Chapter 504 – The Routed Soldiers
A vast composite mine, seized from the Southern Alliance of the Ownerless Land.
At the entrance, sealed off from all outside eyes by every magical means imaginable, more than fifty dwarves were carrying supplies.
"Wahaha, look at all these barrels of beer!"
"And heaps of meat too! Tonight's feast is going to be something!"
"Let me help too!"
"Sure, sure."
The young dwarf Marmal, who had once met Verden's group at the Abyss of the Black Volcano and guided them to the village, hoisted a suitable crate onto his back and joined the line of dwarves.
Though still a child, he was a dwarf, and his strength surpassed that of most other races.
Thus the survivors, born and raised in the unfathomable depths of the earth, had adapted proudly to life on the surface.
Granted, their environment was still surrounded by stone, but compared to the dreadful cold of the Black Volcano, this place was warm enough that one could sprawl on any patch of ground and sleep.
And that wasn't all.
Here, they didn't need to keep watch for the abnormal species that used to prowl around their village.
The Soul Tree, which had long reigned as a terror, was nowhere to be found.
Above all… in this place, they no longer trembled from hunger, nor did they have to call bugs a delicacy just to fill their bellies. Cool water, juicy roasted meat, and fine liquor were theirs to enjoy.
It was salvation itself.
With arms crossed, Keirel oversaw the supply deliveries.
"This is special, sent extra by Lord Asher to celebrate the end of the foundation work, so take note."
To dwarves who had lived nearly three centuries, she might offer a bit of respect, but to the others she did not.
She was, after all, a beastkin of rough demeanor.
Then, the dwarves all shouted at once.
"Thank you!!!"
"Ugh, seriously!"
Keirel's tail shot upright as she hastily covered her cat ears.
The damned voices of dwarves were poison poured into the sensitive ears of beastkin.
"That's why I told you to wear earplugs."
"I don't like anything touching my ears."
Linus, disciple of Gharun, approached with his work prosthetic arm attached.
He'd known Keirel for some time due to matters of supplies, so there was no awkwardness.
"Still, isn't this too much food? Looks more than double the usual. Be sure to thank His Excellency on our behalf."
"Yeah, fine, but could you tell them to lower their voices? Smells I can tolerate, but the endless shouting drives me crazy."
"Well, like I can control that…"
It was a request Linus had no way of fulfilling, so he only smacked his lips.
"Anyway", he added, shifting his gaze aside.
"You two came looking for Master, right?"
A swordsman and a mage had come to the dwarves' new settlement.
He had seen them before, and knew roughly who they were, so there was no need to ask.
Adrian nodded.
"We came to commission a piece."
"Hm. Even if you request it early, with construction being prioritized, finishing a piece is going to take quite some time."
"That's why we came to ask if the facilities could be put aside, so the forging can come first. We don't have much time."
Isabella added.
In other words, they had urgent business and needed new equipment.
Linus quickly grasped that this urgent matter was surely tied to Lord Asher, and since it involved a direct clash with a Transcendent of the Arnak Empire, it was extremely dangerous.
"The material?"
"Dragonbone."
After the Bone-Relic Dragon subjugation, Verden had received the dragon's skull, Adrian two ribs.
And as a reward from Archbishop Joseph of the Luas Church for opposing the Glory of the Dead, Adrian and Calia each gained a dragon's claw.
The skull had been used as the material for Verden's [Interis].
One rib had been handed to Rovellin, to both dispose of Rayshen secretly and deceive the eyes of Bohemirn's magic tower.
The other rib had gone up for auction at Ignacia's Scales, but since no one won, it returned to Adrian.
Thus a rib and a claw still remained with Verden's party.
"D-Dragonbone, you say?"
Linus blinked.
Aside from the skull used for [Interis], to think there were more dragon materials?
He'd never heard of it.
Few knew Verden possessed multiple Transcendent-class materials, so it wasn't strange that Linus didn't.
But his surprise was brief.
After all, he was a smith who had crafted two staves, co-creator of [Orient] and [Interis].
Linus Voltimoog was not easily shaken anymore.
"I see. Very well, I'll take you to Master."
He accepted readily.
"I've no business with you two myself, so go on ahead. I'll stay and finish up here. I plan to head back in half a day—if you'll be late, let me know. Departure can be delayed."
"Much obliged."
"Hmph, what's with the thanks? That's not like you, wastrel."
Keirel flicked her head aside, though the sway of her tail betrayed that the words pleased her.
"Follow me."
And so Adrian and Isabella followed Linus deeper into the mine.
***
The mine looked vastly different than on their last visit.
As they had heard, the foundation work was finished, the whole framework complete.
The base of what would become a fortress had been built to such a high standard, its fineness was beyond measure.
