“……”
Looking at Amir’s indifferent profile, Histori silently blinked a few times, then rubbed her temples with her knuckles as she processed what the other girl had just said.
…Seriously?
Am I still dreaming?
Or is Amir’s approach really just this straightforward?
She had just made up the lie about “needing to collect all the Sacred Artifacts across the continent to go home” to save her own skin last night.
And now, first thing this morning, this Hero had already hailed a carriage from the roadside and was ready to begin the first step of their world conquest plan?!
Shouldn’t they at least go to the United Kingdom to resupply equipment, let her see a bit more of the world, or maybe formulate a plan?
Just going directly to the Dwarf race’s stronghold dressed in Demon King’s army uniforms… isn’t that a bit…
But then again, thinking it over, compared to directly entering the United Kingdom—an enemy nation to the Demon race—starting with the Dwarves, who had little power and whose heads were only full of forging, might be something she could adapt to a little better.
Histori let out a soft sigh, then closed her eyes, mimicking Amir as she also settled in to rest.
She might as well use this trip to absorb some basic knowledge about this world.
Otherwise, based on the pitiful scraps of information she’d memorized in the Demon King’s Castle, she’d probably give herself away the moment they actually reached the United Kingdom.
—
Whether the carriages of this world possessed some special magic or Histori simply lost her sense of time amidst the rhythmic rocking and swaying, she wasn’t sure.
When she was jolted awake from her drowsy state by a bump and looked out the carriage window again in a daze, the scenery outside had done a complete one-eighty.
The lush coniferous forests and soft green grasslands were long gone.
In their place were vast stretches of steep, reddish-brown rocks and dry gravel.
Even the wind blowing into the carriage carried a temperature that was downright irritating.
Accompanied by two loud whinnies from the horses and the sound of wheels crushing over something, the coachman’s rough voice came from the front of the carriage—
“Ladies, prepare to get off! Vulcania is right ahead of us!”
“Are we there?”
Amir gave a light yawn, then lifted the carriage door curtain and stepped out first.
Through the opening Amir had made, Histori finally understood why the surroundings looked like this.
What lay before them was a city built around a volcano.
Even before truly stepping through the city gates, a faint smell of sulfur and coke wafted through the air.
“This is the capital of the Dwarf race, also known as the Forge City, Vulcania.”
Amir covered her nose with her fingertips, seeming quite annoyed by the smell as well—
“Though, calling it a capital is more symbolic. Most of those who live here are dedicated smiths. Even they probably don’t think this place is very suitable for living, right?”
“I see…”
Histori followed Amir and jumped down from the carriage.
Her gaze passed through the massive city gate, which stood dozens of meters high, and looked inside.
Boom—Boom—
Deafening roars continuously erupted from the vicinity of the volcano.
The constant clanging of hammers on anvils echoed from the streets and alleys.
The ground of Vulcania itself seemed to tremble slightly to this rhythm.
Moreover, looking down through the bridges spanning the streets, one could see that the city’s foundation was a broad underground river of magma.
Dark red liquid churned and surged within it, the red glow it emitted illuminating the entire underground area even brighter than the surface.
Additionally, countless thick pipes crisscrossed the rocky walls, spewing white steam.
Around the walls, countless elevators rose and fell between the various rock layers.
As for the streets themselves, shirtless Dwarves were everywhere.
Though most were a head shorter than Humans, perhaps due to their heavily muscled builds, they looked surprisingly burly.
Just as one might encounter hawkers calling out their wares on the streets of other cities, here, every few steps was a blacksmith’s shop.
Dwarves stood on barrels taller than themselves, swinging hammers and striking the glowing red iron before them, sending dazzling sparks flying.
“……”
However, faced with this spectacular, exotic sight, Histori couldn’t even muster a single word of admiration.
It was so hot.
She was going to die from the heat.
This wasn’t an exaggeration.
It was the literal meaning—she was about to die from the heat.
Even though she had immediately taken off her cloak and stuffed it into her storage space, in this city with an average temperature of at least forty degrees Celsius, filled with magma and furnaces, it was pure torture for a Vampire who preferred the cold and dark.
Histori trudged along with difficulty behind Amir, then instinctively opened her mouth, trying to let her tongue help dissipate heat. But even the air here was scorching.
“…Hah… hah… so, so hot…”
Beads of sweat the size of peas slid down Histori’s forehead one by one.
Some of them evaporated into steam the moment they hit the blistering hot cobblestones around her.
Furthermore, her clothes were already completely soaked with sweat, clinging stickily to her skin, which was unbearably uncomfortable.
And, for some reason, amidst this maddening, oppressive heat, a persistent itch began at the base of Histori’s tailbone.
It felt like even her tail wanted to come out to try and cool off.
No, she had to hold back on that point.
Demons weren’t exactly welcome anywhere outside the Eternal Night Territory.
If these hammer-wielding Dwarves discovered her true identity, they might just tie her to an anvil, shouting “For the glory of the Forging God!”
While pounding her into mincemeat…
Amir, walking ahead, finally stopped and glanced back at Histori.
“Histori, are you okay? You look like you’re about to melt.”
“…I-I’m fine. Just a little dizzy, that’s all.”
Histori looked up, her eyes filled with resentment as she gazed at the black-haired girl before her.
In this hellish place where even the air shimmered with heat, Amir was still wearing that full-body Demon King’s army uniform.
Yet, bizarrely, there wasn’t a single drop of sweat on her forehead.
No way…
Could it be that the Hero’s Blessing even accounted for something like this?
Histori swallowed hard, then squeezed her legs together, forcing a weak, strained smile for Amir.
“So, Hero, where exactly are we going to find the Dwarves’ Sacred Artifact?”
“……”
Amir curled the corner of her mouth at Histori, then took two steps forward and grasped Histori’s hand.
At that moment, a strange, cool sensation traveled from Amir’s palm throughout Histori’s entire body.
The surrounding air seemed to drop by over ten degrees.
“How’s that? Feeling better?”
“Much, much better?!”
Histori said in astonishment, then looked at Amir’s face with admiration—
“Could it be… this is also the Hero’s Blessing…”
“No, it’s just a bit of Cooling Potion. The coachman sold it to me earlier. Two bottles cost about the same as the fare.”
Amir tossed a small, pale blue bottle into Histori’s hand, then turned and pointed towards the very center of the Forge City.
Amidst a cluster of intersecting brass pipes and cascading lava waterfalls, a square structure crafted from obsidian stood at the city’s highest point.
At its pinnacle was a massive, hammer-shaped construct, as if proclaiming its own power.
“That there is the highest-level forging center of the Dwarf race—the Grand Forging Guild.”
Amir gazed at the obsidian building, a smile on her lips as she said—
“As for the Sacred Artifact we’re looking for—the very lifeline the Dwarf race relies on, the Anvil of Thunder that can imbue weapons with divine power during forging—it’s kept right there.”