Chapter 5: Bound Beyond Blood
The massive figure strode toward them, and Kael already knew who it was.
THUD!
THUD!
Each step shook the underground level, the tremors rolling through the floor like an earthquake.
Despite his towering size, the giant's gaze was sharp—predatory. Like an eagle, his eyes locked onto Kael, spotting him hanging from the balcony rails even from hundreds of meters away.
Around them, the researchers barely reacted. They knew this routine all too well. Almost every day, this very same giant would stroll past, pluck Kael from the balcony, and leave as if it were nothing.
Kael's hands tightened on the railing, the only thing keeping him from falling. But there was no fear in his expression, only a smile.
He knew exactly who it was.
Volgran.
Once again one of his best friend.
A giant standing at an estimated Eighty feet tall. His bald head bore only a few stubborn strands of hair, and his blazing orange eyes burned like open flame. A scrap of cloth was wrapped around his waist, and a few jagged metal plates clung to his body like crude armor.
And right now, those long, earth-shaking legs were carrying him straight toward Kael.
Then, from afar, the giant lifted one massive arm and began to wave.
"KAAEELL!"
Volgran's voice boomed through the underground level—deep, slow, and powerful. Despite his enormous size, he'd already spotted Kael with perfect clarity.
Kael grinned and waved back.
"YO!"
With each step, Volgran drew closer. The tremors grew stronger until he finally stopped before the balcony.
"KAAEELL."
His deep, rumbling voice rolled like distant thunder, the soundwaves strong enough to send Kael's hair sweeping back.
Kael's smile widened. "Big as always, my friend, Volgran."
"Friend. Waiting. Let's go." Volgran's giant accent was as simple as it could be—short, clear, and to the point.
"Yeah, sure, big friend!"
Volgran lowered a massive hand, palm open, so Kael and Nibsken could climb aboard.
"Ugh—hghh!" Kael grunted as he scrambled up. Nibsken struggled even more, but the two eventually made it onto Volgran's palm.
"Yo, Brasskert! Hop on!" Kael called over his shoulder.
The gnome shook his head. "No need, humanz! Ai gat more ore to examine!"
"Alright, gnome—it's up to you."
Kael and Nibsken positioned themselves, gripping Volgran's massive hand for balance. The giant's skin was rough like stone, yet warm with life.
"Ready?" Volgran asked.
"Yes, Giant!" Nibsken replied excitedly.
"Hold tight," Volgran rumbled before gently lifting them, settling both Kael and Nibsken onto his massive right shoulder.
Volgran lifted them with care, placing them on his massive right shoulder.
There, a small platform had been built—a sturdy spot of wood reinforced with metal bars, giving riders something to sit on and hold as the giant moved. Without it, walking with Volgran felt like riding out an earthquake.
Kael had made it himself. Not just for his own use, but for any friend who wanted to travel with the giant. He always had a mind for convenience when it came to those he cared about.
One platform sat on Volgran's right shoulder, another on his left—ready for whoever needed a lift.
Kael and Nibsken stepped off the giant's hand and hopped onto the right-side platform, bracing themselves for the slow but thunderous journey ahead.
"Hup!" Kael hopped onto the platform, Nibsken right behind him.
But they weren't alone.
Someone was already stretched out across the wooden seat.
"Yaaawn…" A long, tired sigh escaped the wolf-headed figure. "So much work today…"
"Oi, Reyv! Wake up!" Kael called, giving the furred shoulder a shake.
"Huh?" He blinked, momentarily startled—then promptly let his head drop back down, drifting toward sleep again.
"This lazy forest dog, move!" Nibsken grumbled, shoving at him. "You're taking up half the space!"
"Yaaawn… Alright, alright. Stop bothering me, goblin," he muttered, rolling lazily to the side.
Reyvik was a wolfkin beastfolk—and one of Kael's closest childhood friends.
A calm, grey-furred wolf with sharp blue eyes, he stood taller than both Kael and Nibsken. His long wolf ears twitched lazily with every sound, and a thin wooden stick was always tucked between his teeth, as if it had grown there.
Simple-minded and easygoing, Reyvik rarely worried about anything. His clothing matched his attitude—nothing more than a few rough fabrics loosely draped over his frame.
Reyvik finally sat up, shifting over to give Kael and Nibsken some space. His blue eyes blinked open, and a faint grin tugged at his muzzle when he spotted his best friend—the clever human he always supposed was up to something.
"Yoo, Kael! How ya doing today?"
"Same as always, Reyv," Kael replied, bumping fists with him.
