Chapter 571: Avenderdan
Victoria Port, Lower District, Wilson Block.
The streets were bustling with people—fishmongers, devotees of the Sea Queen, shirtless dockworkers, and even clusters of gang members.
Among them, the players—referred to as the "Undying" by the locals—actually blended in quite naturally.
"Starting in Victoria is hell. We can't enter the Upper District, and the Lower District is a chaotic mess full of mixed factions."
"If I'd known, I would've picked the Ember Empire. They went straight into a demon war, and some people are already level six."
"Tell me about it. I completed a mission perfectly, and a gang still silenced me. They even tied my corpse to rocks and tossed me into the sea. Ruthless."
"Classic backstabbing. That's why they call Erezaghe a 'Sin City.' That's the thrill, right?"
"Haha, my buddy's already a bishop in some underground cult. If I can't make it here, I'll just join him."
"He's the founder of that 'Undying God Cult'? The one who says all his followers can become Undying?"
"Damn, people actually believe that crap?"
The players chatted as they walked toward the lone towering structure that clashed with the rundown buildings around it—their destination: the Tower by the Coast.
"Out of all the factions in Victoria Port, the Tower by the Coast gives the best rewards."
"Yeah, and everyone says that mysterious NPC is no ordinary guy. Supposedly, he took down both the Black Hand Gang and the Blood Sea Cult."
"Gotta seize the chance to earn some favor. Maybe we'll get to join the Tower by the Coast."
Outside the Tower, players crowded around, chatting noisily, yet still making way for the central path as the servants inside instructed. They waited outside to turn in quests.
A servant opened the door and said, "Next."
"Me! I was here first!"
A tall, burly player pushed through the crowd and rushed inside.
Facing the mysterious NPC in gray robes and a half-smiling face, the player bowed at a perfect 90° angle:
"Honored Hermit, we've uncovered some clues about the Cult of the Overgod. Please, have a look!"
He pulled a stinking, damp package from his inventory and offered it with both hands.
Inside was the rotting, maggot-infested head of the missing tavern owner—Joel Nason. It had been soaked in seawater for days.
The player treated it like a treasure, even decapitating the corpse to present it as a token to the Hermit.
"Truly a player..."
Cassius, playing the Hermit, sighed inwardly but accepted the head without changing expression.
"Very well, Undying. You completed my task. A reward is due."
"Clink."
The Hermit waved casually, and a few gold coins appeared on the wooden table before the player.
Seeing the glinting coins and the screen notifications—"Favorability +5", "EXP +500"—the player's eyes lit up.
His knees gave out and he wailed, "Thank you, Honored Hermit! You're like a second father to me! I was an orphan, unloved, wandering into Victoria Port. Your Tower gave me warmth and a sense of home."
"Go on, stop wasting time."
Despite the player's tearful performance, the maid with a broom unceremoniously kicked him out.
She'd seen too many Undying try to join the Tower lately. That one's story wasn't even the worst—some put on full dramatic plays.
"Next."
Another player came in, wearing a sycophantic smile. He approached the Hermit and handed over a sack.
"Honored Hermit, I went through hell and finally found Joel Nason's hand."
He opened the sack to reveal a bloody, equally rotting severed hand.
Cassius, still acting as the Hermit, twitched his lips at the sight, thinking:
"Really now, they're turning Joel Nason into parts and turning in one at a time for rewards? Trying to bug-abuse me?"
With a dark look, the Hermit glared at the player and said coldly, "Your companion already turned in a task. Don't play games with me, Undying."
"Y-yes, sir."
The player apologized profusely, nearly in tears, blaming his teammate for screwing him over.
"Heh. The Victoria Port setup is nearly complete."
Cassius smirked at the endless flow of players at the Tower's gate.
As "Erezaghe" gained popularity, players appeared all across the Faenso Continent—easily over ten million of them.
The players just now were well-known professionals in their past lives. Their squad was infamously called the "Degenerate Team."
In the previous life, this team caused havoc across Faenso—like dismantling sacred relics of the Ammanata Church and provoking Divine Punishment. That was their mage's doing.
Cassius planned to use Victoria Port as a base and the Undying to build a new organization—a growing intelligence network to counter the Mind Flayer plot.
The Chosen of the Three Death Gods had stolen Karsas' Crown from hell and taken control of the Mind Flayer Overmind by wielding the three Netherstones.
They aimed to merge Nether magic with the Overmind and crown it as the "Overgod," seeking to rule the world.
Yet the Mind Flayers, while being used, were also trying to use the Crown to break free and restore their ancient empire.
Gods like the Goddess of Magic, the God of Justice, the Sun God, and even Hell's Dukes had all meddled in this mess, each seeking advantage.
In such a tangled web, exposing his true identity would be reckless.
As the Hermit, Cassius aimed to use players to sabotage the plans, stir up chaos, and fish in troubled waters—seizing Karsas' Crown at the last moment.
According to his plan, by then, the Ember Empire would've conquered the Kingdom of Thrace and could move westward under the banner of "resisting the Mind Flayer invasion"—claiming Victoria Port.
