Chapter 158: A Dwarf with a Dirty Mouth

Malrik placed his hand on the book’s leather cover, and a familiar system window appeared before his eyes.

[ Do you wish to learn this skill? ]

[ Yes / No ]

He didn’t hesitate.

"Yes."

In the blink of an eye, the pages of the book vanished, dissolving into particles of concentrated blue light before rushing into his palm like a torrent.

This time, he wasn’t flooded with the usual knowledge of a magic spell or the movements required to perform a particular skill.

Instead, his blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

For a fraction of a second, Malrik sensed an overpowering entity standing directly behind him. A shiver ran through his entire body.

The aura radiating from the entity was terrifying and hostile, yet that hostility wasn’t directed at him. It simply felt like an inseparable part of his own being.

Before he could turn around, the dreadful sensation vanished, leaving the air inside the carriage undisturbed, as though nothing had happened.

Cedric, however, seemed to have noticed the presence. He said nothing.

[ Skill acquired: Ashura Manifestation ]

Malrik slowly flexed his fingers.

Nothing had changed. This skill was entirely different from the magical skills he had learned before, and he wasn’t even sure how to activate it.

He only felt a tether, a profound connection bound to something entirely new that he had never experienced before, and he lacked the proper words to even describe the sensation.

An intense surge of excitement washed over Malrik.

He wanted to test the skill immediately, but a closed carriage was hardly the place to summon the phantom of a War Deity.

Before he could think about it any further, a muffled thud came from the opposite side.

Something had slammed violently against iron bars.

Malrik looked toward the table.

The third box was shaking beneath its black silk cover, and angry, muffled grunts came from within.

He reached out and pulled the cover off in a single motion.

It wasn’t a box at all, but an iron cage. Behind its bars sat a chained dwarf.

He was short and stout, with broad shoulders and thick arms. His rugged features were framed by thick brows and a wide nose, slightly crooked at the bridge.

His dark brown hair, streaked with coarse grey strands, fell to his shoulders. The lower half of his face was hidden beneath a thick beard, carefully braided into three short plaits with small iron rings dangling from their ends.

Despite his compact build and bulging muscles, heavy iron chains bound his arms and body, while a thick, rough cloth gag muffled his screams.

The dwarf had been one of the lots presented at today’s auction, where the buying and selling of slaves seemed perfectly normal at events of this scale.

When Malrik saw the dwarf, he decided to buy him without hesitation. With his departure to take control of the Barony of Dreadmoor approaching, he would inevitably need a skilled blacksmith—preferably a dwarf who possessed the craft to forge and maintain weapons for his troops.

Ironically, this dwarf had cost Malrik no more than ten platinum coins. Under normal circumstances, the bidding should have soared far higher, as dwarf slaves were an exceptionally rare commodity in the market.

However, the moment Malrik announced his opening bid from Box A06, the entire auction hall fell silent. With the Second Prince’s private box occupied by Malrik, not a single noble or merchant dared to challenge his bid.

As a result, Malrik secured the dwarf at the lowest possible price on the very first call.

Magnus clearly hadn’t been pleased. He knew the true value of a master dwarven blacksmith and had expected the auction to spark a bidding war over this particular lot.

In the end, however, he swallowed his objections and kept his mouth shut.

Whatever he had lost on the dwarf’s sale price, he had just secured the deal of a lifetime by selling an Epic skill book for 50,000 platinum coins, a thousand times its starting price.

That was more than enough to make him overlook the loss.

The moment the cover came off and the dwarf was exposed to the light, he began thrashing violently. He writhed and hurled himself against the narrow bars, letting out furious grunts from behind his gag.

Judging by the sounds he made and the furious glares he shot at Malrik, the latter could swear the dwarf was hurling the vilest insults imaginable at him and his ancestors.

Malrik calmly turned toward Cedric, who sat beside him.

The old man showed no reaction to the dwarf’s unusual appearance or extreme hostility. He merely watched him with a calm, neutral gaze, as though this sort of behavior from dwarves was nothing unusual.

Malrik looked back at the dwarf and sighed softly. "Cedric."

The old man raised his eyes.

"Free him, please. It’s not as though he can go anywhere."

Cedric nodded silently and slowly raised his right hand. With a light flick of his finger, a wave of cold, black energy swept through the thick iron chains binding the dwarf.

In the blink of an eye, the metal turned pitch-black before crumbling away into fine grey ash that scattered across the cage floor. The rough gag slipped from the dwarf’s face.

However, the dwarf, still consumed by his fit of rage and his blind attempts to break free, did not immediately register that his bonds had vanished, and continued screaming at the top of his lungs.

"I’ll rip off your silk-wrapped bollocks and wear ’em as a necklace, you perfume-sniffing, goblin-shagging little shits! I swear by the deep stone, I’m gonna take these very chains, shove ’em straight up your powdered arses, and pull ’em out your mouths till you’re flossing your teeth with your own bloody bowels, you beardless, limp-dick, goat-screwing excuses for men, limp-dick excuses for—!"

Then he stopped.

The dwarf slowly blinked his grey eyes. His arms were moving freely.

He looked down at his bare wrists, then at the pile of black ash by his feet, where the chains had been only moments earlier. Only then did he slowly raise his head.

His eyes met Malrik’s first.

Malrik looked as though he couldn’t decide whether to be shocked by the sheer amount of profanity he’d just heard or impressed by the dwarf’s vocabulary.

Then the dwarf’s gaze shifted to Cedric, and he froze.

The old man stared back with a cold, murderous look, as though he’d crawled out of an open grave. He said nothing, but he looked as if he were calculating exactly how long it would take to flay the dwarf alive.

The dwarf immediately realized he’d landed himself in deadly trouble. A heavy silence filled the carriage.

The dwarf cleared his throat and swallowed audibly. He forced a wide smile and raised a hand to rub the back of his neck.

"...I mean... exceptions apply, of course! Obviously not you, gents! You two clearly possess some of the most... magnificent, fully functioning dicks Valthera has ever seen! Right?"

Nothing changed.

Malrik’s expression remained stiff, and Cedric didn’t so much as blink. The silence grew even more oppressive, as though the temperature inside the carriage had dropped several degrees.

The dwarf’s smile slowly faded, His shoulders slumped, and he whispered miserably.

"...Please don’t kill me."

---

Author’s Note

Please don’t kill me either, dear readers, for the sudden interruption in updates! ??

As I mentioned in my previous note, I’ve been recovering from a severe case of bronchitis. Unfortunately, before I could fully recover, I also experienced an FMF flare-up, which prolonged my recovery and delayed the updates even further.

I’m truly sorry for keeping you waiting. Now that I’m recovering, I’ll do my best to make up for the missed updates and return to a consistent posting schedule.

Thank you for your patience and continued support.