Chapter 11: Reform Through Labor

Chapter 11: Reform Through Labor

After Xiaoqi's explanation, Tove finally understood what "rustling up some slime" meant.

"Slime can actually do that?"

The dwarven girl couldn't believe her ears.

Her people, the dwarves, had always regarded slimes as nothing but annoying pests. Not only did they devour plants and animals, but they also consumed metal and rock, making them the dwarves' sworn enemy.

The city-states would regularly organize cleanup teams to eradicate slimes in nearby mines. But those things were like cockroaches—no matter how many you killed, they just kept coming back. As long as one survived, before you knew it, it would multiply into a huge swarm.

Yet Xiaoqi told her that slime goo could be used as "rubber"? The treasured rubber from another world turned out to be the lowliest slime in their world?

Tove fumbled for her notebook and fished a pencil out from behind her ear: "To make 'rubber,' I need to add sulfur and heat it, right? How much sulfur should I use? And what temperature, and for how long do I heat it?"

—Great questions. I'd like to know the answers myself.

"That's something you'll have to research yourself. I can only help you this far. The rest is God's test for you," Lyman kept up his cryptic, riddle-spewing style.

"No time to waste—I'm going to go rustle up some slime!" Tove declared loudly.

She set down her notebook and grabbed her shield, helmet, and axe off the wall.

"Hey, wait, you're just gonna go like that? Isn't that dangerous?" Lyman chased after her, his big fluffy tail swishing back and forth.

"What, you think I can't handle it?" Tove said indignantly. "Don't lump us dwarves in with weaklings like humans and elves who'd blow over in a stiff breeze. We're a race as tough and stubborn as rock—every last one of us is a great warrior!"

She pulled a rolled-up map off the bookshelf and studied it closely.

"Last I heard, a ton of slimes showed up in the S4 mine tunnel. The city guard sealed it off and plans to wipe them out in one go."

Lyman glanced at her map. It was a meticulously detailed map of the underground tunnels, crammed with dense annotations written in the dwarven script.

Oddly enough, Lyman could actually make out a few of the words. "Mine shaft," "transfer station," "elevator station." Was this an ability the Book of the Evil God had given him, or had his original self already known a bit of the dwarven language?

According to the map, the S4 tunnel was about five klicks from Emberrock City. Of course, that five kilometers was as the crow flies on the map—underground, you could never travel in a straight line.

If Lyman tagged along with Tove to rustle up some slime, the round trip would take at least a few hours. That meant he'd be up all night.

Sure, he had nothing to do in prison, but getting enough sleep and rest was still important.

Lyman decided to leave the rest up to Tove. After all, developing slime tires would take a while—he might as well check back on her progress in a few days.

"H-hold on!" Lyman blocked the dwarven girl's path. "Before you go, aren't you forgetting something?"

Tove thought for a moment: "Should I bring a wheelbarrow?"

"...Did you forget our deal? Since I've helped you, you should pledge yourself to my Lord!"

Tove was startled—she'd almost forgotten about that whole thing!

The price for asking for "wisdom" was becoming a follower of the god!

"I haven't forgotten. We dwarves are as good as our word. It's just believing in some god—what's there to be afraid of..." Her voice trailed off.

A god that directly demands payment like this seemed to be what humans called an "evil god"... Is it really okay to become a follower of an evil god?

But they'd already helped her—how could she just back out now...

Lyman pulled out the Apostle Card. Only when an apostle found their heart's true desire could he form a contract with them.

"Tove Stone Flame, I ask you—what is your deepest wish?"

"I just want to get smarter, that's all." Tove blinked, puzzled as to why Xiaoqi would ask that.

Lyman shook his head: "That's not your true wish. Think hard about what you really want."

The dwarven girl scratched her head: "I want to blow everyone away at the 'Craftsmanship Competition' and get taken on as a disciple by a master."

The Apostle Card vibrated slightly, but not even the most basic lines appeared.

Lyman had seen this phenomenon once before, and now he was familiar with it—it meant Tove hadn't yet recognized her own heart.

"Is that what you truly desire?" Lyman asked with a stern face. "More knowledge, more wisdom, and nothing more?"

