Chapter 642: The Mountain Lord's Promise
“Father… your body… how is this possible?” Zhen stood frozen, eyes wide with astonishment, staring at his father—the Mountain Lord who had guarded Aivendeldan Century.
Aid had unfastened his armor and outer garments, baring his chest. What lay beneath was not the solid muscle of a warrior, but true stone—rock interwoven with veins of metal ore, mica, and quartz.
“We Shield Dwarves are born from the heart of stone,” Aid said with a self-deprecating smile, gazing down at his own body. “To die this way… it’s not such a bad end.”
“Father, why? You were healed!” Zhen’s voice trembled with anxiety, urgent and raw.
Aid remained calm. “Months ago, during that battle, I sacrificed my Life Force to the Pillar of Stone Hammer. Now… what you see is only a remnant, sustained by that bond.”
He looked down at the war hammer in his hand, its surface etched with ancient, intricate carvings. “Once I release this weapon, I will slowly turn to stone. I’ll remain here—guarding Blackstone Mountain, guarding Aivendeldan. And you, my child,” he lifted his head, locking eyes with Zhen, “you will become the new Mountain Lord. The next King of the Shield Dwarves. You will carry the glory of ten thousand years, and lead our people into a new future.”
With that, Aid stepped forward, placing the Pillar of Stone Hammer into Zhen’s hands.
“Father…” Zhen’s hands shook. The hammer was impossibly heavy—its weight felt heavier than the entire Blackstone Mountain itself.
—Because it was more than a weapon. It was the symbol of Mountain Lord Authority, bearing the radiant history of the High Mountain Kingdom for millennia, and the enduring legacy of generations of Shield Dwarf civilization.
As the hammer left Aid’s grasp, a soft, relieved smile crossed his face. In Zhen’s eyes, his father’s body had grown even more like stone, the faint glow of Life Force around him now dimmed almost to nothing.
Zhen lifted the hammer, voice heavy with emotion: “No, Father… I can’t take this. It will kill you!”
Aid shook his head firmly, pushing the weapon back. “This is my choice. The moment I gave my Life Force to the Pillar, I was already dead. Zhen Klein, future of the High Mountain Kingdom—this is yours. Carry on the hopes of our ancestors and me. Besides… I might not lose after all.”
The King of the Dwarves grinned, a broad, hearty laugh, and slapped his stone-like chest with a resounding thud. “That evil dragon? He may not be my match. Even if the Hammer is yours now—don’t forget… I am still the most powerful warrior in the High Mountain Kingdom!”
“Father…” Zhen lowered his head, silent.
He understood. His father’s resolve was unshakable—just as unyielding as diamond. Once Aid made a decision, nothing could change it.
After a long pause, Zhen knelt halfway, then raised his head, meeting his father’s gaze with unwavering strength. He gripped the hammer tightly, pressing it against his chest.
“Father,” he declared, voice like steel, “in the name of the High Mountain Kingdom, in the name of Father God Moradin—I will fulfill your every command. I swear it, to the death.”
Dwarves were known for their unwavering promises—courageous, loyal, steadfast. And when they swore by their Father God, that vow transcended even their own lives.
“Hahahaha! That’s my son! That’s how a Mountain Lord should stand!” Aid laughed, clapping Zhen hard on the back.
Zhen’s voice was solemn. “If you die… if Aivendeldan falls… I will spend my remaining days seeking your revenge.”
Aid shook his head. “I’m already dying. To fall beside my comrades on the battlefield—now that’s the end I desire. Zhen, your true mission is the Bloodline of the Heritage Royal Family, the Civilization of the Heritage Kingdom. Do not act rashly.”
Seeing Zhen still silent, head bowed, Aid sighed and added, “Take the people to Lonely Mountain. Lord Titus awaits you there.”
“Yes, Father.”
Watching Zhen’s retreating back, Aid exhaled deeply. He knew his son—though quiet, reserved, even cold in demeanor—possessed the same unyielding spirit as himself. Stubborn as stone. Once a decision was made, it was final.
