The Freed Slaves Are Obsessed

Dwarven Drinking Duel

The rules were simple: a contest to determine who could drink the most—a crude and reckless way to settle matters.

It reminded me of medieval European trial by combat, though this was far less violent. If anything, it had a boisterous, festive edge to it.

Only the dwarves, who adored their alcohol, could have come up with such a contest.

“Hey, did you hear what that twig just said? He wants to challenge us to a drinking match!”

“Hahaha! Has he completely lost his mind?”

The dwarves, known for their pride in their drinking prowess, laughed uproariously, their mockery as hearty as their appetites.

Among all the various races, dwarves ranked among the top in terms of alcohol tolerance. Challenging them to a drinking contest was pure folly.

“What’s wrong? Are you scared?”

And yet, here I was, fully aware of what I was doing.

“What did you just say, you little twig?”

“If you’re confident, why don’t you stop flapping your gums and accept the challenge?”

My taunts struck a nerve with Roxar, whose expression twisted into a snarl. Scratching his face like it suddenly itched, he bellowed into the tavern.

“Baldira!”

Soon after, a female dwarf sauntered out from the back of the tavern, swaying her hips. The onlookers whistled and cheered at her appearance.

“What’s all the fuss about, Roxar?”

“This twig of a human thinks he can teach us dwarves a thing or two! I’m about to show him the error of his ways!”

“Oh?”

The woman, the tavern manager Baldira, gave me a long, appraising look.

Her bold makeup, bright red lipstick, and the conspicuous mole near her lips, combined with her full figure, matched the description I’d seen in an illustration perfectly.

Baldira was said to be one of the great beauties of Doomheim.

‘Hmm.’

It was a moment to truly appreciate how far apart human and dwarven standards of beauty were. Seeing Baldira only heightened my respect for Ashies, whose elegance transcended species.

“Oh my, is this the famous princess? She’s just a bit prettier than me. Just a tiny bit, though.”

Did this woman have no sense of shame?

“And this is the slave trader who brought Ferka here?”

Baldira leaned in closer, locking eyes with me at my seated level. She smiled slyly, the mole on her lip curling into the fold of her smirk.

“Cute little thing, aren’t you? You’re quite my type. So, how about it? Care to join me at my place tonight for some stew?”

She draped an arm over my shoulder, leaning against me suggestively. A shiver ran down my spine, and goosebumps erupted across my skin.

“No. Absolutely not. Please stop.”

“Oh my, are you playing coy with me? Adorable, aren’t you?”

“Haha, if I keep up this ‘coyness,’ I’ll sprout feathers and end up living in the Beast Kingdom.”

Carefully, I wriggled out of her grip, putting as much distance as I could between us.

“Did... did he just reject Baldira’s flirting?”

“Wait, does he not like women?”

“His eyes are black, so maybe he’s blind!”

As wild speculation erupted around us, Baldira’s face twisted in humiliation. Her lips trembled with anger.

“Unbelievable! Roxar, did you call me out here just to humiliate me?”

“That wasn’t my intention, Baldira. This twig challenged me to a drinking contest, that’s all.”

“Now that’s music to my ears. Fine, I’ll waive the drink fees, but only if you make sure I never see his ugly face again!”

“Don’t worry!”

Clap, clap.

“You lot, get things ready!”

At Baldira’s signal, dwarven workers lugged in massive wooden barrels, each one as big as their torsos. They thumped them down around the table with a resounding thud.

All that alcohol wasn’t just a concern for my sobriety—I might get full before I even get drunk.

Roxar pulled up a chair and sat across from me.

“The rules are simple. The first to pass out loses.”

“Simple and straightforward. I like it.”

“If I win, you’ll leave Doomheim with the princess immediately. If you win...”

“If I win, you’ll grant me one small favor. Like, I don’t know, standing your ground against a dragon’s breath attack without running?”

“That’s oddly specific, but fine. It won’t matter because I’m going to win. Baldira, signal when we’re ready to start!”

“Hold on a moment.”

Roxar frowned, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

“What now? Don’t tell me you’re backing out already.”

“I was drinking earlier, so I need to take care of some business before we start.”

“Hah! You’re insane if you think that’ll help you win.”

“Well, you never know until you try. Though some things are obvious even without trying.”

