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Chapter 2: Life Goes On, Mining Never Stops
"Oh, you're here to pick up Eld's blood analyzer for him." Despite my silence, the eccentric alchemist Edgeville immediately discerned my purpose. I have no idea how he did it—perhaps it’s akin to the inexplicable knowledge lodged in my brain, some innate instinct.
"I can't hand it over just yet; there's a small component still unfinished. I need some special materials. If you can fetch them for me, I'll have it ready in no time. You need to find a mineral called Quartzite Jade in the abandoned mines west of the city. They're shiny white rocks—you won't miss them. Use this pickaxe to dig them out, fill this sack, and don’t forget your torch. But be careful, it seems the place is currently infested with large bats."
Though he asked for my consent, he gave me no chance to refuse. As soon as he finished speaking, he produced a pickaxe, a large sack, and a torch from somewhere, thrusting them into my hands. Then, without another word, he turned back to his frenzied and dangerous alchemical experiments.
Holding the tools, I stood awkwardly, unsure what to do. By all social conventions (though I’m not sure how I knew these conventions), I should probably bid farewell to the house's owner before leaving. But seeing how engrossed he was in his work, I feared interrupting his research would be intrusive.
After standing there uncomfortably for a moment, I finally mustered the courage to say goodbye. Just then, I caught a whiff of a bitter, burnt smell. Battle-honed instincts screamed danger. Suddenly, a burst of fiery red exploded before my eyes, followed by a wave of intense heat that scorched my cheeks.
At the same instant, a thunderous explosion erupted, like a lightning strike next to my ear. In that fleeting moment, I only had time to duck, cover my head, and hit the floor, feeling shards of debris narrowly miss my scalp.
When the chaos subsided, I cautiously raised my head to survey the surroundings. The room hadn’t changed much—it was already a chaotic mess, so the explosion’s contribution to the disorder was negligible. The black smoke billowing from the experiment table remained, and Edgeville’s tattered clothes and soot-blackened face were unchanged.
"Don't worry..." He grinned again, revealing two rows of white teeth. But his smile was anything but reassuring—whether he was a deranged madman or someone with a cracked skull, his grin held the same unnerving quality.
"...It was just a minor accident," he continued calmly, as if everything was perfectly normal.
Without further ado, I tossed all notions of social etiquette aside and bolted out of Edgeville's house as fast as I could. I swore to myself that not even a dragon could drag me back into that room. Bid him farewell? Don't make me laugh—I didn't want to spend another second in that cursed place—or rather, I dared not stay. It wasn’t death I feared, but dying an ignoble, foolish death, smashed on the head by a cracked bowl amidst an explosion caused by a lunatic.
Following Edgeville's instructions, I exited through the western gate of Kampnavia. Night had fallen, and both inside and outside the city, the streets were nearly deserted. Occasionally, a few Planewalkers flitted across my vision, their expressions vacant, their steps hurried.
With fewer people around, beasts roamed more freely outside the city walls. However, the low-level creatures loitering near the gates posed no threat to me anymore. Even if I walked close by, they no longer chased me relentlessly like before—I suspected it was because my soul strength far surpassed theirs. Still, I kept my distance, especially from the flocks of chickens near the city walls.
Guided by the markings on my magical map, I followed a narrow path until I reached the end, where I easily dispatched a few stray dogs too foolish to gauge their opponent’s strength. Finally, I came upon the entrance to a dilapidated mine.
Clearly abandoned, the wooden awning at the mine's mouth was heavily rotted and covered in thick spider webs, though it remained sturdy. Inside, the passageways were reinforced with massive timber beams, and two long iron tracks ran along the floor—one extending out of the cave, the other disappearing into the impenetrable darkness beyond. This clever design was a hallmark of the dwarven race, whose love for invention allowed them to transport ore quickly and efficiently to the surface.
Several large bats hovered near the entrance, flying low enough that their enormous ears and grotesque fangs were clearly visible. These creatures, known as "giant bats," were only level three and posed little challenge. Not wanting to attract a swarm, I stuck close to the cave wall as I approached. Only three bats noticed me, and I dispatched them without much effort.
Once inside, I lit my torch. Its light was dim, illuminating no more than twenty paces ahead. The flickering flames danced across the stone walls, casting an oppressive atmosphere. After walking a short distance, I spotted a gleaming white solid—a piece of quartzite jade. I set the torch aside, took out my sack and pickaxe, and began mining. The ore was harder than I expected, jarring my hands with each strike. Once extracted, I dropped it into the sack, stowed the sack in my magical backpack, picked up the torch, and pressed on.
The deeper I ventured, the more numerous and formidable the bats became. I'd been mining for quite some time, collecting more and more ore, and now faced pairs of level-five "bloodsucking bats." These large, red-furred creatures had a natural ability to drain my vitality during attacks, replenishing their own life force. This was the limit of what I could handle; if not for the healing potions Millionfold had given me before departing, I wouldn’t have made it this far.