If things came to that… the only hope left was that Lord Titus could stop them. That he could save the lives of the Dwarves.
“Your Majesty,” Biyao said, limping forward down the corridor, leaning on his cane. “Have you finished speaking with Prince Zhen?”
Aid nodded. “Yes. But that boy… he may not listen to me. Might do something foolish.”
Biyao coughed twice, then smiled. “Why worry, Your Majesty? I’ve watched Zhen grow. At his age, he’s far more composed than you were. You—remember? You once charged into a green dragon’s nest alone, stole back the kingdom’s treasure with nothing but a rifle.”
“Of course! I was the greatest warrior of the High Mountain Kingdom!” Aid laughed, instinctively reaching for his waist—only to find nothing. The Pillar of Stone Hammer was gone.
Biyao saw the flicker of loss in Aid’s eyes. “Your Majesty, I’ll have our finest artisans forge you a new war hammer immediately.”
“No need,” Aid waved it off, smugly. “I made several weapons in the likeness of the Pillar during my youth. Just waiting for a proper use.”
“Ah, Your Majesty,” Biyao added, “there’s something urgent.”
“What is it?”
“Our reconnaissance scouts found traces of Dragon Riders in the Kared Mountain Range. The Lute Players’ Alliance and the Arcane Hermitage have both sent warnings—the Ashen Empire has mobilized. Their army is marching northeast—directly toward our High Mountain Kingdom.”
Aid didn’t flinch. No surprise. No fear. He simply walked to the balcony.
“Never thought the Ashen Empire would come so fast,” he murmured. “I expected at least half a year to secure Northern Aether.”
Biyao sighed. “Indeed. Such a swift military deployment… don’t they fear rebellion in their conquered territories?”
Aid stared into the distance. “Hmph. A realm ruled by the Red Dragon—of course they’re greedy. They want to swallow the entire world. But…”
He reached out, and with a soft whirr, a hammer identical to the Pillar of Stone Hammer shot from a crate far off, soaring through the air and landing in his palm.
Aid smirked. “Let’s see… how many teeth will that greedy evil dragon lose biting into this hard bone?”
Outside the palace, Dwarf generals and soldiers stood in full armor, weapons at the ready. Their voices roared like thunder:
“We are the offspring of earth and mountain!”
“Long live the Dwarves!”
“For Father God Moradin’s glory!”
“Aivendeldan shall never fall! Long live the High Mountain Kingdom!”
Though they didn’t know what awaited them, these fierce, resilient warriors would not surrender. Not today.
Zhen turned, hearing the distant battle cries. His grip tightened on the Pillar of Stone Hammer. Emotions surged within him.
War is coming… yet I can only watch.
He knew, though, that his duty was greater. To rush back now would be a betrayal of his father’s sacrifice.
He looked toward the base of Lonely Mountain, where tens of thousands of Dwarves gathered—women, children, and hundreds of young warriors like himself. They were Aid’s promise to Zhen. The future of the High Mountain Kingdom. They would flee to the sanctuary of the Golden Dragon, preserving the kingdom’s cultural legacy for generations to come.
Beside him, a Dwarf attendant cried out, “Prince Zhen! We cannot abandon the battlefield! This is cowardice! We must stand with His Majesty and defend Aivendeldan!”
Zhen shook his head. “Toko. This is Father’s command. He gave everything. We cannot fail him.”
“But His Majesty—” Toko began, but Zhen didn’t respond. He simply turned, motioning for silence. The entrance to the Lonely Mountain’s Treasure Vault was near.
“Toko, wait outside with the guards. I’ll go in alone.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Toko and the Dwarven guards took position at the passage entrance, watching as Zhen slipped into the hidden cavern.
After a narrow, winding valley, the chamber opened before him.
This is the Treasure Vault of the Lonely Mountain. Zhen whispered, heart pounding.
Before the massive iron gate—over thirty meters tall—he felt a surge of awe. Only those with royal Shield Dwarf blood could enter. It was said to hold the kingdom’s most precious treasures, amassed over thousands of years.
