He took out a small cheat sheet and stuck it to his chosen machine. It listed which rounds to save money, which rounds to search, which units to prioritize, and which equipment to grab.

’He’s basically turned chess into a formula.’

Toto, on the other hand, sat casually to the side.

Zog and a few other Dwarves joined in to fill the lobby and start the game.

The game began.