Mole rats living underground, bats, and bug monsters with degenerated eyesight constantly threatened the lives of the dwarves.
The surviving miners had killed numerous monsters over time.
With pickaxes, and sometimes shovels.
The dwarves resting in front of the bone crystal tunnel were also veteran warriors.
They belong to a clan of young dwarves called the Tral gang.
"Ugh, I want to go up quickly and have a mug of beer."
The dwarves said, wiping the dust off their faces with their arms.
Once you go down to the lower level, it takes a week before you can come back up.
"You bastards, it's only been a few days since we came down and you're already whining."
The most senior dwarf among them chided.
His name was Manjin, one of the most skilled miners along with Tral.
The young dwarves looked embarrassed.
"Senior Manjin is really amazing. Our hands are shaking like this."