Several Kilometers from Moth Pole Prison
At the base of the mountains, far beneath the shattered remains of Moth Pole Prison, a metallic echo rings through the darkness.
Clank!
Clank!
Clank!
CLANK!
Then—
CRASH!
A massive slab of rock collapses outward, revealing a freshly carved tunnel.
Dust pours out first.
Then seven dwarves in green prison uniforms stumble out one by one, coughing and squinting under the dim mountain light.
Their uniforms are filthy. Their beards are worse.
Finally, the last figure steps through the tunnel.
Cinderclaws.
"Kukuku… finally."
His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he surveys the group.
"Hippy. Dic. Grump. Dope. Bish. Slippy. Sneeze." He nods to each of the exhausted miners in turn. "Congratulations, each of you will have half your sentence reduced."
"Hmph… that doesn't matter, Warden," Dic grumbles immediately.
Cinderclaws raises an eyebrow.
"Oh? And why is that?"
Dic lifts his pickaxe—Shawshank, the infamous diabolical pickaxe.
With dramatic fury, he slams it into the ground.
"WHAT MATTERS—"
He points at the tool with deep resentment.
"—IS THAT WE'RE FINALLY FREE OF THIS CURSED PICKAXE!"
"YEAH!" the other six dwarves shout in agreement.
"Kee?" Shawshank chirps in confusion.
Then all seven dwarves immediately begin stomping on it.
Over.
And over.
And over.
Unfortunately for them—
Physics remains undefeated.
They all immediately hop backward simultaneously, clutching one foot and howling in pain.
"KEEEE-KE-KE-KE-KEEE!" Shawshank cackles gleefully from the ground.
"Heh… those seven truly were the best miners of Moth Pole," a voice says behind Cinderclaws.
Another dwarf emerges from the tunnel.
Dwordoug Axebreaker.
Many others surviving guards and prisoners follow behind him, slowly emerge from the tunnel.
"Indeed," Cinderclaws agrees. "Though the pickaxe itself is a miracle. Even mithril tools would have shattered many kilometers ago."
Dwordoug exhales slowly. "As much as I hate to admit it… you're right."
He then gestures toward the tunnel behind them.
"But we also owe the demons for our survival."
Their eyes shift toward the tunnel entrance again.
A moment later, Ambassador Mara emerges, being carefully carried in shoulders by two dwarves.
He looks battered, but conscious.
Then comes a improvised stretcher—two flat sheets of metal tied together.
On top of it lies Levi.
His body is covered with bruises and severe wounds, barely conscious after the collapse.
"Has everyone exited?" Mara asked, his voice thin and raspy.
"Yes, sir," one of the guards replied.
"Finally…"
Mara lifted a trembling hand toward the deeper end of the tunnel. His fingers shook slightly, but the spell forming there was precise.
A faint shimmer of dark mana gathered around his fingertips.
Far inside the tunnel, the barrier pillars he had created flickered. One by one they dissolved like mist.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then the tunnel groaned.
The stone ceiling shifted.
The walls twisted under their own weight.
And suddenly the entire passage collapsed inward.
Rock thundered down the length of the tunnel in a violent chain reaction, crushing empty space and sealing the route. Dust burst outward before slowly settling.
Dwordoug watched the sealed passage for a moment before nodding respectfully.
"Thank you, Ambassador Mara," he said. "Using barrier magic as structural pillars for seven days straight… without sleep… that must have been rough."
"Indeed…" Mara sighed deeply, shoulders sagging. "I am seriously too old for this."
"Mara," Levi called softly.
"Yes, sir?"
"Does sleep deprivation count as a work hazard too?" Levi asked with a tired smile.
"Yes, it does, sir," Mara replied immediately. "I'll add it to our work-compensation list."
"Kukuku…" Levi rubbed his face. "Monny's definitely going to wish we didn't survive once he sees the quotes."
Cinderclaws approached through the snow, boots crunching with each step.
"Grand Marshal, Mr. Minister, Mr. Ambassador," he reported. "We'll rest here tonight and resume travel tomorrow. The prisoners will gather wood, and my guards will hunt for food."
"Your guards can bring the pickaxe with them," Mara added. "It can smell blood from far away. Should be helpful for hunting."
Every guard shuddered.
Every prisoner grinned.
"Where are we heading tomorrow?" Mara asked.
"Back to the Moth Pole entrance," Cinderclaws replied. "The military must have noticed our missing daily transmissions many days ago. A rescue team should be looking for us there."
"If I may advise," Mara said politely, "the dwarves who attacked us likely have infiltrators among that rescue team."
Dwordoug nodded grimly.
"The ambassador is right."
Cinderclaws frowned. "Then should we go directly to Mount Gear Military Base?"
Dwordoug hesitated for a moment.
"Even though the commander there is from my sub-clan…" he admitted. "The enemy has likely infiltrated every base near the Moth Pole."
"Is there any base you consider safe, council member?" Mara asked.
"Boulderhelm Base," Dwordoug answered without hesitation. "The base commander there is an Axebreaker."
Cinderclaws groaned. "That's… twelve to fifteen days on foot. In the snow."
"Safer than the alternative," Dwordoug replied.
---
By sundown, the survivors had settled inside what remained of the tunnel.
