Chapter 445 - Advance (1)
While Linus was glancing around nervously at his master, Gharun strode forward and began examining the facility.
Creak, creak-creak.
The sound of twisting metal grated against their ears. From the noise alone, one could tell it had been left neglected for a very long time.
"Hm… hmmm…"
Slowly opening and closing his eyelids, he surveyed the massive extinguished furnace, the smelter, the alloy hammers, and other devices used for creation.
Kneeling down on one knee to check beneath the structure, Gharun stroked his fiery-orange beard and gave a brief evaluation.
"There's certainly a lot to fix. There's little rust, but foreign substances are severely stuck in. The joints are completely stiff, requiring separate repairs… more importantly, its durability has deteriorated greatly. Well, it's only natural, since it's been abandoned for over 200 years. Tsk."
Gharun muttered discontentedly, "For that bastard Golden Anvil to slam into a tree and abandon a facility like this, truly, a useless dwarf if ever there was one".
Verden approached.
"No issue with reusing it?"
"If run at full capacity, it won't last long and will slowly shatter, but that's fine. All we need is one opportunity."
Gharun rose to his feet.
"A full inspection, some restoration, and redesigning the foundation is all that's needed. It'll be done in a few days. Judging by the look of it, materials are abundant."
Buildings stood in the corners of the facility.
Inside the dust-covered warehouses, countless metal ingots lay dormant.
The quantity was considerable.
As metals contained no nutrients to absorb, the Soul Tree had left them untouched.
Materials to supplement what was lacking for staff-making had been brought along with Gharun's massive hammer from the vault of the Red Volcano Clan.
And now, they had secured the facility of the Black Volcano Clan, capable of producing top-tier armaments.
"With this, preparations are as good as done."
At that moment, Linus raised his hand.
"Master."
"What."
"But isn't the most important thing… firepower missing?"
Indeed.
Even if the Soul Tree had been subjugated, the long-drained leyline would not simply return.
The cold remained the same.
A frigid chill coiled silently around them, turning their breath white.
Gharun stared at Linus with disdain.
"Following me around all day has turned your head into stone, hasn't it? That's why you're one-armed."
"What does that have to do with me being one-armed…"
"Of course it does. You're blind to what's right before your eyes."
[I concur with that judgment.]
Alpha chimed in, pointing at Verden.
[His Majesty is the center.]
From hurling flaming meteors from the skies, to melting dwarven siege weapons head-on, the overwhelming firepower of a Transcendent.
There was no way he couldn't create a lava lake to supply heat to the facility.
***
The geothermal veins of the Black Volcano had dried up, and tectonic shifts had twisted the connection between the facility and the lava lake beyond repair.
A new source was needed.
A new path was needed.
They had to rebuild from the facility that had been long dormant.
"Here's the draft for the furnace sector."
"Let's see… hm. For a one-armed fellow, you've drawn it decently enough to make sense."
"Did you forget my alias, Oesu? I'm the very maker of Orient, Lord Asher's cherished ship."
"Kidnapped and imprisoned by the Kingdom, yet still all mouth. Fine, fine, you're great."
Gharun and Linus split the roles and drew up schematics.
They sought to create the optimal route linking the facility with a new source in the shortest span possible.
And then—
"Light this up for me. And while you're at it, fill those cold vats to the brim."
"Very well."
"…Master, you're the only dwarf who'd make such requests of a Transcendent."
Verden raised blazing heat and ignited a smelter and a small forge.
Clang! Clang-clang! Clang!
Melted ingots, refined smoothly, were poured into pre-made molds. Once cooled and hardened, Gharun hammered the forms deftly, swiftly.
It looked slow, yet was fast.
Look away for a moment, and you could already see progress made.
[Excellent craftsmanship. Continued observation is necessary.]
With Verden's permission, Alpha trailed close behind, watching them work. Accidents would not destroy the construct—it lacked offensive capabilities, but its defensive specifications were exceptional.
A mere hammer strike, without physical enhancement, wouldn't leave a scratch. Even if it fell into magma, it could endure until Verden intervened.
And so, four days passed.
"Phew."
Drenched in sweat, Gharun quenched his thirst with liquor, then stepped outside the facility and into the fortress where Ugumar had fallen.
'Still sitting there, huh.'
As expected, Geradin remained perched at the outskirts. Since returning from the village after the Soul Tree's defeat, he had lingered quietly in the citadel.
"What are you doing."
"…"
No answer.
Gharun snorted and plopped down beside him.
When he offered the [Endless Flask], Geradin gulped the liquor down.
Gharun spoke.
"As you saw, the Soul Tree is dead. There's little left to threaten the dwarves."
"…"
"If we scour the collapsed fortress, we can rebuild some ascension mechanisms, or, with the Transcendent's power, leave immediately. One way or another, there's no reason to stay trapped underground anymore."
To leave the frigid depths, and bask in the sun.
"So I thought it over."
Geradin gazed at the ancient ruins.
"Certainly, the surface would be far more livable than the underground. The volcanic zone suits dwarves well, and the villagers would adapt quickly. I'd prefer to go above myself. But… would they welcome us?"
