That was how Cassius operated. Leveraging his foreknowledge, he danced nimbly back and forth between the gods every time, leaving the deities gnashing their teeth in frustration, yet utterly powerless against him.
In the end, Dumathoin lowered His gaze and let out a long, slow sigh.
"Alas—"
A rare sound broke from the lips of this ever-silent deity—a voice deep and mournful, like a bleak autumn wind, or the final elegy of the shield dwarves...
Dumathoin raised the Lava Hammer in His hand, pointing it toward the scarred earth behind Him where magma churned. An ochre glow spread out like a surging tide, unleashing the full authority of the earth.
*Rumble—!*
With a dull roar, the rock flowed like liquid. The colossal stone pillars that had thrust from the earth rapidly sank back down, and bottomless chasms gradually sealed shut. The crystals, gems, iron, copper, gold, silver, and mithral adorning the stone dwarf melted back into the strata, coursing along mineral veins deep into the ground to return to their rightful places...
These buried treasures obeyed Dumathoin's command with meticulous devotion, like the most loyal soldiers.
"So this is divine authority. Truly enviable..."
Perched atop a nearby hill, Cassius paused to admire the magnificent sight of the earth rolling in waves, looking as though the fierce battle that had just transpired had nothing to do with him.
To alter the environment on such a massive scale was something the red dragon could only achieve within his Imperial Domain—and even then, his control lacked Dumathoin's meticulous finesse.
Next, Dumathoin touched the Lava Hammer to the ground and made a gesture. In an instant, accompanied by a biting wind, a sorrowful dirge echoed across hundreds of li.
As though hearing the call of their guardian god, the corpses of the fallen shield dwarves blanketing the ground began to emit a pale yellow glow. Slowly, their bodies dissolved into the earth, sinking into the depths to nourish the soil.
Dumathoin's Rest...
Dwarves were born from the mountains and laid to rest beneath the strata; it was not a bad end after all.
At last, Dumathoin raised His head, His eyes of silver fire boring deep into the red dragon. He gave one final sigh, then transformed into a streak of brilliant yellow light that shot into the clouds.
Dumathoin had departed.
In truth, even if the Silent Keeper had not withdrawn of His own accord, He could not have lingered much longer on the Material Plane. Gruumsh had allied with demonic legions from the Abyss and was preparing to assault His divine realm.
Weighing His options, Dumathoin chose a truce with Cassius to concentrate on the war in the Outer Planes. After all, the shield dwarves of the Material Plane had not been wiped out; the prince had already led their people to establish a new home.
Moreover, the battle between Cassius and Dumathoin had largely been a test of each other's strength. While seemingly apocalyptic, neither side had played their true trump cards.
The hundred-meter-tall stone dwarf remained behind. Like a living creature, it wrapped its arms around its knees and slowly curled up, settling into a rounded hill until all movement ceased.
King Ed's broken body was buried deep within that hill, finding its final rest there at last.
The elegy of the shield dwarves had finally drawn to a close. The heavy smoke and fiery clouds gradually dispersed, allowing the midday sun to pierce the overcast sky and bathe the land below.
Under the fervent gazes of countless imperial soldiers—eyes burning hot enough to melt steel—the red dragon beat his wings and took to the skies, his massive form bathed in a golden halo of sunlight.
"Long live Cassius!"
"Long live the Great Red Dragon!"
"A god! Even a god must bow before His Majesty's might and submit to the great Cinder Empire!"
"Praise the Great Red Dragon! To protect us, He vanquished a god!"
Tears welled in the soldiers' eyes. Surges of excitement and gratitude swelled in their chests, coursing through every vein.
These imperial officers and soldiers had no idea that Cassius and Dumathoin had agreed to a non-aggression truce.
In their eyes, the Emperor had thrashed Dumathoin so thoroughly that the deity had been forced to yield and flee the Material Plane.
Cassius, however, never turned down such "flattering rumors." For a red dragon harboring divine ambitions, anything that magnified his prestige was more than welcome.
"Hahaha! That dwarf god even cleaned up the battlefield for us! That's the first time I've ever seen a god playing undertaker!" an imperial soldier roared with laughter.
"Right? Gods aren't all that much—they can't hold a candle to His Majesty!"
"How can we ever repay this grace?" Others struck up the Hymn of Cassius once more, their voices trembling with boundless fervor, even improvising new lyrics celebrating his fearless duel against a deity.
