Might of Players 92 – The Last Potato

---Third POV---

LootGoblin leisurely peeled off the charred skin of the potato.

Steam wafted up, carrying a faint smoky aroma that would whet anyone's appetite.

However, for soone like him, who had been eating roasted potatoes for days, the sll alone was enough to make him want to vomit.

"Sigh!"

He grimaced and ate the potato anyway. Near the ruins, aside from a single mushroom he found early on, not a blade of grass grew.

The at the goblins ate was of dubious origin. And the sack of potatoes he found in the storeroom? His only source of food.

"This is just tragic!"

He felt tears welling up as he thought about his miserable existence over the past few days. At his sigh, the red-bearded dwarf abruptly sat up from the haystack.

"Tragic? What's tragic?"

The dwarf's body was covered in thick hair, leaving only a pair of eyes and a red nose visible. His broom-like beard drooped all the way to his feet. Since it hadn't been grood in ages, the strands were matted together like those of a scruffy vagabond.

His voice bood angrily. "If you ca here out of pity to deliver food, then get lost! I don't need it!"

"I was talking about myself, not you," LootGoblin replied half-heartedly, lifting his eyes before continuing to munch on the potato in his hand.

This little old man isn't very tall, but he sure has a big temper.

He was being kind by offering the old dwarf a bite, but instead of a "thank you," he got nothing but irritation. He was even being scolded for eating better than others.

Luckily, he had already sent the dungeon guards away under the pretense of "facilitating interrogation." No matter how loud the dwarf shouted inside, no one outside would hear.

Otherwise, the dwarf would have had a much worse ti tonight.

The red-bearded dwarf's beard trembled in anger. "You're the strangest dwarf I've ever seen!"

From the first mont he t LootGoblin, the dwarf recognized him as a fellow dwarf—despite LootGoblin being unusually thin and, well... unremarkable in appearance.

Even though LootGoblin didn't understand dwarven traditions or language and had sared himself in green paint, the racial bond was unmistakable.

However, given their stark difference in status, the dwarf never asked why LootGoblin was infiltrating the goblin stronghold.

"Oh! Now you're resorting to personal attacks?" LootGoblin widened his eyes and stood up, hands on his hips. "Do you think you're any less strange as a dwarf who speaks goblin fluently? That's straight out of a fantasy novel!"

"Anyone traveling abroad should know a few extra languages!" the red-bearded dwarf shot back imdiately. Then he paused, his tone turning curious. "Also, what's a... fantasy novel?"

Why should dwarves conform to so imaginary rules? And why hadn't he heard anything about them?

"Never mind. You wouldn't understand even if I explained," LootGoblin dismissed the question casually. He swallowed the last bite of potato and smacked his lips.

"Traveling, huh? Who would travel to the Great Oak Forest just for fun? You're clearly a vagabond!"

He never held back when dealing with rude elders. Even if the dwarf was a legendary dwarven master craftsman ntioned in the main questline, his bad attitude was unbearable. A couple of sentences into a conversation, and the old man would get triggered by sothing obscure and start ranting.

If LootGoblin had found a safer and more hidden spot to light a fire, he wouldn't bother coming to this dungeon daily to endure the scolding.

After all, goblins weren't vegetarians.

He shook his head silently, while the dwarf's beard quivered with indignation.

"I am no vagabond! I am the great Master Hawkes! You, young one, not only lack knowledge of dwarven culture but also have never heard of my na?"

"Uh... no, I haven't."

"You—!"

LootGoblin picked up two untouched potatoes from the ground and weighed them in his hand.

"Sure you don't want to eat these? This might be your last al."

"You're driving mad! ...Hmm?"

The previously furious Hawkes instantly cald down.

He sat back on the haystack, stroking his matted beard like he was discussing soone else's business. "So the goblins' sacrificial ceremony is tomorrow?"

"It's called the 'Offering of Life' ritual," LootGoblin corrected.

Although goblin language was simple with limited vocabulary, rituals had their own specific terms.

Hawkes ignored him. "Sa thing. In the end, we're still the 'dessert' offered on a platter."

Platter?

