Chapter 657: The Descent of Dumathoin
"Boom—"
A pillar of blinding white flame tore through the sky, radiating with divine brilliance like divine judgment itself, crashing straight into the chest of the Dwarf King.
"For the honor of the Shield Dwarves!" Edd swung his warhammer, roaring with all his might, unleashing the last remnants of life force within him.
"Rumble!"
In an instant, the earth trembled. Dust and shattered stones flew skyward as a small mountain rose rapidly from the ground, forming a massive shield-like barrier in front of the dwarf.
"Boom!"
The pillar of fire struck the rock shield. The fierce clash between fire and earth elements—two fundamentally different forces—created a cataclysmic explosion.
Misha—or rather, the fire pillar released remotely by Cassius—pierced the stone like a hot blade through butter. Molten rock glowed red and flowed slowly, crackling as it burned.
Smoke and fire engulfed everything within hundreds of meters.
Neither the dwarf warriors defending the fortress nor the Empire's soldiers and officers could see what was happening. All they could do was gasp in awe.
"By Moradin!"
"God, this must be divine punishment!"
"No! His Majesty Edd won't die. We Shield Dwarves were born from the forge. Even such an explosion can't destroy us!"
The dwarves watched the explosion nervously, arguing among themselves as they repelled the Empire's attack, fearing their king had fallen.
"Lady Misha!"
"This is the might of His Majesty Cassius! Dwarves, your king is dead. Cease your futile resistance!"
"Long live the Empire!"
Cheers erupted again from the Imperial ranks. Soldiers waved their weapons, flaunting their dominance.
Scenes like this were all too familiar—foolish enemies always turned to ash before the Empire's might.
As the lava cooled with a crisp crackle and the smoke dispersed in the wind, a massive hole several meters wide was visible in the raised mountain—like a tunnel violently blasted open.
Beyond it, the Dwarf King knelt on the ground, unmoving. His rock-formed body was charred and ravaged, like a damaged stone statue.
His left chest, where the heart should be, was an empty, scorched cavity, clearly pierced by the fire pillar.
"Whoosh—"
Wind blew through the hollow in the dwarf's chest, making a mournful whistling sound.
On the walls of Avenderdan, iron hammers and axes slipped from dwarven hands with clanging thuds.
They exchanged stunned glances, lost and helpless, minds buzzing, hearts breaking as if a taut string had snapped.
Was His Majesty Edd really dead?
Some dwarves stood frozen, others shook their heads or muttered, "No, no, His Majesty Edd..."
"This can't be."
"No way, no way."
Then, looking at the shattered statue, dwarves began to tremble and wail, some collapsing to their knees, banging their heads against the ground, blood splattering the walls.
Dwarves were a blunt and emotional people.
And now, overwhelming grief crashed upon their hearts. They couldn't believe the invincible king had died just like that.
"No—"
"His Majesty Edd!"
"He can't be dead. He's the Lord of the Mountains!"
Minutes passed before the surviving Shield Dwarf warriors accepted the brutal truth:
The Lord of the Mountains who had always protected them, King of Avenderdan, the Dwarf King they followed and trusted—Edd Klein—had died in dragonfire.
In that moment, the dwarves lost their greatest pillar.
"Damn dragonspawn!"
"I'll avenge His Majesty Edd! I'll take you all down with me!"
"For His Majesty Edd!"
The surviving dwarven warriors went red-eyed, roaring with fury as they charged the Imperial soldiers. Some even leapt from the walls to retrieve Edd's corpse.
"Bang!"
"Bang! Bang!"
"Hahaha! Go to hell with your broken-stone king!"
But what met the dwarves were cold gun barrels and mocking sneers. Their wild charge was easily countered by the disciplined Imperial infantry.
Under a hail of bullets, the dwarves fell one by one.
Even in death, these loyal warriors reached toward Edd's remains, bloody hands outstretched, eyes brimming with tears.
"Your Majesty..."
"His Majesty Edd..."
As the Dwarf King was confirmed dead, the dragon's shadow in the sky faded into flickering flame.
Misha let out a soft gasp as her body relaxed. Her eyes returned to their golden hue, and the overwhelming dragon aura vanished.
Clearly, Cassius had ended the "possession," and Misha regained control of her body.
The wyvern was visibly envious of Misha's "exclusive favor."
As an elder of the Ember Nest, his seniority far exceeded Misha's. He believed he was more deserving of a contract with the master.
But seeing this, Smaug held back his feelings, stepping forward with a fawning smile, drooling slightly: "Miss Misha, truly worthy of being the master's envoy."
"You're mistaken. This isn't my power. It all comes from the master's grace." Misha shook her head gently, pointing skyward.
Regaining control of her body, Misha's heart pounded with excitement—being possessed by the mighty Ember Emperor was an honor beyond compare.
After calming herself, Misha looked at the distant dwarf corpse and marveled: "Such is the might of my lord. Even a single descending thought holds terrifying power."
"Indeed."
Smaug flapped his wings and swayed his tail in agreement.
"Good. Clean the battlefield. Prepare to enter the city." Misha turned. Progress inside Avenderdan seemed smooth.
The Empire's soldiers advanced in orderly formations, easily killing the crazed dwarves with gunfire. The final phase of occupation was near.
