"Has everyone exited?" Mara asked, voice thin and raspy.
"Yes, sir," one of the guards replied.
"Finally..." Mara lifted a trembling hand toward the deeper part of the tunnel. A faint shimmer of dark mana coated his fingertips. The barrier pillars he had woven earlier dissolved—then the tunnel groaned, twisted, and collapsed inward under its own weight. Stone thundered down until the passage was completely sealed.
Dwordoug nodded, respectful and impressed. "Thank you, Ambassador Mara. Using barrier magic as support pillars for seven days straight, without sleep… must've been rough."
"Indeed..." Mara sighed deeply, shoulders sagging. "I am seriously too old for this." He sighed again for emphasis, as if one sigh was not nearly enough to express the enormity of his suffering.
"Mara," Levi called softly.
"Yes, sir?"
"Does sleep deprivation count as a work hazard too?" Levi asked with a tired smile.
"Yes, it does, sir. I'll add it to our work-compensation list."
"Kukuku…" Levi rubbed his face. "Monny's definitely going to wish we didn't survive once he sees that list."
Cinderclaws approached them, boots crunching on snow. "Grand Marshal, Mr. Minister, Mr. Ambassador — we'll rest here for tonight and resume travel tomorrow. The prisoners will gather wood, and my guards will hunt for food."
"Your guards can bring the pickaxe with them," Mara said. "It can smell blood from far away. Should be helpful."
Every guard shuddered.
Every prisoner grinned.
"Where are we heading tomorrow?" Mara asked.
"Back to the Moth Pole entrance," Cinderclaws replied. "The military must've noticed our missing daily transmissions many days ago. A rescue team should be looking for us there."
"If I may advise," Mara said, "the dwarves who ambushed us likely have infiltrators among that rescue team."
Dwordoug nodded grimly. "The ambassador is right."
Cinderclaws frowned. "Then should we go directly to Mount Gear Military Base?"
Dwordoug hesitated. "Even though the commander there is from my sub-clan... yes, the enemy has likely infiltrated every base near the Moth Pole."
"Is there any base you consider safe, council member?" Mara asked.
"Boulderhelm Base," Dwordoug replied without hesitation. "The base commander there is an Axebreaker."
Cinderclaws groaned. "That's… twelve to fifteen days on foot. In the snow."
"Safer than the alternative," Dwordoug replied.
---
By sundown, the survivors huddled inside what remained of the tunnel. Somehow the leftover corridor was long enough to shelter fifteen dwarves, one human-sized dwarf, and two demons — a luxury compared to freezing outside.
Several small fires burned along the tunnel walls. The smell of cooking meat drifted warmly through the cramped space. Shawshank and the guards had somehow managed to bring down a deer—even though Shawshank lead the guards to a bear and other dangerous predators on the first three encounters—giving everyone their first real meal after a week of digging on nothing but prison rations.
Cinderclaws approached Dwordoug's fire carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle. "Sir, I brought you and the demons some dinner."
"Thanks. Just put the Muricans' share here," Dwordoug said, pointing beside him. "They're still asleep."
They both looked at Levi and Mara sleeping near the fire, snoring like exhausted bears.
"A demon duke sleeping peacefully next to me…" Cinderclaws scoffed. "Never thought that would happen in my life."
"Heh, same," Dwordoug chuckled. "I thought we'd be fighting them, not sharing a campfire and deer jerky."
They shared a brief laugh.
"But still," Cinderclaws murmured, staring at Levi's bandaged form, "seeing Leviathan's true form… I'm not sure I'll ever forget it. More terrifying than any illustration."
"And yet, that terrifying demon saved our lives," Dwordoug said quietly.
Levi's true form is, well, a Leviathan — a colossal, three-hundred-meter-long whale-like demon — had blocked the avalanche at the last second. It had nearly crushed him, thousands of tons of rock battered his body. Even as a Leviathan, the destruction left scars.
But he held the avalanche long enough for Dwordoug and the others to dig an escape tunnel.
It was the only reason any of them were alive.
"Sir," Cinderclaws said after a moment, "I was wondering. How did the Goldenclaws clan even get here? To Dwargonia?"
"That's a mystery to me as well," Dwordoug replied. "I always assumed they were hiding somewhere in Meridinia. And how they slipped those airships past our mana-radar…" He shook his head. "Unsettling."
"A mystery indeed."
Dwordoug's eyes hardened. "One thing is certain. When we return to Hearthguard Cairn... there will be a purge. A massive purge."
The fire reflected in his eyes like molten steel.
---
Balevar, Forest Orphanage
Bella and the children ran through the orphanage yard, shrieking with excitement as they played Murican-style tag—where the 'it' can also be 'hunted down' if the other kids form a posse.
"OVER THERE!" Bella shouted gleefully, wearing thermal goggles she absolutely did not need. "GET HIM!"
"That's cheating!" Kovalski shouted before bolting away in genuine panic.
The children screamed in delight and charged him, hurling pebbles like an angry mob. Bella, of course, enjoyed this far more than she should.
On a nearby tree branch, Ivy lounged lazily. Robert shyly approached, offering a mug.
"Miss Knight, um... grape juice."
"Ah, thanks," Ivy said, taking the mug.
Robert sat beside her, blushing. It had been two days since the misfit party hid inside the orphanage. They had two options for a two-week disappearance: hide with bandits, or hide with children.
The choice was obvious.
Well… mostly obvious.
Hiding with bandits meant they would probably end up 'leading' them. And that would only increase the growing list of criminal charges against them. So, the orphanage it was.
"I'm still grateful for the lesson you gave us," Robert said. "Even those who save you can hurt you later. We learned not to trust blindly."
"Yeah-yeah," Ivy grumbled, remembering the absolute nonsense excuse she made up when returning the orphanage's stolen goods.
