Chapter 480
Unite! (3)
If there’s one thing that stands out among the countless differences between Earth and this world, it’s the existence of “monsters.”
While ferocious beasts can also be classified as monsters, their most significant distinction is that they don’t obey the nature goddess, “Hirt.”
No one knows who created them, but they’ve established their own independent domain beyond Hirt’s influence.
Some scholars suggest that monsters emerged through the same process that gave birth to the demon race 3,000 years ago.
The fact that they exist outside Hirt’s influence alone makes this hypothesis more credible.
[A good monster is a dead monster.]
The rampage of monsters represents the worst enemy in human history, especially for humans.
Non-human races each have their own exceptional strengths, allowing them to handle monsters adequately unless facing gigantic ones like dragons, krakens, or behemoths.
But humans are so weak that even goblins pose a significant threat to daily life. Even now, villages with sparse human traffic remain exposed to monster threats.
Moreover, while beasts can be repelled with swords and spears through difficult combat, monsters often walk on two legs and use weapons.
In such cases, simple combat isn’t enough—war must be waged, and if that war is lost, the village faces annihilation.
Humans built civilization through tenacious perseverance and unity. After establishing civilization, they mastered various tactics including mana to counter monsters.
Additionally, since various by-products could be obtained from monsters, professions like adventurers emerged. However, the threat of monsters remains ongoing for humans.
For ordinary people to hunt monsters more easily, high-quality “weapons” are essential. Even without using mana, good weapons can pierce ogre hide.
And there’s only one race capable of “mass-producing” high-quality weapons: the dwarves.
“If we stop producing weapons, the Minerva Empire will immediately pressure us, asking why we aren’t supplying weapons. Where would that leave us? And it’s not just the Empire. Alfheim also buys our products. Perhaps Helium could become a good customer too.”
“What about our kin who suffer making these things? Are you saying you don’t care about our own people?”
“We pay them. Money. The money we all love so much.”
Bourju V rubbed his thumb and index finger together with a greedy smile. Everyone knows what that gesture means.
Eins wore an expression of disbelief at his shameless behavior before squeezing his eyes shut. To think his great invention would be used to create an even larger “factory.”
The bigger problem was that Bourju V wasn’t wrong at all. The quantity of weapons used by the Empire far surpasses that of other countries.
The pile of orders before them was jaw-dropping. Moreover, the movements of the barbaric beastkin in the north and Stabirk in the east were concerning.
Crucially, the Minerva Empire’s territory is insanely vast. To protect such extensive territory, the quantity of weapons must increase exponentially.
If Machina stopped production, the Minerva Empire would be furious. Under that pretext, the “factories” would continue working through tears.
Above all, what angered him most was the wages Bourju V mentioned. Eins spoke quietly, feeling rage rising to the top of his head.
“…Money? Did you just say money?”
“Yes. Money. With that money, they can drink cool beer and rest comfortably.”
“…”
Eins closed his eyes again. He wanted nothing more than to punch that irritating face.
The wages Bourju V just mentioned were significantly lower than what dwarves deserved for their work.
How can anyone rest after hammering and working the bellows for over 12 hours?
How can anyone enjoy cool beer while sweating profusely in front of a hot furnace?
How can anyone receive proper treatment when they injure their fingers from hammering mistakes?
What’s even worse is that they take away portions of the already meager wages under ridiculous pretexts.
For example, if someone is late or falls asleep during work, their wages are reduced by 10%. They pressure the “factory workers” by reducing wages for other absurd reasons.
Even women and children cannot escape the factory. Again, dwarves are a race that innately loves to create things.
Many volunteer to become factory workers, dreaming of creating their own works someday, but what awaits them is a terrible purgatory.
‘When did we become so corrupt?’
Eins opened his eyes and looked at the king before him. Bourju V, adorned with all manner of splendid ornaments.
Dwarves live slightly longer than humans, about 300 years. Bourju V is the son of Bourju IV, who experienced the racial war.
But while Bourju IV allowed each dwarf their own “creation,” Bourju V suppresses creativity and only demands “labor.”
A small number of factory owners could amass enormous wealth, while they didn’t care at all about the hardships the workers endured.
‘If my invention had been born in the hands of factory owners… ’
The reason he could focus on magical engines was simple. He was a blacksmith—a technician—not a factory worker.
Most items are made through manual labor, but that doesn’t mean there are no machines involved.
How to control the temperature of the furnace, how to measure the temperature of fire, and so on. Eins is a technician who invents such machines.
He’s not just focused on technology; he also works as a miner. But upon reflection, being a miner wasn’t easy either.
When mine tunnels collapse causing numerous casualties, they merely click their tongues without providing proper compensation.
Even the wages were unsatisfactory. He simply hadn’t realized it because he had accepted it as “normal” for so long.
‘They know nothing about the lives of factory workers. They’re just blinded by greed.’
Suddenly, the Dwarf King Greed described in The Chronicles of Zenon came to mind.
He was a case who crossed over to the devil’s side out of desire to create the ultimate masterpiece. That greed consumed him.
But at least that king was pure. Above all, didn’t he create the ultimate “masterpiece” and depart satisfied?
Look at the king before him now. With no trace of a dwarf’s creative desire, he’s nothing but a pig fixated only on money.
