Apprentices (1)

The dwarves gathered in the smithy stared blankly at the skeletons.

“Chieftain. You want us to use these things as apprentices? We may be short-handed, but even so...”

Obern, the village’s head blacksmith, had spoken for them all. Turon scratched his head.

“I know it sounds absurd. But the human specifically asked for this. He assured me they’d make better workers than orcs.”

The blacksmiths looked at the skeletons. They could hear the wind whistling through the gaps between their bones.

Skeletons were stupid summons. Their stats were abysmal, too. And these were supposed to be better than orcs?

The human who had said it and the chieftain who had taken him at his word and brought the skeletons here were equally out of their minds.

‘Damn it. The chieftain’s gone mad. Orcs would be better. At least they’re stronger...’

Obern and the other blacksmiths looked distinctly disgruntled.

“... Do this as a favor to me.”

“Whew.”

Obern sighed and nodded. The man was their chieftain, after all. They had to let him save face.

“... Very well. But... you know as well as I do, Chieftain. Incompetent help is worse than no help at all.”

“I know. Of course I do. Just work with them for one day. If you’re still unhappy, I’ll speak to the human myself. We need some grounds for refusing, don’t we?”

“... All right.”

The chieftain’s face brightened, and he left as though fleeing the scene. After a brief look at the skeletons left standing there, Obern issued his orders.

“Hey! You skeletons! Split into groups of twenty and report to a blacksmith!”

CLATTER!

The skeletons divided into groups.

“Bring over that steel and those molds! Watch your footing on the way!”

“Move that over there and set it up! Right about this high!”

CLATTER!

A glint of interest appeared in Obern’s eyes as the skeletons carried out their instructions precisely.

“Ahem. At least they understand what they’re told.”

Even so, twenty of them together could barely match the strength of an orc or two.

Obern and the other blacksmiths continued issuing instructions.

“Take that out, cool it in cold water, and stamp down hard on it. With your weight... about ten of you should do it together. Once a second. Here, here, and here.”

CLATTER!

“Melt the steel here and pour it into the mold. Thirty seconds. Take it out when the hand on this stopwatch reaches here.”

CLATTER!

“Yes! Like that! You’re smarter than I expected. Try this, then. Pour this much liquid into the mold here, let it cool for twenty seconds, then...”

As they assigned progressively harder tasks, like climbing a staircase one step at a time, the blacksmiths’ eyes began to shine.

“Master Obern. I really don’t think these are ordinary skeletons.”

“... Well, the chieftain wasn’t just talking nonsense.”

The deafening ring of hammers. The hot, stifling air. The blacksmiths’ short tempers on top of it all.

Even a sturdy grown man would usually be exhausted within two or three hours of starting work as an apprentice.

But the skeletons were different. Like truly tireless, silent workers, they carried out their instructions without a single complaint—and quite flawlessly, at that.

Their performance had surpassed all expectations by a wide margin.

‘If they’re this capable, we could divide the work up even further.’

What if the skeletons handled not just the basic manufacturing steps, but some of the more advanced ones as well? Production efficiency would increase tremendously.

“... Maybe we should teach them properly?”

Had the continent still enjoyed its former peace, the idea would have been unthinkable. They did not pass on their techniques lightly, no matter how talented the student. There was even a joke that anyone who wanted to learn dwarven crafting had to spend ten years as an apprentice.

But things were different now. The world was half ruined.

What good was jealously guarding their techniques? It wasn’t as though they could use them to enjoy wealth and glory anymore.

Efficiency mattered above all else in this age. Without it, they could not survive.

“You. Pick up this hammer.”

That was why the skeletons were allowed to wield hammers a mere six hours after arriving.

“Listen carefully. When you bring the mold out from over there, hammer here, here, and here... Then this seam...”

* * *

[Skeleton 1 is being taught dwarven crafting techniques by ‘Obern’...]

[Skeleton 343 is being taught dwarven crafting techniques by ‘Malcolm’...]

[Skeleton 1,102 is being taught dwarven crafting techniques by ‘Pudal’...]

Three days had passed since Minwoo sent the skeletons over.

