WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ I Became the Ophidian of the Apocalypse ◈
Chapter 81: Secret Infiltration Successful
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Beer was broadly divided into two types.
‘Lager’ and ‘ale.’
To be more specific, lager used bottom fermentation with yeast that settled at the bottom of the beer barrel, while ale used top fermentation with yeast that floated to the surface, and so on.
There was a simpler way to tell them apart, though.
If the beer was clear, savory, and refreshing, it was lager. If it was richly aromatic, cloudy, and heavy going down, it was ale.
The oak barrel Roil had brought, the one I had infiltrated, contained ale.
True to its nature, the aroma was incredible.
‘Ohhh...’
A floral aroma filled my nostrils.
‘I think I might get a little drunk...’
I'd always been a lightweight.
Apparently, becoming a snake hadn't changed that part of me. Thank goodness beer had a low alcohol content. If this barrel had held wine, I would've gotten completely wasted from the smell alone.
-Endure it quietly.
Pelerian was being unusually proactive.
I'd washed myself thoroughly, but I offered my condolences to this barrel of ale that had become undrinkable. Infiltrating the mine left us no choice.
It was noisy outside, probably because the dwarves had come out.
Good. I just had to endure this until we got inside.
It would be fine as long as I didn't drink any. There was room to breathe inside the barrel, and we'd even made a small air hole.
That was when the oak barrel containing me suddenly tipped over.
Glugluglug.
Beer swallowed me up to the top of my head.
I quickly steadied myself, but I ended up gulping down a huge mouthful of beer.
“Hic.”
That was the moment I learned snakes could hiccup too.
‘Oh... oh... this is nice.’
My stomach was bloated from all the beer I'd swallowed.
For some reason, I felt good and pleasantly buzzed.
I was drunk. I was getting drunk!
‘Mmm, I'm getting kind of drunk...’
-Hey, you bastard, how much did you even drink to get drunk already?!
I hadn't had alcohol since becoming a snake.
Still, based on my past life's experience, I knew very well what happened when I drank.
“Damn it, this is killing me.”
“Just roll it until we get it onto the cart.”
The dwarves rolled the oak barrel along.
And I rolled around inside it.
The world spun and spun.
I shouldn't get drunk.
‘When I get drunk...’
I turned into dead weight...!
* * *
[On the essential and mysterious traits of dwarves hidden behind the phrase ‘stubborn craftsmen.’]
To us humans, dwarves were known as ‘stubborn craftsmen’ or ‘delicate blacksmiths.’
But thinking of dwarves as nothing but a race of blacksmiths was far too narrow-minded.
First, dwarves were divided into surface dwarves and underground dwarves.
Surface dwarves were often masters of construction rather than blacksmithing, and most great structures, including the Sun Palace, were built by surface dwarves. Their cheerful nature also meant they got along reasonably well with the proud forest elves.
Underground dwarves, on the other hand, were different.
They mainly lived in mines, digging ever deeper into the earth. How many people had ever entered their cities?
Those who had only met surface dwarves were startled when they saw underground dwarves.
They shared the same short stature and sturdy muscles, but their skin was a pale white. Their deeply sunken eyes and incredibly thick beards even made them look frightening.
After digging downward for so long, they had become like termites that eventually gnawed at a mountain's roots.
They spent their entire lives developing mines and turning the underground into something as complicated as a Dungeon.
Those underground dwarves were the true blacksmiths.
They rarely came to the surface, but the weapons and armor they forged were renowned across the continent.
Yet I could say with certainty that dwarves were not a race designed to live underground.
Their lives, spent in the barren depths obsessing over things like the fullness of their beards, were noticeably shorter than those of surface dwarves. Most died before reaching two hundred.
Severe lung disease, being crushed by collapsing mines, getting bitten to death by monsters that emerged underground, their causes of death were varied.
Yet there was one condition that especially fascinated researchers.
A mental illness called Fire Enchantment, or Fire Enchantment Syndrome.
No matter how formidable a dwarf's Mental Strength was, once Fire Enchantment began, they could not escape death.
Dwarves enchanted by fire would inevitably, like a moth drawn to flame...
* * *
Contrary to what humans believed, underground dwarves did not always live gloomy lives.
Especially when there was good beer, dwarves could be happier than anyone in the world.
“Cheeers!”
Wooden beer mugs crashed together hard enough to break in midair.
White foam sprayed everywhere.
The dwarves of Red Anvil Mine gulped down pints of ale. Not one of the five dwarves around the table lowered their mug. As if they had agreed beforehand, they downed their beers in one go.
“Kwaaah!”
“Guuuuurp!”
They let out burps like dragon breath.
A raucous burst of laughter followed.
Red Anvil Mine was not simply a mine.
Over time, its scale had grown enormous, to the point where it could now be called a city. Its uppermost level held the dwarves' homes and various conveniences.
