Underground Hangar

  Several hours later, Boulderhelm Base was slowly coming back to life.

  Wounded dwarfs were carried on stretchers through the wide underground corridors, medics moving quickly between them. Engineers crawled over damaged walls and equipment, marking cracks, arguing loudly about repair priorities.

  “CHEEERS!”

  A loud cheer erupted from one corner of the hangar.

  Some soldiers had already decided that surviving the day was reason enough to celebrate immediately.

  At a long metal table, Cupid, Vixen, Dancer, and Comet—now wrapped in thick blankets after being pulled from the frozen fjord—sat surrounded by soldiers, prisoners, and engineers. Heavy mugs of ale were raised high.

  “AAAAHHH!” they shouted in unison as they drank.

  “I still can’t believe we’re doing missions like this even though we’re civilians now,” Cupid said, locking her left arm around a young engineer from her cruiser. The young dwarf froze, face burning red, but didn’t resist.

  “And it’s an epic one! HAHAHAHA!” Dancer said before gulping down another mug.

  “Seriously?” Vixen said dryly. “No one wants to complain that this is way above our pay grade?”

  “ACHOO! Sniff—You’re worried about pay grade?” Comet said, shivering. “I’m worried about where we’re getting our next paycheck.”

  He sneezed again.

  “Moth Pole is gone, remember?”

  “Well, you could just work here with us,” the young nervous pilot from earlier suggesting happily.

  “Oh?” one of the Moth Pole prisoners—Hippy—leaned forward. “Can we also?”

  A pause followed.

  Everyone at the table—including the prisoners—froze.

  Only then did the realization sink in.

  They were still… prisoners.

  ---

  Meanwhile, at a different table, the atmosphere was noticeably calmer.

  Levi, Mara, Dwordoug, Cinderclaws, and Hilda sat together with porcelain cups of tea neatly arranged between them.

  Dwordoug glanced toward the chaos across the hangar.

  “What are they doing?” he asked.

  At the other table, several prisoners suddenly bolted—only to be immediately chased by guards and several soldiers who had just been drinking with them.

  “HOHOHO, don’t mind them,” Cinderclaws said casually. “Probably the prisoners just realized this is the only moment they can escape.”

  “And you’re not stopping them?” Dwordoug asked. “Warden?”

  “Nah,” Cinderclaws replied, sipping his tea. “Moth Pole is gone anyway. I’m not a warden anymore. Probably I’ll just back to retirement in my hometown”

  Dwordoug shuddered

  “I will find you a new job” Dwordoug said quickly.

  “The cake is ready.”

  Hilda approached with a freshly baked lemon cake, still steaming slightly, and placed it carefully on the table.

  “Ah, thank you very much, Commander,” Levi said warmly.

  Hilda cut the cake and distributed the slices. Somehow, Dwordoug’s portion was noticeably larger than everyone else’s.

  Dwordoug noticed.

  He smiled happily.

  “So,” Hilda said, sitting down, “when will your transport arrive?”

  “Hm?” Mara took a spoonful of cake. “Ah… probably still a couple more hours.”

  “Huh?” Dwordoug frowned. “Why so long? Weren’t they nearby when they were shooting down the Goldenclaws airships?”

  “Oh, no,” Mara replied calmly. “They were actually still outside your borders when they fired.”

  “WHAT?!”

  Every dwarf at the table reacted at once.

  “But that’s thousands of kilometers away,” Hilda said.

  “Hahahaha, please don’t think too much about it,” Levi said quickly, waving his hands and smiling as he changed the subject.

  “What’s important now is the next step.”

  “Getting Council Member Dwordoug safely back to Hearthguard Cairn before the next Dwargonian assault begins.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Dwordoug and Hilda exchanged a serious look.

  “Hilda… I need to go,” Dwordoug said quietly. “I need to stop this war.”

  “Hmph.” Hilda crossed her arms. “Just go do your job.”

  Then, softer, “…I’ll be waiting for you at our house when you’re finished.”

  Dwordoug’s face lit up instantly.

  “Y-YOU’RE GOING BACK HOME?! D-DOES THAT MEAN YOU’RE NOT ANGRY ANYMORE?!”

