Chapter 761

Chapter 761
The massive ramparts of Vallscrum were never left unguarded. No matter how immense, robust, or high within the jagged peaks the stronghold was situated, it could collapse in a heartbeat without defenders. Yet, the dwarves had existed for generations with the deep-seated certainty that this fortress was invincible. That certainty birthed a sense of pride, which eventually soured into reckless arrogance.

The sentinels barely maintained their vigil, sipping ale and gossiping even during the bright hours of the day. Even the officers had long since stopped enforcing discipline. After all, this was Vallscrum—the hallowed ground of the dwarven race, rumored to be unreachable by any hostile power.

This particular day followed the same pattern. The dwarves on watch were preoccupied with the spirits they would consume once their shift concluded and the mechanical projects they intended to tinker with in the smithy. Likely because of this distraction, they detected the looming danger, already in plain sight, far too late.

“…Wait? What is that?”

A dwarf atop the battlement peered into the distance. Initially, he mistook the sight for gathering storm clouds. As the mass drew nearer, he assumed it was a massive murder of crows. However, as the distance closed, his face grew pale. These things were far too large to be birds, and their numbers were staggering.

The entities soaring toward them, draped in shadows of dark energy, were nightmares—a hideous fusion of decaying meat, warped hides, and bleached bone.

Undead wyverns and chimera wyverns led the charge. Tangled chimeras and skeletal horrors clung to these winged beasts, cutting through the clouds. Their destination was unmistakably the fortress.

“Invaders! We are under attack! Dark mages!”

The dwarf screamed with everything he had. No one questioned the warning, as whispers of the Salvation Order and the practitioners of black magic had already reached their ears. Rather than fear, the dwarves felt a burning fury.

“How dare these filth strike at us!”

“Sound the alarm! Alert the high palace!”

“To arms! Prepare for war!”

Hands reached out to stop mid-drink, and ceramic bottles were cast aside. The primal instincts of the dwarves, long buried under layers of lethargy, sparked back to life. They were craftsmen, certainly, but they were also warriors by blood. The once-idle dwarves seized their blades and axes, sprinting toward the defensive lines.

“Power up the engines! Everyone to your marks!”

Across the summit of the wall, dwarven machinery groaned into motion. At a glance, they looked like the ballistae used by men, but their internal clockwork was far more sophisticated. Aside from the heavy primary bolt, dozens of smaller harpoons were packed tightly around the core. With its complex internal gears, massive output, and rapid-fire capability, it was the crown jewel of their technology. Known as ‘Tarbark,’ it was a metallic predator that unleashed volleys in a continuous stream. Even in the years to come, Ghislain had never encountered this device, and no journals mentioned its existence. It was a true engine of destruction that only the master smiths of this specific era could have forged.

“Locked and loaded!”

When this citadel was first established, the dwarves had painted the mountain range in the blood of their foes. They had exterminated every beast that dared threaten them, particularly the winged ones—they permitted not a single one to draw breath. That legacy was etched into the stones and steel of Vallscrum. They were ready for an assault from the heavens. Rows of Tarbarks were positioned along the ramparts.

Krrk, krrk, krrk.

As the operators rotated the heavy gears, the Tarbarks angled toward the sky. One dwarf gripped the firing lever with a snarl and roared.

“You wretches! Do you think you can just wander in here like stray curs? I’ll grind you all to dust!”

Papapapapapapapak!

In that heartbeat, hundreds of iron bolts tore through the air like a localized hurricane. Every steel projectile punched through multiple corpses. The force of the impact pulverized ribs and sent chunks of rot flying. The broken monsters spiraled down from the clouds. The sight of the falling creatures looked like a torrential downpour of black rain.

“Keep firing! Don’t let up! Bring them down before they reach the ledge!”

The dwarves bellowed continuously. Their gaze held a singular intent—annihilation. They were a people renowned for their precision, and their reloading process was a seamless dance of efficiency.

Paaaaaaaaaaaaak!

The horizon was blotted out by the sheer volume of bolts launched by the Tarbarks. Thousands more steel shafts shredded the oncoming undead swarm without pity. The monsters were obliterated before they could even attempt a countermeasure. The fortress was earning its reputation as an immovable object.

However… the sheer volume of the enemy was overwhelming. Where could such a mountain of undead and chimeras have been hidden? The thick wave of black silhouettes masking the sky pushed forward with a weight that felt like it was crushing the air out of the lungs.

“They’re closing in! Brace yourselves!”

“Don’t panic! Just crush them!”

“Fine with me, I prefer the sound of their skulls breaking under my hammer anyway!”

