Chapter 636: The Orcs' Visit
By the time they left the vault, it was already around three or four in the morning. The ancient golden dragon and the Dwarf King returned to the palace together. They chatted casually along the way, and with unspoken understanding, neither mentioned the crucial agreement.
Within the palace, the young golden dragon Aurora had been waiting for a long time. The hard-drinking dwarves were also beginning to stir, groggily rising from the floor with dazed expressions.
Then, under the reluctant farewells, boisterous songs, and loud cheers of the dwarves, the two golden dragons beat their wings and soared into the sky.
On the wide terrace at the top of the palace, the Dwarf King lifted his head, gazing long into the distance at the fading golden figures, his expression growing heavy.
Dawn broke, and the morning light traced golden outlines along Blackstone Mountain, casting a hazy glow over the golden dragons' bodies as if they were merging with the sky.
Seeing such a scene, the dwarves became even more elated. Cries of "Wings of Dawn" and "Dragon of Light" rang out continuously.
"Your Majesty... what worries you?" came a familiar voice. The dwarf minister Bjorn was leaning on his cane, trembling as he stepped onto the terrace and approached Edd.
Since the Battle of Blackstone Mountain, the over-three-hundred-year-old dwarf had visibly aged. His face was deeply wrinkled, his body hunched, and his steps uncertain.
Edd could tell his old minister didn't have much time left. The Forgefire within him, like Edd's own, was flickering its last.
Staring at the now-empty sky, the Dwarf King sighed, "Can we truly trust an ally we've only known for a few months—even if he is a just and good golden dragon?"
"Your Majesty, this was our only choice. We've been driven into a corner. All things considered, Lord Titus is the best option we have."
Bjorn's voice was hoarse, his facial wrinkles more pronounced than ever, like the cracked rock of Blackstone Mountain.
Edd unbuckled the warhammer at his waist and gripped it tightly, staring at the dwarven runes engraved on it. He then shook his head with a bitter smile: "Bjorn, I don't know if this was the right decision.
But it feels terrible to entrust the fate of the Shield Dwarves to another."
Bjorn raised his head with effort and consoled him: "Your Majesty, we've accomplished our goal. With such a renowned golden dragon from the good-aligned pantheon protecting them, those children won't fare too badly.
It might sound humiliating, but at least this way... the Shield Dwarves still have a future. Besides, our days are numbered."
Edd gave a self-deprecating chuckle, gripping the hammer's hilt even tighter as if embedding it into his flesh: "You're right. We're about to die anyway—what's the point of worrying so much?
As for the Shield Dwarves' future... we'll leave it to those children growing under the wings of the golden dragon."
By now, the sun had fully risen. Its rays bathed the terrace of the palace of Avenderdan, casting golden light across the rugged faces of the two dwarves.
At the center of the North Aether Plains, within a spacious cave serving as the Ember Emperor's temporary palace, a red dragon lay lazily, greedily absorbing the solar divine power in his body, exhaling a breath of hot, ember-filled smoke.
Suddenly, he rose slowly from the ground, poking his massive head out of the cave, and looked westward—as if sensing something. That was the direction of the Highland Kingdom.
"The Eye of Gruumsh."
Cassius bared his teeth in a savage grin, smoke curling from between them.
Participating in the Battle of Blackstone Mountain had just been a casual move for him—a way to boost the reputation of his Titus persona and gain a foothold among the good and just.
But this time, he had stumbled upon something extraordinary—the Eye of Gruumsh. Even Cassius hadn't expected such a windfall.
It was a piece of a god-level divine entity!
Even though the orcs were in decline and Gruumsh was falling to a mid-tier god, the artifact's value was still immeasurable. A complete Eye of Gruumsh might even surpass the value of the "Heart of Karrikex" in Cassius's possession.
Moreover, as a symbol of the one-eyed god Gruumsh, that fallen eye likely contained divine aspects of Chaos, Evil, Strength, and War—all compatible with Cassius. If he could devour them all—
It might elevate the red dragon into a true demigod. Though, the lingering will of the Eye might prove troublesome.
"Divinity..."
At that thought, greed filled Cassius's pale golden pupils, faint firelight flickering within them. His jaws nearly drooled molten dragon saliva.
Suddenly, a communicator within the cave buzzed. Upon accepting, a magical projection appeared before him—an ugly face with tusks and scaly skin. It was the ogre-mage Langpu of the Dragonblood line.
As the most fertile plain in northern Thrace, North Aether spanned over 700,000 square kilometers—about one-fifth the size of the Ember Empire's core territory.
Even for the current Ember Empire, assimilating such a vast conquered region was a daunting task.
Resistance in North Aether was much more stubborn than in the Northern Kingdoms, with even extraordinary-level opponents among the rebels.
The Aetherians' customs, lifestyle, and culture also differed vastly from the reclusive Anzeta people—friction was inevitable.
Thus, as Prime Minister of the Ember Empire, Langpu was overwhelmed, having deployed six avatars just to keep up with his duties. He even had more active threads than his emperor.
Unlike Cassius, who lazed in his cave eating, drinking, and avoiding responsibilities, Langpu diligently fulfilled his prime ministerial duties, working around the clock—epitomizing the Empire's "007" work ethic.
When tired, he'd drink a bottle of high-grade stamina potion and bounce back. When hungry, he'd down a bucket of bland instant organic paste to sustain himself for days.
As a mage of extraordinary intellect, the ogre had abandoned his gluttonous nature and become a complete workaholic.
"Good day, my esteemed master," Langpu bowed in the magical projection before launching straight into his report, not wasting a single second.
