Chapter 101: Brothers to War
Rage. Jealousy. The itch of excitement crawling under his skin. Pain felt all of it, though he never showed much beyond the twitch of a claw or a glare that lingered too long.
Being the only one yet to be chosen for a solo task with the Broodfather gnawed at him. Each day it burrowed deeper, whispering that he'd done something wrong.
His eyes cut to Snare, the youngest, yet already favored. The thought curdled in his chest. Firstborn meant nothing if the runt outshined him.
Ahead, a cluster of dwarves rushed toward the front lines. As Pain sprinted past, he exhaled a plume of fire overhead. Their startled cries made something in him loosen.
'Stop messing around.'
Snare's voice crackled through the broodlink.
'Worry about yourself.'
Pain's snarl echoed back as he ran.
The noise of battle bled through the stone ahead—metal, shouts, wet impacts. They had kept low so far, Pain forcing his flames down to embers, but the moment he caught the scent of enemy blood, restraint burned away.
Through the heat-haze, he spotted two dwarves locked against three Snakemen. The reptiles towered over them, their bodies slick with green scales and oil-thick sweat, striking fast and coiled tight, pressing the short warriors back step by step.
'Target the one on the right. I'll drop in while—'
Snare's command died mid-thought. Pain ignored him, body glowing like a furnace as he dropped from the ceiling. He hit the ground running, faster than usual, claws carving furrows through the stone. He didn't know it, but Snare's [Predator's Patience] pulsed through their link, giving him an edge he didn't earn.
The light hit first, then the heat, crashing down on the skirmish like a falling brand. The moment he struck, the world turned molten. The dwarves staggered back from the shockwave, beards singed and armor smoking. Pain didn't notice them. He didn't see anything but his prey, three Snakemen locked in his path.
He slammed into the first and drove his claws through its chest, tearing until his arms vanished to the elbows. Fire crawled across his back where a tail struck, but he didn't feel it. The only thing left in him was pressure. Rage building with nowhere to go.
'Why am I the only one?!'
His roar cracked the air. He bit through a stomach, teeth crunching through cartilage as he ripped the guts free and flung them aside.
'I should be the special one! Me—Pain!'
His horns pulsed, glowing white-hot, skin splitting under the heat like plates of overworked steel. He was larger than his brothers, stronger, born first—but that meant nothing now. The Broodfather had looked past him.
"Pain."
He didn't hear his name. He slammed a chunk of meat against the wall until it liquefied, flames leaking from the fractures in his skin, each swing throwing sparks like shrapnel.
'I want skills! I want Father to look at me like them! But I'm not—'
"Pain!"
The shout came with a kick. It cracked across his back, staggering him just enough to break the trance. He spun, claws raised, ready to kill, and stopped.
Snare stood behind him, staff grounded, teeth bared in fury.
"Wake up! They're dead already!"
Pain's chest heaved as he looked around. What remained of the Snakemen were just scraps...flesh clinging to stone, blood soaking into cracks, steam hissing where it hit his fire.
"Control yourself. Father gave us a task! Follow my lead. I think—you kill."
Smoke bled from Pain's mouth as he forced himself still. His claws twitched, the urge to drive one through Snare's skull almost unbearable. But he dropped the rib bones from his hands and nodded.
Satisfied, Snare turned and sprinted toward the next corridor.
Pain drew in a breath thick with iron and ash, then followed.
'Father wouldn't create weakness. So the fault's mine.'
Since taking the Scorchclaw Sentinel bloodline, everything had changed. His brothers had skills, glowing runes that spoke in their minds, he had nothing but instinct. No panels. No numbers. No confirmation he even existed in the same way.
His claws burned hotter. His body moved faster. But all he had was Charge, a pulse in his gut that built until it scalded, then burst, propelling him forward. No timer. No cost. Just hurt.
Snare once joked he'd gone feral, more beast than demon. The words never left him. They festered. Now, he carried them like a shame he meant to erase in blood.
The remaining floors offered nothing. No screams. No scent of prey. But when the ramp to the forge hall opened, the stench of iron hit them both, thick and wet.
Their jaws parted in unison. Drool dripped. Heartbeats climbed.
What they found ahead twisted their faces into grins. Fire. Torn limbs. Piles of red meat cooling on black stone.
'Broodfather wants protection through violence...'
Snare's voice burned through the link.
'Show them why you're the strongest, brother.'
Heat rippled beneath Pain's skin at the word strongest. Sparks traced up his horns, each one a nerve snapping under pressure. The word wasn't praise...it was a challenge. The flames around him surged, feeding on the fury boiling to the surface. He flexed his claws once, locked eyes with Snare, then turned toward the carnage below...and roared.
The sound cut through steel and stone. The fighting froze. Dwarves and Snakemen alike turned as the bloodlust pressed into their lungs.
Even Thragdur, kneeling, veins black and bulging, felt it roll through him.
A predator had entered the forge.
Fire and claws split through the nearest Snakeman, its body twisting midair before the head snapped free and spun across the floor.
"So easy…"
Snare stayed behind the carnage, watching without emotion. A flicker of pity touched him, gone before it mattered. Pain was doing exactly what he'd expected. Burning, tearing, proving something to no one.
Snare took quiet pride in how well he could manipulate his brothers. Pain wore rage like armor, needing position—needing to be seen. Panic's validation came only from how loud he could make his kills. Snare had studied both of them, broken them down piece by piece, until their habits felt like commands he could issue at will.
