Back in Ruthwilfer House.
News had arrived that the Dragon race had fallen into a civil war. A formal demand followed soon after, delivered to all houses and realms, ordering that no outside force was to intervene under any circumstances.
Diana Ruthwilfer sat at the long council table, a thick stack of reports spread before her. Her fingers tightened slightly as her eyes moved across the words.
Elders and close relatives of the house filled the chamber, their expressions tense and restrained.
At the head of the table sat Will Ruthwilfer, the patriarch himself, his posture straight and imposing, silently reading the same report with an unreadable face.
"Poor Zhurong," Diana murmured, her voice soft but heavy with concern. She lowered the report and stared into the distance for a moment. "I wonder how my daughter in law is doing."
Avabel Ruthwilfer, the Titania of the house, leaned forward slightly, her silver hair glinting under the hall lights. Her hands rested on the table as she spoke with measured caution. "Shall we recall her and halt the exam?"
Before anyone else could respond, Evan let out a sharp scoff. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, irritation clear in his eyes. "And?" he said dismissively. "What does this have to do with us?"
A brief silence followed. Will Ruthwilfer did not look up at first. He turned a page slowly, the sound echoing faintly in the chamber. Only after finishing the report did he finally speak.
"For now," he said calmly, his voice steady and final, "we comply with the order. The exam continues."
No one argued. The weight of his authority settled over the room, ending the discussion.
After the meeting concluded, Diana left the council chamber and walked through the quiet corridors of the mansion.
Her steps slowed as she reached her private room. When she opened the door, she was met with a familiar sight.
Erona sat at a small desk near the window, books stacked neatly around her. Sunlight spilled across the pages as her eyes moved attentively from line to line. She straightened slightly when she sensed Diana's presence.
Diana smiled warmly and approached her, resting a gentle hand on the girl's head. "Good girl," she said softly. "Knowledge is absolute, child."
Erona relaxed under the touch, a small smile forming on her lips. She was only sixteen, yet her posture already carried discipline and determination.
Once an exotic belly dancer in the Vidalier Kingdom, she was now planning to become a scholar under Diana Ruthwilfer's guidance.
"I thank Maladeva for that," Erona said sincerely, closing her book as she received the gentle head pats.
Diana let out a light chuckle, her expression amused. "Silly child. Maladeva is not his name."
Erona blinked in confusion.
"His real name is Dante Ruthwilfer," Diana continued, her tone calm but knowing. "He is using a false name while taking part in the Ruthwilfer Exam."
Erona's eyes widened in shock. She straightened in her seat, disbelief written all over her face. "Wow. I did not know that," she said, genuinely astonished. "I never knew the Ruthwilfer would use fake names just to earn fame."
Diana smiled faintly, saying nothing more as her hand withdrew from Erona's head.
Just then, the door opened quietly. Fina, Diana's bodyguard, stepped inside. Her usual composed expression was strained, and her shoulders were tense.
"My lady," Fina said, bowing slightly, "something has happened."
Diana's smile vanished instantly. She turned toward Fina, her posture straightening, her presence suddenly cold and authoritative. "Speak."
Fina hesitated for only a second before delivering the report. "Dante. The scouts have lost sight of him. His presence can no longer be detected."
The room fell silent.
Diana's eyes narrowed, and her fingers curled slowly at her side. The warmth she had shown moments earlier was gone, replaced by a quiet, dangerous calm.
A sudden pecking sound jolted all three of them.
Diana turned her head sharply toward the window, her instincts flaring, while Fina's hand moved subtly toward her weapon. Erona stiffened in her seat, eyes wide, until they saw the source of the noise.
A small bird hovered at the window, tapping its beak insistently against the glass.
Diana relaxed slightly and stepped closer. She opened the window, and the bird fluttered inside just enough to perch on the frame. Tied securely around its leg was a tiny scroll, the parchment aged and etched with faint markings.
Diana gently reached out and untied the scroll. The bird chirped once before taking off into the sky, disappearing beyond the mansion walls.
She unrolled the small paper and read silently. Her eyes moved quickly, then stopped.
"It's from Dante," Diana said at last, her voice low but controlled. "He says here that he has found the location of the Dwarven Kingdom."
For a brief moment, the room felt heavier.
Diana's eyes widened in disbelief, a rare crack in her composure. Fina let out a quiet chuckle, clearly amused by the implications. Erona, however, looked utterly stunned.
"The Dwarven Kingdom?" Erona exclaimed, half rising from her chair. "But weren't they extinct?"
Diana calmly shook her head, folding the scroll carefully between her fingers. "Silly child," she said gently. "The dwarves are known for being tricksters."
She walked toward the window, gazing out as if looking far beyond the horizon. "The truth is, they hid themselves out of fear."
"Fear of what?" Erona asked again, her curiosity overpowering her shock.
Diana turned back to her, her expression turning solemn. "Fear that their creations would be used for personal wars and selfish gain," she replied.
"That is why they sealed themselves away. Ever since the great hundred year war against the Demon Clan and the God Clan, they vanished completely. They shut themselves far away from the world."
Erona swallowed, the weight of history settling into her chest.
Diana looked down at the scroll once more. Her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with quiet anticipation.
"Until now," she said softly.
The words lingered in the air, heavy with implication.
Back at the Dwarven Kingdom.
Dante, under the guise of Maladeva, stepped out of the grand meeting hall alongside Kaen, the white Sha'karr feline. The heavy doors closed behind them with a resonant thud after what felt like an eternity inside.