"A group of orcs has arrived in Dragonhead City. They claim to be emissaries from the Bloodfang Tribe, hailing from the Ugo Steppe in the northeast, and they request an audience with Your Majesty."
"Oh?"
Cassius perked up, shaking his head with interest. "Heh, speak of the devil. So the orcs show up too."
The red dragon glanced at Langpu and asked casually, "What's your take?"
Langpu bowed his head and replied, "Master, according to our intel, the Bloodfang Tribe assembled nearly 200,000 troops a few months ago and launched an invasion against the Highland Dwarven Kingdom. Golden dragons and elves were also involved.
The tribe suffered heavy losses and fled north in disarray. Their chieftain—allegedly favored by the Orc God—died in the war.
This visit to the Ember Empire is clearly a plea to form an alliance and seek revenge on the dwarves. Blackstone Mountain is rich in resources and home to many dwarven artisans. It is indeed a prime conquest target for the Empire.
However... the Empire now has enough power to conquer the Highland Kingdom on its own. Those defeated green-skins are unworthy of alliance. Also, allying with a chaos-evil faction like Bloodfang contradicts the Empire's principles."
Langpu didn't hide his scorn for Bloodfang. He had clearly prepared his stance beforehand and now recited it fluently.
The red dragon nodded slightly, seemingly pleased.
Cassius's thoughts aligned with Langpu's—the Ember Empire had the strength to conquer the Highland Kingdom and Blackstone Mountain alone. There was no need to involve the Bloodfang Tribe.
Just like their Father God, those green-skinned orcs were nothing but blood-crazed lunatics.
Cassius had no intention of letting a powerful god encroach on his turf—what if they discovered he'd stolen the Eye?
Besides, the Empire had a "loyal ally" among the dwarves—ancient golden dragon Titus—who had a perfect grasp on the Highland Kingdom's secrets. There was no risk of failure.
Sensing Cassius's mood, Langpu asked, "Master, shall we drive the orcs out of North Aether—or simply kill them all?"
Cassius shook his head, flashing a faint smile. "No need. While I have little interest in allying with orcs—I am interested in the orcs themselves."
"Yes, Master. I'll have them brought to you immediately."
Langpu showed no change in expression and asked no questions. After all, he himself had no qualms about using vampires and human mages for experiments.
In Dragonhead City, North Aether, a group of orcs clad in direwolf pelts sat nervously on chairs, watching a serpentine woman relay messages. They looked entirely out of place.
When the snake-woman turned around, the lead orc leapt to his feet and asked anxiously, "Has His Majesty agreed to meet us?"
"Yes. Follow me," the serpent woman replied impassively.
"Great! Finally, we can avenge Lord Batu!" the orc exclaimed, his rugged face full of excitement, his huge frame trembling.
His name was Nur Redmane, named after slaying a great beast with crimson fur. Nur was a famed warrior of the Bloodfang Tribe and a trusted follower of the fallen chieftain Batu.
Following interim chieftain Soro's orders, Nur had led the tribe's fiercest warriors to North Aether, seeking an alliance with the rising Ember Empire to exact vengeance on the Highland Kingdom.
Every time he recalled that day—how dwarves, elves, and a golden dragon ganged up on their chieftain—rage and bloodlust boiled within him.
Those self-righteous hypocrites dared to ambush a great warrior!
From that moment, Nur vowed to avenge Lord Batu. He would bathe Avenderdan in blood and personally behead the Dwarf King.
But reality was harsher than dreams. After the battle, dwarven ram cavalry, elven unicorn knights, and that damn golden dragon ruthlessly pursued the orcs.
Countless orcs died on the fertile plains north of Blackstone Mountain. The Bloodfang Tribe, which Batu had spent his life building, collapsed—only a few major clans remained.
Only recently had Chieftain Soro, claiming the Orc God's blessing and newfound power, managed to rally the remnants. Though far from its former glory, the tribe was still a formidable force.
Then came word of the Ember Empire's blitz conquest of North Aether—shocking the orcs. An alliance quickly became their shared goal.
Gripping his fists, Nur was overwhelmed with emotion. "I will succeed—for Lord Batu and for our fallen brothers and sisters."
With the Empire focused on stability, it hadn't yet built a comprehensive railway system in North Aether. An imperial mage skilled in teleportation handled the orcs' transport.
"Mind your manners when meeting the Emperor. Kneeling is the bare minimum."
"Heh, not that anyone dares disrespect His Majesty. You'd better worry about fainting from the pressure."
While giving instructions, the mage waved his staff and constructed the portal.
But Nur was quietly puzzled—maybe even insulted.
He wasn't Batu, but he was still a famed warrior, and he had once faced that ancient golden dragon and shot two arrows into its wings!
Was the Emperor truly so terrifying—so overwhelming that even he might tremble or faint?
The orcs had no footage of the red dragon Emperor's combat prowess. All they knew was that the Ember Empire had conquered North Aether—they didn't even know what "Cassius" meant.
"Whoosh—"
Space twisted, and a narrow portal opened before them. The mage said impatiently, "Alright, go in."
"Got it."
The moment one foot stepped through the portal, Nur's hair stood on end. His entire body trembled.
"Th-this is..."
A terrifying pressure crushed down on him like a mountain. He could barely breathe.
The air around him burned like a furnace. Sweat evaporated from his forehead in an instant, turning into steam.
His heart pounded violently in his chest. With great effort, the orc lifted his gaze toward the vast cavern ahead.
"By Father Gruumsh above..."
Only now did Nur understand the mage's warning—and realized it hadn't been the least bit exaggerated.