High above in the distance, Cassius swept his wings, gazing down upon post-battle Evindeldan with pale-gold eyes. Then he raised his head and unleashed a world-shaking roar.
*Roaaar—!*
In an instant, hundreds of wyverns threw back their heads, craning their necks to screech in chorus, answering their master from afar.
*Awooo—!*
Among the flock, the largest wyvern of them all, their leader Smaug, gave the most spirited effort. Screeching until his throat was nearly raw, his thunderous cry cracked the adjacent rock faces, sending loose pebbles clattering down.
The falling pebbles pelted into a corner of the streets, startling a dwarf concealed in the shadows so badly he nearly cried out.
The dwarf crouched in the alleyway, clad in rags, his exposed skin scarred with blackened burns from the war.
His name was Jarr Brick, a battle-hardened dwarven fighter who had been fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with his comrades upon the ramparts until imperial artillery blasted him away, nearly costing him his life.
Jarr had always fancied himself a warrior of the battlefield who never feared death, and he had resolutely chosen to remain behind in Evindeldan.
Yet now, he wavered.
Shivering violently, his face deathly pale and his eyes filled with despair, a single thought echoed incessantly in his mind: *Lord Dumathoin has forsaken us... Our ancestor, He... He has abandoned us...*
Far more terrible than physical death was the collapse of faith, and that was precisely what Jarr was undergoing.
In the past, he had believed with absolute certainty that upon death he would ascend to the divine realm of the dwarven pantheon to fight alongside his ancestors.
Yet now, having watched with his own eyes as Dumathoin battled that terrifying red dragon and ultimately departed—plunging from the dawn of hope straight into bottomless despair—the jarring plunge from heaven to hell left Jarr questioning everything...
Could he truly still enter the divine realm?
Was he supposed to die here in Evindeldan, a sacrifice for a fallen kingdom, throwing away the remaining two centuries of his life?
Perhaps... just perhaps...
That hobgoblin general had once promised generous treatment if they surrendered.
Beads of sweat the size of beans rolled down his forehead. The simple, age-old morality passed down through generations of dwarves clashed violently with his primal desire to survive at all costs, leaving Jarr torn.
Yet when Jarr cautiously raised his head and gazed toward the incomparably massive red dragon in the distance, his jaw dropped, stunned once again.
What a dragon that was!
Bathed in sunlight, the Cinder Emperor was cloaked in a pale golden aura, radiating an air of majestic, sacred authority. Even a true god in the flesh could hardly look grander than this.
"Long live His Majesty Cassius!"
"Total victory!"
"Praise the Great Red Dragon!"
The cheers of the imperial troops echoed across the skies and reverberated throughout Evindeldan, setting the stone walls trembling.
Whether influenced by that fanatical atmosphere or not, as Jarr stared at the colossal, awe-inspiring figure—the very architect of the slaughter of countless dwarven kin—a strange sense of veneration sprouted in his chest...
*To submit to an emperor like this... perhaps it wouldn't be a disgrace...*
The thought of surrender took root, and Jarr felt his knees go weak beneath him.
At last, amid the repeated roars of wyverns and the tsunami of cheers from the imperial soldiers, the dwarf's final defense collapsed.
He tore a strip of fabric from his soiled clothes, held it high as a white flag, and yelled before a hail of bullets could turn him into a sieve: "I surrender! I surrender! I'm willing to submit to the Empire!"
"Cease fire!"
"Splendid! Take him to General Dror!"
Under an officer's barked orders, rifle-bearing imperial soldiers swarmed forward and escorted Jarr away.
And just like that, the first dwarf to surrender to the Empire had stepped forward.
...
With a heavy thud, Cassius landed atop the dwarven palace. Countless imperial officers and soldiers looked up, their eyes burning with fervor.
"Your Majesty!"
"Emperor Cassius!"
One after another, knees struck the ground. Imperial soldiers knelt in droves, reverently kissing the earth once overshadowed by their emperor's wings.
Dror, Misha, Smaug, and other high-ranking imperial figures rushed over upon hearing the news.
"Hail, Your Majesty (Master). May the Empire prosper for eternity."
Dror and Misha quickly dropped to one knee, pressing their hands to their chests, their composed voices trembling with suppressed excitement.
"Master (Draconic)..."
Smaug landed atop the palace as well, lowering his head until his forehead pressed tightly to the stone. Flattening his body as low as he could go, his tail wagged incessantly behind him.
Cassius tapped the stonework beneath his claws, silently marveling at the durability of dwarven craftsmanship. Then, looking around, he said mildly, "You all did well."