With everyone settled, Kael and Nibsken adjusted their spots on the shoulder platform.
"Alright, we're ready, Volgran!"
The giant gave a slow nod, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Alright… hold tight."
He turned, and the ground shook as his massive steps carried them away.
Thud!
Thud!
Volgran stepped away from the balcony, each massive stride making the shoulder platform tremble beneath their feet. People leaned over the railing to watch, some even waving as the giant carried them off.
Kael leaned against the wooden planks of the shoulder platform, letting the hot underground breeze wash over his face.
"Reyv," he called.
"Hmm?" the wolfkin replied, eyes still half-closed.
"How's your injured hand? Is it okay now?" Kael asked, remembering the burn Reyv had suffered last week from a hot metal combustion accident.
Reyvik lifted his right hand and showed it to him.
"See? It's fine now, thanks to your weird wet medicine, human." He flashed a lazy smile.
Kael let out a small breath of relief. His quick thinking and a strange, slimy remedy he'd made from plants growing beside water-might crystals had healed the burn in days.
"Glad you're healed, bro." Kael smiled back.
As Volgran made his way deeper into the Forgehold, his massive strides carried them across section after section.
From their perch on his shoulder platform, Kael, Nibsken, and Reyvik could take in the vast expanse of the Underground Level.
Above them, dragonoids soared alongside insectoid beastfolk with shimmering wings, their silhouettes cutting across the glow of the cavern lights.
Twelve towering diamond pillars rose into the heights, each one gleaming faintly as they held the weight of the entire underground city.
Kael and Nibsken watched as countless races worked together sweat on their brows, voices filled with spirit as they mined, hauled, and forged.
Volgran walked slowly and carefully now, weaving his way through the growing cluster of tent-like structures. This was the selectors' domain, where skilled hands focused on sorting crystals, metals, and raw ores brought in from every corner of the Forgehold.
The air buzzed with conversation as supporters and selectors exchanged ideas and instructions.
"Hey, this batch is ready, Oculith!"
"Just put it there, giants."
"Okay."
"So much raw ore compared to the might crystals today."
"Ooh, this one looks shiny!
Volgran going even deeper
The tent-like structures gradually thinned out, the crowd dispersing as Volgran approached the forge site.
The forge site was the closest point to the Central furnace, a prime location where metals could be melted and forged with speed and efficiency.
The forge site itself was encircled by towering green crystals, forming a wall that kept unauthorized individuals from entering. The crystal wall, arranged in a perfect ring around the centre furnace, glimmered faintly under the intense heat.
Inside the barrier lay rows of worktables, countless anvils, buckets of water, heavy hammers, and blueprints scattered across every surface.
The green crystal wall also served as a natural divider between the selectors' tents and the forgers' domain. Selectors could simply deliver their sorted materials to a designated table outside the crystal gate formation, and the forgers would collect them to be shaped into equipment.
Once the forging was complete, the finished equipment would be placed back on the same table for the supporters to retrieve.
And lastly, at the very heart of the forge site stood the central furnace, known to all as the Immortal Inferno. Volgran, Kael, Nibsken and Reyvik only can see it from outside the green crystal wall of the forge site. Volgran couldn't enter the Forgerer's site to see it directly
It had burned for as long as anyone could remember. Some claimed its flames had roared since the Forgehold was first built, seven hundred and forty-five years ago. The elders insisted it was directly connected to the earth's core. Others believed a massive lava might crystal slumbered deep below, feeding the eternal fire.
No one truly knew the truth.
Only a handful of non-elemental races could approach it, enough to melt metals and shatter might crystals. Earth dwarves and fire elves worked tirelessly at its edge, joined by lava golems, flame spirits, and other beings born from fire or crystal.
As Kael and Nibsken enjoyed the sweeping view of the Forgehold, they passed the Immortal Inferno. The tents around it began to thin, leaving wide, open paths for Volgran to step through with ease.
Suddenly,
"Yoo, look at that, human!" Nibsken jabbed a finger toward a gleaming cluster of blue might crystals about to meet their end under a titan's hammer.
THWAAAM! — CRKRRRSHH!
THWAAAM! — CRKRRRSHH!
They had reached the crushing section.
A giant lumbered past, hauling a massive chunk of raw ore and crystal toward a diamond-shaped platform. There, titans twice the size of ordinary giants raised colossal hammers and brought them down with bone-rattling force.
Each strike sent shards flying, the once-solid mass breaking apart into smaller, manageable pieces.
