Chapter 635: Eye of Ghush
Titus’s expression grew ever more solemn. The King of the Dwarves was entrusting his legacy—and his life. This act meant he had already abandoned his own life force, fully prepared to meet death with courage on the battlefield.
The Ancient Gold Dragon lowered his head, pale golden eyes flickering with sorrow. His voice deepened, weighted with gravity:
“Aid, His Majesty… are you truly certain of your decision?”
“Of course,” Aid replied with a faint smile. “My time is short. Rather than linger as a frail, useless husk, I’d rather die a warrior’s death—on the field, just as my father, Tao Klein, did. He fought to the last breath against the enemy.”
Titus sighed softly, still trying to reason: “If this is a war without hope, why not lead your people to safety? Why not migrate?”
“No,” Aid shook his head. “You don’t understand the Dwarf. For generations upon generations, Shield Dwarves have lived here. Aivendeldan is not just our homeland—it is our grave.”
He reached out, his weathered hand brushing the ancient Dwarf script carved into the stone wall. “Long ago, the first King of the Highlands, Bainde Klein, led our weary people to this land after years of war. For thousands of years, we’ve mined ore in Blackstone Mountain, forged weapons, drunk deep of fine wine. We know every inch of this soil, every rock, every mineral vein. Every mine shaft, every tunnel—hewn by our hammers, shaped by our hands.
To abandon Aivendeldan… to forsake Blackstone Mountain… would mean betraying our homeland, forsaking our ancestors. No brave, loyal Dwarf could ever do such a thing.”
His voice grew stronger with each word, resonant as a hammer striking stone.
Hearing this, Titus saw the unyielding resolve in Aid’s eyes. He knew there was no changing the King’s mind. With a reluctant nod, he replied:
“Aid, His Majesty… your wish is granted.”
“Hahahaha! Excellent, Titus, my friend! The Dwarves will never forget your gratitude. You are, and always will be, our eternal ally!”
Aid laughed heartily, slinging his war hammer back onto his belt with a firm thud.
Dwarves say, “The difference between an acquaintance and a true friend is about a century.”
Short-lived humans struggle to build lasting bonds with Dwarves. The strongest human-Dwarf friendships often form between humans and the parents—or grandparents—of a Dwarf who favors them.
But Aid also knew this truth: compared to the eternal lifespan of dragons, Dwarves were fleeting. And for a Gold Dragon—among the longest-lived of True Dragons—centuries were mere blinks of time.
Though Titus had fought side by side with Aid, forming something akin to a “bond forged in blood,” even that meant little to a dragon.
Aid didn’t hide his intentions. He extended two thick, calloused fingers and spoke with unwavering sincerity:
“Titus, my last hope is that you protect these children—for two centuries. To you, a Gold Dragon, that’s but a nap. To us, it’s nearly a lifetime. Let them serve you, work for you. If, after two centuries, they cannot reclaim Aivendeldan, then let them forge a new home, carry on the Shield Dwarf civilization elsewhere.”
“Agreed,” the Ancient Gold Dragon said simply, nodding solemnly.
Though, strictly speaking, Titus was far younger than the Dwarf, from the dragon’s perspective, the request was reasonable—almost trivial.
But Aid wasn’t finished.
“Of course, I won’t ask you to do this for nothing. Our people have amassed treasures over millennia. You may take one-third of them.”
“T-this is… too much,” the Ancient Gold Dragon stammered, his pale golden eyes flickering with hesitation and greed. He was torn—on one hand, a dragon’s innate love of gold and gems; on the other, his moral compass.
Like any noble Metal Dragon, he had a deep sense of honor, yet his nature was undeniably greedy.
Aid saw the conflict in his eyes and laughed again, stroking his thick, brown beard:
“Titus, I trust your integrity. But let’s be honest—benefits are the strongest bond. You deserve this wealth. Even if I didn’t give it to you, it would likely fall into the hands of the Empire of Ashen. Better it go to a true-hearted soul.”
He paused, then strode forward with purpose toward the far end of the hidden chamber. With a rough hand, he pressed against an iron gate covered in ancient Dwarf runes. The inscriptions flared to life.
Boom—
The gate groaned open, revealing a dazzling vista bathed in golden light. The glow illuminated Aid’s face—and made the Gold Dragon’s scales shimmer like molten gold.
Inside lay a vault beyond imagination.
Lamps burned brightly, casting their glow across mountains of gold coins, piled high like hills. The light blazed so fiercely it seemed to pierce the eyes of any greedy soul. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds—precious gems of every hue—sparkled like stars in a night sky.
The treasure vault held not only gold and silver, but exquisite weapons and adornments. Every piece bore the mark of Dwarf craftsmanship: masterful precision, fierce beauty, and an unwavering reverence for strength and artistry.
This was the heart of the Shield Dwarves’ legacy—the accumulated wealth of the High Mountain Kingdom, amassed over countless centuries.
Bathed in the vault’s radiant glow, the King of the Dwarves looked aged, his face etched with time. His eyes wandered across the treasures, lost in memory—reminiscing the lives, the labor, the sacrifices behind each piece.
Even Titus gasped, his gills fluttering. “Aid, His Majesty… this is… incredible wealth.”
Aid grinned proudly. The Dwarf’s pride swelled. Even a Gold Dragon was stunned by this fortune.
