Chapter 52: A Dwarven Apology

“Is this normal?” Hope whispered to Pinklia as they watched the platoon of men change into a workforce, preparing food, having set up a surprisingly immaculate table from seemingly nowhere and insisting that the group sit, drink and relax.

“Dwarves are… passionate I guess?” Pinklia whispered back.

Rhiney and Junior were passed out while Utarou and Penelope accosted Aitkens with questions he either wouldn’t answer, couldn’t answer or occasionally, answered.

“Where can I get your rifles from!?”

“Can’t tell ya,”

“How are you storing all of that magic?!”

“Can’t tell ya,”

“Can I see how it works?!”

“Can’t tell ya,”

“ARRGH! CAN YOU TELL ME ANYTHING?!” Penelope screamed, collapsing to the ground in impotent academic rage.

“Do you have monster girls?!”

“No,”

“Darnnit.” Utarou snapped, just because he was making every monster girl himself didn’t mean he wouldn’t take some freebies.

“I’m sorry but our apology only extends to repairin’ ya and feedin’ ya. Trade secrets stay secret.” Aitkens sighed, eyes wandering over to Pinklia.

“You guys suck.” Penelope whined as she stomped off. As she did, Utarou leaned in and whispered.

“Alright you guys can tell me, mechanical girls? Doll girls? Living dolls? Golem girls? Give me the goods you can trust me, we’re buddies, we speak the same language here,” Utarou whispered, Aitkens jumping back in disgust and shock.

“Ya speakin’ of somethin’ which I have no care of learnin’ about! Now go on and enjoy a nice meal!” Aitkens demanded.

“Sir yes sir!” Utarou saluted, turning around to see that while he was pestering Aitkens, a massive stone table had been set up, with each of Utarou’s squad being given a full 3 course meal already.

Utarou was taken aback at the speed and efficiency, a part of his Japanese soul couldn’t help but appreciate it.

“This is a lot…” Hope exclaimed, looking at the large feat laid before her as the platoon of dwarves sat down, opening their rations and placing them on the stone plates.

“We are making the score even! Now let us say our prayers.” Aitkens shouted from the head of the table opposite of where the squad was sitting.

The dwarves immediately placed their thumbs and pointer fingers together to form a triangle, then flipped it so their pointer fingers would be facing down.

Only Penelope tried to copy the dwarves, while the rest of the squad just watched on awkwardly, Junior being the only one rude enough to already start eating.

“Oh heavenly father, we praise your systems, may we thank you for the divine intervention that resulted in our passions being severed. Amen,” The dwarves prayed in unison.

“P-praise the systems!” Penelope added awkwardly at the end, earning nothing but a quick glare from several of the dwarves.

“Ahem, well dig in!”

The dwarves quickly opened their rations, simple baked potatoes with butter.

The squad meanwhile all had large steaks, fried potatoes, sausages, mashed potatoes and a jammy slice of bread.

It was a lot of food.

Far too much for any of them to eat, though Junior was trying valiantly to eat it all.

Pinklia could only look at her portion guiltily.

“You’re allowed to eat it you know.” Hope offered softly, taking delicate bites of the jammy toast.

“I-I know I just, well it’d be a waste… You know… Can’t digest it…” Pinklia muttered, catching the attention of Meachin.

“Aye, lassie what can ya eat?” Meachin asked urgently. Penelope got an idea and quickly injected herself into the conversation.

“Well, those magical cells you have would certainly do the trick I’m sure!” Penelope declared over Pinklia, who could only awkwardly agree.

“Eh? Well, I suppose ye make a point. The golem made from pink slime eatin’ aether follows… I must say, she’s impressive craftsman ship, an original design?” Meachin asked Penelope, having made many assumptions leading to him asking that question as he grabbed a bright yellow glowing cube and placed it in front of Pinklia.

“H-huh?” Pinklia stammered as she looked between Penelope, Meachin and the cube.

“You DO have Golem Girls?!” Utarou shouted.

“Argh damnit, UPDATE THY PRIORS! THE SLIME AIN’T A GOLEM!” Meachin shouted.

“FOR LOGOS!” The dwarves shouted back in unison.

“Still, what kind of creature do ye be, fae or logical?” Meachin asked the ever more confused Pinklia.

“I-I’m just uhhh…”

“A SLIME GIRL! THE VERY FIRST!” Utarou declared proudly.

“Y-yes…” Pinklia mumbled, showing off her skill tree.

“By the Saviour’s sweaty balls… Ye only have two skills.” Meachin remarked, it was something he’d never seen before.

“W-well I just have my-” Pinklia began before properly looking at her skill tree.

“OH MY GOSH! WHAT IS THIS?!” Penelope squealed as she ripped her notebook out and started writing.

Soon everyone had arrived to look at someone no one had ever quite seen before.

Animals only had a legacy skill.

Monsters only have skills.

The thing that every civilization used to define what was more than an animal, was the fact you had a Legacy Skill and Skills branching off of it.

Every religion had to make caveats for Blessed Beings due to their unique position.

But these were well understood categories.

Unambiguous.

You either had no skills, or many skills.

Pinklia, had 1 singular skill branching off of the central Slimenoid node.

A new Tier 1 skill called “Elemental Resistance.”

It granted 10% protection against extreme heat and cold.

“By the lord… This is… We need to update the priors…Everyone in the clans needs their priors updated!” Aitkens gasped, he was in shock.

“This goes against one of the first priors…” Meachin remarked, he was aghast.

The squad were baffled.

But Pinklia most of all had a sinking feeling where her stomach would be normally.

Why would she have a new skill relating to extreme heat and cold now?

She feared the answer involved the frozen Julia in Lolcons.