LootGoblin recalled the sacrificial array he had spied on earlier and found himself sowhat agreeing. The middle had a large blank circle, with dense scribbles along the outermost ring.

Wasn't that just a giant serving plate?

He waved the potato in his hand.

"Last chance to eat?"

The goblins wouldn't starve them to death before the ritual but hadn't provided dinner tonight.

"Hmph!" Hawkes snorted through his nose, closing his eyes tightly.

"We're dying tomorrow. What's the point of eating?"

Seeing the dwarf's resolve, LootGoblin shrugged and put the potatoes back in his inventory.

"Why is it that even on the brink of death, you're so stubborn? If you know you're going to die tomorrow, shouldn't you at least try to fight back today?"

"Don't try to trick into talking!"

"Trick you? How is that a trick?" LootGoblin raised his voice.

He scooted closer to Hawkes, his curiosity evident.

"Aren't you curious why I'm disguised as a goblin? Let's trade secrets!"

LootGoblin had accidentally discovered that listening to others' true stories could grant him bonus experience points. And quite a lot, too. Unfortunately, goblins were poor storytellers with terrible mory. There were few goblins he could communicate with, let alone gather secrets from.

Now, he was just one step away from reaching Level 10 with those bonus points. Whether he could surpass the Lucky Stars Team and beco the strongest player in Honeyvale Town upon returning depended on the next two days.

Hawkes opened one eye and looked at him. "Because soone sent you to sabotage the ritual."

"Huh?? How did you know?"

"Don't underestimate my mind!" The red-bearded dwarf puffed out his chest proudly.

It was obvious. The scrawny little apprentice wasn't a goblin-born dwarf. His naive gaze betrayed that he was part of a protective organization.

"Let guess. Your organization also wants to recruit ?" He smirked, ready to bask in the young dwarf's shocked screams.

LootGoblin scratched his head.

"Uh... maybe?"

"What?"

Hawkes' eyes shot open, his voice stern.

"How could that be? You co to the dungeon every day, bringing delicious food. Isn't that to recruit ?"

LootGoblin pointed to the damp ashes in the corner.

"I just needed a place to roast potatoes. Nobody paid to recruit you."

Who made it so that, in the dungeon, the other person's cell was the only single-occupancy one?

He couldn't change the miserable conditions of all the prisoners, but borrowing soone else's territory… Offering a little goodwill and improving the other person's als was doable.

"Let's just say I'm being overly sympathetic and can't stand to see you eating that black moss-like stuff."

Hawkes, feeling awkward, turned his head to the side. "Hmph, always learning nonsense from outside!"

LootGoblin was at a loss.

What even counts as "outside"? When creating the character, it never ntioned that dwarves ca with a built-in backstory!

Who would've thought?

The NPCs outside the ga understand him even better than the faction leaders in-ga.

To avoid going off track, he decided he'd stick more closely to the ga's backstory in the future.

LootGoblin continued probing.

"So, you're this calm because you think I'm going to recruit you and thus ensure your safety?"

Just as Hawkes had steadied his emotions, another narcissistic remark hit him head-on. He nearly burst into a heated flush again. He grumbled in a low voice, "Not at all. I've never even considered joining you people."

An organization planning to send a dwarf as an undercover agent into a goblin nest? Obviously unreliable. He had left even the lting Hamr Church. How could he stoop to join so small organization?

Aeltia was too vast, yet too small. He had traveled far and wide, yet nowhere felt like ho. Hawkes's gaze grew lancholic.

Perhaps... Dying in the Great Oak Forest was the final guidance Lord Bern offered him...

Slap!

LootGoblin clapped his hands together like a film slate in front of Hawkes's nose, successfully snapping him out of his mories.

"Stop getting lost in your own flashbacks. I can't see thought bubbles, you know."

"Is there anything a beta tester isn't allowed to know?"

As soon as he finished, LootGoblin facepald with regret. Great, he broke character again after promising to role-play properly.

The saddened dwarf elder, unexpectedly, showed rare curiosity. Rather than answer directly, he curled up like a child, staring at the faint firelight flickering from the hallway, speaking in a wistful tone.

