Vorrath and several dwarves listening in were momentarily caught off guard by the question. However, he quickly regained his composure. “I am now,” he replied calmly. “You were our benefactor. You must have your reasons.”

  < In-depth analysis: Vorrath exhibits deep shock at Your Excellency’s undead nature, yet no fundamental psychological rejection is detected. Hypothesis confirmed—negative lifeforms exist in this world and possess sufficient intelligence to engage in proper dialogue with non-undead races. >

  “That’s reassuring. It’d be a shame if I had to kill them,” he responded to Ayumi’s analysis through their mental link. “So, you have no objections to working with me?”

  “The underground world houses the rgest undead empire known to exist. It is a vast domain teeming with all manner of undead, each with their own ambitions and dispositions. If your goal was to ensve or destroy us, there would have been far more efficient methods to do so.” Vorrath’s voice was steady, his eyes searching for hidden meaning in Mizuki’s words.

  “Indeed.” Mizuki nodded, his expression unreadable. “But that is not my intention. I wish to work with you—not as your master, but as your trade partner.”

  Vorrath frowned slightly. “I don’t quite follow. We owe you our lives. It is only natural that we dedicate everything we have to repay that debt.” His tone carried no hesitation, only the unwavering resolve of one bound by duty and tradition.

  “That doesn’t sit right with me.” Mizuki’s rejection was firm. “I have no interest in ensving you, nor do I intend to be weighed down by the burden of your civilization’s survival. What I seek is a transactional retionship—one that benefits both of us.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “I have no pns to remain here indefinitely. Our cooperation should be built on mutual interests, not blind servitude.”

  For a brief moment, a flicker of astonishment passed through Vorrath’s glowing eyes, but it quickly faded, returning to their usual cold luminescence. “I see.” His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “Then tell me—what do you have in mind?”

  Mizuki allowed himself a small smile. Good. The gray dwarf was no fool. He did not let his people’s desperation cloud his judgment, nor did he blindly cling to honor without pragmatism. If his words held truth, then survival in the underground world was not for the naive or the virtuous. No cn could endure this abyss with integrity alone.

  After all, in a world where even cannibalism was considered a practical means of survival, morality was a luxury few could afford.

  The Hallowforge cn had not survived the depths through sheer resilience alone. Beneath their outward unity y a history woven with intrigue, silent betrayals, and calcuted alliances. Such was the nature of life in the underground world—where trust was a currency spent carefully, and only those who could navigate the treacherous currents of power endured.

  Mizuki was well aware of this. He would not allow Vorrath to bind him with notions of humanity or morality. To thrive in a cruel world that thrived on pragmatism, he needed to ensure that their partnership was founded on mutual benefit, not sentiment.

  After all, Vorrath was no naive chieftain. He had led his people to the surface and carved out an existence in a nd just as ruthless as the underground. He had survived, adapted, and assessed countless threats. If he had chosen to pce his hopes in Mizuki, it was not out of blind trust but through keen observation.

  In time, Vorrath had reached a conclusion: Mizuki was neither a tyrant nor a savior. Despite his undead-like nature, the mage held a strong sense of morality. He was pragmatic but not ruthless, willing to aid others but not to the point of self-sacrifice.

  By the underground’s brutal standards, Mizuki aligned with neutral good.

  To Vorrath, that meant one thing—Mizuki was someone who would act in the interest of others, but only as long as it didn’t compromise his own goals. He did not follow strict ws, nor did he embrace wlessness. Unlike the true undead, who viewed retionships as nothing more than tools of control, Mizuki valued cooperation.

  This was acceptable.

  A mutually beneficial arrangement could be forged—one that strengthened both sides without shackling either party.

  Mizuki smiled. “I will offer you wisdom.”

  Lifting his gunnce, its photon equipment hummed to life, projecting a swirling dispy of bluish light. Three-dimensional holographic figures materialized in the air, their forms flickering with ethereal crity. At first, the dwarves merely stared, transfixed by the unfamiliar spectacle. But as their eyes adjusted, shock rippled through the group.

  They recognized the faces.

  Gasps and murmurs spread among them as the realization set in. These were their own—the dwarves who had survived the st attack.

  Mizuki’s voice carried through the silence. “Forty out of the forty-nine survivors have suffered permanent injuries. At least one of their limbs is lost beyond natural recovery.” His tone was measured, but there was an undeniable weight to his words. “I don’t need to tell you what that means.”

  A cold tension filled the pza. The dwarves knew.

  Cripples had no pce in a struggling cn.

  Mizuki continued, unflinching. “Your best healing methods take time and resources—luxuries you cannot afford. Even if you can recover their limbs, do you expect your healers to work themselves to death?”

  Vorrath instinctively clenched his fists. He wanted to protest, to refute Mizuki’s statement. But he couldn’t. The mage was right.

  Healers could mend wounds, ease pain, and dey death—but even the most powerful healing methods require costs: either mana, time, or special healing items. These are resources that he simply doesn't have. In the underground world, the weak were liabilities. On the surface without a sun, it was no different.

  In a world where even the dead were a resource, the injured had little worth beyond what their bodies could provide.

  Mizuki’s fingers moved deftly, maniputing controls only he can perceive. The holographic figures shifted, their severed limbs repced by sleek, metal prosthetics highlighted in green light. The design was simir to its biological equivalent that only the color of metal would give it away, it was unlike anything the dwarves had ever seen—yet the message was clear.