After spending all day mining ore in the lower levels, the dwarves came back up and washed away their fatigue with beer. Before even wiping the black soot from their faces, they poured beer into their bellies.
Thanks to their incredible tolerance, the amount of beer dwarves consumed in a day was astronomical.
“I thought I was going to starve to death.”
“Should we have them roast a whole pig?”
“Add ham too!”
How did dwarves manage to feed themselves in such a deep mine?
It was remarkable, considering the trade volume between Red Anvil Mine and the humans was not particularly large. The dwarves of Red Anvil Mine were largely self-sufficient.
Thick slices of ham were placed on their plates, along with fermented cabbage pickles and mashed potatoes.
A dwarf didn't even cut the ham. They speared it with a fork and shoved it into their mouth.
The ham they chewed so noisily was made from ‘pig.’
But that ‘pig’ was a different breed from the pigs on the surface.
More precisely, it was a monster.
They raised Steel Hogs within the mine, mysterious creatures that lived by eating iron ore.
The potatoes and cabbage were much the same. They were unique varieties of plants that grew underground and formed the dwarves' staple food.
Pig, potatoes, white cabbage.
Nothing green was visible in the dwarves' entire diet.
But they didn't care. Even terrible food tasted good with beer.
They downed three drinks in rapid succession.
That should've filled them up, but today's dwarves seemed especially excited.
“Clink your glasses, ho!”
They didn't stop toasting.
“Swing the hammer, ho! Dig the ground and mine the ore, ho!”
Their faces were red with drink as they sang.
“Until at last, deep in the mine, we're enchanted by blazing fire and die, ho!”
The elderly dwarf who ran the tavern clicked their tongue as they watched the young miners.
“Owner! More beer over here!”
“No, just bring us the whole oak barrel!”
That did seem easier.
The owner didn't bother saying the meaningless words, ‘Drink in moderation,’ since they wouldn't listen anyway. They dragged over a newly delivered oak barrel.
The smell of alcohol grew even stronger as it came closer.
The dwarves' eyes had already gone unfocused.
“Just don't throw up...”
“We wooon't! We won't.”
“Tsk, tsk.”
The owner left the oak barrel beside them and walked away.
Normally, they would have opened the lid and poured the beer into mugs, but the dwarves used a more barbaric method.
One of them pulled out a hammer and swung it like lightning.
Thump!
A hole opened in the top of the oak barrel.
Even so, not many wood chips fell off.
The dwarf tossed the chunk of barrel lid onto the floor, smacked their lips, and raised a beer mug.
Just as they were about to scoop up some ale...
Whoosh!
Something sprang out of the oak barrel.
It was a snake soaked through with beer.
A snake with scales as beautiful as crystal climbed onto the table where the food was laid out.
Even the heavily drunk dwarves froze all at once.
No one immediately understood what was happening.
The snake that must have been inside the barrel until moments ago seemed drunk, turning its head in circles atop the table.
One of the dwarves shouted.
“S-snake liquor!”
That one sentence completely changed the stiff atmosphere.
“Snake liquooor?!”
“I've never had it beforeee.”
“You crazy bastards! Puhahaha!”
The drunk dwarves rushed toward the oak barrel.
Calling the ale that had held a snake snake liquor, they eagerly scooped it into their mugs.
Among men drinking together, being called crazy was the highest praise.
Every one of them did something crazy.
They chugged beer that had held a snake just moments earlier.
“You eat too!”
Someone gave the snake a chunk of ham.
When the snake obediently accepted it, the dwarves' excitement reached its peak.
“Want some beer too?”
“Saaak!”
The snake buried its nose in the beer mug placed before it and drank.
“Wahahahaha!”
“It drinks well!”
They resumed the song that had briefly stopped with the snake's arrival.
“Drink snake liquor, ho! Do something crazy, ho!”
“Saaak!”
“Even if you're abandoned at the mine face and left to die, ho!”
“Saaak!”
The snake cried along with every “Ho!”
Was this a dream or reality?
Had they gotten so drunk they were hallucinating?
The dwarves laughed as they guzzled beer.
The drinking party grew more heated.
In the end, even the dwarves, famous drinkers that they were, became completely wasted.
“I can't feel my fingertips.”
“My, my lips keep trembling.”
They began suffering symptoms they had never experienced before, no matter how much they drank.
Their hands and feet went numb, their lips spasmed.
Symptoms one might expect from being poisoned by a trace amount of Neurotoxin.
“Wahahaha! Must be because it's snake liquor!”
“Puhahaha!”
Yet even that was treated as part of the entertainment.
They blacked out, then regained consciousness, over and over.
“Rest for one beat! Rest for two beats! Rest for three more beats, one, two, three!”
At some point, that was what they were singing.
The dwarves gathered around the table, clapping and cheering the snake on.
The food and plates had all fallen to the floor, and the snake was dancing on the table.
“Good dancing!”
Whether it was truly dancing or merely flailing about, no one knew.
The watching dwarves linked shoulders and joined in with the snake's dance.