The Black Volcano bore the curse, and for over 200 years, rumor had spread: do not approach. Fear had lodged itself deeply in the dwarves' hearts.
Even Gharun's own disciples had cowered, clinging to tradition, hiding by the Waystone. No need for further explanation.
"The other dwarves' gazes toward us are obvious. Rather than acceptance, rejection awaits."
"Of course. Dwarves are selfish."
Gharun crossed his arms.
"But we can't survive forever in this damned underground. The village lasting this long is unnatural as it is. If we cling to it, we'll all die eventually."
"That's true…"
Geradin sighed deeply.
For days, he had worn a face filled with worry and hesitation, unable to judge what decision was right.
Gharun frowned.
'Geradin wasn't like this before…'
The young Geradin had pursued wealth, sought unearned income, unlike other dwarves.
He had skillful hands and talent, but preferred comfortable sleep over nights of grueling creation.
For the record, his participation in the Black Volcano's Second Expedition had been spurred largely by the clan chief's promise of immense payment.
But now, he was different.
Now, he poured all his focus into a small dwarven village of barely 200 souls. Perhaps he cherished them more than his own life.
At 289 years of age, after bitter experiences, Geradin had changed.
Suddenly, words from Arkul, clan chief of the Red Volcano in those days, resurfaced.
───"Hammer of Integrity, Gharun. I acknowledge your achievements. Worthy of being sung as legend. Truly, the model dwarf. But that's why… you'll never understand me. You've never been a clan chief."
True enough.
Gharun knew nothing of the responsibility of leading hundreds, thousands of dwarves. He had lived as he pleased, acted by his own standards.
That was who he was.
'But this time… should I be different?'
For the first time, the Hammer of Integrity hesitated, pondering a new path.
Then he rubbed his face roughly with his thick hand, and sprang up.
"Geradin."
"Mm?"
"What do you think of the dwarves in the village. Are their hands worth anything?"
"Well, they're dwarves, so they can manage the basics. I taught them a little, too. But why are you asking that all of a sudden?"
"Then gather them all here. I'll hire them as labor for the facility. The village chief can't feed them forever. They need to learn, to stand on their own."
Geradin blinked at the sudden proposal.
"Wait, Gharun. They've never handled facilities before."
"Skill doesn't matter. It'll be hard, but anyone with grit can do it. The tasks will be simple and repetitive. I'll even teach them myself. Damn it, I'll take responsibility."
Gharun muttered lowly, turning his back.
"Where are you going?"
"To negotiate payment."
***
Verden sank into thought.
'The Resister…'
Signs of an unknown entity intervening in the Black Volcano had been confirmed.
Even though information was tightly concealed, the fact that Golden Anvil revered it as an object of worship meant it was no ordinary being.
Three hundred years was an unimaginably long time ago. Perhaps it was a matter unworthy of concern—but no, it likely wasn't.
Gluttony.
Ark.
The Glory of the Dead.
The secretive groups Verden had encountered, wielding immense power, had not been active for a mere ten or twenty years, but for centuries.
Perhaps the one called the Resister also belonged to some organization that concealed itself from the world. The possibility was high.
That was the intuition he felt.
Of course, without concrete information, there was no need for excessive vigilance, but at the same time, it would be wise to keep it in mind.
Just as Verden reached that judgment and settled on a conclusion inwardly—
"Hey."
Gharun stepped into the collapsed building.
Beyond the eyes of the aged yet vigorous dwarf, a firm resolve could be seen.
Verden spoke first.
"Here to settle the compensation?"
"Hmph, that damned insight of yours… yes, you're right. I came to discuss payment. In fact, it's essentially a unilateral demand, but if you don't accept it, I'll drop the whole business of forging. So you'd better agree."
He suddenly issued a threat.
Verden, who had already resolved to accept a fair price, tilted his chin.
"Speak first, then I'll answer."
"Protection is what I need."
Gharun twitched his beard.
"These damned dwarves, born and raised in this abyss, will be shunned no matter which clan they go to. Even if persuaded, selfish dwarves will call them cursed, will avoid them, even despise them. At worst, they might kill them."
"So."
"As a Transcendent, you must have your own domain. Or perhaps preparing one… take the dwarves there, give them a place to live. Do not rule us, but respect us as an independent people, and protect us. That is the only payment I ask of you."
It was a selfless demand.
Was it merely sympathy, or because of his brother, or because he had witnessed Golden Anvil, who destroyed a clan for the sake of his mission and creation?
'Most likely, all of the above.'
What mattered now was that the Hammer of Integrity was thinking of, and looking toward, dwarves other than himself.
"Resettlement of the dwarf village. That plan includes you as well, Gharun, does it not?"
"My brother is already 289 years old. Who knows when he'll lose his wits. He doesn't inspire confidence. So I'll come along. Naturally, Linus is included too. I haven't asked him, but if his master goes, the disciple won't have a choice but to follow."
Poor Linus had no say in the matter.
Verden didn't hesitate.
"For a new home for dwarves, a mine would be the most suitable."
"…!"
