Forging Hope for the Fallen
Adam's brows raised, and he clapped his hands as he observed Durgrim's dexterity increase.
With each passing second, the dwarf's fingers moved in an increasingly complicated dance before they whistled and blurred to bend at unnatural angles.
Eyes widening at the prosthesis's incredible mobility, Adam's face lit up, and an idea rumbled in his mind.
Instantly, he tucked his fingers around his chin as the other's delighted claps and congratulations rained on Durgrim.
'Farm products will help sustain my territory's economy in the early stages. But I don't want to live as Middle Ages humans did.' His sparkling eyes darted between Durgrim's arm and Gork. 'I'll promote technology using the prosthesis. No, I can do much more with it!'
He shook his head, the item's true value sinking into his mind.
Then, his voice cut through the warm atmosphere with a question—one critical enough to ease the other species' hatred of demons.