Within a palace of carved stone, one could see many dwarves sitting gathered together in a wide chamber, their expressions grave and contemplative. Amongst them was Thorin, currently standing before a magical projection that displayed the events that had just taken place between himself and Reinhard.
The projection functioned like a window to the past, replaying everything in vivid detail. But it wasn't limited to mere visuals—everything Thorin had sensed throughout the battle was also projected alongside the imagery, meaning everyone present was able to feel Reinhard's aura for themselves.
"To lose to a swordsman without a sword…" A red-haired dwarf said, watching the moment of Thorin's defeat play out in the projection, his tone dripping with mockery as he sneered at his fellow eighth-rank peer. Indeed, it was a bit embarrassing by any standard—an eighth-circle mage brought down by a man wielding nothing but their hands.
"If you're not a fool, then you would see that the human's swordsmanship transcends the need for a physical sword." Another dwarf shot back at the red-haired dwarf with a sharp sneer of his own, his voice carrying the weight of someone who recognized true mastery when he saw it. A swordsman of that caliber didn't need a proper weapon—the weapon was an extension of his will, and his will didn't require steel to cut.
"Indeed, that stick in his hands is more deadly than any sword I have ever forged… his bare hand alone is also better than all of them combined." A female dwarf said, her gaze fixed on Reinhard's image in the projection with the look of someone who had just discovered a treasure beyond price.
Everyone gathered in this room stood at the eighth rank, and they were all proud blacksmiths who had dedicated their long lives to the art of the forge. They could see with absolute clarity that Reinhard was a genius of the highest order. Be it a sword, a bow, a spear, a hammer, or anything else—any weapon they could conceive of forging for him seemed like it would be a perfect fit.
None of them could identify a single weapon type that wouldn't be suited for Reinhard's hands; he was compatible with everything, a vessel that could bring any creation to its fullest potential. They naturally burned with the desire to forge a weapon worthy of such a person, to see their finest work wielded by hands that could truly do it justice.
But he was an enemy, and that reality tempered their excitement with bitter frustration.
The red-haired dwarf, of course, knew all of this perfectly well. He wasn't blind to Reinhard's talent—but he couldn't help himself. The opportunity to kick Thorin while he was down was too tempting to pass up, and petty rivalries didn't pause for matters of national security.
"We will watch for now," An old voice sounded through the chamber, immediately drawing every pair of eyes to its source. An old and skinny dwarf stood among them, so frail in appearance that a strong wind might have knocked him over. He walked with a gnarled walking stick that seemed to bear more of his weight than his own legs did.
This dwarf had appeared from seemingly nowhere, materializing in their midst without a single one of them—all eighth-rank warriors and mages—sensing his existence until he chose to speak. The fact that he could slip past the awareness of an entire room of eighth-rank individuals without effort spoke volumes about just how far above them he truly stood.
"But Elder, this human just entered the human domain from our territory; this is an act of war." The red-haired dwarf said, his tone shifting instantly from mockery to deference in the presence of the old dwarf. But the elder simply shook his head, unmoved by the argument.
"I have seen many humans over the course of my life, and I can say with certainty that he is one summoned from another world. Whether he would become a hero or a demon remains to be seen. Let us watch how he reacts to the darkness of this world before we decide how to act." The old man said, his words landing like stones dropped into still water. Everyone in the room was left stunned, exchanging glances of disbelief.
"How can you tell?" They asked, the question coming from several voices at once, their shock overriding their usual composure.
"The world went through a transformation a moment ago, marking the birth of a being whose capability transcends all others. I'm guessing it was his arrival in this world that caused it. A freak of nature like him doesn't simply appear out of nowhere without shaking things up—the world wouldn't have reacted so violently for anything less. He also didn't reject your statement about not being of this world," The elder said, directing that last point toward Thorin before turning to walk away, his walking stick tapping against the stone floor with each slow step.
"If humanity rejects him, we dwarves will accept him. Maybe a fool like him is what this world needs." He said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, before disappearing from the chamber as if he had never been there at all—no footsteps fading, no door opening or closing, just absence where presence had been a moment before.
The room was left in heavy silence by those words. Every dwarf present turned their gaze back toward Reinhard's image in the projection, watching him walk off across the landscape, casually waving toward Thorin as he departed without a care in the world.
***
"Stop!" Reinhard was forced to halt as he reached the border between the dwarven territory and the human domain, meeting a line of soldiers stationed at the crossing point. They stood in formation with weapons at the ready, their postures rigid with the practiced discipline of men who spent their days scrutinizing every traveler who passed through.
"I'm an adventurer," Reinhard said calmly, producing the badge that identified him as a registered member of the adventurer's guild and holding it up for inspection. This caused the border guards to step forward for a closer look, and as they neared, their eyebrows raised in unison as they got a proper look at Reinhard's face and the way he carried himself.