Tove's face scrunched up. She dreamed of winning first place at the "Craftsmanship Competition"—how could that be false?

But Xiaoqi was a servant of the god, capable of seeing through her thoughts. Since it asked this way, there must be a reason.

What is my true wish? Stupid brain, think!

"I seek a master to learn more knowledge." Tove racked her brains. "That's it—what I truly yearn for is knowledge itself!"

The word "Apostle" at the top of the card dissolved into specks of light, condensing into "Tove."

However, no new pattern appeared on the card.

Lyman sighed. It seemed today wasn't the day. It was already the early hours of the morning, and tomorrow he might have to deal with the Inquisitor—he needed to ensure he got enough rest.

"It seems you don't know yourself well enough yet," Lyman said with an air of profundity. "Let's stop here for today. I need to return to serve my Lord."

Tove brightened—did that mean she didn't have to convert today?

But soon, she became dejected again. How could she not know her own true wish? How could a person not understand themselves?

"Then how do I contact you in the future?"

"Just pray. Your prayers will reach the divine realm, and I'll come to see you."

With that, Xiaoqi dissolved into countless specks of light, dispersing into the air.

The dwarven girl set down her axe, plopped down at the table, and rested her chin on her hand, lost in thought.

"What is my true wish, anyway?"

***

Lyman opened his eyes, back in the prison once more.

He picked up the half-finished Apostle Card, his mood growing heavy.

"And here I thought I'd develop a second apostle today and gain a second Supernatural Ability."

Recruiting Sylen had gone so smoothly that he'd assumed all apostles would be similar. But thinking about it, how could it be that simple? If an evil god could recruit apostles so easily, the world would be crawling with cultists.

Besides, Sylen had only discovered his true desire when his life hung by a thread, while the dwarven lady hadn't faced any life-or-death crisis. Perhaps that was why she couldn't yet see into her own heart?

That said, putting Tove in a life-or-death situation would be no easy feat either. Judging by her magnificent axe-wielding posture—well, if she and Sylen swapped places, the evil god wouldn't even need to lift a finger. The one begging tearfully for divine help would probably be the slave owner.

Lyman was about to put away the Book of the Evil God when it flipped itself open to the "World Overview" page.

Behind the world map, a new map appeared out of thin air—the exact same mine map Tove had in her hands!

"I only glanced at that map once. How'd that get in the book?"

And in the written introduction about the dwarves of the Volcanic Mountain Range, a new passage had been added describing the City of Fire and the Academy of Fire, just like Tove said.

"Could it be that anything I hear or see, even if I don't remember it, gets written down in this book?"

How convenient! It's basically an encyclopedia!

Lyman's look at the Book of the Evil God softened a bit. He patted the cover to calm the book down, then lay back on the straw pile.

He was too exhausted today—the moment he closed his eyes, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next day, early morning.

Lyman was startled awake by a deafening "bang bang bang."

"Prisoner 1154! Get up!" The guard's voice boomed from outside the door.

Lyman jumped to his feet in one quick motion: "Am I being released?"

"In your dreams! Today you're doing hard labor!"

***

At a quarry near Cape Prison, a group of prisoners sat around in a circle on the ground.

"...Since everyone's asking, let me tell you my story," said one burly prisoner. "I had a little run-in with the town priest, and they threw me into Cape Prison for disrespecting a man of the cloth."

"What did you do?" the other prisoners asked curiously.

"I knocked a tooth out."

The burly prisoner finished and looked at the next person. "What about you? What got you locked up?"

The second man was scrawny. He grinned, showing off a row of gleaming white teeth. "I told people that if they donated to me, I could pray to the God of Dawn to forgive their sins."

"So you got locked up for fraud?"

"No—for getting in the way of the church selling indulgences."

The scrawny man then turned to the new face among them—the young man with silver hair and crimson eyes.

He sat at some distance from the others, hands folded neatly on his knees, a stark contrast to the "outlaw" vibe of the rest of them. He looked like a straight-A student from some fancy private school.

"What about you?" the scrawny man asked. "You're new here, right? Haven't seen you before. What did you do?"