Aid had told him Lord Titus would be waiting. The Golden Dragon ally must have already entered, Zhen thought.
He pressed his hand against the gate.
Boom—
With a deep, echoing groan, the gate slowly swung open.
But inside… nothing.
No golden mountains, no sea of silver, no glittering gemstones. Only emptiness.
“What…?” Zhen frowned, scanning the chamber.
“Stop looking,” came a familiar voice from within. “I’ve already moved your treasures to the Half-Plane. Too valuable to risk discovery by the Ashen Empire’s spies.”
Zhen turned toward the sound.
From the darkness, a colossal Golden Dragon emerged—graceful, radiant, scales shimmering in the dim light. But his body was scarred, wounds visible across his form.
Zhen’s face lit up. “Lord Titus! You’ve come. Father sent me.”
Though they’d never spoken much, Titus was the Dwarves’ most revered ally—their greatest Dragon in legend.
“Yes, Prince Zhen,” Titus nodded. “Time is short. We must complete the transfer quickly.”
He extended a claw toward the inner chamber. “I’ve moved your treasures to a secure Half-Plane. Safe. Unreachable by the Ashen Empire. But Aid His Majesty told me… there’s one final thing. Only you can take it.”
Zhen raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“Come with me,” Titus said, not answering. He stepped forward, his massive frame moving with ancient grace.
Zhen followed, eyes scanning the walls—carved with breathtaking detail, depicting the history of the High Mountain Kingdom, statues of past Dwarven kings, all bearing the weight of time and legacy.
Even though the treasures were gone, the vault itself—its murals, its carvings—would remain. Sacred. Eternal.
Zhen wished he could memorize every inch of it. To pass on the Dwarves’ glory to his descendants. Now, he finally understood his father’s burden.
This… is civilization.
Titus’ voice broke his thoughts. “We’re here.”
Zhen realized they’d reached the end of the vault—facing an unassuming wall.
“Smear your blood here,” the Ancient Gold Dragon said, tapping the wall with a claw.
Zhen bit his finger, pressing his blood onto the stone.
The blood flowed, shifting, forming runes in the Dwarven language. The Ancient Dragon spoke solemnly:
“Say with me: In the name of Mountain Lord, Shield Dwarf Ruler, Bloodline of Blackstone Mountain…”
“Molradin above,” Zhen repeated. “In the name of Mountain Lord…”
The runes flared with light. Runes blazed. The relief carvings on the wall roared as if awakened.
Boom—
A pillar of black iron rose from the ground, its surface embedded with half a stone pulsing with evil aura—bound by chains of ancient magic.
“Drip your blood onto the pedestal,” Titus ordered.
Zhen obeyed. As the royal blood fell, the seal cracked. Thick, black mist poured from the stone.
ROAR—
“Let me out! I will destroy you all!” A monstrous battle cry echoed—chaos, madness, frenzy. A terrifying orc phantom filled the hidden chamber, threatening to consume both Dragon and Dwarf.
The half-“Eye of Ghush” had grown consciousness over centuries. If fully released, it could become a Godlike abomination.
Zhen gripped the Pillar of Stone Hammer, face hard, ready to fight.
But Titus held him back. The Ancient Gold Dragon glowed with golden light, then plunged his massive claw into the black mist.
Roars, screams, struggles—deep within the darkness.
After a moment, Titus withdrew, clutching the half-stone in his claw. Black smoke seeped from between his fingers.
“Lord Titus… what is this?” Zhen asked, voice tight.
“The Eye of Ghush,” Titus said, frowning. “A vile creation. You’re not ready to seal it yet. Let me keep it safe.”
“Yes, Lord Titus.”
Zhen was stunned. He hadn’t expected such a cursed artifact to be hidden within the treasure vault.
But inside Titus—Kai Xiusu—was grinning. Perfect. Let him keep the treasure… and this cursed half-eye. Forever.
(End of Chapter)
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