There was no one else in the tavern but this group of dwarves today.
The owner, having tossed them the entire oak barrel, had gone into their room to rest.
The commotion became so loud that the owner finally rushed out with a broom to throw them out.
Then the owner finally reacted like a normal person.
“S-snake!”
A snake was dancing on a table in their tavern.
And it was obviously no ordinary snake, but a monster.
“Get out of here, shoo!”
“What are you doing to our friend?!”
“You crazy bastard!”
When the owner shoved aside the clinging dwarf, the thoroughly drunk young miner rolled across the floor.
Though the snake swayed its head drunkenly, it did not run away.
The owner swung the broom at it.
Naturally, the snake should have been knocked away.
Clang!
Instead, the broom bounced off.
The snake had swung its tail and knocked it aside.
The startled owner swung the broom again.
Clang! Twang! Smack!
They swung three times, and all three were knocked aside by the snake's tail.
“Sh-sh-sh-sh.”
Was it just the owner's imagination that the snake seemed to be snickering?
“Puhahaha!”
“Impressive, very impressive.”
The drunk dwarves shook their empty beer mugs in admiration.
As if responding to them, the snake proudly stretched out its body.
“You little bastards! Get out, all of you!”
The owner roared.
They too had once been a famous dwarf warrior. A tavern owner who dealt with drunkards every day could not possibly be weak.
They went into the kitchen to find a knife and kill the snake.
Clink.
That was also when someone entered the tavern.
Neither the drunk customers nor the owner who had just gone into the kitchen for a knife noticed.
“You bastards, you're still not gone?!”
The owner came rushing out, panting and holding a knife.
Perhaps rage had blinded them, because the way they swung it was quite threatening.
“Wait!”
The newly arrived guest cried out in alarm.
But the knife did not stop.
* * *
‘B-bite it with my mouth!’
I caught the flying blade in my mouth.
When I clenched my teeth, the blade should have shattered with a crack...
But it didn't.
It hurt!
My teeth hurt!
Blegh!
I let go of the knife and retched.
Somehow, I managed to stop myself from vomiting.
“Waaah.”
“Gurp. Puhat!”
The dwarf drinking buddies I'd just made here laughed.
I almost threw up on the table.
It reminded me of my first drinking party after becoming an adult.
Back then, alcohol had gone down strangely well.
‘This is amazing, I'm not getting drunk at all!’ I'd said while chugging mixed soju and beer like crazy...
-You never fail to surprise me.
But I couldn't remember anything else.
My head was spinning too much.
-I expected you to start fighting the dwarves... I never imagined you would drink with them instead.
Yeah, yeah, it's good when everyone gets along.
I should clean up the table too.
I'd made too much of a mess.
I use Elementary Elemental Magic: Water...
No water came out.
“Gaaah!”
The other dwarves were fine.
But that old dwarf seemed to dislike me.
They swung their knife at me again.
‘Sorry, I'll leave soon. Just let me clean up the table.’
“What do you think you're doing?!”
At that moment, a hooded dwarf pounced on the owner.
They forcibly took the knife away and shouted.
“Aren't you being too harsh on a beast that can't speak?!”
“Y-you...”
The old owner looked flustered.
Then they spoke as if unfairly accused.
“Those lunatics brought a snake into my tavern!”
“It wasn't us... This little friend jumped out of the oak barrel.”
“An oak barrel? Don't talk nonsense!”
The hooded person stopped the others from starting a fight.
“I'll take it away.”
Then they approached me.
‘Who are you, and I'm not a beast that can't speak.’
My new drinking buddies tried to stop them.
The power of friendship!
“What are you doing...?!”
My friend who tried to block the hooded person suddenly flinched.
After seeing their face, the dwarf spat on the floor.
“Ugh, you've ruined my drink.”
Then they left the hooded person alone.
Traitors.
Was that all our relationship meant to you?
The hooded person grabbed me.
I tried to avoid them, but I swayed from dizziness and collapsed instead.
“Looks like it came in from outside. Poor thing.”
“Saaak.”
I'm not poor. I came in on purpose.
They held me in their arms.
Then they left the tavern.
Nobody stopped us.
“Let's go to my house for now.”
The dwarf gently stroked me.
This kidnapper...
We entered an empty area where no other dwarves could be seen.
They removed their hood.
The dwarf's face appeared through my hazy vision.
“S-saak!”
I was shocked.
Every dwarf had a thick beard. Even female dwarves did.
But this dwarf was different.
They had a gentle-looking face, with not a single hair on it except for a bit of eyebrow.
Their head and chin were both completely smooth.
-A hairless dwarf...
Pelerian muttered in disbelief.
Then the dwarf gave a bitter smile and spoke.
“You're bald like me.”
What did you say?!
The dwarf was unilaterally feeling a sense of kinship with me.
“We're in the same situation.”
It was unfair.
I wasn't bald. I was sleek.
Footnotes:
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