Even those manning the Tarbarks drew their sidearms. It was time for the bloody work of melee combat to prevent the breach. A handful of dwarves who practiced the arcane arts also stood firm, teeth bared at the horrors beyond the stone.

“Hold the line! The main host will be here shortly!”

The defenders boosted each other’s spirits. Every dwarf capable of swinging a hammer would be heading to this wall. Their strength was not to be underestimated. They were a culture where even the women were seasoned combatants. Only the young and the infirm were kept from the fray. They maintained their faith. They vowed that until the army arrived, they would not allow this sacred place to be defiled.

Then, the world changed.

Drrrrrrrrr….

From deep beneath the flagstones, behind the front line, a terrifying tremor began to pulse. For the first time, the dwarves’ confidence faltered. Their race possessed hearing as sharp as their craftsmanship. The resonance of stone, the groaning of tunnels, the movement of underground predators—these were things they sensed through their very marrow. They knew instantly that this vibration was an omen of disaster.

Drrrrrrrr….

“From the rear.”

A dwarf slowly turned around, his eyes wide.

“Something is ascending… from the depths.”

Confusion and fear spread. This citadel sat upon a foundation of ancient, unyielding mountain rock. Beneath them was nothing but miles of solid stone. No known race could burrow through such a mass. That was a feat reserved for dwarves. Because of that, the possibility had never even crossed their minds. Their pride and stubbornness had blinded them. But if that were true, what was this sound?

Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

The shaking intensified. The foundations groaned, and the masonry shivered. The arrogance that had defined the dwarves turned into cold dread.

And then—

KWA-A-A-A-AANG!

The floor erupted. Massive slabs of stone were tossed aside like pebbles in an explosion, and a titanic entity surged out from the abyss.

GRRROOOAAAAAAAH!

It had the form of a monstrous worm. A dwarf stood paralyzed, staring at it in disbelief.

“A sandworm…? How can a sandworm be in these mountains…?”

Sandworms were creatures of the scorching dunes. While they could dig through earth and posed a threat, they were biologically incapable of living in this climate or rock.

The anomaly became clear almost immediately.

This was no product of nature. Its hide was a patchwork of various beast skins sewn together, and its massive frame was reinforced with grafted bone plates.

As its circular maw, lined with rows of serrated teeth, unhinged, a cloud of foul black soot poured out. Dark vapors escaped from the stitches along its flank, shrouding the beast in a ghostly silhouette.

It was an engine designed for massacre. A beast reanimated and altered through the forbidden arts.

Perched atop the monster’s skull, his dark cloak snapping in the gale, was a solitary figure.

The seer—Rahamod.

The one who had clashed with the High Chief Iralniel of the elves had come to finish the task. Amethyst eyes burned from the depths of his hood. He slowly drifted into the air, defying gravity.

Rahamod glared down at the defenders on the wall and spoke with a voice like grinding ice.

“This day, your hearth goes cold. Vallscrum shall tumble, and the Eternal Forge will be reduced to cinders. Your marrow and your lifeblood shall serve as the foundation for the endless night.”

As his decree ended—

PA-AA-AK!

A cyclone of black vapor exploded from Rahamod, spinning outward in a violent gyre. A tide of malevolent energy weighed down the atmosphere. An impossible pressure flattened everything within the stronghold.

The suffocating aura drained the life from the dwarves’ complexions. They understood then that this foe was a catastrophe beyond their strength.

One dwarf, his eyes empty with hopelessness, whispered,

“Goddess… save us from this devil…”

KWA-A-A-A-A-AANG!

A massive bolt of dark lightning slammed into the rampart. The cries of the dying echoed through the peaks.

It was the moment the gates of hell swung wide.

—

The Julien Mercenary Corps had already taken their positions throughout Vallscrum, following the strategy to the letter. Julien, Kyle, and Ereneth—all masters of their craft—led their respective units. Lionel, stripped of his holy gifts, was more vulnerable, so they had paired him with the more capable Osvald for protection. Each leader was supported by five elite mercenaries. Their objective was to obstruct the invaders and facilitate the dwarven retreat toward the inner royal citadel. Only Deneb stayed with Ghislain, as she needed to preserve her strength for the coming climax.

Boom! Boom! Boooom!

Distant shocks and blasts rumbled through the air. Julien didn’t hesitate, throwing himself toward the carnage. Dark caught up in a blur and signaled,

“The breach has happened! The host is inside!”

Ghislain had attached one Dark to every unit—not just to act as a messenger, but to provide support during a crisis, having filled them with immense mana. Julien acknowledged Dark with a grim nod. They were positioned nearby in the outer housing sector.