"Let tell you a story..."

"Whoa!" Extra experience points incoming! LootGoblin imdiately sat upright and pulled out a roasted potato.

"Go ahead."

His carefree deanor shattered the somber mood.

The sigh Hawkes had been building up dissipated halfway out of his throat. He was both angry and amused.

"I really don't know how you've survived this long."

If this were in a dwarf tribe, he'd have been beaten black and blue growing up.

LootGoblin blinked innocently.

"I know people who provoke others worse than I do."

If anyone was good at drawing aggro, it was not him.

"Are you people followers of the God of War or sothing?" Hawkes's head spun with questions, but he laughed them off soon after. "When did you join your organization?"

"Uh..." LootGoblin pondered for a while.

In real life, he'd been granted beta access just over a week ago, effectively joining the ga's organization then. But based on the ga's backstory…

Players were supposed to be returning Aeltian natives, so they must have joined long ago. Maybe even since birth?

"I joined as soon as I knew about it."

LootGoblin silently gave himself a thumbs-up.

Can't go wrong with that answer!

"Since you were a child?"

Hawkes's chest rumbled with a deep laugh.

"Then I've been at it longer. Since I swung my first hamr at the age of 7 and forged my first functional magical tool, I've been with the lting Hamr Church. That was 89 years ago."

"Wow," LootGoblin replied flatly, "so you're 96 now?"

"Ahem! Do you even know how to focus on the important parts?"

Hawkes's beard trembled with rage. It looked like it might detach from his face and transform into a broom to smack him. Snatching the potato from LootGoblin's hand, he declared, "As paynt for offending mr and listening to my story, I'll take this!"

LootGoblin stared at him, speechless. Just now, the potato was free for the taking. Now, the mont it was withheld, he was snatching it up.

What a peculiar old man.

Not that he wanted the potato anyway; he just habitually liked snacking while listening to stories. If Hawkes wanted it, so be it.

LootGoblin casually dusted the soot from his hands.

"Fine. I know you're amazing for forging magical tools at age 7. Then what?"

His nonchalant remark left Hawkes montarily fuming. Unable to vent his frustration, he bit into the potato with a vengeance.

"And then…"

What followed was the bumpy journey of a young man with aspirations. To join the prestigious lting Hamr Church among dwarves at the age of 7… And to receive the blessings of Bern, the God of Fla and Forging…

His talent was undeniable.

He leveraged the church's library and techniques to beco a master smith with ease.

At 60, he even attempted to ascend to the rank of legendary blacksmith.

But then... He failed.

For 30 years, his forging skills stagnated. While researching, he discovered the shocking truth about the lting Hamr Church.

What he'd sworn lifelong allegiance to was not a beacon protecting and passing down dwarven craftsmanship, but a wall stifling it!

Decades of faith shattered in an instant.

After learning the truth, he could change nothing. Awareness only brought more pain. Eventually... It took him three years to leave the lting Hamr Church.

With the old hamr he'd wielded his entire life, he set off on a journey without end...

"Unfortunately, the hamr that had accompanied for over 60 years was lost in a fight with goblins..."

"COUGH COUGH!" LootGoblin nearly choked on his own spit, coughing violently.

Hawkes looked over in confusion.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," LootGoblin replied, scooting back a step. "Go on."

Though annoyed by the interruption, Hawkes resud his sorrowful reminiscing.

"I wonder how it's doing now…"

LootGoblin silently thought, Probably not great, considering it got digested by red-scaled worm's stomach acid and is now being used by ProGar_Daddy to smash rocks.

Watching as 5 extra experience points popped up on his ga interface… LootGoblin swallowed the truth and played along.

"You're so sentintal about your hamr. Does it have so special backstory?"

"No, a blacksmith's tools don't depend on their origins, but on fate."

Hawkes paused mid-bite, a nostalgic look in his eyes.

"It was just an ordinary obsidian steel warhamr from the lting Hamr Church. But it was the best equipnt I could forge back then."

Chewing on the soft, mushy potato, he sighed.

"My old friend grew frail with age. It hasn't been used for forging in years. I kept it just for sentintal value."

"..."