  “Oh my,” Levi clapped softly, amused. ”How heartwarming.”

  “Well…” Hilda said, cheeks red, arms crossed, total tsundere mode, “when you saved me with that beam blade—I mean, Shawshank—I was actually… impressed.”

  “Keee~” Shawshank chirped happily.

  “I guess…” Hilda coughed, trying to regain authority.

  “I guess I’ll allow you to do **** with me.”

  Dwordoug shot up from his chair.

  “REALLY?!”

  “Ohhh,” Levi whispered. “So ‘that’s’ what they were fighting about.”

  “Does that mean I can do *** and ****** too?” Dwordoug asked, now dangerously enthusiastic.

  “Hmph! Don’t push your luck!” Hilda snapped.

  “…Well, maybe ***, just a little!”

  “SURE! SURE!” Dwordoug nodded repeatedly.

  Levi politely covered his mouth.

  “Oh my… dwarves are really blunt, aren’t they?”

  Cinderclaws nodded while continue enjoying his lemon cake.

  Suddenly, Mara reached for Levi’s ear, his expression tense.

  “Excuse me, sir,” he whispered urgently, “did I just hear Council Member Axebreaker using Shawshank as a beam blade?”

  “Why yes,” Levi whispered back. “Spectacularly, in fact. He defeated three armors with it. Why?”

  “My goodness…” Mara paled. “He really made a contract…”

  Mara leaned closer, whispering frantically.

  Levi’s face darkened for the first time.

  “Five years of lifespan for every minute?” Levi whispered in horror.

  Mara nodded.

  They both glanced at Dwordoug, who was still enthusiastically negotiating indecent terms with Hilda.

  “…Ambassador,” Levi said quietly, deadly serious now, “tell our transport to hurry. We’re going straight to Hearthguard Cairn.”

  “I’ll contact them immediately,” Mara replied fast.

  Fortunately, dwarfs possessed long lifespans.

  Dwordoug would still live a normal life—although downgraded to human standards.

  As long as someone made sure he never used Shawshank like that again.

  ---

  Bashington DC, The Black House

  In Solo’s office, a video conference flickered on his laptop screen. Stan and Mo appeared on it.

  “Don’t worry, Solo,” Stan said. “We won’t take our eyes off Boulderhelm Base. Anything that tries to attack it again gets blown to pieces.”

  “Thank goodness...” Solo leaned back, finally relaxing.

  “Well then,” he smiled, “we’ve secured the ‘messenger’.”

  He looked at Mo.

  “Now we’re just waiting for you to provide us the ‘full message’.”

  “Well… about that,” Mo replied hesitantly while scratching his cheek.

  Solo straightened up instantly.

  “Huh? What’s the matter?”

  “Didn’t you say you already got the evidence?”

  ---

  Langley, BICH Headquarters

  At the BICH office in Langley, Mo was standing inside the operations room, connected to a video conference.

  On the main monitor in front of him, an operation was currently underway. There was no video feed—only six squares, each showing an operator’s name and the fluctuating wavelength of their audio.

  Those squares belonged to :

  Young Mo

  Megan

  And… the Misfits.

  Everyone faces looked tense as the sound of some serious battle can be heard loudly

  PSSSHHT PSSSHHT PSSSHHT

  “THAT’S MINE!” Kovalski’s voice shouted.

  RATATATATATATATATATA

  “NO WAY! THAT’S MINE!” Bella shouted back.

  —Whiiiss—STAB STAB

  “HAHAHA! NOW IT’S MINE!” Ivy laughed. “Wha—HEY! THAT’S CHEATING!”

  FWOOOSH

  “MUAHAHAHA! BYE-BYE, SUCKERS! NOW IT’S MINE!” Irving said mockingly.

  Janet stared at the screen in stunned disbelief at the absurdity unfolding.

  Mo pinched the bridge of his nose and could only sighed before turning back to the video call with Solo and Stan.

  “They’re… still trying their best,” Mo said tiredly.

  “I guess…”

  ---

  20 Hours Earlier

  Somewhere in Meridinia.

  Under the cover of night, wearing freshly prepared disguises as slaves and guards, the Misfits stood together on a hill.

