Chapter 444 - Last Will
The Golden Anvil was the very culprit who turned the Black Volcano into a barren land... At Verden's remark, all gazes converged on him.
"Y-Your Excellency?"
"What do you mean by that?"
Everyone except Alpha voiced doubts and demanded a detailed explanation.
It was only natural.
To their eyes, the Golden Anvil, Ugumar, looked like nothing more than a pitiful prisoner suffering in the grip of the Soul Tree.
'It's not difficult to make them understand.'
Even the situation before their very eyes was overflowing with evidence. If there was time, even a child could be convinced, it was not a problem.
But an explanation for the conclusion was unnecessary.
Because the Golden Anvil had never intended to hide his own deeds from the start.
Ugumar spoke.
"You are correct."
"...!!"
"The transformed Black Volcano, and the body that is being forced to prolong life. All of this, I brought upon myself. So do not pity me. Especially not if you are a dwarf."
He admitted it without hesitation.
The matter of proof vanished, leaving Verden no reason to argue further.
Geradin, Gharun, and Linus fell silent, their shock leading only to muteness.
[Why?]
Alpha asked the reason.
It was the natural flow.
Having heard the confirmation from Ugumar himself, it was time to dig into the details.
The focus of the conversation narrowed to Verden and Ugumar.
"The Soul Tree may be classified as an abnormal species, but as you can see, in the end it is just a tree. To be born it needs suitable soil to take root, and to grow it requires abundant nutrients. Being vulnerable to heat is only natural."
"..."
"In that sense, a volcanic region is ill-suited for the Soul Tree to make its home. Much less the inside of a volcano."
That the Soul Tree was a threat to the world was true, but that was only when it was near its mature form.
If it had not grown sufficiently, then it was nothing more than a mere treant with a peculiar power.
In fact, there were records preserved in the Adventurers' Guild of Soul Trees discovered early on and subjugated. This was information Verden had encountered in the Duchy of Riviant.
"If the Soul Tree had tried to invade a dwarven fortress, it would have been destroyed before it could even breach the walls. Even if it had somehow slipped inside unnoticed, it would have dried up in the volcanic heat or been discovered quickly and smashed along with its roots."
Because the Soul Tree absorbed the life around it, discovery was easy. Unless it hid in a place untouched by humans, like the Forest of Demons.
No matter how one thought about it, by its own means the Soul Tree had no way of overtaking a dwarven clan's fortress that was operating properly.
And yet, it had succeeded.
In the most dire, the most hostile environment, it had achieved complete growth.
How could that be possible?
There was only one answer.
"...To implant the seed of the Soul Tree inside your body and cultivate it there, you must have been utterly deranged."
It was the existence of an accomplice.
***
The tree roots connected to Ugumar's body looked as though they were sucking the life out of him, but in truth it was the opposite.
The direction was reversed.
Upon close observation one could see that they were not driven inward from the outside, but crawling outward from within.
Because the Soul Tree was sharing its life force, Ugumar, who by all rights should have long been dead, was still alive after hundreds of years.
This naturally raised a question.
Even on the verge of starvation, why had the Soul Tree not abandoned Ugumar, and instead continued to pour its precious nourishment into him?
'Because, it cannot abandon him.'
The first soil into which the Soul Tree ever rooted was not earth, but the body of a dwarf.
To put it simply, the Golden Anvil's life force had become the foundation and basis of the Soul Tree. As a result, Ugumar himself had become the very core of the Soul Tree.
That was the truth.
Ugumar tucked his chin and laughed.
"You know the Soul Tree well."
This was only Verden's second encounter with a Soul Tree, and his knowledge was no more than what the Adventurers' Guild had recorded.
And yet, he could infer so much, because he had grasped the essence of the Soul Tree.
"Exactly. Once again, you are correct."
There was no lie.
But the decisive point was still unresolved.
"Even if you succeeded in planting the Soul Tree inside your body... even if by some means you were able to restrict its size, there would still have been limits to supplying nutrients. No matter how much a dwarf could devour with their remarkable digestion, with your life force alone it would have been impossible to raise the Soul Tree to completion."
The Soul Tree required an immense amount of nourishment.
It had been the same in the duchy.
The Soul Tree that had hidden in the Forest of Demons had sought to destroy the city of Lorian in order to reach completion.
The predicted number of sacrifices then had exceeded ten thousand, reaching hundreds of thousands.
Even if there was a difference between the life force of humans and dwarves, the Black Volcano clan alone could not have sufficed.
Therefore.
"What exactly did you offer up?"
The air turned cold.
The Golden Anvil stared at Verden with his eyeless sockets.