"Karsas' Crown, Victoria Port, the legacy of the Mind Flayer Empire... I want it all."
With that thought, the Hermit gripped his bronze staff, a flicker of greed flashing in his pale green eyes.
Northeastern Faenso Continent, Blackstone Mountain.
This mountain range stretched thousands of miles, like a slumbering beast from ancient myths—home of the Highland Kingdom, the dwarves' shared homeland.
Made of hard black stone and rich with precious minerals, it earned its name: Blackstone Mountain.
Bitter winds howled as a mighty fortress stood deep in the mountains—capital of the Highland Kingdom and the greatest Dwarven fortress of the Northshield Dwarves: Avenderdan, "The City That Never Collapses."
Its weathered outer walls were built from massive stone blocks, moss growing between cracks, each stone bearing the mark of time.
The gate, forged from oak and steel, was carved with the royal dwarven crest—crossed shield and warhammer.
The surrounding rock faces bore carvings of ancestral tales, with giant iron fists as door knockers.
At the summit stood a nearly hundred-meter statue of Moradin, Dwarven God, lifelike and watching all who entered.
Inside the fortress, the style was rugged and bold. Stone corridors connected rooms, torches blazed overhead, casting warm light.
Busy dwarves moved in the firelight, and the clanging of hammers echoed nonstop.
At the tower peak, a dwarf in a thick fur coat and mithril crown watched his people below with a grave expression.
His name was Edd Kline, ruler of Avenderdan, King of the Highland Kingdom, known to his people as "King Edd."
Behind him, an old dwarf sighed: "Your Majesty, all envoys have returned. The three great kingdoms are locked in conflict and can't aid us.
The elders of Serenia laugh at the ancient sacred pact. The filthy spawn of Gruumsh are about to return in force. We—"
He was Bjorn Riley, over two hundred years old, a senior minister of the Highland Kingdom.
Edd's face turned stormy, his thick beard bristled, and his hands trembled on his warhammer.
"Those arrogant, rotten elves dare act this way? Are they not afraid of divine wrath? If not for our dwarves shedding blood in the north, holding back orc invasions, would they enjoy peace now?"
Bjorn stepped forward and handed over a neatly written letter: "Your Majesty, though Serenia's council won't help, their queen is willing to send troops. We just need to wait."
"The Elf Queen?"
The dwarf king snorted. "What good is her letter? She's just a puppet for the elven elders."
Bjorn quietly added: "Your Majesty, the Twilight Blade—who slew a red dragon alone—is her staunch supporter. A powerful Legendary Paladin. Winning her over would be a big help."
Edd's anger softened slightly. He nodded: "That's something. Reply to the golden canary queen—say we need the Twilight Blade's aid.
But even a Legendary Paladin is just one person. It won't change the war's outcome.
Besides, the orcs will soon arrive. By noon, they'll be at our gates."
Edd gazed north. On the desolate plateau, shadowy torrents appeared—it was the orc legions.
For thousands of years, Avenderdan had repelled over a dozen orc invasions. Though stained with enemy blood, it was never taken.
But now, Faenso was in chaos, and the Highland Kingdom stood alone—no human or elven allies.
King Edd gripped his warhammer and declared: "So be it. We'll fight alone if we must.
Bjorn, summon our Warriors. Have them gather at the mountain's base."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Soon, the dwarf king stood atop Avenderdan's towering walls.
Below, in Moradin's gaze, armored dwarves packed the foothills, many riding mountain rams.
They were the Highland Kingdom's elite—Shield Guards.
Each wore master-crafted, near-impenetrable armor, gleaming like polished steel.
Wielding heavy warhammers, most were seasoned Professionals—loyal to King Edd and devout followers of Moradin.
The dwarf king surveyed his troops, then shouted:
"My people!
For thousands of years, our Highland Kingdom has repelled thirteen orc invasions—driving Gruumsh's followers back north each time.
But now, you know—they're back! These gray-skinned bastards want our fortress! Our kin, our comrades! They want dwarves as slaves!
Do you agree?"
"No!"
"Kill them!"
"Drive those gray bastards north!"
Dwarven warriors raised warhammers and oak shields, roaring in fury.
Edd looked grim. His eyes swept across every angry face, and he raised his warhammer to point ahead:
"Thousands of years ago, Moradin and the Elven God defeated Gruumsh. Serenia and we made a sacred pact to resist northern invasion.
But now, the proud elves betrayed us! And Fadlan's humans are in chaos.
We must prove to the world—the mighty Highland Kingdom needs no help! Even alone, we dwarves will drive out those orc bastards!"
Edd's voice grew louder. He swung his warhammer and cried: "Behind you is Avenderdan! Your kin! Your friends! If you won't be slaves—then drive them out!"
"Drive them out!"
"We'll crush the orc bastards!"
The dwarves roared louder, their voices echoing through the cliffs like tidal waves.
Meanwhile, the orc horde appeared just kilometers away, roaring in rage, eyes locked on the mountain fortress.