A few giants then stepped in, scooping the fragments into huge rag sacks before carrying them off toward the selectors' tents.
The crusher station held only three massive diamond platforms, hard enough to withstand the impact of the giant diamond hammers used to break newly mined crystals.
The station itself was an open expanse near the mineshafts, connected by a network of rails that ran straight from the tunnels. Seven tracks in total fed into the platforms, arranged in a 3–3–2 formation.
Volgran's pace slowed as he scanned the rails. He picked the oldest, most weathered one, the quietest track, tucked away at the far left. That rail led directly to their spot.
Kael noticed the change in direction and leaned forward. "Hey, Volgran!" he called out over the hum of the Forgehold.
"Ya!" came the deep, resonant reply.
"Where are the others?"
"At spot," Volgran rumbled simply.
"Oh, great!" Kael grinned.
The air grew colder as Volgran followed the lonely track, stepping deeper into the Forgehold's shadowed reaches.
A scattering of torches lit the way ahead, their glow mingling with the soft shimmer of beautiful Might crystals embedded in the ground. The light grew stronger as they approached a massive mineshaft yawning open before them.
A few ogres, orcs, trolls, and golem miners worked near the entrance, their pickaxes ringing faintly in the cool air. This was the oldest mineshaft in the Forgehold—its veins of raw material long depleted, leaving only scraps worth mining. Newer shafts had been carved every century, with each new mineshaft constructed once every hundred years, gradually drawing most of the labor to the newer one.
From his vantage point on Volgran's shoulder, Kael spotted a small camp nestled beside the old mineshaft, right next to the rails. A fire crackled at its center, skewered meat roasting slowly over the flames. Wooden chairs and a log bench encircled the blaze, with an extra log set aside for additional seating. Several Might Crystal lamps bathed the gathering place in a warm, steady glow.
Figures moved in the glow, familiar silhouettes that made Kael's smile widen. A calm warmth spread through his chest. These weren't just friends waiting for him.
They were his brothers.
Volgran's pace slowed as the warm glow of the campfire came into full view.
"Arrive," he rumbled to Nibsken, Kael, and Reyvik.
He lowered one massive hand to his shoulder, palm open like a platform.
"Hup!" Kael, Nibsken, and Reyvik hopped onto the giant's palm, the wood-and-metal platform behind them creaking slightly as they left it.
With the gentleness only a friend could manage, Volgran lowered them to the ground.
Thud! The three dropped from his hand, boots hitting the packed earth.
A few figures turned from the campfire as Volgran set them down.
The first to notice was Nylum, a water elemental whose form shimmered like a living tide. Stainless steel plates floated within his body like armor, and his entire right arm was a seamless, machine-like construct of polished metal.
"Kaaeeell!" Nylum's voice rippled, liquid yet clear enough to carry across the camp.
Beside him, a deep, cracking voice joined in. Grak'Mar, a towering, muscle-bound ogre, stepped forward. His skin was a deep green, his tusks curving upward like carved ivory. He wore the rugged attire of a middle-era ogre, his frame adorned with thick silver bracelets on his right wrist and left ankle. Jagged blue crystals jutted from his shoulders, catching the firelight in sharp glints.
Kael grinned and bumped fists with them. "My friends."
"Hahaha! You're still small as ever, human," Grakmar laughed, his deep voice rumbling.
Kael chuckled back, noticing Nylum flexing his new metal hand, already getting used to it.
Before long, Nibsken and Reyvik joined the small gathering.
"Yo, green ogre, this is that silver ring you wanted me to grab last week," Reyvik said, tossing it to Grakmar.
"Thanks, forest dog!"
"I'm a wolf… green ogre," Reyvik muttered, but he let it slide with a sigh.
Meanwhile, Nibsken's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. I wonder if the Might Splitter will work on Nylum…
"Yoo, Nyl, I wanna try something," the goblin said aloud.
"That's not gonna work, short goblin," Nylum replied flatly. "I tried it myself yesterday."
"I'm still gonna try it no matter what!" Nibsken shot back, rushing toward him.
"Nah, I'm good," Nylum said, and his watery body suddenly dispersed, spilling across the ground like a tipped bucket.
"Tch… waters," Nibsken muttered in annoyance.
This was the place they called "The Spot."
Despite Kael's inventive nature, he had only made a few additions to their little camp, like the standing lamps crafted from Might crystals, casting a steady, gentle glow. Recently, he'd even upgraded the campfire so it could be turned on and off at will.