Suddenly, a sorrowful dirge echoed over Avenderdan, hoarse and filled with endless grief.
"When you no longer open your holy eyes and fall silent..."
Curious Imperial soldiers looked up to see an aged dwarf standing atop the palace, chanting softly.
He was Bjorn Reilly, a three-century-old minister who had served three generations of Mountain Lords, hailed as a living fossil of the dwarves.
Now disheveled, tattered, and covered in battle scars, his gaze was firm—as if he'd made a final decision.
Bjorn was a follower of Dumathoin, the Silent Keeper. Among them, the funeral rite symbolizing extinction was most sacred.
The officiating priest had to compose a song honoring the deceased's life and deeds. To honor forever-silent Dumathoin, the song could never be sung aloud.
At this moment, Bjorn was whispering the final funeral hymn for the fallen Edd.
Traditionally, the corpse's personal emblem, clan sign, and faith were braided into his beard. But surrounded by enemies, Bjorn could not do so.
Shakily leaning on his cane, the old dwarf continued: "O sacred hero, you gave your soul to your people, and your body to the earth."
"Commander, should we take out that old geezer?" an Imperial soldier asked.
The officer made a throat-slitting gesture and said coldly, "Kill him. These priests and clerics have all sorts of strange powers. Eliminate them quickly."
Elsewhere in the city, similar orders were issued.
Obeying command, the soldiers raised their rifles in unison, aiming at the old dwarf atop the palace and pulling the triggers without hesitation.
"Bang!"
"Bang! Bang!"
Gunfire rang out. Bjorn staggered as blood blossomed across his chest.
His head, abdomen, and legs were riddled with holes. He collapsed in a growing pool of blood.
Even so, he smiled, spitting blood, still whispering his duty: "O hero who gave all for the kingdom, the mountains shall be your..."
His voice faded, becoming a hum, then silence.
Even in death, Bjorn's eyes remained open. His head tilted toward Edd's remains, bloodied lips slightly parted as if with unspoken words.
Atop Avenderdan's wall, the hobgoblin Drol crossed his arms, gazing down at the devastated city with a satisfied smile: "At last, it's over."
But then, a cold wind swept through the Dwarf King's remains, whistling through the hollow in his chest.
"Whoosh whoosh—"
"O hero who gave all, the mountains shall be your tombstone, and all things shall mourn you—"
The melody was identical to Bjorn's funeral dirge!
Drol's face changed instantly. He turned in alarm toward the dwarf's remains.
Smaug howled in confusion, flapping upward into the air, ready for battle.
Misha frowned, staring intently at the stone corpse. "Could it be..."
"Shua—"
A deep, earthen glow descended from the heavens, enveloping Edd Klein's remains.
Rocks scattered, dust billowed. Stones gathered around the light as the figure within grew taller and more imposing.
An unprecedented pressure spread out. Even Misha felt a mountain weighing on her shoulders, grounding her flight.
"Damn it, what the hell is that?!"
"Did the Mountain Lord revive?!"
"Impossible! I saw it myself—Lady Misha's flame burned him to ash! Even his heart was gone!"
As the light faded, a wide-chested dwarf stood tall upon the earth, emerging into view.
His hair and beard looked carved from gray stone, his skin was earthen brown, and his eyes burned with silver flame. His shoulders were as wide as barns, his arms bulging with muscle.
Even his warhammer had transformed into a pickaxe forged from solidified magma—the Hammer of Lava.
Though he resembled Edd, his aura had transformed completely.
"He really came back!"
"By Cassius!"
"So what? Lady Misha killed him once. She can kill him again!"
"These damn dwarves are as hard as stone! Burn them all to ash!"
The soldiers and officers buzzed in shock, though not with fear.
But Misha, Drol, and the Empire's top brass who knew the truth were deathly pale, drenched in sweat.
Hobgoblin Drol swallowed hard, voice trembling as he identified the figure: "That is not Edd Klein! That is the Silent Keeper—Dumathoin!"
Dumathoin, the Silent Keeper, Guardian hidden beneath the mountain, Shield of the Peaks, protector of the Shield Dwarves.
In dwarven legend, Moradin appointed him protector of the Shield Dwarves, and Dumathoin created a paradise beneath the mountains for them.
He carved breathtaking caverns and embedded them with dazzling metals and radiant crystal gems.
He felt joy and pride when dwarves turned mined ores into splendid crafts.
This Silent Keeper almost never speaks, communicating by gesture. No mortal had ever heard more than a grunt or sigh.
And as guardian of the Shield Dwarves, any slaughter against them rouses his wrath.
The being—Dumathoin or his avatar descending upon Edd's corpse—swept his gaze around, stirring sandstorms wherever he looked.
"Shua—"
Now, Dumathoin looked upon the scarred earth, the mountain of Shield Dwarf corpses. He sighed deeply, mourning the land and his people.
Then, his head shot up, eyes burning with barely contained rage.
"By Cassius, run!"
Every Imperial soldier caught in his gaze felt suffocated.
"Boom—"
The deep ground thundered. The earth trembled violently. The Silent Keeper spoke not a word, yet vented his fury through earth and mountain!
All of Blackstone Mountain shook. This was a true earthquake! Avenderdan's buildings collapsed in waves, bricks raining down on Imperial soldiers who screamed in terror.