They had gone beyond simple manufacturing and were now absorbing the very essence of dwarven techniques. Equipment production had skyrocketed as a result.

The projected output, assuming a full complement of apprentices, had been two hundred sets a day. Now they were churning out three hundred.

The skeletons were no longer mere apprentices; they were taking on an ever greater share of the production process. The steel stockpiles were dwindling so rapidly that newly arrived orcs were being sent out to mine.

In the distance, Turon and a few orcs approached, pulling carts.

“Snort! Brought more equipment today!”

“Three hundred and twenty sets in total today!” Turon announced, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“Of course! It’s been so long since I’ve seen the blacksmiths working with this much enthusiasm! We dwarves are a race of crafters, after all! The village is brimming with life thanks to you!”

Fair enough. With their numbers so diminished, how often would the dwarves have had cause to work this busily? The influx of orcs had given them something to get excited about.

“My boys are doing a good job, then?”

“That goes without saying! Can’t you tell from how production keeps increasing every day? Even that fussy bastard Obern is teaching them his secret techniques. He must be awfully fond of your summons.”

High praise indeed.

“But will you be all right? You’ve sent us practically all your summons...”

The maximum number of summons a necromancer could maintain was proportional to their maximum mana. Once they had summoned as many as their mana pool allowed...

‘Even drinking potions won’t let you summon more.’

That applied to every summoning class.

Every skeleton except Cedric was currently a prized pupil of the dwarves. Still, that was no problem.

“I can just command the orcs.”

Kim Minwoo was a very unusual necromancer who could level up without using summons. If he didn’t have them, he could simply go around swinging his sword.

Leveling had gone smoothly even without the skeletons, thanks to the dependable shield the orcs provided. He had gained ten levels in just three days.

‘The gap between me and the skeletons has widened a bit, but...’

He could raise their levels anytime. Dwarven techniques were another matter.

‘If I miss this chance, there’s no telling when they’ll get another opportunity to learn.’

This gate had an excellent setting: a fantasy world, and a vast one at that.

Meeting the dwarves had been a stroke of luck. And with the world falling apart, they were readily passing on techniques they would normally keep tightly guarded even after years of hard service.

‘Once they’ve learned them...’

Kim Minwoo grinned as he pictured the future. If he put the skeletons to work grinding away, he might be able to supply himself with better goods than the ordinary items sold at the auction house.

For someone who would continue using large numbers of summons, crafting skills were like welcome rain during a drought.

“I see. You’re working hard. Thanks to you, we’ve eaten our fill for the first time in ages.”

“There are quite a few monsters around. Plenty left to hunt for now, but...”

“They won’t remain plentiful forever. It’s a race against time, then.”

“Yes. We’ll have to take the fortress.”

Turon nodded and looked at the throng of orcs.

“Their numbers really are astounding. To think so many have survived in this brutal climate...”

Turon was right. Wandering orcs were flocking to them at an ever-increasing pace, thanks to the orcs Minwoo had sent out in every direction to spread the word.

Join the resistance force and eat your fill. You could even take revenge on the Apostle and the Witch.

The slogan had been a resounding success. Their orc population had already passed two thousand, and the numbers were climbing more steeply still.

Then it happened.

[Warning!]

[Enemy alertness is changing!]

[0 -> 5 (Aware that something is wrong)]

‘They’ve noticed.’

The troops they had sent weren’t returning. Of course they would find that suspicious.

A moment later...

[The first reconnaissance force is being formed!]

[The Apostle’s subordinate, necromancer ‘Ellum,’ is on the move!]

[Fifty Wraith Knights follow Ellum!]

[One hundred Corpse Hunters follow Ellum!]

Messages appeared announcing that the enemy had begun to move.

‘Fortunately, they’re only sending a reconnaissance force for now.’

The main army might be another matter, but he could certainly handle them if they came in small detachments.

He looked at the two thousand orcs. It was time to prepare for battle.

* * *

Ellum the necromancer was in a very foul mood.

He had sent his troops out to carry out the disposals. Yet there had been no word at all.

He could accept that the Corpse Collectors dispatched to the orc tribe hadn’t returned. He had only sent five, after all. With bad luck, they might have run into some accident. Losing them was no crippling blow.