His own weakness lay open on his UI. He wasn't built for direct violence. His strength came from them, from the Brood. With his Gloom Stalker class, each of their kills charged his skills, and until then, he was a shadow waiting for movement.
Pain crushed a Snakeman's skull between his palms, fire pouring out between his fingers. That made five kills. Snare grinned. Finally.
[-5 Charges]
[Shadow Relay // Active]
[For 12 sec, Allies within 20 m gain +10% AGI and +10% Hit Chance when targeting the same enemy as you]
He slammed his staff into the stone. Darkness spilled out, coating the ground in a rolling wave. The air thickened, the forge lights dimming beneath a spreading haze. Snare crouched low, joints cracking, and lunged forward. His eyes locked on the same Snakeman Pain faced.
'Kill it fast. They need cover to your right.'
The dwarves nearby saw two small shapes cutting through the enemy lines. For a heartbeat, they thought new monsters had joined the fight, until the broodlings' flames and shadows carved into the Snakemen instead. The dwarves roared, swinging harder with renewed fury.
The Snakemen hissed in unison, their voices sharp and frantic. They adjusted fast, focusing their strikes toward Pain. The Ashen Cub had already massacred too many of them, and though these were the weaker scaleborn, each death only stoked their desperation.
They knew they were doomed. But they would not die until their purpose was done.
The Broodlings continued to fight knee-deep in ruin, blood slicked their limbs, flesh burned into the stone. Snare stayed just behind the carnage, calling targets, feeding direction and their health, his mouth constantly chewing the flesh of the dead. Pain moved ahead like wildfire made flesh, tearing through everything in reach. Nothing could slow him.
One after the other, system light pulsed over them both, signaling another level gained. Snare barely noticed. The thrill of growth meant nothing now.
Something in the rhythm of battle was off.
His gaze slid toward the Forgemaster. The old dwarf stood locked in place, veins bulging black through his skin. Poison, maybe...but not fatal. His life force burned steady. He wasn't dying.
'Biggest threat contained, not killed.'
A flicker to the side caught his eye. A Snakeman lunged for Pain's back, fangs wide. Snare used seven charges and marked it with [Mark of Dread]. Pain twisted mid-motion and drove his fist through its skull, snapping the spine clean.
'They're desperate. They know they can't win.'
The dwarves had the ground, the walls, the weapons. The enemy was outnumbered and outmatched—so why start this fight? The thought crawled up Snare's spine like ice.
'This isn't war. It's delay.'
A sudden panic dried his throat as he swung his staff, crushing another throat, but the doubt burned away in the heat of movement. His breath came steady, his pulse calm again.
'I should be ashamed.'
Father saw everything. Father knew. His orders needed no reason, no alteration. Snare planted his staff and split another skull clean through. The thought died there, burned out like the rest.
Off at the edge of the battle, Forgemaster Thragdur could only watch, his body refusing him as poison scalded through his veins. Rage boiled under his skin, trapped behind paralyzed muscles.
One mistake. That's all it had taken. He'd dismissed the serpent as another weakling, and it had answered with a dart from its throat. The toxin wasn't meant to kill—but it burned like molten ore, flooding his bloodstream until every heartbeat felt like death blows.
It took everything in him just to stay conscious. Breath came in ragged bursts. His vision trembled at the edges, and through all this, somewhere beneath the haze of fury, doubt had began to form...until the demons arrived. Two of the Broodfather's spawn tearing through the Snakemen, one like a living siege weapon.
Relief bled into him in slow, heavy waves. At least now, he could focus on driving the venom out.
"Forgemaster! Brundar and the demon—They went topside! Orders?!"
The voice cut through the chaos. He couldn't tell if it brought comfort or dread. Brundar was alive. That was enough. If anyone could hold the upper gate, it was him.
As if to mock the thought, a pulse ripped through the air.
His head jerked up. Sweat rolled from his beard. It wasn't an explosion—this was power. Rising. Spreading. A presence he knew by heart.
"Brundar…"
His whisper vanished into the roar of the dying battle, as the mountain itself answered with a groan. Stone split. The fortress trembled underfoot. And Thragdur, still locked inside his unmoving flesh, understood...whatever was happening above them was the true threat.
----
The world erupted in noise.
The air crushed against Seo-jin's lungs, raw, heavy, and alive. The pressure hit like a tidal wave, coming not from the enemy, but from Brundar.
The dwarf stood knee-deep in wet sand, veins lit under his skin, eyes burning with a power that didn't belong to flesh alone. The sea howled behind them, the jungle burned ahead, and snake-forms closed from both sides.
Seo-jin could feel the seconds slipping away. If they didn't break through now, they'd all drown below.
Brundar reached for his belt pouch. No hesitation. No prayer. Just a twist and a pull.
The wind went still.
Then the ground moved.
Sand exploded outward as a shadow appeared in a flash of light, iron bones and steel skin rising as the construct stood its full height. The thing was taller than the forge walls, its molten joints glowing like buried suns. Every step made the beach shudder.
A golem. Dwarven craft made wrath made form.
Seo-jin could barely breathe, grinning through the grit. His blood buzzed in his skull. Even Wohan, his body's original owner, would've been speechless.
It was monstrous. Perfect.
It was the coolest damn thing he'd ever seen.