Chapter 2: It Was Supposed to Be a Time as Happy as a Dream

Anta, at his side, laughed merrily; movies were indeed a rare form of entertainment for the Grassland Elves, and the excessively exaggerated acting on the big screen was quite amusing. However, she was unaware that Durin, whose arm she was clinging to, had a deadpan expression and was capable of gouging out a piece of dead skin the size of a three-bedroom apartment with zero shared area from his foot... that is if such an impossible amount of dead skin even existed.

The flamboyant acting and frozen expressions, with the male lead dragging the female lead through a warzone for love (I heard the story is even adapted from reality), if Durin were in their shoes, he would've kept as low a profile as possible. But those two, with a nibble every three minutes, were not so wise; on their first night in the ruins, they just did it.

Without even using a code, just going at it live, the plot really spirals into madness at night.

Grassland Elf customs weren't as liberal as humans', and by this point, many Grassland Elf families were already huffily taking their children outside to complain, leaving only a few members of their species and a handful of elf couples continuing to watch.

And like Durin—this poor devil stuck accompanying a girl of his age—well, he was the only unlucky fellow in the entire audience.

As the male and female leads screamed and struggled in the middle of the battlefield, while soldiers from both sides treated them like enemy spies and shot with relish, in the dark of the cinema, Anta's small hand tightly grasped Durin's hand, "They'll be okay, right?"

She didn't comment on the poor performance or the exaggerated expressions; Anta simply looked at Durin with a bit of nervousness.

"They'll be fine, they are the main characters," Durin comforted Anta, but even he was not so sure—human movies in this world had such wild plots that he couldn't guarantee their survival, since he too was unaware of the actual story's ending.

Fortunately, the filmmaker ended it with a very happy reunion: both escaped the warzone and ultimately got together; a love story between a poor boy and a noble lady seemed quite appealing... not.

In the movie, the man enlists to earn his living, the descendant of refugees, while the woman, daughter of a Grand Duke, braves the dangers to meet her fiancé. Class was not merely a barrier for them but an insurmountable wall between them.

History tells us that when a family is formed between two people of mismatched social standing, hardships are inevitable; as though the entire world conspires to tear him and her apart.

Using the experience from Durin's past life—getting together? Please, impractical dreams are not dreams, they are delusions.

And was the director too blunt, thinking a night of wild passion stands for love? This world's movies made Durin acutely aware of the idea, "If I were up there, I could do it too."

Copying something like 'The Bridges of Madison County' might actually shame this world's so-called great directors. The only issue was that Durin didn't know how to explain the origin of that story to this conservative world since he's just a twelve-year-old child right now.

But as someone who had practically lived a hundred and seventeen years across two lifetimes and was essentially a lonely old man, Durin's mind was as clear as a mirror; he profoundly understood that the life of man is a struggle against oneself.

Responsibility, duty, temptation, desire—living in this world, one inevitably harbors such thoughts, and that's not shameful. What's shameful is knowing something is wrong and still making ornate excuses for one's own betrayal.

Freedom, if you want freedom go back to the Stone Age when men and women ran around naked, doing whatever they pleased, with whomever they pleased. But wearing clothes and living like a civilized person means bearing the responsibilities and duties that come with civilization, not wearing the coat of civilization while letting one's bare buttocks loose to "free nature."

No one owes anything to anyone in this world, regardless of gender or age; those who behave this way are unworthy of calling their pursuits freedom and happiness, they're nothing but whores and dogs, boasting a 'forever and ever'.

But in Anta's presence, Durin couldn't yet display his confidence. He could only assure Anta that he was determined to make a movie even better than this one.

"Really?" Anta was still skeptical and didn't seem to believe Durin's boast.

"Really, when the time comes I'll definitely invite you to see the best movie in the world," Durin swore.

"Then I'll remember that, you better not go back on your word," Anta replied with a smile and nodded, acknowledging Durin's vow and beginning to look forward to it with all her heart.

The two children walked out of the cinema, squeezing through the crowd. Anta actually wanted to watch another movie, as they had already paid. However, an on-duty police officer stopped them, saying the next movie was absolutely not suitable for kids. Durin glanced at the movie title—180 Days in Napoli.

It looked quite artistic and sounded it as well, but as someone who had seen many movies, Durin knew too well that art films could be really intense, sometimes more so than romance action films—because the latter, in order to pass censorship, might censor themselves, while the former, for the sake of art, could allow all life to meet this land with sincerity.

They even dare not to censor, just because art film directors have the audacity to point at their third-person romance action films and call them art.

So Durin decided to take Anta for some honey water, lest the old folks of the Aye family, upon hearing their granddaughter's adventure story of today, come to the Ailish family during the night to flay their beloved grandson, only to suffer humiliation because they couldn't beat old Yishu of the Ailish family.

After buying honey water from a stall, Durin sat down with Anta under the shade of a tree. The girl was still discussing the previous movie. Grassland Elves may be conservative, but they're also very willing to embrace new things, which is why those running the films continue without being chased out of town despite complaints.

Soon, Anta moved from discussing the plot to discussing how the film was made.

Durin honestly wanted to know this as well. The whole movie left him with a very absurd aftertaste because many scenes were poorly handled, often with the background severely blurred.