The collapsed section had left a long stretch of intact corridor. Somehow it was large enough to shelter every dwarf and two demons. Compared to the freezing wind outside, it felt almost luxurious.
Several small fires burned along the stone walls.
The warm smell of cooking meat filled the cramped space.
Shawshank and the guards had managed to bring down a deer during the hunt. This success came after Shawshank had previously led them to a bear and other extremely dangerous predators during the first three attempts.
Eventually, they had found something that didn't try to eat them back.
For the survivors, it was the first proper meal in a week.
After seven days of digging while surviving on prison rations and worms, even slightly overcooked deer tasted magnificent.
Cinderclaws approached Dwordoug's fire carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle.
"Sir, I brought you and the demons some dinner."
"Thanks," Dwordoug said, pointing beside him. "Just put the Muricans' share here. They're still asleep."
Both dwarves turned to look.
Levi and Mara were lying near the fire.
Both were snoring.
Loudly.
"A demon duke sleeping peacefully next to me…" Cinderclaws scoffed quietly. "Never thought that would happen in my life."
"Heh, same," Dwordoug chuckled. "I thought we'd be fighting them, not sharing a campfire and deer jerky."
They shared a brief laugh.
"But still," Cinderclaws said after a moment, his eyes drifting toward Levi's bandaged body, "seeing Leviathan's true form…"
He shook his head slowly.
"I'm not sure I'll ever forget it. More terrifying than any illustration."
"And yet," Dwordoug said quietly, "that terrifying demon saved our lives."
Levi's true form was, quite literally, a Leviathan.
A colossal whale-like demon nearly two hundred meters long.
When the avalanche came crashing down, that massive body had surged forward and blocked it at the last possible moment.
The impact had been catastrophic.
Thousands of tons of rock slammed into him.
Even for a Leviathan, the force had been brutal.
But he held.
Just long enough.
Long enough for Dwordoug and the others to dig an escape tunnel.
It was the only reason every one of them was still alive.
"Sir," Cinderclaws said after a moment of silence, "I was wondering something."
"Yes?"
"How did the Goldenclaws clan even get here? Deep inside Dwargonia?"
"That's a mystery to me as well," Dwordoug replied. "I always assumed they were hiding somewhere in Meridinia."
He frowned.
"And how they slipped those airships past our mana-radar…" He shook his head slowly. "Unsettling."
"A mystery indeed," Cinderclaws agreed.
Dwordoug's expression hardened. "One thing is certain. When we return to Hearthguard Cairn…"
His eyes reflected the firelight.
"…there will be a purge."
"A massive purge."
The campfire crackled quietly between them.
---
Balevar, Forest Orphanage
Bella and the children sprinted across the orphanage yard, shrieking with excitement as they played Murican-style tag.
Murican-style tag had one important rule.
If the person who was "it" ran long enough, the other kids could form a posse and hunt them down instead.
"OVER THERE!" Bella shouted gleefully.
She was wearing a pair of Murican thermal goggles she absolutely did not need.
"GET HIM!"
"That's cheating!" Kovalski yelled in protest.
He burst out from behind a bush and immediately started running for his life.
The children screamed with delight and charged after him like a tiny, extremely enthusiastic mob.
Pebbles began flying through the air.
Bella threw one with impressive accuracy.
She was enjoying this far more than anyone reasonably should.
On a nearby tree branch, Ivy lounged lazily while watching the chaos below.
Robert approached carefully, holding a mug with both hands.
"Miss Knight, um… grape juice."
"Ah, thanks," Ivy said, taking the mug without even looking.
Robert climbed up and sat beside her on the branch, trying very hard not to look blushing.
It had been two days since the misfit party hid inside the orphanage.
For their planned two-week disappearance, they had considered two hiding options.
Option one: hide with bandits.
Option two: hide with children.
The choice had been obvious.
Well… mostly obvious.
Hiding with bandits had a high chance of the misfit party ending up leading them. And that would be the exact opposite of laying low.
So the orphanage won.
"I'm still grateful for the lesson you gave us," Robert said sincerely.
"What lesson?"
"Even those who save you can hurt you later. We learned not to trust blindly now."
"Yeah-yeah," Ivy muttered.
Hearing that reminded her of the absolutely ridiculous excuse she had invented when returning the orphanage's stolen supplies.
She still couldn't believe they bought it.
"So…" Ivy finally said, glancing sideways at Robert.
"Why do you dress like that?"
Robert blinked.
She gestured vaguely at his outfit.
It was very neat. Very prim. Almost nun-like.
"A-ah… because I want to be like Sister Catherine," Robert said shyly. "A gentle figure for the kids."
Ivy stared at him for a moment.
"What a weak-ass reason…"
She took a sip of her grape juice.
"Anyway, I've been here two days," she continued. "Is there really nothing else you guys do except play and pray?"
"Well… not really," Robert admitted. "Sometimes we look for ingredients in the forest, like the day I met you."
He hesitated.
"But it's dangerous. There are wolves."
"And bandits," Ivy added.
"What bandits?" Robert asked, blinking in confusion.
"We've never seen any bandits in this forest."
"…Huh?"
The Misfit Party still had absolutely no idea that the mountain bandits were, effectively, the orphanage's unofficial guardian angels.