How To Live As A Writer In A Fantasy World

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If we were to list the differences between Earth and this world one by one, there would be too many to count.

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But the biggest difference is the existence of monsters.

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Ferocious beasts are sometimes classified as monsters, but the biggest difference between the two is that monsters do not obey the words of the goddess of nature, Hirt.

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No one knows who created them, but monsters have broken free from Hirt’s influence and established their own independent domain.

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Some scholars suggest that monsters might have emerged through a process similar to the birth of demons 3000 years ago.

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The very fact that monsters are beyond Hirt’s influence lends credibility to this hypothesis.

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[The only good monster is a dead monster.]

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The rampages of monsters can be considered humanity’s, and especially humans’, greatest enemies.

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Other races each possess exceptional traits, allowing them to handle monsters — unless they’re giant ones like dragons, krakens, or behemoths — without too much difficulty.

RandomContentGeneratorForWordPress But humans are so frail that even goblins pose a significant threat to their everyday lives. RandomContentGeneratorForWordPress

Even now, villages with little human traffic are exposed to constant danger from monsters.

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Furthermore, while beasts can be driven off with swords and spears through sheer effort, monsters often walk on two legs and wield weapons themselves.

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When that happens, it’s not just a simple battle — it becomes a full-blown war, and losing that war means the complete destruction of the village.

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It was in this harsh reality that humans, through sheer tenacity and unity, managed to build civilizations.

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They founded civilizations and learned various techniques, including the use of mana, to fight back against monsters.

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Moreover, because monsters provided valuable byproducts, professions like adventurers began to emerge.

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However, for humans, the threat of monsters remains ever-present.

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For ordinary people to defeat monsters more easily, they need high-quality weapons.

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Even without using mana, a good weapon can pierce through the tough hide of an ogre.

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And the only race capable of mass-producing such high-quality weapons is the dwarves.

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“If we stop producing weapons, the Minerva Empire will immediately pressure us, demanding why we aren’t supplying them.

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Then where would that leave us? And it’s not just the Empire. We also sell our goods to Alvenheim. Helium could become a good customer, too.”

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“And what about our kin who suffer making these weapons? Are you saying you don’t even care about them?”

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“We’re paying them, aren’t we? Money. The thing we love most.”

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King Bourge V let out a greedy chuckle, rubbing his index finger and thumb together — a gesture everyone knew all too well.

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Ains gave a look of utter disbelief at Bourge V’s shameless words, then closed his eyes tightly.

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To think that his great invention was being used to create bigger factories.

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The bigger problem was that nothing Bourge V said was wrong.

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The amount of weaponry the Minerva Empire consumes is unparalleled by any other nation.

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Even the current stack of backorders was enough to make one’s jaw drop.

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To make matters worse, the northern barbarian beastkin and the eastern Stavirk were stirring ominously.

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And most crucially, the Minerva Empire’s territory is insanely vast.

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To protect that vast territory, the number of weapons needed had to increase exponentially.

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If the Machina side stopped production, the Minerva Empire would surely erupt in fury.

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Faced with such demands, the factories would have no choice but to continue laboring through tears.

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What infuriated Ains the most was the matter of wages that Bourge V mentioned.

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With his anger bubbling to the top of his head, Ains spoke quietly.

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“…Money? Did you just say money?”

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“Yeah, money. You can enjoy a nice cold beer and some rest with it, right?”

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“…”

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Ains closed his eyes again.

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He wanted to punch that annoying face so badly.

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The wages Bourge V spoke of were severely inadequate compared to the dwarves’ labor.

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They hammered and toiled at the forge for over twelve hours without proper rest.

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In front of a blazing furnace, drenched in sweat, who even has time for a cold beer?

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Even if they injured their fingers while hammering, proper treatment was rare.

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Worse yet, even the meager wages they received were unfairly deducted for absurd reasons.

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If someone arrived late or nodded off at work, 10% of their wages would be docked.

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They used every petty excuse to cut wages and pressure the factory workers.

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Women and children were not exempt.

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Again, dwarves were a race naturally inclined to create things.

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They entered the factories with dreams of one day crafting their own masterpieces — only to find themselves trapped in a living hell.

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‘When did it all go so wrong?’

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Ains opened his eyes and glared at the king before him — Bourge V, adorned in all sorts of gaudy jewelry.

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Dwarves live slightly longer than humans — around 300 years.

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Bourge V was the son of Bourge IV, who had survived the racial wars.

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But whereas Bourge IV had allowed dwarves to pursue their own creations, Bourge V suppressed creativity and demanded only labor.

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Only a few factory owners grew obscenely wealthy, while the suffering of the workers was completely ignored.

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‘If only my invention had been born into the hands of a true craftsman, not these factory lords…!’

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The reason Ains could focus on developing his magic engine was simple:

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He was a blacksmith — a craftsman, not a factory worker.

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Most products were handmade, but that didn’t mean machinery was nonexistent.

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How to control the temperature of a furnace, how to measure the heat of fire, and so forth — Ains was a craftsman who invented such machines.

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Not that his work was easy either; he also doubled as a miner.

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But thinking back on it, mining was no easier.

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Even when tunnel collapses caused numerous deaths, the typical response was nothing more than a tongue click — never proper compensation.

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Wages were poor too, but they had long accepted it as just the way things are.

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‘They have no idea what factory workers’ lives are really like. They’ve been blinded by greed.’

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Suddenly, the image of the Greed King from the Chronicles of Zenon surfaced in his mind — a dwarf who, in his obsession to create the greatest masterpiece, made a pact with demons, ultimately consumed by his own greed.

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But at least that king had been pure in his ambition.