"...As you know, the Soul Tree is an abnormal species that absorbs life force to grow. But that life force is not limited only to living creatures. Just as the elves of the great forests claim."
He paused for breath.
"I, offered not only dwarves, but the Black Volcano itself, as nourishment for the Soul Tree."
He had sacrificed the natural life force contained in the volcanic region. That was the reason the veins of the Black Volcano had run dry and the land had turned cold.
Verden looked at the half-destroyed great tree.
"So that is why this Soul Tree is tinged with crimson."
"Over the course of more than ten years, as it absorbed the geothermal heat, it gradually turned red... When the veins were completely exhausted, the backlash struck."
A massive tectonic upheaval occurred.
The sky turned yellow, and the Black Volcano fortress split apart and plunged into the depths.
Countless dwarves' screams echoed.
This too was the truth.
The process by which the Black Volcano had been transformed into a cursed land unfolded naturally in the mind's eye.
'The adaptability of the Soul Tree is greater than I thought. To think it could even absorb the heat of lava.'
In any case.
Now that the process was known, the next question was intent.
"Why did you commit such an act?"
"I needed, material."
Material?
"Just as a blacksmith uses hammer and forge, to me, the Soul Tree was merely a tool. The veins of the Black Volcano that it absorbed... the power it devoured, I needed it... Do you understand what I am saying?"
There was no way not to.
Though whether one could accept it was another matter entirely.
Verden's eyes darkened.
"You used the world itself as your material."
What Ugumar had sought was not rare metals, nor byproducts of life.
He had consumed the very power that composed the volcanic region──the power that composed the world itself. Proof of this lay in how the domain of the Black Volcano, despite nature's constancy, had never recovered.
It was not something to be dismissed.
Though it was only a fraction compared to the continent as a whole, in the end the world itself had changed.
"Your purpose."
"...That was my mission."
"I will ask again."
Verden locked eyes with the Golden Anvil.
"Who was it that gave you this mission?"
Ugumar muttered blankly.
"The Resister."
***
"...The Resister?"
To Verden, it was an unfamiliar name.
No matter how much he thought, he could not imagine who it might refer to. For the world was filled with countless beings.
He glanced at Gharun and Geradin, who had lived nearly the same era as the Golden Anvil, but they too wore expressions of ignorance.
At the very least, it was certain that this 'Resister' was some secretive figure concealing their identity.
When Verden pressed with more detailed questions, the Golden Anvil shook his head for the first time.
"Sorry, but I do not know. I have never even seen that one's appearance... I only realized in the instant of contact, that it was the Resister."
"That makes no sense. You mean you followed the orders of someone whose identity you did not even know?"
"It did not matter to me."
Even stronger sincerity than before.
Dwarves are extremely stubborn and self-righteous.
Hundreds of years ago, it would have been even worse. One only had to look at Gharun, considered the spiritual pillar of the orthodox dwarves.
Then what of the Golden Anvil, who had been called a legend for three hundred years?
'Yet he speaks of a mission.'
What in the world was the Resister, that the Golden Anvil revered them so deeply?
At that moment, Geradin's hand trembled slightly.
"Go, Golden Anvil. If you truly were the one who made the Black Volcano into this... then why did you help us back then?"
The rear scouting party to which Geradin belonged had been captured by the Soul Tree, but thanks to the Golden Anvil's help they had not become food and had managed to escape.
"That very day. At the moment of creation in the facility, my life should have ended."
Ugumar recalled the past.
"But right before that, the Soul Tree, which had been dormant nearly its entire life, suddenly thrashed about in a frenzy. To survive. I had judged everything to be under my control, and so I could not have foreseen it."
The Soul Tree, which absorbed the life force of the world, had power that could not be resisted.
"In the end, I, who should have died, was forced to continue living, fused with the Soul Tree. And with time, as it restored my body, the Soul Tree began to seek food. It devoured corpses and surviving dwarves, even spread bait outside to lure prey."
"What...!"
The first and second search parties, organized by the allied dwarven clans, had been swallowed into the underground by unknown earthquakes.
That too was the work of the Soul Tree.
The truth was revealed here, after hundreds of years.
"That was not my mission, it was never what I desired. So as the core of the Soul Tree, I adapted... and suppressed it. I anchored its body here so it could not move, I restricted its range of action, and created a safe zone underground. Until this very day."
The reason the Golden Anvil had become what he was now, was the price of forcibly suppressing the Soul Tree.
Verden asked.
"So, what did you create? And was the result then taken by the Resister? Did they leave you behind like this?"
"The material I worked with, was something even I could not fully comprehend, so even I do not know what I forged. I merely followed instinct, striking the hammer."
And moreover.