He'd reshaped the wooden logs into curved seats, forming a circle around the fire. Beneath each massive log, cleverly hollowed out like a barrel, was their food storage—meats, bread, and a few fruits kept fresh by ice might crystals.
Everyone had agreed not to change The Spot too much. It wasn't just a camp, it was their place, full of memories.
The place hadn't changed—just like their memories.
Every laugh, every argument after a long day's work… all of it lingered here.
This hangout spot was meant to stay simple, yet unforgettable. No matter how brilliant Kael's inventions were, nothing he could build would ever recreate this place.
Kael, Nibsken, and Reyvik settled onto the curved wooden bench, still shifting to get comfortable. Grak'Mar leaned over the campfire, turning sizzling cuts of meat on the grill. Behind them, Volgran sat cross-legged, his massive presence like a wall of stone, while Nylum quietly adjusted his watery form, perfecting the outline of his figure with his metallic right hand.
Then, a sudden gust swept through the camp.
Whoosh!
A strong wind whipped their hair and rattled the crystal lamps.
From above, the last member of their group descended.
Liraen or "Ren," as everyone knew him, landed lightly.
"Ren!" Kael called out, patting the empty spot beside him.
"Yeah," Ren replied simply, taking the seat.
"You've been busy these days," Grak'Mar said, while roasting the meat, the rich scent curling through the air.
"Yeah," Ren sighed, leaning back. "Ever since I got promoted to the boss's assistant, my workload's doubled. And your sister? She's no help at all. I try talking to her about the tasks, but she either tells me to 'do it alone'… or just ignores me."
"Pff, HAHAHAHA!" That's totally what Grak'Na be doing!
The whole group burst into laughter, the sound mixing with the crackle of the campfire.
Kael chuckled, his gaze drifting over the friends gathered around him—each one from a different race, yet all sharing the same firelight.
Liraen Lithair, the Wind Elf.
Nibsken Swiftfett, the Goblin.
Grak'mar Bludhar, the Ogre.
Volgran Oviran, the Giant.
Reyvik Libel, the Wolfkin Beastfolk.
Nylum Izuir, the Water Elemental.
And Kael himself—just a simple human.
They laughed together, shared their troubles, ate side by side, and even celebrated the smallest victories as if they were grand festivals.
As they kept chatting, Grak'Mar returned carrying freshly roasted meat skewers. One by one, he handed them out until only a single skewer remained for himself. He picked it up and sat down on his massive wooden chair—too heavy for the bench, which creaked ominously under his weight.
"Here," the orc rumbled, passing the last two to Kael and Reyv. The rich aroma of charred spices and sizzling fat curled through the air, making Kael's stomach tighten with hunger.
"Thanks," Reyv said, already tearing into his portion.
Kael gave a nod of gratitude, his gaze drifting toward the fire. Fat dripped from the meat onto the crackling flames, releasing a hiss and another wave of mouthwatering scent. It had been a long time since he'd tasted something so simple. yet so perfect.
Then Liraen leaned forward, a skewer of meat in hand, his long ears twitching with curiosity.
"Oh yeah! Kael—why were you a bit late today? I mean… you're late every day, but still."
"Hehehe…" Kael rubbed the back of his head. "Well, Nibsken and I bumped into a Realm Protector."
"Hmm? RP?" Nylum tilted his watery head rippled, curious. "Don't those guys usually patrol around Kallidorra?"
"What's so special about that, human?" Grak'mar grunted.
Kael glanced at Nibsken. Their eyes met, and in perfect sync, they both said,
"We met a commander."
Their tone shifted instantly, serious and heavy.
"A commander?!" they all exclaimed at once.
"What's that guy doing in Kallidorra? Is there a war going on or something?" Nylum asked, curious despite his calm, watery nature.
"I think he just wanted to shop at the Kallidorra Forgehold," Reyv replied simply, leaning back as if about to doze off.
"Maybe that's true, forest dog," Grak'Mar said with a grunt, nodding toward Reyv.
Sighing, Reyv settled back and closed his eyes again.
"Which Cardinals?" Liraen asked, his expression growing more serious.
"If I'm not mistaken," Kael replied, "he's from the East Cardinals—Aeronis Ashvale. He wears blue-green armor adorned with leaves, a red cape flowing behind him, and carries a huge sword strapped to his back."
Liraen, Grak'mar, and even Volgran gasped, eyes wide. They exchanged serious glances, Volgran looking down due to his towering height, while Liraen and Grak'mar looked up at him.
End of chapter 5
"Did Liraen, Volgran, and Grakmar know about the Commander of the East?
More importantly, who is he to Liraen?"