Mage Legend
Chapter 259: Volume 1 Diary

Chapter 259: Volume 1 Diary

Moni the Dwarf’s Diary

Today is destined to be a memorable day. I had this premonition since the morning. The annoying underground wind has stopped blowing, and that damp, chilly air will no longer torment my knees. Many dwarves share the same feeling with me, and everyone is joyfully celebrating the arrival of the dry season.

During the dry season, exciting things always seem to happen at this time of year. I remember during last year’s dry season, Old Puck from next door celebrated his 480th birthday, which was truly a miracle. On that day, he brought out a wheeled chair he made himself, so even though he could barely walk anymore, he was still able to stroll around the city. It’s a rare item crafted by the oldest person in the Dwarf City.

On the first day of the dry season before that, it was Nimo’s coming-of-age ceremony, one of the most important days of his life. This guy is taller than the average dwarf, and he’s also smarter and more adventurous. I always knew he would accomplish things that others couldn’t.

To get back to the point, today (or rather yesterday, because I drank a bit too much and am catching up on yesterday’s diary now), Little Nimo and his friends returned from the Underdark! This was such a happy event. The moment they stepped into the city, Old Puck vigorously turned the wheel on his chair and rushed over to tell me the good news.

"Little Nimo is back! Your nephew is back!" Old Puck’s face was flushed with excitement; if he keeps this up, he might live another 480 years. "And that mage who donated the mithril! He’s back too; you should hurry over!"

To be honest, I really wanted to go there and welcome them, but I was afraid that upon seeing Little Nimo, I wouldn’t be able to hold back my tears. If I cried in front of everyone, how embarrassing would that be!

Since last autumn, when the mage and his mithril suddenly appeared at the city’s teleportation experiment platform, I knew the world was about to change. Little Nimo yearned for life outside; he always wanted to gain more knowledge on his adventures and create better things. Mage Lynch’s arrival must have tugged at his heartstrings. He had wanted more than once to leave the Dwarf City to see the outside world, but the dangers of the Underdark were something he could never overcome alone.

Mage Lynch is quite a good person. He’s friendly and easy to get along with, though he’s often silent, always holding some books and quietly staying to the side, never stopping his habit of reading and thinking at any time. We dwarves really like people like him, who prioritize knowledge over wasting life in pointless conflicts. During his time living with us, Lynch often provided suggestions for our inventions, which made the things we created more and more perfected. Although he’s not a dwarf, he shares our dwarven curiosity and passion for innovation and creation. If possible, I really wish to keep him in this city forever, among his dwarven friends.

It was precisely because of Lynch that I agreed to let Nimo join the adventure. With a mage accompanying him, Little Dwarf wouldn’t encounter much danger. That warrior named Deluo, with immense strength, could also provide considerable assistance on their journey. However, even so, life in the Underdark was full of challenges, and I often worried whether Little Nimo would encounter misfortune and when he would return.

But now, eight months have passed, from that autumn to the beginning of another dry season, and my little dwarf has finally returned. I suppressed my excitement and concentrated on the small parts in my hands, resisting the urge to go to the city gate to meet him. At that time, my mind was indeed in chaos, and even my usually calm heart was like boiling water, constantly churning.

"Uncle!" Just Nimo’s call from behind me broke the tears I had been holding back. He threw himself into my arms, calling my name over and over. I felt dizzy at once, unable to even remember to respond to his calls, with tears as big as beans streaming down, dripping onto Little Nimo’s head, soaking a patch.