The silver-haired young man had clear, innocent eyes: "I'm innocent."

The prisoners looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

"Haha, that's what everyone here says!"

"Yeah, yeah—we're all innocent, hahaha!"

"Okay, let me put it differently: what crime did they 'frame' you for?"

The silver-haired young man swept his gaze across the group: "I'm telling you, don't freak out."

"We're criminals—we don't scare easy!"

The silver-haired young man took a deep breath and said slowly: "They're calling me a heretic."

The prisoners gasped, then looked at him with a whole new level of respect.

"Dude, you're something else!"

"I've been locked up here for ten years, and this is the first time I've seen a real live cultist!"

"No wonder they threw you in the dungeon! That's where they keep the worst of the worst!"

Lyman looked at these prisoners helplessly and just let out a long sigh.

"I swear I'm not lying to you..."

Nobody cared what he said. Nobody.

Early that morning, Lyman had been hauled out of the dungeon for "labor reform."

The bald, muscular guy who'd awakened his Supernatural Ability yesterday had wrecked the plaza and parts of the building walls, so there was a lot to fix. So Lyman and a bunch of prisoners got marched to the quarry near the prison to haul rocks with wheelbarrows.

The so-called quarry was a big pit about the size of a football field. Maybe it used to produce stone, but now it was just a pile of rubble.

The prisoners, who were always half-starved, barely had any strength, and it was almost noon before they finally got all the wheelbarrows filled. The guard told everyone to take a break, then pulled out some white bread and started chowing down himself.

The prisoners, of course, got no food and could only take turns sipping water. All they'd had that morning was a bowl of veggie soup and a tiny piece of black bread hard as a rock. Their next meal would have to wait until they got back to the prison after the work was done. If they were late, all they'd get was scraps and leftovers.

But the guard didn't stop the prisoners from chatting. It was one of the few forms of entertainment at Cape Prison. To keep the prisoners from losing their minds, the guards usually looked the other way.

So the group began sharing their backgrounds.

Lyman looked at the prisoners who regarded him with absolute reverence and felt a pang of sorrow. Being admired by these outlaws wasn't exactly something to be proud of...

Yesterday he had already won over Aether with his acting skills, and the Book of the Evil God had confirmed his mission was complete, yet his release was still nowhere in sight... Presumably, another Inquisitor had objected to the verdict.

Taking shortcuts to freedom through smooth talk wasn't as easy as he'd imagined. Escaping prison was something that required down-to-earth effort after all.

But going from imprisonment to hard labor—was that an upgrade or a downgrade?

Still, looking on the bright side, leaving the dungeon had its advantages: making allies, observing the terrain, and figuring out the guard arrangements—all of these would aid a future escape.

After finishing his story, Lyman turned to the prisoner beside him. He was tall and thin, wearing a pair of glasses that were extremely rare in this era, with several cracks running through the lenses.

This prisoner was the "partner" the guard had assigned to Lyman—prisoners had to work in groups of three to move stones.

"What about you? I never asked your name."

The bespectacled prisoner replied politely: "My name is Nikola. Everyone calls me 'the Scholar.'"

"I'm Layman Vichard." Lyman shook hands with the scholar. "What crime did they 'frame' you with?"

Scholar Nikola chuckled twice: "The Dawn Church accused me of spreading heretical teachings. They not only burned my works but also exiled me here."

"Oh? Is that so?"

Seeing Lyman's interest, Scholar Nikola's eyes lit up with fanatical fervor.

"I'm an astronomer. I study the movements of celestial bodies and their relationships to one another. After tirelessly observing the night sky, I've discovered a massive secret!"

He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper: "Brother, do you think the sun or our earth is the center of the universe? Does the sun revolve around the earth, or does the earth revolve around the sun?"

Now it was Lyman's turn to be genuinely impressed!

Wasn't this all about heliocentrism and geocentrism? Could this Nikola be the Copernicus or Bruno of another world? Cape Prison really was packed with talent—you couldn't underestimate it!

A scientist in prison—what a gig. Are you, like, my Morgan Freeman?

Lyman studied the scholar closely.

Nah, not quite. Too white. Not exactly politically correct.