However, considering that this world had electricity, magic, and even all sorts of demons and devils in the various gray, red, and dark zones, along with all sorts of messy things, maybe movies here were also just a new trinket, and the directors were still in a state where being able to shoot was all that mattered.

Thinking this, Durin felt his dream of becoming a great director was truly within reach.

As for how movies were made, neither Durin nor Anta could figure it out, so Durin listened to Anta's suggestion.

"How about we go to the salon? I just took on a job there yesterday," Anta said, wrapping her arm around Durin's. Although she was making the suggestion, she looked up at Durin with the expectancy of a young cub waiting for his response.

Durin raised an eyebrow, "Is it going to be like last time, when you said you were going to gather herbs, and then…"

To be honest, Durin felt like he would help cover for Anta if the pay was too meager.

For a dozen gold coins, letting Anta, a walking weapon, start fires everywhere wasn't ideal. Durin still didn't dare tell anyone that the nameless fire that burned for three days on the prairie three months ago was related to Anta—the young girl had said she was going to gather herbs and had taken him, the porter, to an area near the cornfields where they ran into a herd of wild boars.

The latter, overestimating its own strength, launched an attack, so Anta cast an Extreme Effectiveness Fireball Spell in an instant, scorching not only a family of wild boars but also igniting the withered grass.

Then there was no "then"—the fire burned so fiercely that it gave Durin goosebumps.

Thankfully, the old mages from the Mage Tower intervened, ultimately allowing the fire to sweep through the nearby wasteland in the form of controlled burning.

"No, it's just someone asking for my help." At that point, under Durin's intense gaze, Anta became anxious. The young girl grabbed Durin's sleeve and began to shake it, while issuing Anta-style wails, "Really, nothing else, I'm not going to fight monsters or start fires, you have to believe me, Durin."

This softened Durin's heart—not because he was vulnerable to such childlike wheedling, but as long as she wasn't scattering a family of monsters or setting the grasslands on fire for a week, it was fine.

Truly, old Durin's heart was as hard as stone and iron, he wouldn't lose his principles just because a young girl acted coy.

Thus, Durin followed Anta, one hand helping her carry her basket, the other holding her hand.

"Durin, how long have we known each other?" The person in front of him half-turned to ask.

"We met for the first time at the estate when we were three years old." Durin remembered this very well, Anta was just a little girl back then, being chased by the then-young Lublin hound of the Griffiths family. It was Durin who had grabbed the Fire Iron Rod from beside the stove to rescue her.

As for that dog, it had taken quite a beating from Durin at the time. After that, it would bark madly whenever it saw Durin, but whenever Durin's hand and the Fire Iron Rod joined forces, the dog would lose control of its bladder and attempt to flee the scene—even if that scene was its own home.

"Mhm, we've known each other for nine years now. Grandfather says, Grassland Elves live long lives, but there aren't many sets of twenty times nine years." With these words, the young girl slowed down with a smile, drawing closer to Durin.

The young girl had always been so cordial with Durin because she had 'selflessly' saved her back then. Over the years, Durin had never seen her show such favor to any other boys.

The next second, Durin embraced her.

"We..." The girl in his arms blushed.

"Shh..." After Durin softly shushed her, he directed Anta's attention with his eyes toward the small alley they were about to enter.

There in the alley, a giant creature was chewing on something.

It had three pairs of limb-like appendages, two front ones and one in the back, resembling but not quite human, a long tail from White Bone View unfurled before Anta and Durin—it was enshrouded by a leaden-colored exoskeleton seemingly made of bone plates.

Durin carefully led Anta to retreat.

·Do you know what the devil this thing is?

Durin asked Anta in the form of a Spell Formula.

·It looks a bit like a Wayfarer that's been twisted and deformed.

Durin had always heard that in the Human World, besides ancient professions, there were various pathways that were handed down and evolved through performance, and they said these pathways were dangerous. If distorted, it meant nothing but a dead end.

Today he was seeing it with his own eyes, but Durin still found it strange, this distorted monster was too big.

While he was thinking this, Anta, retreating, twisted her ankle and let out a muffled grunt.

Then, Durin and Anta watched the creature lift its head.

Those were a pair of golden vertical pupils. The monster with good hearing stood up, and the remnants it held in its mouth fell.

This giant creature seemed too large for the alley, protruding objects on the wall and tiles were being squeezed off as it stood up. A Halfling's head, half-chewed, rolled from the alley to Durin's feet.

Durin could only reach out, shielding Anta behind him, while tossing the basket he was carrying aside, freeing up his left hand now reaching for the gun in his coat's holster.

"Are you trying to be the hero again?" came Anta's query from behind.

"Yes." Durin's answer was short and forceful. He let go of Anta's right hand and stretched forward, the Spell Formula taking shape at his fingertips.

The mentor had always said, when the sky falls, there will be tall ones to hold it up.

He was taller than she, so it was up to him to stand in front of her.

But just as Durin's Spell Formula was about to be cast, Anta's hand emerged from behind him.

The same Arcane Power bloomed on their fingertips.

"I recognize you're using the Greasy Spell, so I'll add a layer of cobweb." Anta's voice reached Durin's ears, "Let's face the danger together."

"Okay." The response was equally succinct, yet a new trace of warmth spread through Durin's solitary heart.