Chapter 757: Dwarf and Elf
Volcanic Enclave
This half-plane, nestled at the convergence of the Elemental Plane of Fire and the Earth Element Plane, remained as extreme as ever. The sky burned crimson, like spilled blood. The ground seared and cracked open, spewing smoke from fissures, while rivers of molten lava surged forth in places.
Step deeper into this hidden realm, and you’d hear distant, rhythmic chants—alongside the crisp, metallic clinks of Gold Farming in full swing.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
"Hee-yo! Bloodline burns hot in the Rock Core! Ancestral Echo Hammer meets Anvil!"
"Golden rivers flow across our feet—Dwarf songs shake the mountains!"
Within the endless volcanic peaks, a band of Dwarf miners swung pickaxes and hammers with relentless vigor, mining rare metals and ores forged by the volatile fusion of elemental energies. Though grimy and unassuming in appearance, they worked with feverish intensity, sweat pouring down their faces.
This place had become a true Dwarf stronghold—distinctive in every way.
From above, the jagged fire mountains were riddled with mine shafts. Stone-built structures clung to the slopes, and Dwarves in woven bamboo baskets darted through narrow passages without pause.
Carved into the rocky walls were lifelike statues—of the Dwarves’ gods, and legendary heroes like King Aed. Some peaks had been hollowed out entirely, repurposed as vast natural forges for crafting priceless gear—such as tributes meant for the Ancient Gold Dragon.
This half-plane had long been the eternal ally of the Shield Dwarves—gifted by "Dawn Dragon" Titus. They were eternally grateful, for he had led them to a new homeland after their old one had been lost.
Every month, they held a grand festival—forging the finest gear imaginable.
As the current Mountain Lord and King of the Shield Dwarves, son of King Aed, Zhen Klein led by example, personally guiding his people in the forging of sacred weapons.
His bronze-colored eyes flared with inner flame. With sinewy, muscle-bound arms, he shoved a precious mithril ingot into the heart of a colossal furnace.
Hiss! Hiss!
The furnace’s high heat licked at the mithril, its dark red, intricate carvings—like veins—welling up across the surface, pulsing with latent power.
"Fire up the furnace!" Zhen roared, his voice raw and thunderous, echoing through the volcanic peaks.
"Hey-yo!"
Twelve bare-chested Dwarf artisans tugged on iron chains. The massive furnace gates boomed open—releasing a torrent of molten lava that cascaded down like a waterfall. A wave of scorching thermal surge blasted outward.
Zhen’s beard curled and blackened in the blast.
This was the seventeenth quenching. The mithril had been purified to near-perfection—now a searing red liquid, poured into a waiting mold.
Zhen and the artisans raised iron hammers, striking the molten blade again and again, refining it with each blow. Finally, the newly forged longsword was plunged into a pre-chilled ice bath—sending up a storm of steam.
Clang!
A rare-grade mithril longsword emerged from the hands of the King of Dwarves.
Zhen nodded in approval. "Excellent. This is the finest piece we’ve made in weeks. Perfect for Titus, my lord."
One of the artisans hesitated, voice tinged with reluctance: "Your Majesty… why give such a weapon to another? We need weapons too. Don’t forget—Aivendeldan still lies in the grip of that Red Dragon Tyrant!"
Zhen shook his head. "We Dwarves do not forget kindness. This land—our new home—was granted to us by Titus, our savior."
He continued, voice firm: "Moreover, Titus is the Dawn Dragon. He stands at the heart of the Just Cause Faction."
"Once such weapons reach him, they will be wielded against evil—against tyrants like that Red Dragon. In truth, helping him is helping ourselves."
"I believe… one day, that evil dragon’s brutal rule will fall. Through the efforts of righteous souls, Aivendeldan will return to our people."
His words rang with unwavering conviction—strong, like tempered mithril.
At that moment, a voice echoed from the sky—deep, dignified, and eerily familiar.
