Not seen for more than a year, his dwarven friends seem to have become more sedate. He stood there and smiled at him, his beard, once cut out of the shackles by the necromancer, back to his original richness and neatness, braided into a thick braid tucked into his belt, and the same thick hair with a lot of silver strands. Ed jumped over and hugged him hard, feeling the dwarf's body stiffen for a moment.

"Are you hurt?"

He immediately let go of his hand.

That was the only reason he could think of - dwarves don't hate hugging.

Mock shook his head, his smile a little bitter: "It's a long story. ”

.

Ed did bring gifts—whenever he had time, he always remembered to bring them, a rare habit he inherited from River.

In the fields near Kurtia grows a plant with a hard trunk, and its seeds are as hard as stone, and the color is very bright red, and it can be strung into beautiful beads. Satisfied, Tess skewers around her neck and wrists, jumped to the kitchen to "help" Narya bake cookies—she'd already heard Mork's story anyway.

The dwarf picked up a cup hewn out of the trunk of the plant and poured a sip of freshly brewed dark beer.

"There is a unique aroma. He commented.

"yes!" said Ed, grinning as he cupped his glass.

The smile that never seemed to change dispelled the dark clouds in the dwarf's heart a little, and made him speak more calmly about the recent succession of events.

"My grandfather passed away a little over three months ago. He said.

“...... I'm sorry. Ed whispered.

"He's lived long enough," Mock smiled wryly, "but he shouldn't...... To die in that undignified way. ”

He seemed to have some premonition that night, and he couldn't sleep all night. Towards dawn, the old king's screams pierced the silence and darkness of the mines.

By the time Mock rushed over, the old king could not say a word. His increasingly obese body shrunk spasmally after losing the mirror, his bulging eyeballs almost like they were about to fall out of their sockets, his bones making a terrible crunch, and his throat squeezing out only muffled and meaningless gurgling.

All the priests were helpless, and the only thing they could tell Mork was that it wasn't a disease...... It's more like some kind of curse.

Mock had to think of Silver Fang...... Remembering that mirror. He knows more secrets. But he couldn't do anything about it.

The old dwarf convulsed for a long time before he died, his whole body shrinking into a tiny mass, and the flesh seemed to be drained, leaving only a blue-gray layer, clinging to the still broken bones.

"And I doubt it...... His soul did not leave it. Mock put the glass back on the table, and months later, the scene was still a nightmare in his mind: "When I was tidying up his remains...... He still seemed to be staring at me, his eyes full of fear and despair. ”

Without much hesitation, he secretly cremated his grandfather's body.

"I can't let him become ...... That kind of monster. He said, subconsciously touching his forehead, "But sometimes, I feel ...... What I saw at that time was nothing but my own fear. ”

He may also be cursed.

"You mean...... That?" Ed involuntarily touched his palm as well, "The symbol that the necromancer drew on your forehead?"

He remembered it, but couldn't make out it. The only thing he could confirm was that it had some connection to the Word of God...... And this connection had brought him indescribable panic.

Gods and demons...... He thought. On the other side of the world, when facing Xingyao, why did he forget to ask this—— but she died so early, in fact, she may not know......

"It's still here. Mock tapped his forehead, "I can feel it, and it's getting stronger. But all the priests in the Silver Tooth Mine said it was just my delusion...... They were so worried that I couldn't shake off the shadows of the past, and even sighed that I was as sensitive as an elf. ”

Looking at his expression, it seemed like a joke, and Ed had to smile cooperatively, throwing away his worries and regrets, and raising his hand: "...... Is that okay?"

Mork nodded, allowing his hand to press his forehead.

The power that flowed from Ed's palm was grand and gentle. The dwarves felt a slight dizziness—a beautiful dizziness, like a drunken drunkenness, or a drowsiness by the warm fire, like a stream of cool clear water washing away the dust and exhaustion of the body.

There was a sudden pain in his forehead, and the traces that had long been invisible seemed to burn his soul again, but it was gently erased in a moment.

The dwarf opened his eyes in surprise. He could clearly feel the chains that bound him, the mark that could not be shaken off, broke in that moment and disappeared without a trace.

He saw Ed's face full of surprise, too.

"I just ......," he muttered, "give it a try......"

He really didn't expect to succeed.

"Can you still feel it?" he asked the dwarf in disbelief as he withdrew his hand, his eyebrows already floating up unconsciously, "is it really ......?"

The dwarf smiled and nodded at him, delighted and incredulous.

Ed beamed with joy to look left and right – Isis on the left, and Norway on the right, quietly crouching on the table trying to play a real mongoose.

He felt that he deserved a little more compliment, but Iss looked at him in a daze, and gave him not a word, and the mongoose chirped twice with pleasure, but soon lowered his head, indicating that he was far more interested in the potato cake in his paws than he could not understand.

The dwarf looked at it thoughtfully, and suddenly reached out and touched it.

This sudden intimacy frightened the mongoose greatly, and her round eyes froze there—I hadn't noticed how much dwarves liked fluffy animals!

The dwarf withdrew his hand casually, looking away from the little smile in his eyes.

He was now relieved, and in a few sips he poured down the rest of the wine in his glass and let out a long breath.

"I should have come to you sooner. He said.

Even, if he paid a little more attention to the news outside...... If he had known that Ed already had such great power, then his grandfather ......

He shook his head at himself. Such an "if" is a meaningless assumption, and if it weren't for another thing, he wouldn't have left the mine at all - dwarves never liked to turn to other races for help.

In a sense, they are as proud as elves...... and arrogant.

"There's one thing I think I should probably tell you. Ed pondered, "The mirror...... Now it has become Hoan...... A necromancer's eyes. ”

The dwarf clenched his glass tightly: "...... When?"