Orson and Veijander stood at the lakeshore, watching the scene unfold.
In the distance, the female elf warrior cast a glance at Orson before turning to Aelon. “Your Highness, I suggest we kill them first to prevent any interference.”
Aelon remained indifferent. “They’re just insects. Ignore them. Focus on retrieving the Rune Sigil Stone immediately.”
At his command, the elven mages began chanting in unison.
“O spirits of the gentle and beautiful waters, grant us the will to carve through stone!”
B-Rank Water Magic: [Tides of the Sea]!
A surge of azure energy rushed toward the lake, slicing through the molten metal surface like a knife through cake.
Four massive fissures split open, revealing the lakebed—a silvery wasteland littered with remains of unknown creatures that even extreme heat couldn’t fully destroy.
B-Rank Light Magic: [Beacon of Light]!
Four columns of light shot down from the sky, piercing the depths of the lake.
Then, four Lord-Class NPCs leapt into the molten abyss, their bodies shrouded in radiant divine halos, shielding them from most of the searing heat.
On the shore, Aelon’s fingers rested on the hilt of his divine sword, his gaze cold and sharp.
There was no doubt—if Orson so much as stepped forward, he would be met with a storm of lethal attacks.
“We’re in luck! We’ve found something—”
A few minutes passed before a voice of excitement echoed from beneath the lake.
Aelon’s eyes gleamed with joy. “Bring it up at once!”
One of the elven warriors surfaced, holding a glowing purple gemstone in his hands.
However, as he examined it closely, his expression shifted. “Wait… this isn’t the one we’re looking for. This belongs to someone else!”
The stone was about the size of a palm, its surface radiating a soft violet glow, engraved with the collective wisdom of generations of legendary dwarven blacksmiths.
“Rune Sigil Stone—Modification?”
Orson arched an eyebrow. “Not Ashen? Interesting. This just got a lot more fun.”
“I found another one! Rune Sigil Stone—Inheritance!”
Another elven warrior surfaced, excitement in his voice.
Orson remained indifferent.
A Hell-Tier dungeon was never this easy.
Besides, he wasn’t worried about them taking the Rune Sigil Stones. As long as he disrupted the space mages before they could teleport away, they’d get nowhere.
Veijander’s voice trembled. “These are the Sigil Stones of the past kings… I can’t believe they’ve lasted all these years without being destroyed!”
On the shore, Aelon exchanged a brief glance with the female elf beside him.
The elf, Trina, frowned and shook her head. She was extremely wary.
Stepping in front of Aelon, she muttered, “Your Highness, we may have been deceived by the Ashen King.”
Orson smirked. “Interesting. This smells like a setup.”
A King-Level being wouldn’t just ‘lose’ something as important as his Sigil Stone.
For a ruler as powerful as the Ashen King, if a rare artifact like this was truly lost, he should have been the one retrieving it—not entrusting the task to outsiders.
There had to be something very, very wrong here.
“ARGH!!”
Suddenly, a horrific scream shattered the tense atmosphere.
Near the sacred tree, a severed corpse was flung into the air, its blood vaporizing upon impact—blooming into a grotesque crimson flower.
“A MONSTER! I KNEW IT! THERE’S A MONSTER IN THE LAKE!”
Veijander’s forehead was drenched in sweat.
Before anyone could react, another scream rang out—then another.
More explosions of blood mist erupted from the lake’s surface.
Orson narrowed his eyes.
Beneath the surging molten current, a colossal silver-gray figure stirred.
BOOM!
Before Aelon’s group could react, a massive silver pillar rose from the depths and slammed down with terrifying force.
One of the elven mages was struck—his body instantly reduced to pulp.
“That… is the sacred tree’s branch?”
Orson’s breath hitched.
The monstrous figure wielded a weapon made from the very tree that stood near the lake.
And its lethality was undeniable—it had obliterated a multi-million HP mage in seconds with zero hesitation.
“Protect His Highness!”
Trina shouted, drawing her Lightfeather Sword as the massive wooden club came crashing down.
With a sharp slash, she sent a flurry of sword energy toward the incoming strike.
But compared to the gargantuan tree limb, her attack was utterly insignificant.
The blow was only slightly deflected.
A nearby royal guard took the hit instead—his body sent flying over a kilometer away.
Fatal Strike! -6,000,000 HP!
Then, it stepped onto land.
A twenty-meter-tall humanoid abomination emerged from the lake.
Veijander let out a high-pitched scream like a terrified maiden.
Orson, however, just sucked in a sharp breath. “Holy shit.”
Its silver-gray body shimmered like molten mercury.
Its upper body was grotesquely muscular, with tree-trunk-thick arms—but upon closer inspection, the arms were actually countless fused limbs, twisting unnaturally.
It had no head—yet its torso was covered in distorted, grinning, and screaming dwarven faces.
Some howled in terror, some cackled with madness, and some bore a vacant, nightmarish stare.
System Notification:
[Quest Updated!]
[Background: The Grey Dwarves’ ancestor stole a fragment of the divine essence belonging to the Primordial Titan, Rune.]
[This granted their descendants extraordinary forging abilities—but also cursed their bloodline.]
[When the reign of the Grey Dwarven Kings comes to an end, they will pay for their sins in blood.]
[Quest Conditions: Defeat the Grey Dwarves’ Cursed Fiend or sacrifice 5,000 dwarven blacksmiths to temporarily halt the curse.]
“So that’s what happened.”
Orson immediately checked the monster’s stats.
[Grey Dwarves · Cursed Fiend: Level 80] [King-Level Lifeform] [HP: 1.1 billion / 1.5 billion] [Attack Power: Unknown] [Skills: Unknown]
Warning: Due to the passive skill [Cursed Demon’s Aura], any attacks from Dwarves or Grey Dwarves-class entities will be significantly weakened.
Orson’s eyes sharpened.
That bastard Odin hadn’t “lost” his Sigil Stone due to drunkenness.
It was pure greed.
He had tried to steal the Rune Sigil Stones of past kings—and in doing so, activated the curse, awakening the ancient Cursed Fiend.
The curse’s aura crippled the combat abilities of all dwarves.
Which meant Odin had been utterly powerless against this monster—and had abandoned his own Sigil Stone to save himself.
Now, he was trying to use Orson and Aelon to weaken the Cursed Fiend before swooping in for the kill.
“If my guess is right…”
Orson activated Celestial Sight, scanning the surrounding regions.
Sure enough.
From the ancient forest, thousands of War Treants began marching forward.
Dwarven warriors, mounted on war beasts, poured out from the mines, their battle cries shaking the sky.
Even the colossal War Tree had begun moving toward the battlefield.
Meanwhile, Aelon’s long silver hair whipped through the wind.
His eyes gleamed coldly as he whispered a sacred chant.
Illusory elf phantoms flickered into existence around him.
He drove his Elven King’s Sword into the earth, withdrawing an ancient wooden longbow.
His slender fingers pulled back the bowstring—
BOOM!
A rain of dazzling arrows tore through space with ear-shattering sonic booms, each shot piercing the Cursed Fiend’s torso-bound faces with deadly precision.
CRITICAL HIT! -60,000!
CRITICAL HIT! -60,000!
CRITICAL HIT! -60,000!
…