Chapter 166: Warm-Warm Glue

As a rule, once a magic stone is shattered, it cannot be repaired.

That was common knowledge among humanity.

The only known exception was the Demon King, who was said to have absorbed shattered magic stones into his own body and restored them perfectly. But humanity had no idea how he accomplished such a feat.

Naturally, people had tried to research it, but those efforts had yielded absolutely nothing. It was truly disappointing not to say the least.

And yet Big Tail claimed it was possible.

He said shattered magic stones could be repaired.

He said the sacred relic Octameteorite—destroyed by an evil magician—could be restored!

I instinctively leaned forward and poked Big Tail’s whiskers with my fingertip.

“Hey, hey, hey! You’re serious about this, right? You’re not lying? This isn’t some empty promise?”

“Y-yes. Well, that is… I cannot claim certainty. We ourselves have never attempted to repair a shattered magic stone. However, we have successfully treated shattered gremlins many times…”

“Gremlins? Oh? And how exactly do you do that? What’s the success rate? Is there any risk if it fails?”

“Dairi, calm down. I’m interested too, but…”

Hiyori grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back, making me realize I’d leaned in so close our noses were nearly touching. I guess this is what happens when I overly motivated.

S-sorry, Big Tail. I got a little excited.

But come on—it was the possible resurrection of Guardian Deity Octameteorite. It was a matter that was of the most utmost importance to me.

After taking a deep breath and apologizing, Big Tail—who had recoiled in alarm, his tail tucked from my sudden enthusiasm—carefully began explaining again.

According to Big Tail, the Gourmand Tribe could create a secret medicine called “Warm-Warm Glue” that healed injured gremlins. I know, it sounds ridiculous.

The Gourmand Tribe had many natural enemies—poison worms, kidnapping slugs, burrow lizards—and their dedicated extermination squads fought fierce battles daily.

Naturally, injuries were common.

Sometimes the gremlin located near their throat would crack or even shatter.

A Gourmand whose gremlin was damaged did not have long to live. They would weaken gradually and eventually die.

To prevent that, they used a healing ointment called Warm-Warm Glue.

Warm-Warm Glue was refined from droplets that slowly dripped from the roots of snack cacti—but only on nights of the full moon.

These precious cactus droplets were collected in eggshells, then slowly evaporated and aged in total darkness—never exposed to light—until they became a thick orange liquid.

That was Warm-Warm Glue.

When applied to an injured gremlin, it became pleasantly warm, and the gremlin slowly began healing naturally, just like an ordinary wound. It was truly shocking. How did they even discover this?

Thanks to Warm-Warm Glue, many Gourmands had recovered from injuries that otherwise would have killed them.

Big Tail himself said he had used it several years ago after being gravely wounded during the Great Burrow Lizard Invasion. He parted the fur near his throat with one forepaw and showed us his healed gremlin.

The tiny white oval, no larger than a grain of rice, was flawless.

Not a single scar.

“Oh… if this is what it looks like after treatment, then that’s genuinely perfect restoration.”

“Hm… it appears that way to me as well.”

Between my eyesight and Hiyori’s senses, we could both confidently confirm it.

A perfect repair.

I nodded in admiration.

If they had a medicine capable of that, then maybe repairing shattered magic stones really was possible.

As I was thinking that, Big Tail adjusted his glasses and added:

“However, as I said before, there is no precedent for repairing magic stones. We do not know whether it will succeed. For example, Warm-Warm Glue has no effect on melted-and-rehardened gremlins.”

“Oh? Really?”

“Yes. We believe that when a gremlin melts and solidifies again, the high heat has effectively caused it to ‘die,’ rendering healing impossible. Whether the same applies to magic stones… remains uncertain.”

“That’s… true. Hard to say.”

I found myself tilting my head along with Big Tail.

Magic stones shared some properties with gremlins.

But they also differed in many ways.

Would a medicine that worked on gremlins also work on magic stones?

According to Big Tail’s theory, it wouldn’t work on “dead” gremlins.

But by that logic, the Octameteorite that had once thoroughly beaten the stuffing out of Iruma had been very lively.

Energetic.

Almost alive.

Still, it hadn’t made so much as a peep since it was shattered—and it had been over eighty years.

If it had died by now, that wouldn’t be surprising.

Would Warm-Warm Glue work on magic stones?

The odds seemed questionable.

But the mere existence of a chance at repair was enough.

“Warm-Warm Glue” was an absurdly cute name, but it was clearly a divine elixir.

Apparently, using it carried no side effects or risk.

The only caveat was that even the slightest exposure to light instantly neutralized it, making complete darkness essential during treatment.

But since we were in the Mole Underground Empire, that was no problem at all.

I accepted the deal:

I would make various small goods for the Gourmand Tribe, and in return they would attempt to restore Octameteorite.

Even if the repair failed, they promised to give me as much Warm-Warm Glue as they could spare.

Who knew—maybe I could improve it so it worked on magic stones.

Though naturally, the ideal outcome was for it to work immediately.

With that settled, I got to work.

The moles formed lines, diligently carrying little stones and scraps of metal to me.

I cut, polished, and shaped them into whatever utensils they requested.

The standard set was a knife and fork with specially designed handles so mole paws could grip them, plus spoons, goblets, deep plates, bowls, candlesticks, embroidered tablecloths—an endless stream of tiny items to brighten their dining tables.

At some point, I realized Hiyori was no longer beside me.

When I asked Big Tail—who was perched on my knee, glaring down any mole trying to cut in line—he explained that Hiyori had used self-shrinking magic and gone exploring deep into the burrows.

