It was a place unknown.
The smell of unfamiliar earth, strange trees, unknown grass, and unfamiliar animals… for Roarock, it was a place filled with nothing but the strange.
The occasionally heard sound of birds and the faint echoes of gunfire in the distance were the only things that felt somewhat familiar to Roarock.
Aside from that, everything was foreign. Roarock was lost in a nameless mountain.
Though he occasionally heard gunfire, it was difficult to gauge direction based on that. Specifying the direction of that immense sound, which had already spread far and wide, would be a task even an Elf would struggle with.
“Damn…”
Cursing under his breath, Roarock walked aimlessly. The fresh scent of grass and earth was something he hadn’t experienced in quite a long time.
For the past few years, the only smells his pug nose had encountered were the burning scent of hair and flesh, the metallic tang of blood, or the acrid stench of charcoal blackened by indiscriminate shelling.
Roarock did not disdain the natural fragrance the forest exuded. He inhaled deeply, only to cough as the dust lodged in his beard was sent swirling into his lungs.
“Cough! Cough! Damn it!”
Nervously, Roarock shook his beard, sending a cloud of thick dirt lingering in the air.
Shaking it off, he moved forward.
He had no idea where he was headed. He didn’t have a map or a compass. All he could do was leave traces on the trees he passed to prevent himself from wandering in circles.
Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t lose his way.
How long had he been walking? Roarock felt his legs beginning to tingle as he looked at a tree right in front of him. There were indentations on it from when he had carved into it; he no longer remembered when.
“…This is bad.”
Swearing by the name of the Mother Mountain, Roarock never dreamed he would get lost in the mountains. It was a miscalculation to enter a land of humans where he had no grasp of the geography and had whimsically glanced at contour lines on a tactical map.
“Of all places to end up in this crap… tsk.”
Grumbling, Roarock continued forward. Until now, he had wandered aimlessly due to the pride he took in the name of the Mother Mountain, but now that he had concluded he wouldn’t find his way, it was time to change his course of action.
Roarock decided to focus on survival. His expectations for a rescue team were already half abandoned. Even if they did come to rescue him, it was likely to be soldiers dispatched under the pretext of a rescue.
This was originally human territory, so if they came, it would probably be to mop up the scattered remnants of Dwarf soldiers in the mountains. Roarock had no intention of being caught by them and facing death.
– Click.
Roarock’s vest and belt came undone. They were smeared with black soot everywhere, and the dust from the earth had made them uniformly yellowed.
“Let’s see, let’s see…”
Roarock leaned against a large tree and sat down, beginning to unpack various weapons and tools attached to his vest and belt.
Not knowing how long he would have to survive here, it was essential to assess his own capabilities.
Before long, a neatly organized display of blades and tools lay before Roarock. His expression darkened instantly.
‘Adamant tactical knife, tactical axe, folding shovel, small hammer, two cigarettes, a broken gas mask, a lighter with only half the fuel left, a first-aid kit, 90 rounds of ammunition…’
The most critical food supplies amounted to merely three energy protein blocks the size of his finger. If he divided that into the minimal portions needed, he could last a week, but doing so would mean he wouldn’t be able to take a single step and would have to sit in place waiting for death.
The only consolation was that there was still some fuel left in the lighter and that at least two cigarettes remained. Roarock quickly put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it.
“Phew…”
The harsh smoke filled Roarock’s lungs. The Dwarves who worked in the mines tended to steer clear of tobacco, claiming it worsened their already poor lung capacity, but for those like Roarock who had not worked in the mines, it was a welcome thing.
He tried to savor the slowly caressing taste of the cigarette on his throat, but the farewell moment came all too quickly. Roarock looked longingly at the short remaining butt before silently extinguishing it in the dirt.
“To think this is the end, it drives me crazy.”
He vowed to smoke the last one if he managed to escape this place. Suppressing the desire for one more puff, Roarock hid the cigarette deep in his pocket.
For now, he decided to sort through what he needed and what he didn’t. He began to discard the unnecessary items without hesitation.
“The gas mask is broken, so it’s useless. No, the purification canister is broken too? Damn it…”
After filtering out a few useless items like that, Roarock found his steps considerably lighter. He took a protein block and broke it in half, putting one piece in his mouth.
“Ugh… this is no better than dog food…”
The extremely hard and flavorless block tasted disgusting, akin to a mixture of cardboard and newspaper, filling Roarock’s mouth. He frowned but began to slowly dissolve the hard protein block with his saliva.
As he chewed on the protein block, Roarock gradually got back on his feet.
‘The sun is setting quickly.’
Darkness had already begun to settle in the forest. In the dimming green surroundings, Roarock sensed that the time of twilight was approaching, when the sky would turn crimson.
The distant sounds of gunfire and cannon fire could no longer be heard. Roarock was very aware of what that meant.
The battle had ended. Whether the 3rd Mountain Division had surrendered or fought to the last man, or whether the captured Dwarves had been annihilated while fighting amongst themselves… the combat that had splattered blood just hours ago was over.
Roarock’s expression became complicated.
“Tsk… it’s just insane.”
As he said, it was indeed absurd. Shaking his head, Roarock moved his body.