"As it happens, a large-scale mine is just about to fall into my hands. If that will do, I'll provide it. As neighbors, as partners."
Though Verden did not yet hold ownership of the vast mine, he spoke confidently.
He trusted Adrian and Isabella, who were active in that unclaimed land.
"Bold, indeed."
Gharun extended his arm.
It was a hand stained with sweat and soot. Verden clasped it willingly.
***
Inspection and restoration of the facility were complete.
Once the foreign matter had been cleared and the metal thoroughly oiled, when the glow of mana lamps touched it, it shone so brilliantly it reflected objects.
Moreover, at Gharun and Linus's request, Verden had used
Where once a wall had blocked the way, a vast and deep pit now yawned, entirely shielded by a magic circle drawn by Verden.
Half-filled with a massive quantity of black rock fragments. All of which would soon melt, becoming magma itself.
"We're ready, my lord."
After a final check, Linus stepped back and signaled.
Verden activated his mana circuits.
"Then let's begin."
At once, mana erupted from within him, surging uncontrollably. Manifest mana flared like azure fire, violently writhing.
───!
And when he opened the infinite arcane and fully revealed the stature of a Transcendent, the facility began to tremble.
As his mana pulsed twice, pressure radiated outward, oppressively filling the air.
"Guh."
Linus fainted.
Catching his disciple by the collar, lowering him gently, Gharun wiped cold sweat.
"A fierce aura indeed."
[Mana, supreme.]
Alpha, in contrast, was unshaken.
For it was powered by the mana of the Transcendent himself, outside its influence.
Verden brought his hands together.
A small flame, concentrated at a single point, flickered with a fierce golden light.
The air temperature spiked under its aftershocks.
'But this alone is not enough.'
What Gharun demanded was maximum firepower.
This level of heat would not satisfy him. One attribute alone was insufficient.
Bzzzzzt!
The instantaneous temperature of the lightning attribute surpassed fire. Forcing lightning into a flame of dense fire brought a jarring backlash.
He crushed it down.
The immense pressure forced fire and lightning to fuse, and sparks flickered constantly across the form, melting patches of ground struck.
At last, Verden hurled the orb of flame-lightning with all his strength, spreading his mana to release all restraints, unleashing its full power.
Maximum output.
KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA!
The magical wave spread outward.
Blue lightning and golden flame entwined, spawning disaster. Everything within the pit melted down.
The heat was so intense it even impacted the walls, protected by the highest-grade magic circle.
Ssshhhhhhhhh—
Several metal pillars embedded in the pit glowed red-hot.
Heat traveled.
Connected structures began to groan.
Roughly, violently.
Light gleamed in Gharun's eyes.
"Truly phenomenal firepower… even Caloran metal pillars, superior to the highest heat-resistant alloys, are strained to their limit. Good… yes, this is what a Transcendent should be capable of!"
"Ugh!"
Overcome with excitement, Gharun immediately roused Linus and sent him outside.
Soon, Linus returned, bringing all the dwarves of the underground village. Geradin among them.
Gharun shouted.
"From this moment, you will operate the facilities left by our ancestors! Do as I taught you, and you'll do fine. Compared to your lives till now, this will be no hardship. When all is done, we'll leave the underground for the surface. No more freezing, no more hunger!"
"Th-then! W-will you give us sweets too?!"
"Yes, as much as you want!"
"Will there be meat as well!"
"You'll eat your fill from now on!"
The young dwarf, Marmal, cheered, and the others joined in.
Their hands itched.
Their hearts pounded.
Facing a heat like none they had ever known, dwarven instinct answered.
"Geradin!"
"I hear you, brother!"
At the signal, Geradin hefted the Golden Anvil and Golden Hammer, once part of the Soul Tree's core, and threw them into a furnace.
The legacy of Ugumar slowly melted, reborn within a metal mold.
"…Be the foundation stone and watch, Ugumar. We'll show you what true dwarves are."
Gharun inhaled deeply.
Raising the massive hammer, Markuab, he roared.
"From this moment, creation begins!!"
The forging of Verden's staff had begun.
***
The land of the Black Volcano.
In the once-parched yellow sky, numerous massive airships appeared.
The banners of the Arnak Empire fluttered.
Swordmaster Fribalt, who had been pursuing the intruders into the fortress with only his own airship, lifted his head quietly while seated on cold black rock.
"You're late."
"Late? Hardly."
From the sky descended a woman, Merisa, glaring sharply at Fribalt.
"You sent an urgent request for aid, so I rushed here. Why are you moving alone instead of waiting at Red Volcano?"
───BOOM!!
Following her came a hulking old man, Grizzwold, landing with a crash that shattered the ground, laughing heartily.
"Gu-hahaha! If he stayed put just because someone told him to, he wouldn't be a Swordmaster."
"Well, that's true."
The two faced Fribalt.
"So, what traces did the intruders leave?"
Lord of House Rivandale—Swordmaster, Fribalt.
Lord of the Imperial Magic Ministry—Sorcerer, Merisa Fesfield.
Lord of Legion (Region)—the Deviant, Grizzwold.
Half of the Empire's six Lords had gathered in the volcanic zone.
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