Reverse Dungeon Chapter 161

The room Ian and Keith had just left fell into an awkward silence.

Naita, the elderly dwarf scholar, cautiously glanced toward Louise—the child Rick had left behind—who was quietly recovering from his grief in his master’s embrace.

“Are you... alright?” Naita asked hesitantly.

“What do you an?” Louise replied.

“Well... Sir Keith Moore—the so-called ‘Agent of God’—left together with Lord Ian. I was worried I might have caused so sort of discord between them...”

“There is no discord under Lord Ian.”

“...?”

The certainty in Louise’s voice caught Naita off guard.

But when he thought about the hero he had just pledged himself to, sohow the answer felt strangely fitting.

“My na is Louise,” the boy added.

The simple statent swept away the dwarf’s wandering thoughts.

He acknowledged ... as Rick’s friend.

Emotion surged up in Naita’s chest. Tears welled in his eyes again, disappearing into the thick beard covering his face.

No. I can’t cry.

Not in front of the child his unfortunate friend had left behind.

“Well then, Louise... have you been doing well?”

“Yes.”

The mont the words left his mouth, Naita realized how foolish the question sounded.

“I an... Lord Ian has treated you well, hasn’t he?”

The dwarf inwardly cursed himself again.

Rick’s child couldn’t possibly have lived an easy life. Still, Ian seed like a decent master. Surely the boy had at least been treated properly under his care.

But Louise fell silent, seeming to ponder the question seriously.

Naita’s expression stiffened.

“...Has your master been tornting you?”

“What? Everyone wants Lord Ian to tornt them.”

“...?!”

Naita’s mind blanked completely.

At that exact mont, the door burst open and Ian returned with Keith at his side.

Whatever the two had discussed privately, both of them looked oddly refreshed.

Looks like they settled it.

Naita quietly let out a breath of relief.

Then Ian imdiately turned toward Louise.

“Keith. You really are the finest knight alive. No one could possibly be more loyal or devoted than you.”

“Thank you.”

“...?”

Naita blinked.

Since when had Louise beco Keith?

Why was Ian staring at Louise while praising Sir Keith?

And why was Sir Keith answering him?

Apparently, Naita was the only person present who found this bizarre.

“Naita,” Ian said casually, turning toward him, “is there another dwarf in the village who can take over as chief after you leave?”

“Anyone could do it,” Naita answered. “I only beca chief because I’m the oldest.”

“I see. Do you have a lot to pack?”

“Pack? Are you intending to leave imdiately?”

Ian looked at him as though the answer were obvious.

“If you need ti to organize things, take it. Though it’s probably better to handle that later. Don’t you want to hear the results as soon as possible?”

“...Results?”

“The magic placed on the letter.”

Ian tilted his chin slightly.

“The ‘Master of Water,’ Sema?” Naita imdiately understood. There was no one else Ian could an. Even among the dwarves, the mage serving beneath Ian was already famous.

The old scholar nodded eagerly.

“Understood. I’ll hand over the chief’s duties to the next eldest and leave with you imdiately.”

“Good.”

“Before that, though, let’s establish an alliance.”

“An alliance?”

“If your village is attacked, I’ll help you. If my dungeon cos under threat, you help .”

Naita looked startled for a mont.

“Of course! We are not beasts. How could we abandon our benefactor in his hour of need?”

To the dwarf, Ian’s proposal seed so natural that the question itself felt unnecessary.

But Ian had his own reason for bringing it up.

— Ding!

Perfect.

Ian smiled faintly.

“As expected, dwarves value honor.”

“That we do. People may hold prejudices against us forest dwarves because of Gorea, but our kind repays debts and rewards with absolute clarity. We simply have little interest in outside affairs.”

There was newfound resolve in Naita’s voice now.

His heart pounded with a different sort of tension.

He was about to journey to Ian’s dungeon—a chance to restore the reputation of the forest dwarves that Gorea had tarnished beyond repair.

The elderly scholar suddenly felt the weight settling onto his shoulders.

Then Ian spoke again.

“Of course, when it cos to loyalty, nobody can surpass Keith.”

“Yes... thank you.”

Keith answered awkwardly, and sohow all the heavy tension in the room dissolved at once.