"Justice and Light remain the true pulse of this world. The cruel villains will one day fall—by the united will of all good!"
"In time, you shall reclaim Aivendeldan. That is what my fallen friend, the noble King Aed, would have wished to see."
The Dwarves looked up in unison.
A massive dragon shadow loomed across the crimson sky. With mighty wings spread, the Ancient Gold Dragon descended—his golden scales gleaming like molten sunlight, reflecting the fire below.
"It’s Titus, my lord!"
"Praise the mighty Wings of Dawn! Eternal friend of the Dwarves!"
Zhen’s face lit up with excitement. He bowed deeply toward the sky. "Good morning, Titus, my lord. I see your strength has fully returned. A most welcome sight!"
The Ancient Gold Dragon landed with a thunderous boom at the foot of the volcanic peak. He surveyed the bustling Dwarf settlements with a warm smile.
"Zhen, my king, you’ve adapted well. Soon, you’ll build a city worthy of your people’s pride."
Zhen scratched his head, grinning sheepishly. "Had you not found this place, we’d still be wandering. Credit goes entirely to you."
"Titus, my lord, these are the gifts we’ve forged for you—our last hope. I trust you’ll find them worthy."
With a grand gesture, Zhen summoned several strong Dwarves, who carried heavy metal chests forward.
The lids were lifted—revealing a mountain of gleaming gear: over a hundred items, all at least rare grade, with several nearing legendary.
Then came more wagons—loaded with tons of mithril, adamantite, and other precious magical metals.
To know the difficulty of mining and refining such materials—especially in the Ashen Empire’s harsh terrain—was staggering. The Dwarves’ tribute equaled months of Anzeta Region’s total output.
Titus.
Or rather—Kai Xiusu—felt a quiet thrill deep within.
These Shield Dwarves were useful indeed. And all without cost.
After all, it was he who had destroyed their homeland, conquered their kingdoms, and exiled them to this remote half-plane.
And yet, here they stood—grateful.
Titus nodded approvingly. With a single clawed gesture, he swept the entire cache into a pocket dimension.
"Zhen, my king, the Just Cause Faction will remember your people’s contributions."
"But I’ve come with another matter—one that could shift the fate of the entire Feiansuo Continent. I seek your aid."
Zhen placed a hand over his chest. "Titus, my lord—your cause is our cause. You are our eternal friend."
The Ancient Gold Dragon exhaled, his voice solemn. "You know, the Shield Dwarves once made a sacred pact with the Silver Moon Elves—binding them in alliance against the southern Ogre invasions."
Zhen nodded, sighing. "Tragic… Serrynia broke that pact. Had it not been for Lady Ria, I’d have called them traitors."
"No," Titus corrected, his tone grave. "It was not the Elves’ will. It was the Elven Council’s decision."
He continued: "I’ve just received a plea from the current Elven Queen—Catherine the Moonwalker."
"She claims the Elven Council’s elders have fallen to Dark Corruption. And she intends to lead a Sacred Coup—uniting all who stand for justice—to restore Serrynia to righteousness."
Zhen frowned. "You mean…"
Titus locked eyes with the young King of Dwarves—his golden vertical pupils piercing, deep with ancient wisdom.
"Zhen, my king… will you, in this hour of crisis, offer aid to Serrynia? In the name of Mountain Lord… and Shield Dwarf King?"
Zhen hesitated. He looked up, meeting the dragon’s gaze—then, suddenly, he saw something in those golden eyes.
A reflection.
His father.
The past Mountain Lord. Aid Klein.
Through Titus’s golden gaze, Zhen felt a timeless pull—across time, across life and death—gazing into his father’s unwavering, hopeful eyes.
If Aid were here… he would have chosen without hesitation.
To renew the sacred alliance.
That was the burden of a Mountain Lord.
Zhen’s resolve hardened. He gripped his war hammer.
