This was only the beginning.
Two measly Rune Sigil Stones were nowhere near enough.
Orson wasn’t just shaping a powerful blacksmith—he was forging a dwarven war god that would answer to him alone!
[You have submitted: Windtear Stone x20!]
[You have submitted: Dragon Scales x10!]
[You have submitted: …]
With two Rune Sigil Stones already fused, the wisdom and mastery of two generations of dwarven ancestors had been permanently etched into Veijander’s soul.
His forging skills now surpassed the other nine Dwarven Grandmasters, placing him just on the verge of godhood.
But compared to Ashen King Odin—who had forged countless war Artifacts, inherited three Rune Sigil Stones, and possessed natural prodigious talent—Veijander was still far behind.
Thankfully, with the Rune Sigil Stone of Restoration, repairing a low-tier Forbidden Magic accessory wasn’t too difficult. The repair success rate alone had reached 80%.
[You have spent 2,000 gold and various materials.]
[Item Repair Successful: God-Emperor’s Betrothal Token!]
The God-Emperor Earrings were restored to pristine condition, once again finding their way back to Orson’s possession.
Veijander’s voice was steady and firm. “My lord, we’re moving away from the battlefield. I believe I can finally help you win this war!”
Orson clicked his tongue at Veijander’s sudden shift in tone.
He preferred him when he was a sly little bastard, swindling players and hoarding their gold.
Raising his staff, Orson tapped it against Veijander’s thick skull and smirked.
“Rune Sigil Stones alone won’t cut it,” he said lazily. “That old fossil Odin—the forge he’s using, that’s an ancient divine relic, isn’t it?”
Veijander stiffened.
Orson continued, his grin widening.
“And those two twin-headed lizards he’s got locked up? Pretty sure Crimson Lizard King would enjoy snacking on them.”
His tone turned casual, as if he were discussing a shopping list.
“Oh, and let’s not forget the sacred saddle on their backs. That’s an Artifact too, isn’t it? Ashen King sure is generous.”
Veijander’s jaw tightened.
Was it just him, or did this whole thing suddenly feel like a full-scale bandit raid?
“You… you mean—”
“Obviously,” Orson interrupted, flashing an innocent smile. “We’re looting the place. He screwed with me? I’ll make him pay a hundredfold.”
As he spoke, the God-Emperor Earrings shimmered, releasing a powerful pulse of magic.
[Magic Eye – Activated!]
[Mirror of Folding – Activated!]
A vast dimensional gateway spread open before them, revealing a pathway leading deep into Ashen Lands.
The Crimson Lizard King let out an excited roar, wings twitching in anticipation.
There was nothing she loved more than pure, unbridled destruction.
The Descent into Ashen Lands
Orson and his forces pierced through space, descending straight into the deepest layers of the Ashen Lands mining pits.
Most of Odin’s army had already set out for the Grey Dwarven Kings’ Tomb, leaving only a fraction of their forces behind to guard the territory.
Still—
“Enemy attack!”
“Veijander, you filthy traitor!”
“You dare side with a human?! Have you no shame?!”
“Damn human scum, die where you stand!”
More than a thousand dwarven warriors poured from the mines, led by three Dwarven Grandmasters, their voices filled with rage and hatred.
Massive war hammers and long-handled battle axes gleamed under the dim light as furious dwarves charged toward Veijander, cursing his very existence.
“You have betrayed your ancestors, Veijander!”
A red-bearded dwarf roared, raising a magical crossbow crafted by dwarven master smiths, locking onto Veijander’s head.
But Veijander didn’t flinch.
He threw his battle axe.
The weapon spun rapidly, circling around the red-bearded dwarf like a vortex of death, before landing with an explosive impact.
Critical Strike – 2,000,000 Damage!
The dwarf’s skull was obliterated instantly, his body collapsing in silence—not even a scream escaped his lips.
Veijander exhaled, his voice turning icy cold.
“I have human blood in my veins too—the ‘filthy blood’ you all despise so much.”
A deadly silence filled the battlefield.
The Grey Dwarves froze, their faces etched with disbelief.
Veijander’s eyes gleamed with madness.
“Anyone else who wants to die, step forward. I’ll personally send your soul to the Dwarven Hall of Heroes.”
His battle lust boiled in his veins. He was no longer the timid outcast he had once been.
He was here to rule.
One of the Dwarven Grandmasters growled, face twisted with rage.
“You dare?! KILL HIM! CUT DOWN THIS TRAITOR!”
A surge of purple light burst forth as the Grandmaster activated a Berserk Field, causing the thousand-strong army of dwarves to enter a frenzied state.
Their eyes turned blood-red, and their stats soared as they fell into a violent battle rage.
Orson sighed, shaking his head.
“Not intimidating enough, huh?”
Clearly, Veijander’s fusion of only two Rune Sigil Stones wasn’t enough to strike fear into these stubborn little corgis.
Veijander felt Orson’s gaze shift, his hair standing on end.
No way.
No way in hell was he letting his master look down on him.
With a roar, Veijander threw himself into the fray, battle axe swinging wildly as he hacked through dwarven warriors like a reaper at harvest.
Blood splattered through the air, severed limbs rained onto the battlefield, and in mere seconds, the ground was drenched in red.
Orson, however, remained unimpressed.
He casually patted the Crimson Lizard King’s head, his mind already on looting Odin’s treasures.
“Help him finish this up. We’ve got better things to do.”
The Crimson Lizard King’s roar shattered the air.
The entire mining pit trembled.
Then—
Doom Dragon Breath!
Blazing Meteor Shower!
A barrage of destruction rained down, reducing dozens of Grey Dwarven buildings to rubble.
Dwarves were incinerated alive, their screams fading into nothing as only charred skeletons remained.
Veijander stood towering above the battlefield, his massive frame slicing through the chaos.
The once proud warriors of the Grey Dwarves were now nothing more than scattered remnants, their cries of defiance reduced to pleas for mercy.
“Call for reinforcements!”
Another Dwarven Grandmaster screamed in terror—only to be beheaded in one swift strike by Veijander’s battle axe.
Above, dwarven war beasts took flight, desperate to escape—
But a shadow streaked through the sky.
A sickening crunch echoed as bones shattered, and a crimson rain painted the air.
The Crimson Lizard King devoured them mid-flight, their remains vanishing into the abyss of her maw.
The entire massacre lasted less than five minutes.
And when the bloodshed settled—
A new king had risen.
The Grey Dwarven King stood triumphant.