Following the conclusion of this earth-shattering "battle of gods," the imperial elites led by Dror swiftly garrisoned Evindeldan, seizing the fruits of millennia of dwarven wisdom and toil.
Word that the Cinder Empire had brazenly struck and crushed the Mountain Kingdom with lightning speed once again sent shockwaves across the Feanso Continent. People were left dumbfounded, seized by mounting dread.
Evindeldan, unconquered for thousands of years and the shared homeland of the shield dwarves, had fallen so easily into the clutches of the evil dragon!
The surrounding factions trembled, tension dialed to its absolute limit. Several nations were already floating proposals for a military alliance, hoping to band together for warmth against these "barbarians" from the frigid wastes.
After moving smoothly into Evindeldan, imperial patrols swept the city in an exhaustive search, ferreting out over a hundred dwarves hiding within. Half died resisting fiercely, while the rest pledged fealty to the Empire.
Regrettably, the will of Ed, the "Lord of the Mountain," had proved exceptionally resolute. In a display of burning his bridges, he had smashed the city's intricate machinery before the fighting even began and emptied the Lonely Mountain Treasury in advance, leaving Dror fuming with rage.
To their pleasant surprise, however, the descent of Dumathoin—who possessed the divine portfolio of "Earth's Secret"—had seeded the surrounding mountains with rich veins of gold, silver, copper, and gemstones. Surveys by technicians revealed that the mineral reserves within a hundred-li radius rivaled those of all Anzeta.
In just a few days, Evindeldan, which had bordered on becoming a ghost town, buzzed with activity.
Lured by news of the mineral deposits, mine owners and merchants across the Empire swarmed in like piranhas catching the scent of blood. Investments and engineering projects sprang up in endless succession.
Someone even contracted three hundred hardworking fire dwarf miners—slave laborers, more accurately—from a colony on the Elemental Plane of Fire, seeking to secure development rights to the mining grounds.
Meanwhile, in line with the Empire's original plan, additional imperial troops were dispatched to join Dror's tens of thousands of elite soldiers. Hundreds of thousands of players also answered muster quests and flocked to the region upon hearing the news.
Under Smaug's summons, over five hundred wyverns from North Aethel flew toward Evindeldan in dense, blotting flocks, claiming the cavernous mine shafts as their natural nesting grounds.
Smaug, accompanied by his thirty-two mates, strutted into the Lonely Mountain Treasury to become a true "King Under the Mountain"—even if the Lonely Mountain stood hollow for now, lacking the mountains of gold and seas of silver.
It was said that nearby miners often heard exhilarating roars of wyverns echoing from the Lonely Mountain Treasury—evidence that Lord Smaug was toiling day and night, laboring relentlessly to expand the Empire's draconic brood.
At Cassius's command, Evindeldan was rechristened the "City of Wyverns." Dwarven statues along the Path of Glory were remodeled by defecting dwarven artisans into likenesses of Cassius and various dragonblood nobles.
In the near future, Evindeldan—or rather, the City of Wyverns—would serve as a military stronghold ensuring imperial dominion over northeastern Feanso, as well as a paradise for prospectors, merchants, and lesser dragons.
For Cassius at this moment, however, the most pressing task was eliminating the latent peril lurking in the north: the orcs.
Cassius knew all too well how terrifying those spore greenskins were. Compared to their nomadic barbarian precursors, the current orcs functioned more like a biological pathogen. It was fair to say that so long as the orcs remained, the north would know no peace.
...
"Clang!"
"Bang goes the hammer, deep runs the shaft!"
"Clang! Clang, clang!"
The crisp, rhythmic ring of hammers striking stone carried through the mountains, echoing with the spirited song of dwarves:
"Deep in the mountain gleams a bright glow,
Treasures await in the shadows below!
Hammers ring out, pickaxes swing,
Digging is merry as the songs that we sing!
Fear not the hardship, heed not the strain,
Fill up the carts with gold and rich gain!"
The dwarves' impassioned voices lent vibrant energy to this already glowing, heat-scorched earth, bringing an involuntary smile beneath Zayn's bearded lips.
The mining mountain was riddled with shafts carved out by dwarves, timbered platforms, and scaffolding, surrounded by rudimentary stone houses that formed the embryo of a city.
Watching the dwarves toil in the sweat of their brows, Zayn felt a swell of emotion. Unbidden, images of that majestic fortress, his homeland of Evindeldan, surfaced in his mind.
*Back then, our ancestors must have carved out our home and built Evindeldan step by step just like this,* he mused.
A dwarven woman noticed the visiting prince and beamed with joy, waving her pickaxe with a grin. "Prince Zayn, you've come too!"