Politely excusing myself, I slipped away to the back of the building where no one could see me. After ensuring I was alone, I began moving my fingers in the air.

Ah, that cool, heavy sensation.

The time had come to bring out my secret weapon.

***

​

Karami Returns to the Table

Karami returned to his seat shortly after.

Judging by his relaxed expression, it seemed he'd taken care of business quite thoroughly. The subtle curve of his lips gave him an approachable appearance—though only to those unfamiliar with him.

Anyone who knew Karami’s role as a slave trader might have tried to uncover the scheming intent behind that smile, but dwarves were not a particularly cunning race.

No one present suspected a thing, and Roxar naturally positioned himself at the starting line of the contest.

“Are both sides ready?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

“Alright, then. Ready... go!”

Baldira clapped her hands to officially begin the match. Roxar wasted no time, starting with a full sprint.

“Watch closely, twig! This is how real men drink!”

Raising a massive wooden barrel above his head, Roxar began pouring ale directly into his mouth. His practiced technique ensured that hardly a drop spilled.

He leaned back, chugging furiously, until the barrel was completely upturned.

Thud!

With a loud bang, Roxar slammed the empty barrel onto the table.

Wiping his mouth with a thick forearm, he glanced around and barked, “What are you lot doing? Cheer already!”

“Damn, as expected of Roxar, the Shield of the Earth! No one drinks like he does!”

“Yeah, now that’s how a master drinks!”

The dwarves erupted into applause and cheers, turning the tavern into a full-blown festival.

Satisfied by the reaction, Roxar roared with laughter. In stark contrast, Karami merely held a tiny glass, making it appear even smaller in his hands.

Roxar snorted at the sight of the miniature cup, his expression full of ridicule.

“Yeah, don’t push yourself, twig. A baby cup like that suits someone like you! Hahaha!”

Karami couldn’t possibly match Roxar’s style of drinking. It wasn’t just a lack of skill—he couldn’t even lift the massive barrels Roxar was handling with ease.

Even if he managed to lift one, most of it would spill out. The difference in their drinking capacity was astronomical.

“Hmm...”

If Roxar wanted to go all out, that worked just fine for Karami. However, there was one concern.

Karami had invested 5,000 points in consuming an item known as the [Potion of Invulnerability]. Claiming he needed to step out earlier wasn’t a lie.

This potion, which he had previously used during a drinking contest with Arpia, granted complete immunity to harmful debuffs such as poison or intoxication.

As overpowered as it was, the potion came with limitations: it was expensive, had a cooldown period, and only lasted for an hour.

‘If he keeps this up, this could go on for more than an hour.’

Roxar showed no signs of slowing down, and dwarves treated ale like water, having built up an impressive tolerance over time.

On top of that, the sheer difference in the amount they could drink meant that even if Roxar passed out, no one would recognize Karami’s victory.

Karami decided it was time to change tactics. Letting out an exaggerated sigh, he spoke loud enough for the entire room to hear.

“Haaah... I was looking forward to trying dwarven ale, but this has to be the blandest drink I’ve ever had. Is this what you take pride in? Such a cowardly display from a bunch of pathetic weaklings.”

“...What?”

“I suppose it’s to be expected, considering this is Doomheim’s ‘best’ tavern. Dwarves are nothing but the defeated relics of a bygone age.”

The once-boisterous tavern fell into an icy silence. Even Ashies glanced upward, wondering if she had done something again.

Thankfully, no snow fell from above. The chill in the air came from the dwarves themselves, their burning gazes fixed on Karami.

“What did you just say...?”

“The drinks I had in the Great Forest were fragrant and sweet. As expected, elves...”

BANG!

Roxar’s hammer-like fist crashed onto the table, shattering it into splinters.

“Take it back...! Take back those words...!!!”

Karami smiled, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“I take it back.”

“Are you mocking me?!”

“You told me to take it back, so I did. Why the fuss? Oh, wait... was it actually true?”

“Of course not! No one can match dwarves when it comes to drinking! Those pointy-eared elves drink nothing but children’s juice!”

“Well, words are just words. Even slave traders let their merchandise speak for itself...”

Karami trailed off intentionally. Enraged by the insinuation, Roxar roared like a volcano.