The sun in the mountains set quickly, and darkness approached even more rapidly. Roarock had no intention of being torn to pieces by wild animals in the darkness.
He needed to make a place to lie down. As soon as possible.
Fortunately, Roarock was a skilled Dwarf. Before the forest completely fell into darkness, he hurriedly began to hasten his steps in search of a suitable spot.
A place that was moderately sunny, secluded enough to serve as a temporary shelter, and where it would be easy to find water and food.
If that wasn’t possible, at least a place where he could spend the night safely. As Roarock’s short legs scurried along, he finally spotted a place that seemed suitable for spending the night.
It was where a large tree had fallen. The tree was so massive that it was almost twice Roarock’s height, and it lay shattered at the base as if struck by some blind shell.
Roarock quickly made his way there. In this forest dominated by towering giant trees, the gracious sunlit warmth was nearly gone. It was fortunate that Dwarves had slightly better night vision than others.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Roarock finally reached the fallen tree.
“Ugh, ugh…”
A strange sound came from somewhere. Roarock quickly lowered his posture.
“Huh, ugh…”
It was an artificial sound. Not one made by nature or a beast. Roarock hid behind the fallen tree and cautiously peeked out in the direction of the sound.
“Ugh…!”
Long arms and legs, a slender body, green hair, and green eyes.
And, all of these came together to create an appearance that exuded an almost perfect beauty.
Roarock could guess what it was. His gaze suddenly turned fierce.
‘Elphir…’
The female Elf, who wore the military uniform of her kind and lay sideways on the ground, seemed to be wounded and was groaning continuously. Roarock hesitated whether to reveal himself before her.
Though they had allied with the Elves, Dwarves generally did not view them favorably.
While feeling a tinge of inferiority towards their delicate, tall stature and exceptional beauty, the particularly irritating tone and their relatively lesser physical strength compared to Dwarves was a thorn in their side.
The Elves felt similarly about the alliance; they often mocked Dwarves whenever they met, and scuffles were narrowly avoided.
If it weren’t for the common enemy of humans, the Dwarves would have fought the Elves long ago.
Roarock also did not like Elves much. This presented him with another dilemma.
Was it the right choice to step out in front of that wounded Elf?
After a brief internal debate, Roarock concluded, ‘Yes.’ Since she was likely one of the Elves who had fled during the conflict, if he was lucky, he might be able to share some food or ammunition.
– Click.
Roarock cocked his rifle and slowly approached the Elf. The Elf seemed to sense the movement as she turned her furrowed brow to the direction Roarock was coming from.
“Hey, Elphir.”
“…Kääpiö. A Dwarf?”
Kääpiö was a derogatory term for Dwarves in the Elf language, meaning ‘dwarf.’ Roarock’s expression quickly turned grim.
“Such a foul way to speak. Didn’t your parents teach you not to call us that?”
“…Ah, I’m sorry. It was just a habit.”
“Sorry, my foot…”
Could someone who said they were sorry wear such an audacious expression? Roarock spat a thin stream of saliva.
“Anyway, my name is Roarock. Roarock Ironhammer.”
“I will call you Roarock.”
“Sure, you can do that. What’s your name?”
“…Nerwen Lurphindel.”
“Alright, Nerwen. Is it okay if I come closer?”
At that, the female Elf named Nerwen frowned, seemingly displeased.
“…Why do you get to call me by my name freely?”
Was that the problem? Roarock let out a deep sigh.
“Hah… is that really important right now?”
“It is. We only allow our friends to call us by our names.”
“Just like humans. Besides, you’re saying you’ll call me by my name freely, but I can’t call you that?”
“……”
“Stop whining. I’ll just use your name, so don’t complain.”
“…Paska.”
In the end, the one in an advantageous position decides everything. Roarock marched over to Nerwen.
“Or, orr’ztak. Goodness…”
As he got closer, the wound on the Elf became clearly visible to Roarock. He observed the injury with a serious expression.
It was a wound near her thigh. Judging by its shape, it was likely caused by shrapnel from a shell. Roarock hurriedly took out his first-aid kit.
“Hey, just hold on.”
“Wh-what…?”
“Hang in there. Three, two.”
“Gahhh…!!”
Nerwen’s face turned pale. As she clenched her teeth and endured the pain, Roarock concluded the sanitation of the wound and wrapped it with a bandage as quickly as possible.
Blood began to seep from the pale thigh. After roughly wiping it off, Roarock spoke while wiping the cold sweat from his brow.
“Hey, weakling. It’s over.”
“Ugh, ugh…”
“…Are you crying?”
“Why do you have to count to two…? Gah, ugh…”
Looking at the sorrowfully crying Nerwen, Roarock scratched his beard with a perplexed expression.
“Stop crying and lie still. I’ll try to make a shelter or something.”
“Sniff…”
“Damn it. Seeing you weep makes it look like you still have some strength left.”
Grumbling, Roarock gathered nearby branches and leaves and made a large covering over Nerwen.
Thanks to Roarock’s Dwarven handiwork, a simple yet sturdy shelter was completed. He nestled beside Nerwen, whose lips were tightly shut.
“Damn this kääpiö…! Go grow somewhere else!”
“Stop complaining and grow up. I’m tired.”
“Ugh…!”
The first night in the nameless mountains passed like that.