“Of course,” Aid chuckled. “When my father first brought me here, I was so shocked I nearly collapsed on the spot.”
He stepped into the vault first. After a moment of hesitation, Titus lowered his head, folded his wings, and squeezed through the entrance, entering the treasure-laden chamber.
Side by side, dwarf and dragon walked through the staggering wealth.
Titus couldn’t help but survey the surroundings—golden mountains, gemstones like stars, magical gear pulsing with arcane energy. Among the treasures were twenty legendary-grade artifacts: swords, great axes, war hammers, armor—each a masterpiece of craftsmanship.
Using his innate dragon instinct for valuation, Titus—no, Kai Xiusu—quickly estimated the vault’s worth in mere minutes: over twenty million gold coins.
No wonder. Even the Empire of Ashen, with its industrial might and vast trade networks across Feanso, would consider this a fortune beyond reckoning.
Yet… it was destined to fall into the claws of an evil, greedy Red Dragon.
Titus’s breath quickened. Heat surged through him. For a moment, he felt the overwhelming urge to slaughter the Dwarf King and seize the vault.
But he calmed himself. It will be mine soon enough. No need to rush. Besides, Aid had more to entrust him with.
Regaining composure, the Ancient Gold Dragon spoke:
“Thank you for your trust, Aid, His Majesty. To allow a dragon access to this… few could ever comprehend what that means.”
This was no mere gesture. To lead a dragon into the heart of your treasure vault was an act of absolute faith.
Aid had paid the price to forge a true alliance—one that would ensure the Shield Dwarves’ survival.
“Titus,” Aid said firmly, “I believe in your honor. You will always be our steadfast ally.”
The dragon’s dignified, wise face softened. Tears—almost imperceptible—glistened in his golden eyes. It was a performance so flawless, so genuine, it could have moved even the hardest heart.
At the far end of the vault, they entered a hidden chamber carved with ancient runes. Aid stopped before an unassuming wall, his expression grave.
He drew a small knife, sliced his fingertip, and smeared his blood across the stone, drawing a mysterious symbol in the Dwarf tongue. He murmured prayers beneath his breath:
“Mora above, by the name of King of the Highlands, Shield Dwarf ruler, Bloodline of Blackstone Mountain…”
The blood sigil flared. The runes around the chamber lit up. The bas-relief carvings of Dwarves on the wall seemed to stir—lifting weapons, roaring in fury.
Boom—
From beneath the earth rose a black iron pedestal, upon which rested a fractured stone—half of an eye. It radiated malice, ancient and terrible.
Titus froze. His golden pupils widened in shock. His voice trembled:
“This… this can’t be… By Bahamut, I thought it was just a myth.”
His mind filled with the item’s description:
> Eye of Ghush (Half)
> Quality: Mythic
> Realm: Chaos, Evil, Strength, War
> Effect: Unknown
> Description: Ogres hold a deep-seated hatred for Corilron Lareen, Molradin, and their followers. Legends say that in a great battle long ago, Corilron Lareen blinded Ghush in the left eye.
> Some Ogre priests question this tale, dismissing it as nonsense. They claim the Elf god stole the eye—because no fair battle could have defeated Ghush.
> In Orcish legends, Ghush’s lost eye became an artifact. Elves scoff, claiming Corilron Lareen utterly destroyed the eye.
Aid stared at the fragment, chest rising proudly.
“Titus, you are indeed well-versed. You’re correct—this is part of that eye. Ten thousand years ago, the Father God and the Elven Supreme God联合 defeated the Orcish Deity, shattering his eye. They split it into two pieces and sealed each in the High Mountain Kingdom and Serrynia—this is one.”
Titus gazed at the stone, his mind reeling. This was a fragment of a deity’s power—its value dwarfing the entire vault combined.
This was why the Ogres had grown so powerful after capturing Aivendeldan. They had found their sacred relic.
Aid’s voice turned icy:
“But now, the Orcish Deity has severed our connection to the Father God. His strength no longer flows into the world. And now, the Empire of Ashen watches from the south, poised to invade. I can only entrust this to the one I trust most—you.”
Titus took a deep breath, calming his racing thoughts.
“Aid, His Majesty… if Serrynia holds the other half, why not give it to the Elves? They’ve been allies for thousands of years. They’re far more reliable than I.”
Aid shook his head.
“The two halves must never be united. If the Ogres ever seized Serrynia, they’d regain the complete Eye—and unleash unimaginable chaos. And besides… Serrynia is in turmoil. I cannot predict who will win. I trust Catherine, I trust Ria—but I cannot trust those Elf Elders who abandoned us, who turned their backs on our Sacred Alliance.”
He looked up, locking eyes with the dragon.
“This half holds unspeakable evil power. Only the bloodline of the Shield Dwarf Royal Family can seal it—the cursed relic of an Orcish Deity. Titus, I beg you: guard it. Do not let it fall into evil hands. If it does… the consequences would be a multiversal catastrophe.”
Titus lowered his head, spread his great dragon wings, and locked gazes with the Dwarf King in the traditional dragon’s solemn salute. His golden vertical pupils burned with unwavering resolve.
“I will protect it with my life.”
Yet, deep within, Titus—no, Kai Xiusu—was not thinking of duty or honor.
His mind was consumed by a single, greedy thought:
“I must take both halves… and claim them for myself.”
(End of Chapter)
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