  “I will give your kin the ability to walk again. To see, to work, to fight.” Mizuki’s voice softened slightly, but there was no mistaking the steel beneath his words. “I can give them back their lives.”

  “However,” Mizuki added, his lips curling into a wry smile, “it won’t be free. That would cost me an arm and a leg—so I’d rather not.”

  The attempt at humor barely lifted the heavy atmosphere, but Mizuki didn’t expect it to. Vorrath’s gaze remained locked on the mage, reading between the lines.

  In truth, he is completely capable of healing them back to full health, or even alter their physiology so that they are much stronger without changing their external appearance by too much. In doing so, however, would permanently cost him some resources that he cannot replenish, such as the nanomaterials that made up the nanoms, and also medigels. As of now, they are considered to be strategic resources that can only be used in the most dire circumstances as he had no way of replenishing them.

  “I understand.” Vorrath exhaled deeply before lowering his head in a solemn bow. “We will agree to whatever price you name.”

  ‘Nanomaterials aren’t something that your kin could understand in your lifetime…” Mizuki sneered inwardly while putting up a respectful front on the surface,“I want your most precious treasure...” he pointed up, towards the tower’s peak.

  Mizuki’s gesture was all the only thing Vorrath required to assess him.

  “You are not demanding the lightcrystal itself, I assume?” The gray dwarf’s tone is heavy.

  “Naturally.” Mizuki smiled, revealing his intention. “But I won’t drain you of all your worth. An eye for an eye. For now… I can do this…” He snapped his fingers.

  Gurren suddenly arrived next to him, with a rge boulder on her back. Its surface marbled with veins of raw minerals, a common boulder in this extremely rich mountain. It is an untapped wealth of materials buried beneath yers of impurities.

  “Proceed as pnned.” Mizuki ordered.

  < Command confirmed. Changing Gunnce Configuration to Sonic Reverberation Artillery Array. > Gurren took the gunnce and spped it as its parts shifted, revealing cylindrical emitters arranged in hexagonal pattern. Thin, glowing lines of photonic circuits pulsed along the framework as the weapon powered up. A low hum filled the air—a soundless vibration just below the threshold of dwarven hearing.

  Mizuki extended his hand as his AT-Field formed. A translucent, hexagonal barrier forming around the boulder, isoting it from the external environment while allowing a certain frequency of ‘attack’ to pass through the barrier. This was one of the creative uses of AT-Field that required extreme control of different frequencies of wave and matter.

  < Sonic Reverberation Artillery Array online, estimated operational efficiency is at 0.4%. >

  < Calcuting mineral density…. Identifying metal composition… Estimated yield: 61% rank 0 ferrous alloy. >

  Without dey, Gurren pulled the gunnce’s trigger as an invisible pulse was produced by the weapon. The boulder trembled, cracks forming across its rugged surface as Gurren fired low frequency acoustic waves into its core. The soundwaves weren’t simply shattering the rock, they were vibrating it apart on an atomic level.

  Different minerals possessed distinct resonant frequencies. By matching the precise frequency of non-metallic impurities, this process ensures that only the unwanted elements shattered into fine dust, leaving behind concentrated metal deposits.

  The boulder groaned, then, with a sudden crack, chunks of sg sloughed away, disintegrating into powder as they fell into the ground, passing through the AT-Field as if they did not exist.

  < Phase one completed. Commencing Metallurgical Fusion… >

  The air around the remaining metal-rich core hummed with intensified ultrasonic waves. A high intensity oscilting field enveloped the exposed ore, generating friction on a microscopic level. Atoms within the metal began vibrating at extreme speed.

  Then, heat bloomed from within.

  Freed from the need for a physical furnace, the ore melted through molecur excitation, transforming into a glowing, liquid mass that hovered weightlessly within the AT-Field. Suspended in mid-air, the molten alloy shimmered, restrained only by the AT-Field’s selective defiance of gravity.

  The gunnce’s parts shifted once more as it activated the Harmonic Compression Emitter that unleashed a secondary pulse. This time, a controlled high-frequency bst that drove out lingering impurities. Dark wisps of vaporized contaminants hissed away, leaving behind an ultra-pure metallic lump of steel.

  < Alloy purity: 99.4%. Unable to identify further contaminants. Metal refinement process completed. Initiate casting process is advised… >

  Mizuki’s hand made a simple, deliberate motion. The floating metal obeyed.

  Guided by subtle fluctuation of his AT-Field, the molten alloy spread out, stretched and reshaped itself under controlled pressure. The sound waves of the gunnce acted as an invisible hammer while the AT-Field pressure as the anvil. The metal is forged into impossibly precise metal bars, gears, spring coils, and other mechanical parts before quickly refined, strengthened and cooled down in a rate visible to the naked eye.

  As the sound died away, pristine metal parts hovered before him, its surface gleaning like polished steel.

  Mizuki exhaled a frigid air, “It’s not perfect, but it should be sufficient for two people.” He grasped the newly-forged metal parts, feeling the craftsmanship beneath his artificial nerves.

  The forging process was not only unique, it was an art form that the Hallowforge cn had never seen in their entire life. Vorrath and his cn stood in stunned silence, the reality of what they had just witnessed slowly sinking in.