Zayn nodded. "I had some free time, so I came to check on you all. How do you find working here?"
The dwarf woman chuckled cheerfully. "Wonderful! As expected of the haven Lord Titus provided—this place is truly a treasure trove! There's gleaming gold and gemstones everywhere; we can hardly dig fast enough!"
She wiped the sweat clinging to her beard, hesitated for a moment, and said haltingly, "It's just... this place is a bit too hot. Over the past few days, quite a few folk have suffered heatstroke. Kent next door nearly baked to death."
Zayn furrowed his brows and said in a low voice, "I understand. I'll speak to Lord Titus about this right away and purchase some heat-resistance potions from him."
The dwarven woman nodded. "Thank you, Your Highness. It's just... many of us want to know... when can we go back to Blackrock Mountain?"
At those words, the surrounding dwarves crowded closer, chiming in all at once.
They had lived in this volcanic secret realm for over a month, and many dwarves could no longer endure the stifling, blistering conditions.
"Yes, Your Majesty, when can we go home?"
"How long have we even been here?"
"Ah, my husband, Old Cord, is a lazy glutton. Without me around, he might starve to death!"
Feeling the earnest gazes of his people, Zayn let out a heavy sigh and replied gravely, "As I have said before, Evindeldan faces grave peril. Until the war ends, we must remain here. Put Blackrock Mountain out of your minds for now. Until fresh word arrives, we must treat this volcanic land as our new home."
Hearing this, the dwarves hung their heads with sighs of disappointment.
Zayn turned away resolutely, though sorrow and longing flickered in his own eyes. As a dwarven prince raised in Blackrock Mountain, how could he not yearn for his homeland?
For the past month, that majestic fortress had haunted his dreams night after night, leaving him tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
Yet Zayn knew a far greater duty rested upon his shoulders: preserving the Mountain Kingdom and carrying forward the glorious civilization of the shield dwarves.
"Your Highness! Prince Zayn! Lord Titus has arrived to see you! He says there is an urgent matter to report!" a dwarven messenger shouted, waving from a distance.
Zayn's heart tightened instantly. A grim premonition flared within him. Beads of sweat rolled down his cheeks, only to evaporate into vapor in the blistering heat.
*Urgent news... could it be... Evindeldan has fallen?*
*No, impossible.* Zayn shook his head, rejecting the terrifying thought.
As long as his father, Ed the "Lord of the Mountain," was there, no matter how powerful the evil dragon was, Evindeldan could never be taken in a matter of mere days.
Zayn knew full well how mighty his father was. Even without the Hammer of Bedrock, the dwarven king still commanded the power of the mountains—enough to strike dread into any invader.
Yet despite his confidence in Ed, panic gnawed at Zayn's heart.
Steeling himself, Zayn quickened his stride and asked the panting messenger, "Where is Lord Titus?"
Sprinting across a demiplane brimming with fire elementals was no easy feat. Dripping with sweat, the messenger wheezed, "Y-Your Highness, Lord Titus... is atop Mount Lysander."
"Understood. I have business with him anyway, so this saves you another trip," Zayn replied.
Mount Lysander was named after the fourth king of the Mountain Kingdom, the dwarven hero Lysander, lying two li to the north.
Zayn possessed far greater stamina and strength than the messenger. Moving at a swift pace, he soon reached the summit of Mount Lysander, where a familiar figure greeted his eyes.
Gleaming golden scales, expansive wings, a dragon's head both majestic and wise, eyes like deep pools of molten gold, and more than a dozen facial whiskers drifting gently on the air...
It was Titus, the "Wings of Dawn"—the closest and staunchest ally of the shield dwarves today.
At this moment, however, the ancient gold dragon wore a somber expression, steeped in grief.
"Zayn, you are here," Titus said, his voice low and raspy, like a heavy sigh.
The young dwarven prince's heart sank, his ominous feeling deepening. He hurried forward and asked anxiously, "Lord Titus, what is it? What has happened?"
In response to the dwarf's query, the gold dragon's pale-gold eyes mirrored an irrepressible surge of guilt and self-reproach. In a solemn voice, he said, "I am deeply sorry, Zayn. Evindeldan... has fallen."
"What?!"
Zayn's pupils constricted violently. His mouth fell open, his mind reeling as the words struck like a bolt from the blue.
Though the dwarven prince had rehearsed this day countless times in his mind, he had never imagined it would come so swiftly. He shook his head repeatedly, murmuring in disbelief, "H-How... how could it happen so fast?!"