“What are you standing around for, Baldira? Bring out the strongest brew you’ve got!”

“Hold on, Roxar. I know you’re mad, but that’s not meant for a drinking contest! Do you even know how much it costs?”

“Bah! Do you think I care about the cost after being compared to those wooden-heads? Bring it out, now!”

Things were taking an odd turn, but Baldira, unable to stomach an insult to dwarven pride, relented. She returned with a finely crafted bottle and two ornate glasses instead of the usual barrels.

“Oh, something new, I see.”

“This is made from dragon’s blood. Depending on the process, it can act as a medicine or, as in this case, a drink.”

Popping the cork, Baldira let out a faint pop, and a thin wisp of smoke rose from the bottle’s mouth.

“The problem is, for most creatures, it’s essentially poison.”

Dragon’s blood, known for its use in elixirs, was so potent that even a tiny vial fetched astronomical prices. This drink had been diluted hundreds of times, yet its potency remained unmistakable.

Drinking it was like courting death.

“Perfect. Let’s settle this with one glass. Ashies, would you mind setting up?”

Ashies tilted her head in confusion.

“By ‘setting up,’ he means making a table,” Karami explained.

“Ah, I see.”

Nodding, Ashies conjured a gleaming table of ice to replace the shattered one.

Baldira poured the dark purple liquid into two glasses, its ominous hue thick and foreboding. Karami and Roxar each took a glass.

“If you drink that, you’ll burn from the inside out, twig. Give up now before it’s too late.”

“Does your tongue match the length of your legs? Why is it so long?”

Roxar’s face contorted into a mix of anger and laughter, his expression comically twitching.

“Fine, then. Drink it and die!”

“As you wish.”

Karami raised his glass for a toast, but Roxar dismissed him with a snort and downed the drink in one go.

Karami chuckled lightly, savoring the aroma before sipping his drink at a leisurely pace. Eventually, both glasses were empty.

The two men locked eyes, gauging each other’s condition.

Both appeared unbothered, much to the spectators’ confusion. Even Baldira, who had hyped up the drink, started questioning its potency.

“Roxar...?”

It was Baldira who first noticed something amiss. She examined Roxar closely, hoping someone would collapse to save her pride.

Then, she realized Roxar wasn’t moving.

“Hey, Roxar.”

No response. She waved her hand in front of his face. Still nothing.

“Roxar, are you okay?”

Gingerly, she shook his shoulder. Roxar tilted, then...

Thud.

He toppled to the ground, stiff as a board, still holding his previous posture.

Roxar had passed out with his eyes open!

“Ro-Roxar!”

“Snrkkkk... fffrrr....”

The sight of Roxar snoring with his eyes wide open was surreal. The drink had lived up to its fearsome reputation, flooring even a dwarf in one round.

And Karami?

All eyes turned to him, expecting to see him in the same state.

“Hm~ This is surprisingly good,” Karami said, his expression calm as ever. He casually poured himself another glass.

“Excellent drink, madam. I take back what I said about elves being superior.”

“Wha-what?”

“And you can charge this fine gentleman for the drinks.”

Karami drained his second glass, rose from his seat, and smiled at Ashies.

“Today’s duel was delightful, Master Roxar. Since I’ve won, I trust you’ll keep your promise to assist me someday.”

Even if that day involves standing up to a dragon’s breath.

​

***

On the way back home, Karami muttered his complaint under his breath.

The commotion had gotten so out of hand that they were forced to leave the tavern. His original plan to see a tipsy Ashies seemed unlikely now.

“Next time, instead of a tavern, maybe we should find a more secluded place to—”

“Hic.”

“—enjoy ourselves... Ashies?”

A sudden, adorable hiccup interrupted Karami mid-sentence. Turning around, he saw Ashies standing still, her wide eyes betraying her surprise, as though even she didn’t know where the sound had come from.

“...? Hic.”

Her body jerked slightly with each hiccup, but she made no effort to cover her mouth, seemingly clueless about what was happening. The hiccups came one after another.

“Oh...”

Karami couldn’t help but let out a soft exclamation of admiration. It wasn’t much, but the sight unexpectedly charmed him. A chuckle escaped his lips.

“Well, it seems the evening wasn’t a total loss after all.”

He had seen something delightful.