Translator: CinderTL
With a sharp whistle, the Combat Engineers immediately lit the fuses.
Moments later, the earth seemed to tear itself in half.
The explosives buried in the mountainsides on either side of the "collapsed valley" detonated simultaneously. The spectacle far surpassed any previous understanding of what an "explosion" could be; it was more like a primal roar erupting from the earth's core.
BOOM!!!
A blinding white fireball surged skyward from the valley floor, instantly engulfing the pursuing giant worm.
The shockwave swept outward in a circular wave, pulverizing rock layers like paper, hurling boulders hundreds of meters into the air as if flung by a divine hand, and slamming them against the surrounding cliffs. The ground heaved violently, like a boiling swamp, as cracks spiderwebbed across the landscape, swallowing trees and debris.
Thick smoke, laced with flames, shot skyward, forming a colossal pillar of crimson and pitch-black that towered over a thousand feet high, blotting out the sun.
The air reeked of an indescribable, putrid stench. Snow avalanches cascaded down distant peaks, triggered by the shockwave, their thunderous roars echoing the fading echoes of the explosion, as if the entire Rocky Mountains were groaning in agony.
Behind a concealed rocky ridge along the giant worm's path, Dwarf General Mogdin and his twenty men lay hidden, observing. The instant the explosion erupted, they were struck as if by lightning, the shockwave throwing them all to the ground. One soldier bled from his ears, clutching his head and curling up, trembling violently. Another clung desperately to the rock face, his fingernails cracking without him noticing.
Mogdin struggled to lift his head. Through the swirling smoke and dust, he witnessed the most terrifying sight of his life.
Flesh rained from the sky!
The giant worm's body had been completely torn apart. A section of its chitinous carapace, several feet long, crashed onto the slope a hundred paces away with a dull thud, landing like a tattered rag. A twisted tentacle, still twitching faintly, pierced a crevice in the rock. Most horrifying of all was the ring-shaped maw, blasted high into the air before spinning down to smash into the deep ravine, sending up a cloud of dust.
Milky-white slime splattered down like rain, mingling with black rock debris to form bizarre, viscous streams across the ground.
Kneeling amidst the rubble, Mogdin's face was as pale as paper. He had personally proposed unleashing the "abyssal maw"—the mountain's ancient nightmare, sealed by his ancestors for millennia—only to see it reduced to charred fragments by human command.
He muttered to himself, his voice trembling, "We can't win... we can't win..."
Behind him, some dwarf soldiers stood in silence, while others bowed their heads in prayer. In that moment, each knew the fate that might await them.
The aftershocks of the explosion still reverberated through the valley. Derrick removed his dislodged military cap, wiped the dust from his face, and led a squad of musketeers and Combat Engineers slowly toward the epicenter.
Debris was scattered across hundreds of meters. Using their bayonets, they pried apart rubble and slime, examining the fractured chitinous plates—as hard as forged iron and nearly two inches thick.
A Combat Engineer tried to pry open a still-intact section of the creature's body but found the internal muscle structure to be a dense, fibrous network, extremely difficult to cut through.
Derrick crouched down and touched the milky-white slime. His fingertip tingled slightly.
"What a terrifying monster," he murmured. "How could such a thing grow in these mountains?"
Just then, footsteps echoed from beneath a distant rocky ridge.
Mogdin led twenty dwarf soldiers down the mountainside at a brisk pace, waving a truce flag made of strung-together black iron plates. Their faces were smudged with soot, but their eyes burned with urgency as they headed straight for the giant worm's smoking remains.
"Halt!" the Alden adjutant barked, his voice sharp and commanding. The soldiers raised their muskets in unison, fingers tensed on the triggers, aiming at the suddenly appearing dwarves.
Mogdin stopped immediately, raising both hands high. In halting human speech, he shouted, "We come not to fight! We come to surrender!"
Derrick slowly rose to his feet, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his eyes radiating a cold, assessing gaze.
"Surrender?" he asked, his voice low but carrying an air of condescension. "What authority do you have to represent the Stonemason Clan?"
Mogdin took a deep breath and declared loudly, "My name is Mogdin. I am formally authorized by Clan Chief Imar—if the abyssal maw is slain by humans, I am empowered to offer Aldor unconditional surrender on behalf of the Stonemason Clan!"
He pointed to the still-smoldering wreckage, his voice trembling slightly. "You've done it. The monster... it's dead. Unbelievable."
Derrick remained silent for a moment, his cold gaze sweeping over the dwarf soldiers. Their faces had lost their usual pride, replaced by exhaustion and awe.
He slowly raised his hand, signaling the soldiers to lower their gun barrels but maintain their vigilance.
"Where is your Clan Chief now?"
Mogdin lowered his head. "In Anvil Hall. He still has matters to attend to."
When the news reached him, Imar was seated on his throne, listening to the dwarf messenger's report.
The warrior's voice trembled as he spoke. "The abyssal maw... has been shattered into fragments. Mogdin has surrendered to the human commander, Derrick, on behalf of the clan. The Aldorians have accepted."
The charcoal in the brazier crackled and burst, sending sparks flying.
Imar slowly closed his eyes.
A thousand years of tunnels, three hundred generations of digging, the orcs' enslavement... all of it was finally ending with a thunderous roar he had never heard before.
He felt a profound weariness, yet within that exhaustion lay a sliver of relief.
The humans had accepted their surrender. They likely wouldn't destroy what remained of the Stonemason Clan.
But he still had one last task to complete.
"Send for the Centurion," he ordered. "Tell him I wish to apologize for the recent misunderstandings."
Soon after, the Orc Centurion entered Anvil Hall, his expression still somewhat displeased.
A round-bellied ale jar was placed on the table, and coarse earthenware cups were filled with potent stone ale. Imar personally poured a cup for the Centurion, saying calmly, "For the sake of our past alliance."
The Centurion hesitated briefly before raising the cup and draining it in one gulp.
But the moment he set the cup down, a sudden roar of battle erupted from outside the hall.
Imar's eyes turned cold. He slammed his cup to the ground, shattering it, and dwarf warriors hidden behind the hall's pillars surged forth like a tidal wave.
The Orc Centurion immediately realized he had walked into a trap. He lunged for his axe, but three shield-bearing veterans tackled him to the ground. Iron chains snapped around his wrists as he roared and struggled, only to be knocked unconscious by a blow to the back of his neck.
Simultaneously, the Orc soldiers were ambushed. Dwarves armed with crossbows and warhammers stormed their encampment. Some Orcs fought fiercely and were killed on the spot, while the rest were disarmed and captured in the chaos.
As the corpses and prisoners were brought back to the main hall, Imar stood on the high platform, gazing down at the unconscious Centurion.
"You used us to guard the mountain pass, yet never truly protected us. Now, I will offer your heads as our first pledge of loyalty to humanity."
Surrender was not the end. To survive within the human order, the Stonemason Clan had to prove they had completely severed ties with their past.
And the best pledge of loyalty was the blood of their former allies.
(End of the Chapter)
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