It looked like a crafted artifact on the scale of a city.
Outside it lay the dwarves' temporary dwellings.
Step, step.
Passing the road between the hastily built buildings, they saw a shallow hill. Atop it stood a massive tent.
It was here that the course of all construction in the mine was decided.
Voices carried out.
"Brother, I redesigned it from multiple angles, just like you said. Efficient and safe enough, I think?"
"Add two more supports in the center. And connect this part like so. That'll spread the weight better."
"Oh, I see. Then is it approved?"
"Redraw it. The structure's not suited for long-term use. Don't get hung up on details—reset the frame. Think bigger."
"..."
At present, Geradin was learning the basics of fortress design from Gharun.
It was his wish.
As the village chief, he felt he should know these things.
But to pass the standards of a legendary blacksmith was no easy task.
"Let's rest a bit."
"No."
As Gharun was handing another blank blueprint to Geradin, whose face was cast in shadow, he sensed newcomers and turned.
"What is it, disciple?"
"These two wished to make a commission, so I brought them."
"A commission?"
The 283-year-old dwarf stroked his orange beard as he looked upon Adrian and Isabella.
"Ho, the swordsman and the mage who follow Asher. For you two to come, I suppose you've brought dragon material?"
"Eh, so Master knew there was more than one dragonbone?"
"Of course. When I was imprisoned in the Red Volcano Fortress, Asher showed me not just the skull, but also claws and ribs."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"What would you have done with that knowledge?"
Linus fell silent.
Indeed, what use was it whether there was one piece or ten, if he could not work them?
"Tsk, tsk."
Clicking his tongue, Gharun addressed the guests.
"Anyway. You must already know the fortress construction is to begin, so if you came despite that, you want the equipment forged first, correct? You must have your reasons."
"That is so."
Gharun was no ordinary dwarf, despite his centuries of age.
Though not himself a Transcendent, he was a craftsman who created things of Transcendence, like [Interis].
"If you wish, I can reorder the work. The fortress may be more important, but building it later won't be an issue."
And.
"Though I asked for a home for the dwarves as payment for forging [Interis], I've received aid beyond that. Granting such a request is no burden. My brother, the village chief, will agree as well."
"Aye, that's right. Thanks to you, we're all living well."
Geradin thumped his sturdy body, now filled with flesh and muscle.
Another dwarf might have insisted that favors were favors, and this was this, but these two were different.
Having lived 289 years, Geradin's long service as village chief had changed his heart.
The dwarves of the village, naturally steeped in his influence, had hearts that knew to repay grace with gratitude.
Though Gharun had once attacked a prince of the Empire and plundered the vault of the Red Volcano Clan, his values came first—yet he was never a mere brigand.
Had he been one, he would not have replenished the vault with wealth from his own stores after taking from it.
No matter how selfish a race might be judged as a whole, not all individuals are so. Especially depending on how one has lived.
A race is but one characteristic, never the entirety.
"But forging weapons is another matter."
"I've heard proof is required. What must we do?"
"Proof? Ha, you young ones think you know much, just because you've heard a bit from Asher."
Gharun strode up to Adrian.
"Stand still."
"…?"
Though a sudden demand without explanation, his movement seemed like he intended to confirm something, so Adrian complied.
"Hmm."
Thick fingers pressed firmly on Adrian's arms and legs, sharp eyes closely examining each joint.
Then, with a fist, he knocked against Adrian's abdomen and spine.
"The elasticity is unusual. Means you've made sheer speed your weapon."
Through Adrian's body, Gharun read him.
"But where's your sword? If it's in your spatial pouch, take it out."
"…It broke recently."
"So what? Does it stop being a sword just because it broke? Quiet, and hand it over."
Feeling almost as though something was being taken from him, Adrian drew out the magic sword, Cadence.
The first blade Verden had bestowed upon him had suffered irreparable damage when it cut through Dahit's magic.
Gharun examined the broken sword in two pieces, his eyes gleaming with their peculiar light.
"A sword that severs the array of magic power. Split through the middle, edge all in shambles… still, it can be used."
"…!"
Adrian's eyes widened.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean this artifact is ruined as it stands, but it can be recycled as material for a new blade. In a sense, reborn. Take it that way."
Gharun returned the broken Cadence to Adrian.
"Next, you. Show me your magic path."
"Eh? Ah, yes."
Catching his gaze, Isabella immediately opened her magic path,
To demonstrate, she drew a stone nearby into her mana, invaded it from within, and crushed it.
Gharun grimaced.
"What kind of vile magic path is this? So alien… troubling. Nothing else to show? For instance, a knack none others possess."
A knack…
"I'm strong, very strong."
"Strength?"