"Since I became like this, I have never met the Resister again. Because what I created was not material, there was no need for them to take it. It was some kind of 'concept'... I can say without doubt, it was the greatest creation. I made it."
Ugumar's voice carried pride.
Then.
"You dwarf bastard."
Kwaaaang!
Gharun, who had been listening in silence, slammed the ground with Markuab.
"You think that by keeping dwarves underground safe, by suffering a bit of pain, you kept your conscience? You destroyed the Black Volcano, you drove countless kin to their deaths...!"
"I have never once thought that I had paid for my sins."
Ugumar declared.
"Call me a traitor as much as you like. Vent any fury you wish. Revenge, torture, I will gladly accept. But... I had to do it."
He turned his head toward Gharun.
"I was fated to die young from an incurable disease, but survived through the Resister. Then I vowed. In return for the Resister aiding my creation, I would uphold the mission to forge anything... Thus I achieved countless feats, was called the Golden Anvil, and became clan chief of the Black Volcano."
"..."
"And about three hundred years ago, I fulfilled my promise to the Resister. Using mission and great cause as my foundation, borrowing the land and lives of my kin, I achieved an 'unprecedented creation'."
Gharun clenched his fist.
"What you wanted was the veins of the Black Volcano. Then why did you not evacuate your clan?"
"To make use of the veins, the fortress had to remain active. I had no choice."
"Proud words for something you had 'no choice' in."
"How could I regret, when I attained the ultimate as a dwarf? You should not be ignorant of it either. If you truly hold creation in your hands as a dwarf."
Ugumar did not bend.
"I was, and still am, a dwarf."
He held to his stance, shabby though he was, insisting he would have made the same choice again and again.
"Golden Anvil...!!!"
Geradin raged, but could not bring himself to move.
Even if he had killed many dwarves... he had still saved Geradin, had still become a turning point for their village. Geradin could not decide his fate immediately.
Another made the decision.
"You, a dwarf?"
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Gharun walked forward roughly.
"No, Ugumar. You are no dwarf. A true dwarf is not controlled by anyone, nor do they entrust their great cause to another's hand! And for dwarves, creation and kin are not separate things."
"I chose the mission for the sake of my existence. Otherwise, I would have achieved nothing and died to disease. And... is not endless greed for creation the very essence of dwarves?"
"Shut up and leave your last words."
Ugumar said.
"I am a dwar..."
Kwagijijijik!
The great hammer, Markuab, crushed the Golden Anvil. Verden did not stop it.
***
Ugumar's body shattered, confirming the Soul Tree's death.
Aaaaaaaa───
A sobbing scream brushed past their ears.
The remnants of the great tree that had filled the area turned to dust and vanished, until even the trunk itself was shattered and collapsed miserably.
The falling debris, drained of all vitality, scattered as powder.
Soon, masses of white poured out, passing Verden and vanishing beyond the dark ceiling.
'So those were the souls of the life the Soul Tree consumed...?'
It was what he had heard from Leira, though whether it was truly so, he could not be sure.
For Verden had never seen a soul.
Where those freed spirits, as they were called, truly headed, he did not know.
The brief light gave way again to shadow.
Kooong.
Gharun hefted Markuab onto one shoulder.
Ugumar's corpse was gone.
Only the Golden Anvil and the golden hammer of the Black Volcano's clan chief, still gleaming without losing their radiance despite the Soul Tree's power, remained.
Irritably blasting away Ugumar's legacy, Gharun spat.
"What Golden Anvil, what clan chief."
Gharun was a dwarf.
Born to live for creation, an orthodox dwarf who had caused trouble in the Red Volcano clan, but...
Not a single dwarf had been harmed in that process, and it had not been theft and flight, but honest barter.
Because he had upheld those lines, he felt no selfish guilt.
Whereas Ugumar─── following a mission given by some unheard-of Resister, had turned the Black Volcano into this state.
Countless dwarves had died.
The most prosperous dwarven clan collapsed overnight. Counting the dwarves who had not become food for the Soul Tree, the number easily exceeded ten thousand.
On top of that, the first and second search parties, filled with elites... brave and excellent dwarves, had died in vain.
To Geradin, they were comrades and neighbors, members of a small clan called a village.
Even if there had been many quarrels, that fact remained unchanged.
"..."
Geradin stared darkly at what the Golden Anvil had left behind.
He was conflicted.
Ugumar was, as he said, a dwarf, and yet as Gharun said, not a dwarf.
At that moment, Linus pointed.
"...Everyone, look there."
Thud, thud.
As the Soul Tree perished, the fallen wall hidden by its roots and branches was revealed.
Beyond it lay the facility of the Black Volcano.
Verden had arrived at his destination.
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