With only one more piece needed to fill the sack, I decided to venture a bit further, collect the final ore, and then retreat. Soon, I spotted a shimmering piece of quartzite jade in the passageway. Excited, I rushed over, dug it out with my pickaxe, and completed my mission. Just then, I heard faint "thud-thud" sounds echoing from deeper within the mine.
I followed the noise and discovered, not far ahead at a bend in the tunnel, a stout figure wielding a massive iron pickaxe. His long red beard was braided into plaits, and despite his diminutive stature—his head barely reaching my chest—he swung the tool with impressive strength. The oversized pickaxe looked comically mismatched with his small frame, making me fear he might accidentally launch himself backward with the force of his swings.
His appearance unmistakably marked him as a pure-blooded highland dwarf. Stonekeep, a dwarven city northeast of Kampnavia, lay less than three days' journey away, so encountering dwarves in this region wasn’t unusual.
Humans often feel isolated in dark, cramped spaces, especially when surrounded by deadly bloodsucking beasts. Thus, finding a fellow traveler with the same goal brought me unexpected comfort.
"Hello," I greeted him cheerfully as I approached. "I didn’t expect anyone else to be here."
"Mining is truly great...” He didn’t look up, his work unceasing, his words brimming with unbridled passion and dedication.
"Oh, really? How’s your haul going? This is supposed to be an abandoned mine—is there anything valuable left?" I asked curiously.
Before my sentence even ended, the dwarf miner launched into a boisterous song: "We miners have strength, hey, we miners have strength..."
Clearly, this guy was thrilled with his current task and proud of it. However, his exuberant expression left me overwhelmed.
"How long have you been here? I mean, it looks like you've been at it for a while..." I hesitated.
"To mine or to perish, that is the question..." His tone suddenly turned fervent and philosophical, his words heavy with meaning—or perhaps meaningless. Perhaps the best way to describe his speech was: non sequitur!
"Hey, are you okay? Are you alright?" I couldn’t help but worry about his responses. He didn’t seem delusional, yet every answer he gave bore no relation to my questions.
"I dive into these ores like a starving man dives into bread!" He ignored my query entirely.
"Are you not hearing me?" I was nearing frustration. Initially, I thought I’d found a kindred spirit, but instead, he rambled nonsensically.
"I will dedicate my finite life to the infinite pursuit of mining!" He declared resolutely.
...
And so unfolded a bizarre and perplexing conversation. Throughout, this rough-looking dwarf spoke in poetic language, each sentence laden with deep meaning—or complete gibberish. Most astonishingly, no matter what he said, he praised and glorified the act of mining and the profession of miners without restraint. In his words, mining was the noblest, greatest occupation in the world, its practitioners adorned with honor, splendor, and virtue. A miner, he proclaimed, was "a noble person, a pure person, a moral person, a person free from base desires, a person beneficial to the people."
Had someone been watching our exchange, they would’ve witnessed a curious scene: a human warrior clad in armor, utterly baffled, persistently asking futile questions; before him, a scruffy dwarf miner, unfazed, diligently chipping away at the rock while calmly responding in cryptic phrases. There seemed to be some form of communication between them, though I couldn’t fathom what he was trying to convey.
I didn’t understand how this situation arose. Perhaps this ore-obsessed individual simply didn’t comprehend my words, or maybe my mind wasn’t quick enough to follow his erratic leaps of logic.
In other words, I concluded that this peculiar dwarf was either an idiot or a profound philosopher—and oftentimes, the line between the two isn’t very wide. The difference depends solely on how you perceive them.
During our conversation, several bloodsucking bats approached us. I tensed, but whenever they neared the edge of our alert zone, they abruptly turned and flew away. After a few such instances, I realized we were in a blind spot of their patrol—an area untouched by these winged predators.
Finally, I gave up on the futile dialogue. I stopped expecting any meaningful insights from this dwarf. He gave off a strange vibe—I felt he wasn’t a freedom-seeking Planewalker but rather a Native, silent and taciturn like those I’d met before. Yet unlike typical Natives, he spouted elaborate nonsense whenever addressed.
As I prepared to leave, habit compelled me to bid him farewell. In response, he solemnly declared: "Mining represents the advanced development of productive forces, the forward direction of advanced culture, and the fundamental interests of the vast majority of players!"
My head swelled with exasperation, and I hastily retreated toward the exit, leaving behind his industrious figure hacking away at the rock. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if he carved a tunnel through the mighty Uzig Mountains, connecting the distant western lands.
Oh, right—this oddball had a peculiar name: "Mining AFK Leveling My Smurf."
...
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