Not a dwarf, but a demon of greed wearing a dwarf’s disguise. Can one even call him a dwarf?
‘This isn’t right.’
Already, the elderly, weak, and children are being used in factories. What if the steam engine falls into their hands?
It could lead to an even more terrible situation. Then the meaning of being born a dwarf would completely disappear.
But he held a glimmer of hope. If the steam engine could replace that terrible labor, wouldn’t the quality of life for factory workers improve?
“…Your Majesty.”
Eins spoke with rare politeness. When he opened his mouth, Bourju V’s greedy expression changed slightly.
Eventually, Eins slowly opened his eyes and looked at the king before him. His eyes still burned with passion, but there was one major difference.
These weren’t the eyes of an eccentric “technician,” but the eyes of a “person” representing the hearts of many people.
“If my magical engine can replace the labor of factory workers, could you tell me what benefits you might offer them?”
“I don’t understand. Say it again.”
“I asked if you would consider using my invention for the benefit of the factory workers.”
For some unknown reason, Bourju V raised one eyebrow at the now-calm Eins. The attendant beside him also looked at him as if wondering what he was thinking.
However, regardless of intentions, the most important thing was Eins’s magical engine. Bourju V nodded with a satisfied expression, whatever he might be thinking.
Then he clasped his hands together, emphasizing the rings on each finger. In contrast, Eins’s hands were wrinkled and thickened from hard labor.
“Of course. With your magical engine, the factory workers could work more comfortably. But as efficiency increases, we’ll extend their hours accordingly.”
“Why? Why increase their hours? If efficiency increases, couldn’t we meet order deadlines earlier?”
“The Empire requires so many items. This is unavoidable.”
“…I see.”
Swish—
As if he had nothing more to say, Eins rose from his seat without being dismissed by Bourju V.
The attendant hurried to reprimand him for his rudeness, but was prevented when Eins spoke first.
“I’ll take my leave now. Do as you please with the magical engine.”
“Thank you. I won’t forget your dedication.”
“Then, farewell until we meet again.”
Eins left the room with heavy steps. He could hear Bourju V snickering behind him, but he deliberately ignored it.
Walking endlessly with his short legs, he eventually made it outside. Eins raised his head and looked ahead.
The royal palace where the king resides is built on the mountainside. It’s a terrain prone to collapse, but the dwarves’ transcendent construction abilities made it possible.
And before him, despite it being night, he could see the lit “forges.”
‘Machina is famous for its beautiful night scenery.’
But within that night scenery, numerous factory workers are hammering away. Even now, can’t you hear the bang! bang! of hammers?
And the royal palace? Eins looked at the screams buried in the beautiful light, then turned around.
Most of the lights in the royal palace were off. Except for guards patrolling with lamps for security, the palace was settling into sleep.
While some can’t even sleep properly as they hammer away, others sleep comfortably.
The factory workers toil through the night, but it’s the factory owners who receive the money.
When did dwarves start being despised as a money-obsessed race rather than being praised as craftsmen?
From the perspective of other dwarves, including factory workers, it’s an infuriating prejudice. That prejudice was created entirely by factory owners.
‘What’s money anyway? I, no, we just wanted… ’
To create “works” like the magical engine. To create strange but interesting works.
Not only is everything being taken away, but the factory workers are being made to suffer even more. He felt like cutting off his own hands.
Eins trudged along, feeling anger and composure fighting within his chest.
He wanted to wash away this unsettled feeling with cool beer, but even that seemed unlikely.
“Hey! Eins!”
“Huh?”
Just then, a familiar voice reached Eins’s ears. He had been walking with his head down, but now he looked up.
When he raised his head, he saw his friend and colleague Handai, who had invented the magical engine with him, waving and walking toward him.
“Handai…”
Just as he was about to rejoice at seeing his friend after a long time, Eins noticed something strange about him.
There was something odd about the hand he was waving happily. Eins narrowed his eyes and examined Handai’s hand.
“Hey, your hand…”
“Huh? Oh, this? I messed up while hammering and completely shattered the bone. So I cut it off.”
Handai showed his hand as if it were no big deal. About two segments of his ring finger had been cut off.
He laughed heartily and responded cheerfully. While this showcased the typical dwarf joviality, it wasn’t the same for Eins.
“Money? How did you get paid?”
“How would I get money for cutting off a finger? I just got some basic treatment and went back to hammering.”
“…”
“Anyway, where have you been? Why do you look so gloomy?”
Is that supposed to be normal? No, they probably pressured him with money so he had no choice but to come to work.
Eins felt his dying passion beginning to blaze again. It wasn’t passion for creation.
It was a higher, more overarching passion that surged within him.
A different kind of “creation”—one that would rebuild the entire country.
“Why are you so quiet?”
“…Handai.”
“Yeah?”
“Would you follow me if I made something strange?”
Handai wore a puzzled expression at Eins’s abrupt question. But Eins’s expression couldn’t have been more serious.
Did he sense something in that expression? Handai rolled his eyes and then quietly spoke.
“…What are you going to make?”
“Nothing special. Do you know where Gias is?”
“Gias is probably hammering right now.”
“Call him immediately.”
If you leave even a tiny spark unattended…
“I’m going to create something big and beautiful.”
It will turn into a massive fire.