"Titus, my lord… I will lead my Dwarven warriors to Serrynia. I will stand with the Silver Moon Elves."
Titus gave a soft, approving nod. "You are becoming more like Aid every day."
Hearing this, Zhen’s heart swelled. He believed he was walking the path of his father—leading his people toward glory.
But he did not know…
This was all part of Titus—or rather, Kai Xiusu’s innate charm.
Zhen leapt onto a towering volcanic rock. He scanned his people, then raised his war hammer high.
"My people! The Silver Moon Elves of Serrynia are being consumed by darkness. Their queen is rising in sacred revolt!"
"We Shield Dwarves—ancient allies of Serrynia—cannot stand idle!"
"I will lead our bravest, strongest warriors to join Titus, and support this sacred cause!"
A Dwarf hesitated. "But Your Majesty… Serrynia broke the pact!"
Zhen cut in sharply: "They were corrupted by the Abyss’s will—understandable, then. But if we ignore the plight of our allies, how can we call ourselves brave, steadfast Shield Dwarves?"
"Titus once helped us, without asking for reward. He even faced the Red Dragon Tyrant—risking his own life!"
"If my father, King Aed, were alive today… he would do the same. He would march with Titus—to Serrynia. To defend Catherine, the queen."
"This is not just for justice… it is for the glory of our race!"
Shield Dwarves were blunt, simple, strong.
After Zhen’s words, blood surged through their veins—like molten lava in the mountains.
"Your Majesty, I go with you!"
"Count me in!"
"Long live the Mountain Lord!"
"For justice! For the glory of the Shield Dwarves!"
The Dwarves erupted in a roar, weapons raised, voices thundering. Some even began a wild, defiant lament.
Titus stepped beside Zhen, voice deep and solemn: "My friends… if this coup succeeds, the entire Feiansuo Continent will owe you its freedom."
"Your names will be etched into the Epics of Feanso—forever remembered as heroes!"
"Titus, my lord!"
"Praise the mighty Wings of Dawn!"
And so, once more, Kai Xiusu used the Shield Dwarves—tools in his grand design.
They had no idea… that behind the golden wings, behind the noble words, stood the very enemy they feared most—the Emperor of the Ashen Flame, the tyrant who had conquered Aivendeldan.
Zhen watched the eager Dwarves, heart full.
"Brave. Hopeful. Fierce. This is the Shield Dwarf spirit. This is my people."
He sighed. "Only… Aivendeldan still lies in enemy hands. And I am powerless to reclaim it."
Titus stood beside him, voice soft. "Zhen, my king… in my homeland, there is a saying: One righteous act can win the support of many. One selfish act, the loss of all."
"Now is no different. Your noble deeds today will become the foundation for your people’s future—your return to Aivendeldan."
"Thank you, Titus, my lord," Zhen said, earnest.
The more he spoke with the Ancient Gold Dragon, the more Zhen marveled at his wisdom—this immortal being, who had lived for millennia yet still stood for justice.
To Zhen, Titus was a fatherly guide—a beacon of wisdom, second only to his late father.
But Zhen did not know…
To Titus—Kai Xiusu—he was nothing more than a gullible Dwarf. A loyal ox. A fool to be used.
Within moments, Zhen had assembled an army of nearly three thousand—his "High Mountain Elite Expeditionary Force," nearly all clad in heavy armor. Had he included the weak, the women, the children, he could have raised ten thousand.
Though their formation was chaotic, their battle spirit burned bright.
Titus raised a claw. With a surge of arcane energy, he opened a stable spatial portal—leading directly to the coordinates Catherine had provided.
"High Mountain Elite Expeditionary Force—Departure!"
Zhen raised his war hammer, voice ringing:
"FOR JUSTICE! FOR THE DWARF RACE!"
At the command, the armored Dwarves roared, clashing metal on metal like a wave of iron, surging through the portal in a thunderous tide.
(End of Chapter)
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