"Nyaa, Master," Kaen's ears twitched as he padded close to Dante, his tail flicking nervously. "Are you really going to hand over that metal to them? I heard in my father's tales that dwarfs are tricksters."
Dante cast a cold, strained glance forward, his expression unreadable. He did not reply, letting the tension linger like the weight of stone around them.
Inside the meeting hall, Ashley Orochi stood rigid, her eyes flicking nervously between the dwarf elders who sat in carved stone chairs along the walls.
Their bearded faces were stern, each wrinkle and scar a mark of authority and experience. The deep hum of the forge from the hall beyond added a low, vibrating tension to the air.
Ashley's mind raced. She believed Maladeva had killed Dante and seized the Kalikrikthar metal for himself.
In her imagination, the metal was now firmly under his control, and she felt a chill at the thought of the audacity required to challenge the dwarves so directly.
Her assumptions painted Dante—or Maladeva—as unstoppable, a force that could manipulate both men and dwarves alike.
The dwarf elders observed her silently, their piercing eyes like hammers weighing her thoughts. She could almost feel them judging her, measuring her competence, and calculating if she posed any threat.
Their silence was deafening, filled with an unspoken warning: one false move and the consequences would be severe.
Meanwhile, Dante, under the Maladeva identity, had responded to the dwarves' demands with two precise conditions.
His first condition was that he be allowed to forge exactly as he wished for the next five days, using the dwarves' hearted flame, the Flame of the Almighty.
His plan was to complete a specific weapon he had sketched years ago, a creation that required perfection beyond ordinary skill.
His second condition demanded full authority over the forge and all its resources for the same period. He insisted on complete access to every tool, every material, and every technique at the dwarves' disposal.
Kaen's green eyes widened slightly as he padded closer, brushing against Dante's legs. "Five days of full access… you really think they'll allow that? Nyaa, Master, this is bold even for you."
Dante's jaw tightened. "They will have no choice," he said quietly, his voice steady, carrying an undertone of quiet menace. "Every step of this is calculated. One mistake and the metal becomes useless to them. I hold the leverage."
Kaen's tail flicked, uncertainty mingled with awe. "Nyaa… you truly are the master of strategy, Master."
Dante kept walking, his gaze fixed ahead, the flickering shadows of the Dwarven Kingdom's forge reflecting faintly on his stoic expression.
For the next five days, he would bend the dwarves' trust, their flame, and their creations to his will, all while masking the full extent of his intentions.
Back in the grand meeting hall, the doors had barely closed behind Dante and Kaen when silence settled like a heavy stone. The dwarf elders remained seated in their carved chairs, their bearded faces solemn, each one a portrait of experience and authority.
The hum of the forge beyond the hall vibrated through the floor, a subtle reminder of the power contained within their kingdom.
Ashley Orochi stood in the center of the hall, arms crossed, her mind racing. She had assumed that Maladeva had killed Dante and taken the Kalikrikthar metal from the Alderman House for himself.
The very thought of the metal, gleaming faintly in Dante's possession, made her pulse quicken. Its legendary strength and rarity were unparalleled, and in the wrong hands, it could reshape the balance of power across kingdoms.
One of the eldest dwarves, his beard streaked with silver and soot, leaned forward, resting his large hands on the arms of his chair.
"You heard his demands?" he rumbled, his voice like stone scraping against stone.
"Five days of free forging with our Flame of the Almighty. Full authority over the forge and all materials, including the Kalikrikthar metal. Do you think this… Maladeva is serious?"
Another elder, younger but no less stern, stroked his braided beard. "He is serious,"
he said bluntly.
"And bold. Perhaps too bold. No craftsman in living memory has asked for such liberties. To wield our flame, and now the Alderman's Kalikrikthar… the audacity alone is remarkable… or dangerous."
Ashley's eyes darted between them. She could feel their scrutiny pressing down on her like the weight of the mountains. "We cannot underestimate him," she said carefully, forcing calm into her tone.
"If he truly is Maladeva… and if he has Dante's skill, then the Kalikrikthar metal—and whatever he forges with it—will be beyond our control."
The eldest elder let out a low grunt.
"Control is an illusion when the Flame of the Almighty is involved. Even we can only guide it, not master it fully. If he is as capable as you claim, then the next five days will belong to him. With the Kalikrikthar metal in his hands, we may as well watch history being rewritten."
Another elder, younger but sharp-eyed, tapped a heavy finger against the stone floor. "And yet, do we resist? Do we challenge him?"
Ashley swallowed. Her assumptions about Dante's fate made her heart tighten.
"Resistance now would be… dangerous. He holds the leverage. He can bend even the flame, the forge, and the Kalikrikthar metal to his will. For the moment, we observe, but we watch every move."
The elders nodded in silent agreement, their murmurs of assent low and gravelly. The hall seemed to contract with the tension, each breath echoing against stone walls that had witnessed centuries of dwarven cunning.
Ashley felt a cold certainty settle over her. Maladeva—or Dante—was not simply a threat. He was a storm contained within a man, and the dwarves, despite their wisdom and centuries of craft, were about to witness its full force.
She straightened her posture, gripping her hands together tightly. "We have no choice but to comply… for now," she murmured under her breath, almost to herself.
The elders leaned back, their expressions thoughtful and calculating, the weight of history heavy on their shoulders.
Outside the hall, the faint flicker of the forge's light glinted against the walls, reflecting off the Kalikrikthar metal in Dante's possession, as if anticipating the power that would soon be unleashed.
Chapter 50 — End