  Ivy, Irving, and Kovalski all shared the exact same horrified expression.

  Bella, meanwhile, looked... processing.

  In Ivy’s hands was the ‘Single Piece’ treasure map.

  The map depicted a carefully drawn sketch of ancient ruins resting inside a valley, with a distinctively shaped mountain in the background—the location where the Single Piece was hidden.

  Ivy lowered the map.

  In front of them was the same valley.

  The same pointed mountain.

  And a massive military base.

  Big tall walled fortress. Guard Tower. An airship above swept the perimeter with a searchlight.

  “Uh…” Kovalski said. “Maybe we’re looking from the wrong angle?”

  Ivy raised the map again.

  Valley.

  Pointy-shaped mountain.

  Ancient ruins.

  She lowered it once more.

  Valley.

  Pointy-shaped mountain.

  A heavily fortified base ready to topple a legitimate government.

  “Hmm, nope,” Bella said cheerfully. “I think the person who drew this map was standing exactly where we’re standing now.”

  She clapped her hands.

  “Yay! We found it, guys!”

  The other three stared at her, irritated.

  Kovalski leaned in and whispered something to Bella.

  Bella’s face darkened instantly.

  “WHAT?!” she shouted. “YOU MEAN THE TREASURE MIGHT’VE BEEN FOUND BY WHOEVER OWNS THAT BASE?!”

  The three of them lunged at once, covering her mouth.

  “SSSHHHH!”

  “Quiet!”

  “You idiot!” Ivy hissed. “We don’t want those BICHes to know!”

  “Sigh…” Irving rubbed his temples.

  “Well… we still don’t know for sure,” Irving said, trying to stay hopeful. “Maybe they built the base without exploring what’s underneath.”

  “Yeah,” Kovalski nodded quickly. “That’s possible.”

  “They might’ve only focused on the surface construction,” Ivy added desperately. “Without checking underground.”

  All three desperately clung to this idea.

  Bella blinked

  “But… aren’t dwarves famous for building things underground?”

  Silence.

  Hope died again.

  “WHY IS YOUR BRAIN WORKING NOW?!” Kovalski yelled.

  Bella gasped. “ARE YOU SAYING ITS NEVER WORKED BEFORE?!”

  “You two idiots, stop being loud!” Irving snapped.

  “WAAAAHHH! I HAVE COME THIS FAR! WHYYY?? Ivy cried.

  ---

  Above them, on a higher hill, Megan and Young Mo sat near a small campfire, watching.

  “What are those idiots fighting about now?” Megan asked.

  Young Mo rested his chin on his hand, ears twitching, smiling knowingly.

  “Who knows? Kekeke.”

  Megan turned back to her laptop. On the screen was a live feed from a Murican drone circling above the base.

  “Hmm… these dwarfs really don’t want any strangers entering their place, do they?”

  She made notes on the base’s defenses.

  “Well, it’s a good thing tomorrow we won’t be strangers when we arrive,” Young Mo replied.

  “I’m still surprised Dwargonia has a secret military base in Meridinia.”

  “Oh, actually,” Young Mo said calmly. “They’re not Dwargonian,”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The old me identified them as the Goldenclaws,” Young Mo explained. “An ex-royalty clan—outcasts who still want to reclaim Dwargonia.”

  Megan sighed. “This is getting more and more complicated.”

  “Don’t think too much about it,” Young Mo said, raising both hands.

  “As long as we give Dwargonia a new target to be pissed at, our mission succeeds.”

  “I understand, boss,” Megan sighed. “I just hope everything goes well tomorrow.”

  “Hoo, that’s funny,” Young Mo chuckled. “Since when did you become the pessimist? You and I have been doing fine.”

  “I’m not worried about us,” Megan said, pointing her thumb downhill toward the Misfits.

  Young Mo looked.

  Bella angrily pulling Kovalski’s hair.

  Kovalski angrily stretching Bella’s cheek.

  Irving was desperately trying to separate them.

  Ivy sat on the ground, both hands over her face, sobbing patethically.

  The treasure map lying forgotten in the dirt.

  “…Welp,” Young Mo said.

  “You’ve got a point.”

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