"So… why do you dress like that?" she finally asked, eyeing his prim, almost nun-like attire.
A-ah... because I want to be like Sister Catherine. A gentle figure for the kids," he said shyly.
"What a weak-ass reason…" Ivy is annoyed. "Anyway, I've been here two days. Is there really nothing else you guys do except play and pray?"
"Well… not really," Robert admitted. "Sometimes we look for ingredients in the forest. But only when we must, like the day I met you. But it's dangerous. There are wolves."
"And bandits," Ivy added.
"What bandits?" Robert blinked. "We've never seen any bandits in this forest."
"…Huh?"
The Misfit Party still had no idea the mountain bandits were, effectively, the orphanage's guardian angels.
---
Inside the Chapel, Captain Irving examined the food-storage crates while speaking with Sister Catherine.
"You'll run out of food within a week," he said flatly.
"Oh my…" Catherine's face tightened with worry. "Usually, every few days, food magically appears at the entrance. But nothing has come."
"Magically?"
"Fufufu. Not truly magical." The elderly priestess giggled softly behind her hand. "Some shy gentlemen place it there secretly, but the children call it magic."
"I see…" Irving replied, unaware he and his group had exterminated many of those shy gentlemen on day one.
"In any case," Irving sighed, scratching his head, "we need a plan. The orphanage won't survive two weeks at this rate."
He glanced over his notes — more concerned about what he would eat during the next two weeks.
---
Two Days Later, Brightfield Town
The town looked exactly as the misfits left it: armed guards, scowling faces, and wanted posters everywhere.
One young guard stopped a little girl in a red hood.
"State your purpose."
"I—I'm helping my mommy… s-she's sick… so I'm here to sell bread…" she stuttered.
The guard's expression softened. Poor, scared little thing.
"Alright. Go on."
She passed through the gate and whispered into her hidden comm:
"B-b-big brother… I'm in…"
---
Up on a distant hill, Kovalski grinned behind binoculars.
"Good job, Martha. Now relax — you won't do anything dangerous yet."
"Y-yes big bro! I'm just doing… uh… what was it? Recon!"
"That's right." Kovalski nodded proudly. "Now find a tavern. Set up your bread stall across from it. Then draw me a sketch of the building. Big brother will guide you."
Thus, Kovalski began teaching orphans the art of infiltration.
---
Forest Orphanage
Back at the orphanage, a fluffy white bunny happily munched a carrot on the table. Bella beamed.
"Thumper, you remind me of my pet demon bunny at home. Just… less horns and fangs."
She gave the bunny gentle pats.
"Well then, enjoy your lunch while I prepare mine," Bella said sweetly.
She stood, stepping behind Thumper.
"A soft… tender…" she whispered as her expression shifting into a maniacal grin — raising a butcher knife high.
"…rabbit meat."
THWACK
Thumper's head rolled across the table.
The watching children were frozen in horror.
"And that's how you do a humane kill!" Bella explained cheerfully, wiping blood from her cheek. "Name it, love it, and kill it quickly."
The children nodded obediently, though mildly traumatized.
"Alright! To the forest! Today we learn foraging — and setting traps for Thumper's families."
Bella began teaching survival skills.
---
"WAAAAAAH!"
Three children sobbed dramatically.
"No! Wrong!" Ivy scolded.
Three children instantly stopped crying
"The sound is good, but no tears. Adults will know. Switch groups!" She continues.
The next three children comes
"WAAAAAAAAH!"
Ivy folded her arms. "Much better. Remember — convincing tears can save your life."
Ivy began teaching street-smart survival.
---
Meanwhile Irving stood at a chalkboard teaching Sister Catherine, Robert, and some older orphans.
"So," he said, "what's the best solution here?"
Robert raised his hand. "Uh… take everything from the store?"
"Wrong. Tempting, but that's only if you plan to leave town forever." Irving tapped the board. "Best option: take small amounts the owner won't notice. That way you can do it regularly."
"But sir knight," Catherine interjected nervously, "But is that not stealing?"
"It's not stealing," Irving said calmly. "Because its for the orphanage, It's charity. We're simply taking it… in advance."
"Aaaaah!" the whole class brightened with enlightenment.
Irving began teaching 'sustainable economics'.
It was official: the misfit party had decided the orphanage needed survival skills if they were going to keep feeding them for two weeks.
So naturally, they taught the kids what they knew best:
Unlawful requisition.
---
Vandoria, Vans City (Second Prince Territory)
Vandoria looked nothing like the elegant capital of a year ago. The civil war had reduced its Paris-like beauty into Berlin after WW2. Makeup had been replaced by dirt. Fashion by bruises.
Civil war had turned the land into a reflection of the suffering they once inflicted on their colonies and vassals.
In a half-destroyed tavern, a hooded man finished his drink, left a coin and a scrap of paper, and walked out.
The waitress cleared the trash — paper included — and later tossed it into a back-alley bin after a fake sneeze.
A hidden street urchin dug through the garbage, found the paper, tucked it into his shirt, and slipped into the shadows.
---
Later, a coded knock sounded at a small inn: one fast, three quick.
A scrap of paper slid under the door.
Megan picked it up, scanned the nonsense poem, and decrypted it instantly.
"Boss, we got the time and date for the delivery," she said.
Young Mo looked up. "Finally! When?"
"Tomorrow night. In the ruins outside town."
"Good — secluded. Easier for us." He leaned forward, eyes intense. "Now come back. Let's finish this."
Megan reluctantly returned to the table.
Empty bottles surrounded them — and one fallen wine bottle pointed directly at her.
Young Mo tapped the table.
"Now tell me…" he said seriously.
"Truth or Dare?"
Laying low during a mission could be very, very boring.