But the force sent to attack the dwarves was different. Its sheer size was different. Nothing should have happened to a force like that.

‘No report at all...’

They had most likely been wiped out.

“... Shall we send word to the fortress?”

Ellum shook his head at the Wraith Knight’s question and answered calmly.

“No. I’ll handle it myself. There’s no need to trouble the Apostle over this. Assemble every soldier in this sector.”

“... Understood.”

The Wraith Knight withdrew.

‘Damn it. I need to deal with this quickly.’

Ellum bit his lip.

Everyone else was clearing out their assigned sectors without trouble, yet problems had arisen only in his? The Apostle would brand him incompetent in an instant.

The missing troops could be replaced somehow. Trust, once lost, was far harder to restore.

He had stopped the news from reaching his superiors, but that would not last long. He had to extinguish this spark before it grew into a blaze.

And so Ellum set out with his troops, heading for the Black Rock tribe. The last report had said the missing force was going there, and contact had ceased afterward.

As they approached the tribe’s territory, however, they began to see something strange.

“... Lord Ellum. Something is wrong. These are clearly orc tracks... and they keep converging on our destination.”

There were far too many footprints in the snow. Orc droppings and bodily secretions were easy to find throughout the area as well.

‘Could the orcs have risen up?’

The orcs had attacked the dwarves. If his troops had then marched into territory the orcs had occupied...

‘That would explain their annihilation.’

When orcs rose up, their forces numbered at least a thousand. By contrast, he had sent a mere ten Wraith Knights and twenty or so Corpse Collectors.

It would be no surprise if his troops had been swallowed whole.

“Damn it...”

Ellum’s expression darkened. The Witch loathed orcs with a passion. If that was what had happened, this was beyond his ability to conceal.

Reporting it came first.

“You, you. Return to the fortress at once and...”

Just then—

WHUMP!

Snow erupted from the ground as orcs burst out all around them.

“Snort! Kill them!”

“Orc! Orc!”

An utterly unexpected surprise attack!

The Wraith Knights barely managed to react, but the inferior Corpse Collectors were not so fortunate.

SPLAT!

One savage axe blow split a torso in half.

And the bad news didn’t end there. More orcs began pouring out from every direction.

“An ambush!”

“These vermin...!”

“Don’t panic! Form ranks!”

Issuing urgent orders, Ellum gathered the mana within his body. A spell took shape above his hand.

Corpse Explosion.

If he could cast it, he could slaughter the emerging orcs en masse.

At that very moment—

WHIZZ!

With a chilling sound, an arrow buried itself in his chest.

“Gah!”

“Protect Lord Ellum!”

A hail of arrows followed, aimed at the heads of the Corpse Collectors and Wraith Knights!

The archers struck their targets through the orcs fighting in the chaotic melee with exquisite skill. Only one race was capable of such a feat.

‘Elves?!’

Ellum’s eyes widened.

Orcs equipped with dwarven gear. And now elven sharpshooters, who were at their most effective in a chaotic melee.

The situation could not have been worse.

* * *

Winning in a head-on fight would mean heavy losses. That was why Minwoo had chosen a surprise attack. He had stationed some of the orcs in ambush along the enemy’s likely approach, selecting those with sturdy builds and exceptional stamina.

It had been a resounding success.

“Don’t let a single one escape alive!”

“Snooort!”

As he ordered the orcs to charge, he saw something strange.

Arrows began flying in from somewhere, picking off the enemy. The same word that had occurred to Ellum came to Kim Minwoo’s mind.

‘Elves?’

Had they happened to spot the battle while passing through? Since the Witch’s army was the common enemy of the entire continent, it was hardly strange for elves to lend their support.

‘No harm in that.’

He needed every bit of help he could get. Support from elven sharpshooters was more than welcome.

‘It said he was a necromancer.’

He looked at the human staggering with an arrow lodged in his chest.

‘He’s the commander, so he must be a named monster.’

Named monsters.

They weren’t bosses, but they had names of their own. Enemies like these tended to drop decent items. Their deliciously generous experience rewards were an added bonus.

‘I’m taking the last hit.’

He began making his way toward Ellum through the melee.