Both gnomes looked up at him from the passageway floor, neither responding to his threat.

  With a sigh, Jeremy put his sword away. They were right; he wasn't going to kill them. They'd tried to kill him for what they believed were good reasons.

  Jeremy turned back to the gnome's gun and studied it some more. When he had pushed mana through the gun, the gears and dials went haywire; when he stopped, they settled back to where they'd been previously. “I think the gun is already activated.” Jeremy studied the dials some more. “So, why won't it shoot?”

  "Perhaps the gun magically linked to its owner,” Flint said. “You could try cutting off Fizzlepuff's hand and placing it over the trigger.”

  "Maybe,” Jeremy said. “That seems an unlikely feature for a medium-quality gun. Don't most human guns have a safety?” He examined the gun. There were no levers or switches, but there was a hairline crack between the gun barrel and its chamber. He twisted the barrel, causing it to move all the way around until it clicked into place.

  He pointed the gun at Fizzlepuff.

  Fizzlepuff didn't move, but Jeremy felt the gnome tense. He pointed the gun down the passageway and pulled the trigger. It went off with a satisfying bang.

  Learning how to load the gnomes' guns was the next step. Without the gnomes' help, there was a bit of trial and error, but by examining the loaded guns and the gnome tools, he taught himself to pour mana powder into the barrel—they had small containers used to measure it. Then he used a rod to push a pad of paper-like substance into the barrel along with the bullet. He disengaged the gun's safety, cocked the gun, and pulled the trigger. If the gun still wouldn't fire, it meant its mana reservoir was low, and he had to fill it with his mana. For him, this was a trivial task. Unlike the Piff Snizzle, the gnomes' guns required little mana to operate.

  He spent the rest of the night practicing with the gnome weapons. He gained a new passive skill, unsurprisingly named Gnome Weaponry.

  "I fill the Piff Snizzle with mana, load, point, and shoot. But where is the Piff Snizzle's safety?” Jeremy asked after carefully examining his gun. By now, all four gnomes had returned to consciousness and were glaring up at him.

  Jeremy pointed one of the gnomes' guns at the gnomes. “Where is the Piff Snizzle's safety?”

  No response.

  The gnomes had ambushed Jeremy in front of the entrance to the secret section of the dungeon. Jeremy pushed open the door and entered. The dungeon insects that had been so terrifying before weren't even a threat to him now.

  "Gnomes,” Jeremy said when he'd returned. “You may think I'm weak and stuff, and that I won't kill you. Let's agree to disagree. Anyway. I'd like you to meet my friend. I call it a pain beetle.” He held up the colorful monster beetle. “To say its bite hurts a lot would be an understatement. You might not survive the pain from this creature's bite, but I'm willing to take that chance. I'm sure at least one of you will live long enough to answer my questions. If this doesn't work, I'll introduce you to the secret section's more frightening creatures.”

  Fekfuf snorted. “Do this, and the dungeon will give you a Mean Kid black mark. Normal dungeons would give you something like Gnome Bane, or Scourge of Gnome Kind, which would make you popular with certain groups. The goblins, for example. But The Child Eater dungeon has one black mark, that is Mean Kid. Other adventurers in this dungeon will alternately fear you, try to kill you for the Mean Kid Killer title, or laugh at you.”

  "That certainly is a terrifying threat,” Jeremy responded. “Oh, my mistake; no, it's not.” He blew on the pain beetle, causing it to drop from his hand to the dungeon floor. Then he turned to walk away.

  He made it ten paces.

  "Stop!” Fizzlepuff shouted. “I'll tell you everything!”

  Jeremy turned back. The pain beetle crawled slowly towards the gnomes. “Talk. Now.”

  "It doesn't matter if you know. There is no safety on the Piff Snizzle. It doesn't need one. Only a being of immense strength of mind and body can hope to wield this weapon. For others, like you or us, even if you could charge the gun's mana reservoir, it would refuse to fire. In short, for you, its internal safety will always be on. Because you are not worthy.”

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  "So the weapon has consciousness?”

  "All god-tier magical artifacts have rudimentary consciousness,” Fizzlepuff said. “The only people in this dungeon who might be able to fire the Piff Snizzle, are Mezirma's party, and you seem determined to give it to them.”

  "I'm going to get strong, seek them out, and kill them with it,” Jeremy said, stomping on the pain beetle inches away from the gnomes.