Misha hurried to say, "Master, had you not arrived, we likely would have perished beneath falling stone."
Dror seized the opportunity to flatter shamelessly, his face brimming with obsequiousness. "Indeed, Your Majesty! You even defeated a god this time! As expected, your power surpasses the deities themselves. Your stature is as grand as a mountain, your wings blanket the skies, and all creation trembles before you..."
Cassius waved a claw in resignation. "Enough. I did not come here to listen to your sycophancy."
Dror gave an awkward laugh. "Of course, Your Majesty. You are as modest as ever. Rise, all of you."
In truth, Cassius had merely exploited the broader strategic situation to force the retreat of an incomplete avatar of Dumathoin; it could hardly be called defeating a god.
"Master, I... I..." Smaug wanted to follow suit and heap praises on his master, only to realize his chance had slipped away. Full of regret, he scratched anxiously at the stone with his claws.
"This is no place to talk. Follow me."
With a thought from Cassius, a flaming portal flared to life before him, leading straight to the vault near Evindeldan—the Lonely Mountain Treasury.
Misha, Dror, and Smaug hurried after him into a vast cavern. The space was hollow and cavernous, with only the occasional stray gold coin or gemstone scattered across the floor.
Looking around, Misha frowned. "Master, is this... the legendary Lonely Mountain Treasury? Damn it, those dwarves actually emptied it beforehand!"
Cassius replied flatly, "You guessed correctly. This is the Lonely Mountain Treasury, and it has indeed been emptied."
Grinding his teeth, Dror fumed, "That was all imperial wealth! How many tanks could that have built?!"
Smaug spat angrily, spraying flecks of spittle. "Shameless dwarves! Greedy dwarves! Every last one of them should be slaughtered!"
He seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that they were the invaders, and that all that wealth was the product of generations of dwarven labor.
Cassius tapped the tip of his claw against the stone floor. "For now, your primary objective is to fully secure Evindeldan and use it as a staging ground to push north, completely purging the orc tribes."
Dror nodded eagerly, thumping his chest with a laugh. "Those orcs were already defeated by the dwarves, and the dwarves fell to us. With the army at my disposal, wiping out every last orc on the Ugo Steppe will be child's play."
Misha shook her head and cautioned, "General Dror, overconfidence would be unwise."
Cassius gave a slight nod and instructed the girl, "Misha, show Dror the true state of the orcs. That way... he will understand why I was so eager to claim Evindeldan."
"Yes, Master."
Misha snapped her fingers. Ambient fire-elemental particles gathered together, gradually coalescing into an intricate magical illusion.
Within the projection lay hills and plains carpeted densely in mushrooms.
Even as a hobgoblin, Dror felt his scalp tingle at the sight, stammering, "What... what in the world is that...?"
"Orc spores. They sprout like mushrooms, and the subterranean eggs beneath them hatch new orcs," Cassius answered.
Misha furrowed her brows. "If left unchecked, these orcs will trigger a cataclysm capable of plunging the entire north into chaos."
Dror dared not take the matter lightly any longer. Shedding his contempt for the orcs, he dropped back onto one knee. "Your Majesty, I will spare no effort to eradicate these wretched... orcs."
Cassius exhaled a puff of sulfurous white smoke, dispersing the magical projection. "Very well. The Empire will reinforce you with another forty thousand elite troops, massive stockpiles of munitions, and mobilize five hundred thousand Starfallen to fully assist you in exterminating the orcs."
Dror bowed low. "My thanks to Your Majesty."
Next, Cassius turned his head toward Smaug, wearing an amused, knowing smile. "The wyverns have never found a suitable roost in North Aethel. From this day forward, however, Blackrock Mountain is your lair."
Smaug's eyes lit up.
In truth, Cassius had long planned to settle the hundreds of wyverns that had flown south here at Blackrock Mountain, turning it into a second Wyvern Valley.
Pointing to the cavern's rock walls, Cassius added, "And this place, once the dwarves' Lonely Mountain Treasury, shall be your palace from now on. In recognition of your meritorious service in this campaign, I bestow upon you a resounding title. How about... King Under the Mountain?" The red dragon regarded the wyvern with a half-smile.
"Thank you, Master..." Smaug's eyes danced with ecstasy. His tail wagged furiously, drool practically dripping from the corners of his mouth.
And so, after a fierce war that claimed tens of thousands of casualties, Cassius's wicked sense of humor was thoroughly satisfied.
Chapter 656