So this is what they ant by ‘peculiar tornt.’

Naita found himself wondering what exactly Sir Keith had done to deserve such constant harassnt.

If it were , my stomach would’ve dissolved already.

He’s certainly a hero... but is he truly a good master?

That lingering doubt disappeared the mont they arrived at the dungeon.

For all his talk of scholarship, Naita «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» was still a forest dwarf at heart—a craftsman by blood.

The instant the hidden entrance to the dungeon opened before him, the intricacy of the chanism stole his breath away.

“...Who designed this?”

“Our artisan.”

“I see...!”

So humans truly did possess master craftsn worthy of admiration.

The more Naita saw, the wider the world beca.

Though no longer young himself, the old dwarf suddenly found himself marveling at the possibility of a world where every race could coexist together.

“Ian! You’re back!”

A cheerful voice echoed from inside.

“Momisia. ‘You’re back’ is too informal. Be more polite.”

“I heard from everyone. You rescued people from a demon cult hideout this ti?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

Naita’s round eyes widened.

The one greeting Ian was an enormous man with long silver-gray hair cascading around him like a lion’s mane. His massive build and fur-covered body made his identity unmistakable.

A werewolf.

And in his arms sat a little girl wearing a red hooded cape, happily waving her hand.

A werewolf... carrying a human child?

“‘You have returned’ would sound more polite,” Ian corrected.

“That’s too stiff. Momisia’s already good at greetings.”

“I’m good at everything.”

The girl puffed herself up proudly, unable to hide her delight. She wriggled excitedly in the werewolf’s arms, her hat slipping off and revealing a young human face beneath it.

“Child! Get away from him—it’s dangerous!”

Naita nearly shouted in panic.

Werewolves were monsters that preyed on humans. Despite the na, they weren’t human beastfolk—they were creatures born from demonic blood.

And yet this monster was casually carrying around a human child.

Only Naita seed alard.

“What’s this? A dwarf?”

“Momisia, that’s an elder. Don’t speak rudely.”

“But he’s acting like Uncle’s a bad person. Ian, who’s this dwarf?”

The little girl glared openly at Naita.

The dwarf stomped his short legs in agitation.

“Lord Ian! There’s a werewolf inside your residence!”

“I know. That’s Contacca. The child he’s holding is Momisia.”

Ian answered calmly.

“She’s the artisan you were admiring earlier.”

“...A werewolf?!”

“Contacca, how would you feel if soone ignored your na and just called you ‘dwarf’?”

Ian folded his arms.

Keith appeared completely uninterested in the conversation, while Louise simply shook his head when their eyes t.

Naita swallowed nervously before addressing the werewolf with a title he never imagined he would use in his life.

“L-Lord Contacca...?”

Sharp gray eyes turned toward him.

“It’s our first eting. Just call Contacca.”

“I am Naita, scholar of Black Rock Village.”

“Momisia, don’t let them call you ‘Momii.’”

The girl suddenly interrupted, whipping her head around so sharply that her braided hair smacked against Contacca’s shoulder.

A werewolf. A human child. An artisan.

Naita recalled Ian’s earlier explanation.

This child was truly the artisan?

Just when he thought he’d experienced enough shock for one lifeti, another surprise arrived imdiately after.

Almost absentmindedly, he asked:

“Why can’t they call you ‘Momii’?”

“Only Ian and Uncle are allowed to call that.”

“...I see.”

Momisia smirked proudly, though her curious eyes kept drifting back toward Naita. It was obvious she found eting a dwarf fascinating.

Contacca turned toward the cave interior.

“Everyone’s waiting inside. So ‘escaped slaves’ arrived recently. Did you send them, Lord Ian?”

“Sema didn’t co with them?” Ian frowned.

“He did.”

“Then why ask? He would’ve explained everything already.”

“Uncle Sema was right?”

Momisia tilted her head curiously.

Contacca answered in a patient voice.

“Hm. I suppose he was. Momisia, don’t be overly suspicious of people.”

“I’m not suspicious of Uncle Sema.”

The little girl narrowed her eyes.

“I’m suspicious of his judgnt.”

...?

Were they really talking about Sema—the Master of Water?