After sprinting toward the location Dark indicated, Julien came face-to-face with the tide of horrors sweeping inward.

“…So the nightmare begins.”

It was exactly as predicted. The necromancers were raining death from the sky while the mutated sandworms carved a path from below.

“Fiends!”

“Help! What are those things!”

“Get back! Clear a path for the young ones!”

The dwarves were in a state of total disarray. The suddenness of the breach had broken their spirit, and only the vulnerable had started to flee. But the dwarves were still a martial race. Even in their terror, many clutched their tools and weapons, throwing themselves blindly at the monsters.

Julien, reaching the front, yelled over the din, “Fall back! You cannot hold this position!”

“Who are you?! A human? What are you barking about!”

“You’re being flanked! If you stand here, you’ll be slaughtered piecemeal! You have to consolidate at the royal palace!”

“Lies! Why would we trust a surface-dweller?!”

The dwarves ignored him. They weren’t foolish enough to take tactical advice from a human stranger in the middle of a slaughter. Some even gripped their axes tighter, eyeing him with distrust.

Clenching his jaw, Julien pulled out the metallic conductor Ghislain had provided.

“Dark!”

Dark, bloated with the massive reserves of Ghislain’s power, expanded in size instantly. Julien seized one of Dark’s limbs as they vaulted into the sky. Dark dove toward the encroaching monsters while Julien leveled the conductor.

“Ghislain!”

—Master! Do it!

Ghislain remained seated over the glowing array, his eyes shut in a deep trance. However, his state was unnatural. Because the mana-gathering circle was drawing in every scrap of ambient magic, Ghislain’s form was levitating. The moment the shout from Julien and Dark reached his mind, a torrent of mana surged from Ghislain toward Julien’s coordinates.

Crackle!

A brilliant azure spark ignited the rune stones hidden in the vicinity. That spark leapt from one stone to the next, connecting to others further out. These stones had been covertly positioned across the city by the mercenaries. Ghislain’s power flowed through a meticulously crafted magical grid, jumping through layers of sequences—all in the blink of an eye.

Traveling at the speed of thought, the mana arrived at Julien’s hand. And then—

Crack!

The energy flooded into the metal rod. At that peak—

KWA-A-A-A-A-AANG!

A monumental strike of lightning erupted from the conductor. A pillar of white-hot electricity tore through the sky and slammed into the center of the sandworm. Ribbons of lightning arced out from the impact, vaporizing the winged monsters nearby.

BOOM! BOOM! KRAK-BOOOM!

Monster hides charred and dark clouds of ash erupted in the air.

“W-What was that…?”

The dwarves who had been charging like madmen froze. they stood in place, mouths agape, staring at the destruction.

GRAAAAAHHHH!

The sandworm coiled and shrieked in pain. It wasn’t an unfeeling undead; it was a biological chimera. The high-ranking priest of the Order who had been directing the beast quickly channeled energy to shield himself and scrambled back. The sorcerers following him flinched and retreated in terror.

“Where did that come from…?”

The priest was shaken. That spell possessed enough raw power to threaten even a master like himself. They had targeted the residential zones precisely because they expected weak resistance—yet a top-tier spell had just leveled the field. The priest hesitated, trying to gauge the threat level.

The dwarves, stunned by the sudden turn of events, remained motionless, not even thinking of escape. Only Julien held the conductor tight, a smirk of relief on his face.

“Incredible. Trust Ghislain to pull that off.”

This was Ghislain casting at a distance. The concept was straightforward: his allies, though non-magical, provided the aim and the timing, and Ghislain supplied the raw power to trigger the effect. The hidden rune stones acted as the circuit.

Naturally, it was a Herculean task. It required a massive network of stones, and Ghislain had to rely entirely on his teammates’ eyes while moving an ocean of mana. While the convergence circle helped by providing external energy, the physical strain of the magical feedback was immense.

But Ghislain had committed to this path. It was the only way to pin the enemy down in multiple sectors at once, giving the dwarves a chance to escape.

—Master! Strike again!

Answering Dark’s call, another wave of Ghislain’s mana surged into the metal rod.

KWA-A-A-A-AANG!

With a roar that sounded like the sky itself was splitting, a tide of energy incinerated the vanguard. The sandworm and its master barely held their ground, retreating further, but the lesser creatures surrounding them were turned to dust instantly.

Yet, the enemy was legion. Even magic of this scale could only hold back a single surge at a time. Furthermore, the conductor itself was reaching its breaking point.

Crackle…

Finally, the metal rod began to splinter. Fragments of hot steel began to fall from Julien’s grip.