The three trolls lumbered forward through the dark, sulfuric domain. Carpathia sat cross-legged atop Bushy's broad head as they left the crumbling town behind, venturing into the volcanic terrains.
"Buddy an' Ghorlok," Arshy rasped, scratching beneath his patchy fur. "He be boss of all Trolls in the south side of the Black World."
Carpathia gave a small nod. The Black World was divided into five great territories. They were now in the southern region — a land where trolls and other degenerate beings scraped out their lives in ash and blood.
The northern section held the ruins of the dragons. According to lore carved into ancient stone tablets guarded by the enigmatic Stone Keepers, it had once teemed with dragons. Now, only fragments and echoes remained. And those who remembered… were buried deep in Tartarus.
But there was a time when the entire Black World had belonged to the dragons.
"That so?" Carpathia muttered. "And this 'Buddy' — he'd know the way to Arithra?"
"Buddy been everywhere in the southside," Arshy said, scratching again. "He even know where the Morgrith hide when it breeds."
Carpathia raised a brow. That was no small claim.
The Morgrith was a monstrous entity — a Grade-AA demonic beast by Earth's standards. Its sheer size and raw power made it a terror even in this hellish place. But during its reproductive cycle, the Morgrith became undetectable — vanishing completely from all spiritual, natural, and magical senses.
To know where it bred… was no trivial knowledge.
"Well then," Carpathia said with a low grin. "I'm quite interested in meeting this Buddy."
The trolls picked up their pace, moving with astonishing speed — a blur of muscle and mass, bounding across volcanic ridges and ash dunes like predators on the hunt.
---
The terrain grew darker still as they descended into the Valley of Wailing Ash — a jagged ravine of obsidian thorns and bleeding sulfur pits. Even the air groaned, carrying the faint screams of tortured echoes on its smoky winds.
They arrived at a clearing nestled between cliffs of black stone. A dozen massive huts, built from charred bones and molten slag, loomed in a crude circle. Trolls of varying grotesque shapes lingered in the shadows — some with tusks the size of tree trunks, others with arms dragging like clubs behind them. Stone golems stood half-submerged in the earth like forgotten statues. The entire place reeked of burnt meat and despair.
Carpathia's eyes narrowed. "We're here?"
Arshy nodded. "This be home. Make no noise. Trolls here bite before question."
"Got it." Carpathia slid off Bushy's head and gave him a nod. "Pretend I'm your prey."
Bushy blinked. "You sure, small boss?"
Carpathia grinned, masking his aura and spiritual energy. "Yeah — just scream a little. Sell it."
Bushy let out a thunderous roar and lifted Carpathia by the collar, dragging him like fresh kill toward the largest hut at the center of the camp.
The trolls stirred.
A low, guttural murmur swept through the encampment as dozens of eyes locked on Carpathia's form. Even suppressed, his spiritual energy felt pure — like untouched snow beneath a blood moon. A prize. A feast. A temptation far beyond anything that belonged in the south.
From the central hut, a massive figure emerged — nearly thirty feet tall, covered in molten scars, and wearing a crown of cracked jawbones. Buddy the Ghorlok stomped forward.
"Bushy bring back good prey," Buddy growled, his single eye glowing red. "I taking!"
Bushy glanced at Carpathia.
Carpathia whispered, "Let go."
Bushy released him, and Carpathia touched the scorched ground, standing calmly.
He exhaled.
And in the next moment — the world froze.
An unimaginable pressure burst outward — invisible, yet heavier than any mountain. The trolls felt it like a divine hand crushing their lungs. Knees buckled. Spines cracked. Stone golems shattered. Ogres fell flat, their weapons clattering from limp hands.
Even Buddy staggered, trembling, his eye wide with panic.
The once-wailing valley fell into complete silence.
"That was long overdue," Carpathia said. His voice wasn't loud, yet it echoed through every soul present. "Let this be your first and last warning."
He let the pressure subside, just enough for them to breathe again.
Then he looked straight at Buddy.
"Tell me the way to Arithra… before I decide to clean house."
"I don't know anything abou—" Buddy began, but the sudden increase in pressure silenced him. Carpathia's eyes alone were enough to threaten obliteration.
"Tsk. You wretched earth-dweller… How dare you!" Buddy growled, releasing his own aura and shielding himself.
Until now, Carpathia had dismissed the hype around Buddy. But now… perhaps there was merit. The being who conquered the southern Black World might not be mere rumor.
"Haha. Buddy, that's your name, isn't it?"
"My name is Buddy the Ghorlok!! King of the South! Who are you?!"
"I'll humor you. I am—"
Carpathia was sent flying across the chamber mid-sentence, crashing into the black stone wall.
"Don't care!!" Buddy roared, already in motion — a blur despite his massive frame.
Carpathia dusted himself off as he leapt down. "Guess talking won't work here."
As Buddy closed the distance, Carpathia struck — his arm moved at near-hypersonic speed, slamming Buddy upward into the cave roof.
He didn't stop there.
Carpathia followed immediately, crashing a second punch into Buddy's jaw. The blow echoed like a god's hammer. A wide grin lit up his face — one that only grew as the fight escalated.
The walls trembled violently under the impact of their clash. Stone cracked. Dust erupted. Trolls and ogres dove for cover.
Carpathia wasted no time. He seized Buddy by the leg — his hand easily wrapping around it. Then, with a flick of his shadow — swapping Bushy in Buddy's place — he flung the stunned troll king down into the center of the camp.
As Buddy crashed, Carpathia felt a sudden surge of energy — dark, nostalgic, like the pull of the Shadow Realm.
"…Ahh. Now that was unexpected."