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He had created the best masterpiece he could and left satisfied.

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Look now at the king before him.

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A pig that only seeks money, with no trace of dwarven spirit left.

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Not a dwarf — just a demon wearing a dwarf’s skin.

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Could he even still be called a dwarf?

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‘This isn’t right.’

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Even now, the elderly and children are being used in factories. What would happen if steam engines fell into their hands?

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It could lead to an even more horrifying situation. In that case, the very meaning of being born a dwarf would be completely lost.

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Still, Ains held a sliver of hope. If the steam engines could replace that dreadful labor, wouldn’t the quality of life in the factories improve?

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“…Your Majesty.”

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For once, Ains spoke politely. As he opened his mouth, the greedy expression of King Bourges V changed slightly.

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Slowly opening his eyes, Ains looked at the king in front of him. His gaze still burned with passion, but there was one major difference:

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It was not the look of an eccentric ‘engineer,’ but the earnest gaze of a ‘man’ representing the hearts of many.

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“If my magic engine can replace the labor in factories, could you tell me what benefits you would grant them?”

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“I don’t understand. Say that again.”

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“I’m asking if you would be willing to use my invention for the factories.”

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For some reason, Ains had calmed down, and Bourges V raised one eyebrow at him. The official next to him also looked at Ains as if wondering what he was thinking.

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But intentions aside, what mattered most was Ains’s magic engine. Regardless of what Bourges V was thinking, he nodded with a satisfied look.

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Then he clasped his hands together, emphasizing the many rings on his fingers. In contrast, Ains’s hands were rough and thick from hard labor.

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“Of course. With your magic engine, the factories will be able to work more easily. However, since efficiency will increase, we’ll extend working hours as well.”

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“Why? Why extend the working hours? If efficiency increases, couldn’t orders be completed earlier instead?”

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“The amount of goods the Empire demands is simply too large. It can’t be helped.”

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“…I see.”

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Swoosh—

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Without waiting for the king’s command, Ains stood up, as if he had nothing more to say.

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An official tried to scold him for his rudeness, but Ains opened his mouth first, stopping him.

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“I’ll take my leave now. Do as you please with the magic engine.”

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“Thank you. Your devotion will not be forgotten.”

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“I wish you good health in the meantime.”

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Ains left the room with heavy steps. Behind him, he could hear Bourges V chuckling, but he forced himself to ignore it.

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He wandered aimlessly with his short legs and eventually found himself outside. Lifting his head, he looked ahead.

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The royal palace where the king lived was built on a mountainside — a dangerous terrain, yet made possible by the dwarves’ unparalleled construction skills.

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In front of the palace, despite it being nighttime, the “forges” were still brightly lit.

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‘Machina is known for its beautiful nightscape.’

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But amidst that night view, countless factories were still hammering away. The pounding sounds echoed through the night.

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Meanwhile, the palace? Ains looked back at the screams buried under beautiful lights.

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Most of the lights in the palace were off. Aside from a few guards carrying lamps for patrol, the palace was already asleep.

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Some could not even sleep and had to keep hammering, while others slept comfortably.

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The factories worked through the night, but it was the factory owners who pocketed the money.

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When did dwarves start being despised as a money-crazed race rather than being praised as artisans?

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From the perspective of the other dwarves working in the factories, it was an unbearable, infuriating prejudice — a prejudice created by the factory owners themselves.

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‘All for money… But I — no, we just wanted…’

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They just wanted to create ‘works’ like the magic engine.

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Strange or not, they simply wanted to make fun and interesting creations.

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And now, not only were their works being taken away, but they were also being made to suffer even more than before.

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Ains felt like he could tear off his own hands out of frustration.

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He walked on, feeling the rage and cold reason battling inside his heart.

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Though he wanted to drown this wretched feeling with a refreshing beer, he doubted even that would be possible.

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“Hey! Ains!”

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“…Huh?”

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Just then, a familiar voice pierced his ears. Lifting his head, he saw his friend and colleague, Handai, who had worked with him on the magic engine, waving at him.

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“Handa…”

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Ains was about to feel happy at seeing his friend after a long time when he noticed something odd.

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Handai’s waving hand looked strange. Narrowing his eyes, Ains examined his hand more closely.

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“Hey. Your hand…”

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“Oh, this? I messed up hammering and shattered all the bones. So I just cut it off.”

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“…What?”

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Handai showed off his hand casually, as if it were no big deal. Two knuckles of his ring finger were missing.

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Despite this, Handai laughed heartily, showcasing the dwarves’ typical cheerfulness — but not to Ains.

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“What about money? Did you get any compensation?”

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“How could I? They just patched me up quickly, and I went back to hammering.”

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“… …”

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“Anyway, where have you been? Why the long face?”

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Was this supposed to be normal? No doubt they pressured him with money until he had no choice but to return to work.

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Ains felt the fading flames of his passion reignite — but it wasn’t a passion for invention anymore.

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It was something higher, something stronger:

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A blazing passion to rebuild the entire nation.

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“…You’re quiet. Why?”

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“…Handai.”

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“Yeah?”

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“If I make something crazy… do you have the guts to follow me?”

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Handai looked puzzled by the sudden question. But Ains’s expression was deadly serious.

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Perhaps sensing something in that expression, Handai rolled his eyes around before quietly responding:

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“…What are you planning to make?”

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“Something big. By the way, do you know where Gias is?”

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“Gias? Probably hammering away somewhere.”

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“Go get him. Right now.”

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If you leave even a small ember alone…

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“I’m going to create something huge and beautiful.”

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…it inevitably turns into a massive, raging fire.

★★★★★