So I'm a Snake, Who Cares

In truth, there’s no official "warrior" profession in dwarven society.

Why would a race that mines, forges weapons, and builds need warriors?

Especially now, when it’s not an era of constant warfare like in the old days.

Yet paradoxically, miners, builders, and artisans were all warriors at the same time.

Dwarves may be short, but their strength easily surpasses twice that of humans.

Their short, stout bodies are filled with steel-like muscles.

They’re incredibly tough, and dwarves are inherently bold and brave by nature.

Whether hammering heated iron or crushing enemy skulls with a warhammer, it’s similar work.

Likewise, all miners can become warriors.

A few Blood Moles are no match for dwarf miners.

But now, the snake illuminated the darkness that had been pitch black.

Manjin swung his pickaxe with a shout.

"Uwaaargh!"

The pickaxe accurately pierced a Blood Mole’s head.

As he shook it off, the Blood Mole’s body spun through the air.

As it flew towards the snake, the snake swallowed the Blood Mole in one bite.

He had felt it since feeding it ham, but this creature ate heartily, making feeding it worthwhile.

The dwarves fought fiercely against the Blood Moles.

Blood Moles popped out from everywhere.

No, it wasn’t just from the four directions - they even fell from the ceiling and floor.

The narrow tunnel floor was gradually piling up with Blood Mole corpses.

The smell of blood was overwhelming.

Among the dwarves, Manjin killed the most Blood Moles.

And the snake killed even more than Manjin.

It spewed beams from its mouth and shot like an arrow when it leaped.

Blood Moles died instantly, their bodies twitching, when it bit them lightly as it passed by.

When they first met the snake that popped out of the barrel, it was just for fun.

When they met again, they thought it was just a cute, silly creature.

But that wasn’t the case.

The snake was incredibly strong, and without it, all the dwarves here would have died.

A moment later.

The seemingly endless Blood Mole attack stopped.

But Manjin couldn’t relax and rest easy.

"Aaaaargh!"

"Don’t, don’t thrash about! You’re bleeding!"

The dwarves weren’t unscathed either.

Wounds on arms and legs were fine.

But one of them eventually collapsed, clutching his abdomen.

"Th-The youngest!"

Manjin screamed and ran over.

The one who had fallen was the youngest.

Blood was pouring from his abdomen.

One dwarf was desperately trying to staunch the wound, pressing down on it in confusion.

Despite this, blood kept gushing out.

"Fi-First, take off his clothes."

Miners getting injured was common.

They had tools for first aid and basic knowledge to treat injuries.

But when they removed the youngest’s upper clothing, Manjin’s face turned pale.

"His intestines..."

A Blood Mole had bitten into his abdomen.

His intestines were protruding from the gaping wound.

It wasn’t an injury that could be treated with simple first aid.

And from experience, Manjin knew.

When internal organs spill out, people die.

"Huh, huk. Br-Brother..."

"..."

"Save, save me please."

The youngest gripped Manjin’s forearm tightly.

His hand was pale, probably from losing so much blood.

Manjin couldn’t answer right away.

Everyone was just looking at Manjin.

As if asking him to do something, anything.

Stupid kids, what can I do?

But Manjin was the team leader. He had to do something.

He couldn’t tell the dying youngest to just give up because he was done for.

"..."

But his mind had already gone blank.

That’s probably why, when someone gently pushed him,

Manjin fell on his backside so easily.

"Move aside."

The one who took Manjin’s place was Dunkel.

"Give me water and a potion."

"Huh? Ah, right."

Manjin hurriedly took out water and a potion.

Right, potions were very precious, but Manjin carried them around.

Just as Manjin was about to pour the potion on the youngest’s wound.

"Manjin!"

Dunkel shouted, glaring at Manjin.

Manjin froze, and Dunkel snatched the potion he was holding.

"If you just pour it on the wound, it could get infected."

"Oh..."

"Pour the water here. Not on the wound, but here."

Manjin dazedly did as Dunkel instructed.

As he poured water from the canteen, Dunkel first washed his own hands.

No one could understand the meaning of this action, but no one dared to say anything.

Then Dunkel took the canteen.

He carefully washed off the dirt on the protruding intestines.

"Urgh, huaaaargh!"

"Hold his arms and legs so he can’t move."

No dwarf immediately followed Dunkel’s words.

So Dunkel shouted, as if enraged.

"What are you doing, you bastards! Hurry up and hold him!"

Manjin was the first to react.

As Manjin grabbed the youngest’s legs, other dwarves held his arms.

The youngest struggled.

He even cursed in pain and fear.

But Dunkel, as if he couldn’t hear it, slowly pushed the intestines back in.

"The intestines aren’t damaged. There’s just a hole in the abdomen, and the intestines were pushed out due to internal pressure."

"Then, can the youngest survive?"

"We’ll have to do what we can."

Dunkel, the lazy and worthless one.

When he was insulted like that, Manjin had inwardly agreed, even if he didn’t join in.

But how does Dunkel look now?

He’s more reliable than anyone else here.

Dunkel took something out from his pocket.

Wrapped in clean white cloth were what seemed to be his emergency treatment tools.

Among them was silk thread as thin as a hair, and a needle.

"I’m going to temporarily stitch the wound, so hold him tight."

Dunkel began to sew the grotesquely open abdominal wound.

His hand trembled.

Dunkel was nervous too.

Dunkel put down the needle for a moment, then slapped his own cheek hard with the back of his hand.

Slap!

"Whew."

Then he picked up the needle again.

It might have been a laughable sight, but no one laughed.

He eventually managed to suture the youngest’s wound.

Watching this, Manjin recalled the past.

When he was young.

Whenever he got hurt while playing, it was always Brother Dunkel who treated his wounds.

An indescribable shame swept through Manjin’s heart.

"Give him the potion orally."

"Orally?"

"It means make him drink it."

"Ah, I see."

Manjin fed the potion to the youngest.

The youngest couldn’t even swallow the potion properly. It seemed like he spilled more than half.

The snake approached.

Surprisingly, it was holding a potion bottle with its tail, from who knows where.

"This... This is a better potion than what we have."

Dunkel said after smelling the potion.

The snake nodded, and Dunkel finally poured a little potion on the sutured wound.

The wound visibly healed at a rapid pace.

But the youngest, who had lost consciousness at some point, didn’t open his eyes.

"He’s lost too much blood. He might be in shock."

"We should carry him out quickly!"

"...That could be more dangerous. The treatment isn’t complete. We need to move him carefully on a stretcher."

Dunkel said.

"You, go call for help! Hurry!"

At Manjin’s order, one dwarf quickly ran off.

To Dunkel, who was wiping cold sweat, Manjin carefully said.

"Brother."

"Yes, Manjin."

"The situation might not be good."

"...What do you mean?"

Manjin gritted his teeth.

At least when it came to mining work, especially about Blood Moles, Manjin knew better.

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