The night was dark, the wind was high, and one could not see their hand in front of their face.
Shadowy, spherical figures crept closer one by one.
Oh, it turned out to be the dwarves advancing in a wedge formation, ready to launch a sneak attack.
Shields taller than them, hammers larger than their heads, axes that humans absolutely couldn't lift, long double-barreled muskets one couldn't even imagine how they loaded, and oversized wolf fang clubs... In the occasional glimpses of moonlight, these bizarre weapons radiated an odd flair.
"Hold it!" The leader, Bonk, suddenly raised a hand. "Gap Tooth! Two o'clock direction! Go!"
"Yes!" Gap Tooth—who had, indeed, no front teeth—gripped a hammer larger than his own head and stealthily crawled onto a nearby rock. "Boss! The camp has no guards!"
"No guards?" Bonk narrowed his eyes into slits, realizing things weren't so straightforward. "Cross-Eye! Eleven o'clock direction! Go!"