Apparently, she had been led around by especially fluffy baby moles and had looked absolutely delighted.

That jerk… enjoying herself all alone!

Well, it couldn’t be helped.

I didn’t have enough magic power to use self-shrinking magic.

I couldn’t go with her.

So I hoped she enjoyed enough for both of us—and would tell me all about it later.

The crafting continued for days, interrupted only by breaks and sleep.

As for food, I got tired of eating nothing but mushrooms on the first day—since that was the only thing in the Gourmands’ pantry humans could eat—so I had Tsubaki bring snacks to the burrow entrance.

Meanwhile, Tsubaki apparently spent every night taking curious young moles to the beach and holding fireworks festivals, earning wild applause.

She was having the time of her life.

Hearing about Hiyori’s explorations and Tsubaki’s fireworks made me want to go play too…

…but I’d signed a work contract.

And for Octameteorite’s revival, I focused seriously on crafting.

There were roughly 20,000 Gourmands living beneath Kuwait.

Each knife-fork-plate set took about three minutes to make.

Even working nonstop without sleep, it would take more than forty days to craft a personal set for every single one.

Realizing how naive my estimate had been, I gave up on supplying everyone and stopped after 500 sets.

Instead, they would be placed in communal gathering chambers throughout the empire and shared.

Sorry!

But even I had limits.

No matter how much of an unprecedented, world-number-one, genius artisan I was…

…I still only had two hands.

No matter how much I optimized production, I could only make one item at a time.

If I tried giving all 20,000 moles the minimum standard of healthy, civilized miniature amenities, an entire year would pass.

So instead, I mass-produced simpler clothing—not as fancy as Big Tail’s vest—and supplied 3,000 mole outfits.

Then 500 winter tail covers.

Then 20 four-layer miniature wands.

And finally one six-layer miniature wand exclusively for the chieftain—Big Tail himself—using an entirely new technique involving fourth-dimensional spatial erasure.

I also made a sturdy miniature metal press machine.

If they packed clay into it and pressed it, they could mold plates themselves.

Dry or fire them afterward, and though they wouldn’t match my handmade quality, they could at least make additional dishes after I left.

I really hoped they’d use it.

And so—

For seven days, I worked happily in the dark underground burrows, surrounded by the moles’ admiring eyes and grateful voices.

At last, the promised day arrived.

Hiyori returned from her burrow explorations with her robe pockets stuffed full of gifts from the Gourmand Tribe, grinning like an idiot.

Without even asking, I could tell she’d had an amazing week.

“Hiyori… you kinda smell—ah, never mind.”

“Okay, I’ll acknowledge your progress. You stopped yourself. Next time, don’t pinch your nose—unless you want to get punched.”

I had almost blurted out that I’d noticed the rotten smell clinging to her.

Barely managed to stop.

Apparently not soon enough.

Her grin vanished instantly, replaced by a glare and a bulging forehead vein.

Sorry!

As I squirmed awkwardly, Octameteorite was brought out from deeper in the burrow.

Its entire surface had been coated in sticky orange ointment.

Three moles carried it together and carefully set it down in front of me before bowing respectfully and stepping back.

Seven days earlier, I had painstakingly reassembled all the fragments into Octameteorite’s original shape.

Then it had been placed into intensive care.

Now, covered entirely in Warm-Warm Glue, it looked like a sticky orange rubber ball.

Slowly, I reached out my hand.

The moles held their breath.

Hiyori looked irritated.

I picked up Octameteorite.

If Warm-Warm Glue worked on magic stones…

…the cracks should be healed.

But there was only one way to know.

I had to wipe the glue off and see.

I shouldn’t get my hopes up too much.

After all, just making the long journey from Japan all the way to this underground empire in the Middle East and gaining a chance to restore the sacred relic was already more than enough.

Even if this failed, there would still be hope.

I could analyze the ingredients of Warm-Warm Glue and improve it further.

Still…

…I couldn’t stop myself from hoping.

Closing my eyes in prayer, I carefully wiped away the ointment with a cloth.

Then, heart pounding, I slowly opened my eyes just a sliver—

And there it was.

Octameteorite stood before me in its complete, original form, exactly as it had once been.

Every crack was gone.

Every fragment had fused together perfectly.

Octameteorite…

…had been healed!

“UOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!! IT’S FIXED!!”

As I shouted in triumph with a victorious fist pump, the moles all began hopping up and down together, wagging their tails wildly in celebration.

I was about to cry.

No, scratch that—I was crying.

Thank you.

Thank you…!

Thank you, Gourmand Tribe!

You guys are the absolute best!!!

“On behalf of the Gourmand Tribe, allow me to offer our congratulations. Congratulations, Dairi-dono!”

“Ahh, wonderful! Seeing Mister Craftsman happy makes me happy too!”

“Hooray! Hooray!”

“Strike the forks! Bang the plates! A celebration, a celebration!”

“Mister Craftsman, Mister Craftsman! I brought celebratory food! I cooked it using the knife and cutting board you made for us, so please eat!”

“Wah! No, no, take that back, Redbeard! Humans can’t eat rotten meat!”

“Huh…? Not a matter of likes or dislikes? They physically can’t eat it? Humans sure are pitiful…”

“Regardless, all’s well that ends well!”

Being celebrated so enthusiastically by all these tiny creatures filled me with pure joy.

Thank you, Gourmand Tribe.

Forever, Gourmand Tribe.

You guys restored a god to life.

As honorary apostles of the Church of Octameteorite, your deeds shall be personally passed down by me for all eternity!

WAHAHAHAHAHA!!