  Fizzlepuff sighed. “Sometimes I believe the universe is laughing at us. The rest of the time, I know it is.”

  "Just sometimes?” Fekfuff said. “You are such an optimist.”

  "Come to think of it, I understand how the gnomes feel,” Flint said.

  "I'm curious. You say you had no choice but to enter the dungeon. Why?” Jeremy asked, ignoring his companion.

  "Gnome factory workers were rioting again,” Fizzlepuff said. “When they riot, the first thing they do is go after the middle-class gnome district, where the traitor gnomes live. They can't reach the true source of all our problems—that is, our rulers, but they can reach us. We're not traitors. We're as powerless as they are, but the rioters don't see it that way. Me, my three friends, and our respective families, were deliberating on what to do with the dungeon portal in my bedroom when rioting gnomes broke down our front gate and lit our house on fire. My dad gave us these guns and equipment before pushing us through the portal and wishing us luck. I didn't know my dad had guns. If the authorities found out, we'd all be executed. If we return from the dungeon, I expect our families will be dead.”

  "I'm sorry,” Jeremy said. It seemed he wasn't the only one with problems. “I'm going to make you a deal, and I'm only doing this because I believe we're on the same side. I'm buying the two healing potions I took from you, one of your guns, some ammo, a loading kit, mana powder, and a sewing kit. I'm going to use the gun to gain skill in gnome weaponry. I'm leaving this floor of the dungeon and expect the passageways to repopulate with dungeon monsters. With your equipment, you should be able to gain plenty of experience and loot. You should take advantage of this. Do not follow me. If I see you following me, I will kill you.”

  Fizzlepuff sighed. “We have no choice. Take that gun,” he nodded to a small gnome pistol. “If you come to your senses, please know our original offer still stands. The Piff Snizzle is of no use to you. It belongs to us gnomes.”

  Jeremy grabbed the pistol, taking plenty of powder and bullets, and stored them in his bag of holding. “How much?”

  "We're bargaining?” Fizzlepuff asked. “Two hund-” he started to say.

  "Two thousand,” Fekfuff said quickly. “All of these items are very rare, and we're the only source, so the value is increased.”

  "And you just tried to kill me; you owe me your lives.”

  Fekfuff looked up at him, unblinking. “We can't stop you from taking our stuff, but if you want to remove the thief mark, it will cost you two thousand dungeon coin.”

  Jeremy thought it over. “I will pay you the one thousand I promised you before you tried to kill me, which is way more than you deserve.”

  “Seventeen hundred.”

  Jeremy glared at Fekfuff. “Twelve hundred, and I never want to see your face again.”

  "Fifteen hundred, and let it never be said I wasn't a most generous soul of kindness.”

  With a snort, Jeremy tossed him fifteen hundred dungeon coin and gathered up his stuff, including his charmed rope freeing the gnomes. “You and Lard Lump must have really gotten along.”

  Jeremy's thief mark vanished.

  "We're both merchants, yes. I'm sure the goblins have eaten her by now.”

  "You idiots,” Jeremy said. “Goblins don't eat their friends.”

  The freed gnomes slowly rolled over, struggling to get to their feet.

  "Goblins are vermin that will eat anything, and gnomes are one of their favorite meals,” Fizzlepuff said, trying to get to his feet and failing.

  "Have you met a goblin? Have you ever spoken to one?” Jeremy asked. “I'm not saying goblins aren't vicious predators or that I was right to spare them, but I can tell you they'd never eat Lard Lump because she's their friend. And they'd never eat me, as long as they believe I'm not a human.”

  Fizzlepuff snorted. “They are goblins, soulless creatures with no friends, honor, or decency. They'll kill you as soon as you turn your back on them, and it would serve you right if they did.”

  "I'm glad gnomes aren't like that," Jeremy said, glaring at the four gnomes. “Have you ever even seen a goblin? Or did you leave for the third floor as soon as you learned goblins were on the second floor?” He could tell he was right from the way they looked at each other.

  "We've seen pictures and heard stories,” Fekfuff said. “Some of us would like to remain alive.”

  "Do your rulers or parents tell you, 'behave yourselves or the goblins will get you?' I think if you met goblins and talked to them, you'd find you have far more in common than you think. But that is not my concern. Next time I see you, I'll assume you are there to kill me and I'll do my best to kill you first.” With that, Jeremy turned and walked away.