Suddenly, as if struck by a thought, Zayn asked in desperate haste, "Then what of my father, Ed? Did he... he didn't..."
His voice hitched, choking on tears before he could finish.
Titus sighed once more, speaking with utter solemnity: "Ed has fallen."
Zayn's legs trembled before buckling beneath him. Collapsing limply to the ground, tears spilled from his eyes as that towering silhouette rose uncontrollably in his mind.
No matter the time or place, before his father, Zayn had always remained a frail child.
He gripped the Hammer of Bedrock, stammering incoherently, "Father... I killed him... My cowardice made him..."
"No, it is not your fault, Prince Zayn. The guilt lies entirely with those brutal invaders."
The gold dragon lifted his head, his majestic visage bathed in fiery radiance, his pool-like golden eyes brimming with fondness and reverence.
"As for your father, he was a true hero, a cherished friend I shall never forget. He perished with immense honor upon the battlefield, defending against invasion. History will forever remember his name: Ed Klein, King of the Shield Dwarves, Lord of the Mountain, a champion who gave his life resisting the tyranny of the evil dragon."
Hearing this, Zayn wiped the tears from his face, gripped the Hammer of Bedrock tight, and climbed to his feet. "Lord Titus, I will take up his mantle. I will overthrow the evil dragon's tyranny and reclaim Evindeldan."
"It brings me great solace to hear you say that. I am certain King Ed would be proud of you as well. But now is not the time. The evil dragon and his minions are too formidable; our strength... is not yet enough," the ancient gold dragon said.
Zayn gazed into the distance. "I know, Lord Titus. But one day, justice will triumph over evil, and light will dispel the darkness, won't it?"
"Indeed."
Titus offered a warm, gentle smile, turning his wise golden eyes upon the dwarven prince. "Prince Zayn, before his passing, King Ed entrusted an item to me, instructing me to deliver it to you when the time was right."
The ancient gold dragon extended a massive claw and drew an object from the void—a crown forged of pure gold, studded with gemstones of myriad hues, exuding the rich, imposing gravity unique to dwarven craftsmanship.
"This is..."
Zayn's eyes widened, and he instantly recognized what it was.
The Crown of the Mountains. Only a king who had earned the recognition of the entire shield dwarf race could wear this crown and be anointed the true Lord of the Mountain.
Titus held the crown, saying solemnly, "Heavy is the head that wears the crown. I believe that now... you are worthy to bear it."
Zayn's heart surged. He looked toward his dwarven subjects toiling below, toward the burgeoning city under construction, and toward that towering figure enshrined in his memory.
He knew that at this very moment, he had to take up the mantle of the Lord of the Mountain and guide his people toward a glorious tomorrow.
"Lord of the Mountain!"
"Long live King Zayn!"
Cries resounded from beneath the mountain. Zayn turned in astonishment to see elderly, infirm, and wounded dwarves cheering through their tears, shouting encouragement to their prince.
Titus had amplified their voices, carrying the conversation to every corner of the volcanic secret realm.
Every dwarf now knew that Ed was dead, and that Prince Zayn would shoulder the duty of the Lord of the Mountain as their new king.
Titus chuckled. "See? There is no need to worry, young king. You have already won the hearts of your subjects."
Hearing their encouragement, warmth flooded Zayn's chest, and his sense of duty hardened into resolve.
Zayn stepped forward with firm strides and bowed his head.
Titus gently placed the crown upon his brow, his voice soft: "Congratulations, Prince Zayn. No, I should call you King Zayn now."
"Lord Titus, thank you for your trust. I swear—I will lead the shield dwarves into a bright future. One day, I will reclaim Evindeldan and avenge my father." Zayn lifted his head, his words ringing like struck iron.
This was a promise to his subjects, and a vow to himself.
His expression was ironclad with determination, his features already reflecting the air of the former Lord of the Mountain, Ed. The heavy burden of reviving the shield dwarves now rested squarely on his shoulders.
"King Zayn!"
"Lord of the Mountain, Zayn!"
"Reclaim Evindeldan! Restore dwarven glory!"
"Yes! We will avenge King Ed!"
The dwarves' cheers grew even more fervent as they waved their hammers and pickaxes. Though mourning Ed's demise, they spared no effort in rallying behind Zayn with their steadfast support.
Beside him, Titus watched the young king with quiet pride, clapping his claws together. The ancient gold dragon wore a nostalgic expression, tears streaming down his face as he murmured, "He looks so much like him... so very much like him..."
He looked every bit the contented old elder watching the son of an old friend come into his own.
One could only marvel that Cassius's acting had reached the pinnacle of perfection.
Chapter 657