Chapter 642: The High King's Entrustment
"Father, your body... how could this be." Zain stood frozen, staring in shock at his father, the one who had guarded Avenderdan for a century.
Edd removed his armor and outer robes, revealing his chest—but instead of rock-solid muscle, there was literal stone: rock laced with metal ore, mica, and quartz!
"We Shield Dwarves were born from unyielding stone. To die this way isn't so bad," Edd said, gazing down at his body with a hint of self-mockery.
"Father, why? I thought you were already cured?" Zain's face was frantic, his voice urgent.
But Edd answered calmly, "In the battle months ago, I gave my life to the Hammer of Stone to slay the orc chieftain. What you see now... is being held together by that hammer."
He looked at the warhammer in his hand. "Once I part with it, I'll gradually turn to stone, to guard Blackstone Mountain and Avenderdan forever.
And you, my child," Edd looked up into Zain's eyes, voice resolute, "you will become the new High King of the Mountains. The new King of the Shield Dwarves. You will carry our glory of ten thousand years and lead our people toward a new future."
With those words, Edd strode forward and solemnly placed the Hammer of Stone into Zain's hands.
"Father, you..."
Zain's hands trembled. The warhammer was weighty, carved with ancient patterns. Its heft felt heavier than the whole of Blackstone Mountain.
—Because it symbolized the authority of the High King of the Mountains. It carried the luminous legacy of thousands of years, and the enduring civilization of the Shield Dwarves.
At the moment the hammer left Edd's grip, he smiled with contentment. Yet in Zain's eyes, his father's body became more like stone. The aura of life on him was fading.
Zain tried to return the warhammer, speaking heavily: "No, Father, I can't accept this. It will kill you!"
But Edd firmly shook his head and pushed the hammer back. "This was my choice. I died the moment I gave my life to the Hammer of Stone.
Zain Kline, the future of the Highland Kingdom is yours. Carry our ancestors' hopes—and mine—forward. Besides... who says I'll lose?"
The dwarf king grinned boldly and thumped his stone chest. "That evil dragon may not be my match! Though I've given you the Hammer of Stone, don't forget—I'm still the strongest warrior of the Highland Kingdom!"
"Father..."
Zain lowered his head in silence. He could already see Edd's resolve.
He knew his father well. Once Edd made up his mind, nothing could change it—not even diamond was as stubborn.
After a while, Zain knelt halfway and lifted his head, eyes locked with Edd's.
Clutching the warhammer to his chest, he declared, "Father, in the name of the Highland Kingdom, in the name of our god Moradin—I will fulfill everything you've entrusted to me. This I swear."
Dwarves are known for keeping their word, for their courage and loyalty. When they swear by their god, that promise means more than life.
"Hahaha! Good! That's my son. That's what a High King should be like!" Edd laughed heartily, slapping Zain's back.
Zain said sternly, "Father, if you die, and Avenderdan is taken, I will dedicate my life to vengeance."
But Edd shook his head. "I'm already dying. Dying alongside old friends on the battlefield—that's how I'd want to go. Zain, your most important duty is to preserve the royal bloodline, to pass on our civilization. Don't act rashly."
Seeing Zain still silent and downcast, Edd gave final instructions: "Take our people to the Lonely Mountain. Lord Titus is waiting for you there."
"Yes, Father."
Watching Zain's retreating figure, Edd sighed deeply.
He knew his son seemed cold and quiet—but in truth, he was exactly like himself in some ways. Unbending, unchanging. More stubborn than stone.
If the worst came to pass, Edd could only hope Lord Titus would dissuade them—keep the dwarves alive. So he thought.
"Your Majesty, have you finished speaking with Prince Zain?" Bjorn hobbled in, leaning on his cane.
Edd nodded slightly. "Yes, but that boy may not listen. He might do something foolish."
Bjorn coughed, then smiled: "Why worry, Majesty?
I've watched Prince Zain grow up. At his age, he's already far calmer than you were. Remember? You once stormed into a green dragon's lair alone just to retrieve the kingdom's treasure."
"Of course! I was the most valiant warrior in all the Highland Kingdom back then!" Edd laughed, reaching instinctively for his waist—only to find it empty. He felt a pang—the Hammer of Stone was gone.
Bjorn noticed at once. "Majesty, I'll have the smiths craft you the finest warhammer!"
"No need." Edd waved. "I forged several fine weapons modeled after the Hammer of Stone years ago. This gives me a reason to use them."
"Oh right, Majesty—there's something else important."
"What is it?"
"Our scouts spotted wyvern riders near the Karred Mountains. The Harpers and the Arcane Hermitage also sent warnings. The Ember Empire's army is on the move—headed northeast—toward our Highland Kingdom."
Edd wasn't surprised. No fear in his face. He simply walked out onto the terrace.
"Didn't expect the Ember Empire to come so soon. I thought they'd need at least six months to fully control North Aether."
Bjorn sighed. "Yes. Moving their army so fast... aren't they worried about uprisings in the occupied zone?"