"Is everything alright?" Reinhard asked with a raised eyebrow, and that simple, innocent gesture was enough to make every male guard standing before him blush, their professional composure cracking for just a moment under the weight of his appearance.
"No, everything is fine." They said quickly, averting their eyes and looking down as they composed themselves. They had noticed immediately that Reinhard was most likely a noble.
Yes, his badge only marked him as an iron-rank adventurer, but the aura Reinhard naturally gave off screamed someone of noble birth. His posture, his features, the effortless confidence in his bearing—everything about him radiated status and breeding that no iron-rank badge could disguise.
"You may pass, sir," The guards said respectfully, their tone noticeably more deferential than what a typical iron-rank adventurer would receive. With that, Reinhard nodded toward them and headed off in the direction of the city that lay ahead.
It wasn't a massive city by any means, and from what he could tell—which meant it was accurate, given his intuition—there were roughly five hundred thousand people calling this place home. By the standards of this world, that was a bit on the smaller side.
The city was surrounded by massive brick walls, tall and weathered but structurally sound. It didn't look bad at all—it was exactly what Reinhard would have expected from a city in a fantasy world. Sturdy, functional, with a certain rugged charm to its construction.
The city was a few miles away from the border checkpoint, but Reinhard crossed that distance quickly, arriving at the main gate in short order. He showed his badge to the guards at the entrance, and he was allowed to pass through into the city without needing to pay any kind of entry fee.
Reinhard scanned his surroundings as he entered, taking in the sights and sounds of the city's streets. He quickly observed many people going about their daily lives, filling the roads with the bustle of commerce and conversation.
He saw people standing on the sides of the road selling goods from stalls and carts… and by goods, it ranged from food, clothing, tools, and everyday necessities, all the way to humans and slaves displayed openly alongside the produce as if they were just another commodity to be bartered over.
Reinhard's expression shifted into a frown as he walked deeper into the city. He saw husbands openly showing off their wives, their sons, their daughters to passersby, displaying their beauty and their bodies to entice someone into paying a price to sleep with them. From what he could see, this world was open about such things—extremely so. There was no shame, no secrecy, no pretense of hiding what was happening.
It seemed it was common for men to sleep with men, and it wasn't seen as unusual or worthy of comment by anyone around him. It was also apparently not considered wrong for someone to spend the night with a child, whether their own or someone else's. The woman also seemed to be suppressed by the males; clearly, the women's rights movement wasn't even a concept in this world.
Reinhard had to take a long, measured breath to keep himself from stepping forward and putting a stop to what he was witnessing right then and there. After all, by this world's standards, he would be the one in the wrong. He would be the outsider imposing his values on a society that had collectively decided this was normal and acceptable.
This world had come together and agreed that what was happening here was perfectly fine… but still, it disgusted him to his core. But the horrors didn't stop there. As he continued walking, he soon came across the slave merchants—an entire storefront dedicated to the trade, emanating a stench so foul that it hit him before he even reached the entrance.
Reinhard stepped inside, and what greeted him was simply inhumane. Dwarves, elves, demihumans, humans, and beings of every race imaginable were held in conditions that no living creature deserved to endure.
Cages lined the walls and filled the floor, packed tightly together with barely enough room for their occupants to sit, let alone stand. Many of the slaves bore the scars of prolonged torture—welts, burns, and wounds both old and fresh marking their bodies.
Many were visibly suffering from hunger, their frames gaunt and wasted, their skin stretched tight over protruding bones. And all of them, without exception, were broken. They sat in their cages without a hint of life behind their eyes, hollow shells that had long since stopped hoping for anything to change.
But as they looked toward Reinhard, something stirred. Their lifeless eyes regained the faintest hint of light, a small spark reigniting in the depths of their shattered spirits. Something about Reinhard's presence, about the aura he carried with him, made it difficult even for souls this thoroughly broken to remain completely lifeless.
In their eyes, Reinhard seemed to be the only thing with color in an otherwise black-and-white world—a single point of warmth in an existence that had long gone cold.
"Greetings, guest. May I know what product you're looking for? If you want to break the product personally, it would lower the price by 25%," The merchant said with a practiced, professional smile that never reached his eyes. He spoke about the slaves the way someone might speak about furniture—objects to be sold, used, and discarded at the buyer's convenience.
Reinhard didn't look at him. His gaze remained fixed on the slaves, all of whom were now looking back at him with something they hadn't felt in a long time—hope. He had wanted to keep a low profile for a while, to stay under the radar and quietly collect information about this world before making any moves.
That had been the smart, strategic approach. But as he looked at what was in front of him, at the broken people staring at him with desperate, pleading eyes… yeah, he was too weak to pretend he didn't see this. He couldn't ignore these people.
[A/N: This is how I picture most fantasy worlds should be if they were not inflaunced my our world beliefs. In a world ruled by strength, why would the strong hold themselves back from doing anything they want? Their desires would have nothing to suppress them. So, rape, slavey, and such things should be common...]