A low rumble echoed through the chamber, something between amusement and satisfaction. "Good."
Arkanos turned to his knights. "We move."
The warriors fell in behind him without hesitation.
As he reached the previously closed entrance, it began to open, revealing the rain outside. He cast one final glance over his shoulder, gazing at Vorthan, who stood behind them.
Vorthan remained motionless, his crimson eyes gleaming. "Do not delay, Bloodbane."
Arkanos smirked. "I never do."
He paused at the threshold of the tomb, glancing back at the dragon.
"As a favor," he said, "could you tell me about the significance of my bloodline?"
The dragon let out a low huff, the sound echoing through the chamber like distant thunder. His eyes glowed faintly as he regarded Arkanos.
"Complete this request first," Vorthan said, his tone firm. "Then, and only then, shall I answer any questions you have."
Arkanos chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Of course, that was my intention from the start."
"I suppose this is farewell for now."
Vorthan said nothing, only watching in silence as Arkanos and his men disappeared beyond the tomb's entrance, the massive stone doors closing behind them.
….
....
The dwarves' pickaxes bit into the cave wall, each strike spraying chips of rock. Gram wiped sweat from his brow, glaring at the pulsing trinket in Dorin's hands. "Still think this thing's worth a damn?"
Dorin scowled. "Aye. Light's getting brighter. Mythril's close."
Thoran snorted, hefting his axe. "Or it's broken."
Soon, they struck something really hard. Chipping around its surface, they found it—a dry, dark purple-hued metal.
It was Mythril. Digging around, they found out it was a really large chunk.
"I'll admit it," Gram said, wiping sweat from his brow. "That trinket of yours worked better than I expected, Dorin."
Dorin chuckled, his gray-streaked beard shaking with laughter. "Told ye, lad. The Emperor's tools ain't for show. This here mythril'll make us legends back home."
Thoran, the stocky dwarf with the soot-streaked beard, adjusted the knobs on the pulsing blue device. "Aye, but let's not dawdle. We need to dig around it properly. Can't leave a scrap behind."
A low growl suddenly echoed through the cavern.
Gram, the youngest dwarf, paused mid-swing. "You hear that?"
Utilia snapped her head toward the sound, gauntleted fingers curling. "Knights—form up."
The five Berserk Knights—Daric, Grandul, Rurik, Jarek, and Keth—shifted into formation. Their war hammers glinted in the mana crystals' light. Daric cracked his neck. "How many, Captain?"
"Eight. Maybe ten."
Grandul smirked, hefting his hammer. "Small, but should be enough to get our blood pumping for a while."
The wolves slowly emerged from the darkness. Their silver fur shimmered, fangs dripping with saliva. Each stood as tall as a horse, muscles coiled like steel springs.
They suddenly charged forward.
The knights didn't flinch.
Daric swung first. His hammer smashed downward, crushing a wolf's skull mid-leap. Bone shattered, and the beast crumpled. Grandul spun his hammer in a wide arc, battering two wolves aside like ragdolls.
He swung his war hammer down with a massive BOOM. Another wolf was sent flying, its body crumpling against the cavern wall. But more wolves emerged, leaping from the darkness with lightning speed.
"Don't let them get close!" shouted Daric, swinging his own hammer at a wolf that was circling behind him. The blow landed with a massive crunch.
Rurik targeted their limbs. A wolf lunged—he sidestepped and shattered its hind leg with a precise strike, then its ribcage with one heavy smash. The creature exploded, its blood and organs flying all over the place.
Jarek swung his hammer's spike, piercing throats and ribs. Keth, the youngest knight, darted between the fray, his agility belying his size. He leaped over a wolf and swung his hammer into its spine, crushing it instantly.
Utilia watched, unmoving. Her role was to make sure no wolf broke through and attacked the dwarves where the others weren't close by.
Dorin barked at the dwarves, "Quit gawkin'! Dig!"
The miners sped up, chiseling around the mythril.
A wolf slipped past the line, charging toward the dwarves.
Utilia noticed it from the corner of her eye. She smiled, then moved. Her gauntlet seized the beast's throat, lifting it off its feet. With a sickening crunch, she crushed its windpipe and flung the carcass aside.
"Focus on your task," she said coldly.
The dwarves didn't need telling twice.
Daric laughed as he slammed a wolf into the cavern wall. "Boring! Where's the real fight?"
Rurik grunted, stomping on a pinned wolf's skull. "Quit complaining. We're supposed to protect the dwarves, not seek entertainment."
In minutes, the pack lay broken. Only three wolves remained, circling warily. Grandul twirled his hammer. "Enough talking you two, don't get distracted."
The knights advanced. Hammers fell. Fangs snapped at air. With a final strike—rib cages caved, skulls split. Then silence.
Dorin wiped mythril dust from his hands. "Done. Every scrap's secure."
Utilia nodded. "Good. Move out. Now."
The knights fell into step, hammers resting casually on their shoulders. Keth flicked wolf blood from his weapon. "That all they've got?"
Grandul clapped him on the back. "Save your whinin' for the mountain trolls. I heard some usually walk around these woods here at night."
As the group exited the cave, Utilia lingered. Her gauntlets still vibrated—a residual itch for a fight she didn't get.
Pathetic, she thought, staring at the wolf corpses. The Emperor's knights deserved better prey.
But the mission came first. Always.
She turned and followed her squad, the dwarves' chatter fading into the rasp of wind over stone.
....
....
Arkanos sat in his study, as he gazed at the ring he obtained submirged in a boil of mana replenishing potion.
Then, a system notification flashed before his eyes.
〘 ⋄ Territory Notification ⋄ 〙
〘 The noble factions have begun mobilizing their forces. Currently, only one of the five major armies has set forth. ⋄ 〙
〘 Commander: Jareth, Former commanded of the third division. ⋄ 〙
〘 Estimated Time of Arrival: four Days. ⋄ 〙
Arkanos exhaled slowly, a smirk tugging at his lips. He leaned back in his chair.
"Oh?" His voice carried a hint of amusement. "So, the first challenge has finally presented itself… I was starting to wonder when they would make their move."
He turned his gaze back to the ring, watching the ripples dance across the potion's surface. The nobles had finally bared their fangs.
Good.
He had been waiting for this.