Gharun tilted his head.
Even straining his sight to its utmost, Isabella's features were nothing of the sort—strength was the last trait she embodied.
She seemed far more like a noble daughter.
He studied her intently, then jerked his chin.
"Linus, shake her hand. She's no liar, it seems. If she's that strong, her grip should prove it."
"Me?"
"Who else named Linus do you think I mean?"
"No, but even if you look down on me, you can't expect me to test strength against a woman…"
"Then do it with me."
"No thanks."
Linus moved in a rush, as if his life were threatened.
"I really don't know if this is a good idea… I'll just hold, not resist."
"Do it properly. I won't blame you."
"Hmm."
Isabella confidently extended her hand, leaving Linus no choice but to take it.
A disciple of a legendary dwarf, a smith of decades, a platinum-ranked adventurer.
He had never heard himself called weak by anyone but his master. The hardened muscles from years at the forge testified to his power.
Yet now he was to press down a woman's hand by force.
It was an uncomfortable thought.
"Still, I'll control my strength so you don't get hur—arrrrghhhhhh!"
The moment Isabella applied pressure, Linus gasped.
Pain crushed down on him, sweat pouring like rain, the one-armed smith dropped to his knees.
"Shall I let go?"
"Right now…!!!"
As Isabella released him, Linus rolled to the floor. A delicate hand, like one suited to playing instruments, brimmed with unnatural power.
'Not human.'
Only then did Gharun recognize the alien sense from her. She was indeed a magus, but not purely human.
She was, by classification, of the abnormal species.
'No wonder, followers of Asher are ever peculiar.'
With a light chuckle, Gharun nodded, satisfied.
"That's enough, leave now."
"Then the forging…"
"You think weapons from dragonbone are hammered out in an instant? The facilities aren't even ready. I'll tell you later what more materials are needed. Wait."
He hadn't said it directly, but the meaning was clear.
Gharun had accepted their commission.
'What is this?'
Honestly, Adrian and Isabella were bewildered.
They had prepared themselves for some trial of proof… yet where had that proof gone?
"I'm busy. Go."
He gave his second dismissal.
Linus, recognizing from experience that his master was on the verge of irascibility, leapt up. Luckily, the ache in his hand was fading fast.
"Business is done, right? Then let's leave before we get our eardrums burst."
"Fine by me."
With that, Linus led Adrian and Isabella back the way they came.
Watching from the side, Geradin asked Gharun.
"Didn't you say you never forge for those without worth? Is it fine to skip the proof?"
"For ones with will so clear, there's no need to ask. They aren't sly like Transcendents, hiding their depths. Above all, they call themselves Asher's closest. That's proof enough."
Gharun had deemed them worthy of his hammer.
Crash!
He heaved the great table on its side, scattering the fortress blueprints, and laid down fresh designs for the facilities.
"Change of plans. We build the facilities first."
"Good, brother."
A swordsman of extreme speed, a magus of vile sorcery, not quite human.
'Inspiration comes.'
Gharun was a dwarf to the bone, and a great blacksmith.
***
Not long after, word came from the Society.
Old magi of the Black Hour, scattered across the continent, were coming.
The meeting place: the Rages Plateau.
A region beside the uncharted Desert of Silence, the very place where Ignacia's Scales had once begun.
Verden's group, along with Society members, reached the plateau first, choosing a peak of especially high altitude.
Main attendees included Verden, Adrian, Isabella, Cain, Unia, Heras, Melard, Osgar, Medrant, and others.
"To think the revelation of you being a Transcendent, senior, was because of that…"
Until now, Cain and Unia had only heard Verden was a Transcendent. They knew nothing of the Grand Hall infiltration.
But no longer.
Now that they had safely stolen the [Hourglass of Perpetuity] from the Grand Hall, there was no reason to keep secret the plan to reclaim the Black Hour.
The time had come.
Though Cain and Unia could not be sent into the Grand Hall itself, they must now take the field as the Society's strongest.
Then Verden lifted his gaze.
"They are coming."
From within the clouds, magi descended.
Excluding Ethan and Rebecca, who guided them, their number was seventeen.
Eleven on the left, six on the right.
The former were already in contact with Melard, comrades long in communication. The latter had only recently answered by letter.
Whoosh.
The yellowed grass swayed in the passing wind. The magi ceased
Of the six, the professor from the Academy and a mercenary from the Magic City stood foremost. Slowly their eyes roamed, and settled on a woman.
"It has been long, all of you."
A body wasted thin.
Her legs, long since useless, relied on a wheelchair.
The cause was all too well known.
Longing carved tears down their cheeks.
"We, have come too late, Lady Melard."
The routed soldiers of the Black Hour had gathered.
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