Looking toward the distant mountains, Edd said, "Tch. No surprise. An empire ruled by a red dragon, as greedy as their emperor—eager to devour the world. But still..."
He extended his hand. With a humming buzz, a metal hammer—nearly identical to the Hammer of Stone—flew from a distant chest into the dwarf king's grasp.
"I wonder," Edd continued, "how many of his fangs that greedy wyrm will crack trying to chew through the Highland Kingdom."
In the courtyard before the palace, armored dwarf generals and soldiers had assembled. Clad in thick armor and wielding the finest weapons, they gathered to defend.
"We are the children of the earth and mountains!"
"Long live the dwarves!"
"For the glory of Father Moradin!"
"Avenderdan will never fall! Long live the Highland Kingdom!"
Their war cries thundered like an avalanche. They didn't know who they would face, but these stout hearts would never yield.
Hearing the distant cries and roars, Prince Zain turned and clenched the Hammer of Stone—his heart in turmoil.
"War is about to begin... and all I can do is stand by." He sighed.
But he knew—his duty was more urgent. To return now would betray his father's will.
He looked down at the foot of the Lonely Mountain, where tens of thousands of dwarves had gathered—mostly women, children, and hundreds of fiery young warriors.
—They were the future Edd entrusted to him. They would flee to the golden dragon's refuge and preserve the kingdom's ancient legacy.
His dwarven attendant shouted in protest: "Prince Zain! We can't leave now! That's cowardice! We should fight beside King Edd and defend Avenderdan!"
Zain shook his head. "Tork, this is Father's order. He sacrificed much. We must not fail him."
"But the King—" Tork wanted to argue more, but Zain said nothing. Just nodded—the vault was near.
"Tork, wait here with the guards. I'll go in alone."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Tork and the dwarven guards stood watch outside the passage, watching Zain enter the hidden entrance into the mountain.
After traversing a narrow ravine, the space opened up.
"So this is the Lonely Mountain Vault," Zain murmured.
He stood before an iron gate over thirty meters tall, heart pounding with excitement.
This vault was sacred—only royals of the Shield Dwarves could enter. It was said to house the kingdom's most priceless treasures.
But Edd had said Titus would be waiting inside. Zain assumed the golden dragon had already entered.
He pressed his hand against the door.
"Boom—"
With a deep rumble, the massive iron gate slowly opened—but inside was empty. No mountains of gold or sparkling gems.
"Why is it like this...?" Zain frowned, glancing around.
"Stop searching. I already moved your treasures to a demi-plane. They're too valuable—easily discovered by spies of the Ember Empire." A familiar voice echoed.
Zain looked up. From the shadows, a massive golden dragon strode forth.
Elegant in posture, his scales shimmered in the dim light—though they bore many wounds.
Zain's face lit up. "Lord Titus! You're here! My father sent me to you."
Though they'd spoken little, Titus—the "Dawnwing"—was revered by dwarves as their greatest draconic ally.
"Prince Zain, you've come. We don't have much time. We must finish the evacuation quickly."
Titus nodded in greeting, then pointed his claw deeper into the vault. "I moved your treasures to a demi-plane. It's safe from the Empire.
But your father told me—there's something only you can carry."
Zain was curious. "What is it?"
"Come with me," Titus said, striding toward the vault's depths.
Zain followed, eyes scanning murals etched on the stone walls—scenes of dwarven history and statues of ancient kings.
Though the treasures were gone, the vault itself and its carvings would remain.
At that moment, Zain wished he could memorize it all—to pass the dwarves' glory to future generations. He now understood his father's will.
This was... civilization.
Titus's voice broke his reverie.
"We're here."
They had reached the end of the vault, standing before an unremarkable wall.
"Place your blood here," said the golden dragon, tapping a spot with his claw.
"Alright." Zain bit his finger and smeared his blood on the wall.
Titus manipulated the blood, drawing runes in dwarven script. "Repeat after me: In the name of the High King, ruler of the Shield Dwarves, blood of Blackstone Mountain."
"By Moradin above, in the name of the High King..." Zain followed suit.
The runes lit up, the wall carvings roaring.
"Boom—"
A pillar of black iron rose from the ground, atop it a half-stone pulsing with malevolence—chained tightly.
Titus said, "Drip your blood on it."
Zain obeyed. As his royal blood fell onto the stone, the seals broke. Dense black mist spewed forth.
"ROAR—Release me! I will destroy you all!"
A bestial roar erupted. Evil, chaos, and rage filled the chamber—a monstrous orcish apparition trying to devour them.
After ages sealed, this half of the "Eye of Gruush" had birthed its own will. If released fully, it might become a godlike evil.
Zain gripped the Hammer of Stone, ready to fight.
But Titus stopped him. The ancient wyrm glowed golden, plunging his claw into the mist. Screams and struggles echoed.
Moments later, he pulled the half-stone free, black fumes seeping through his talons.
"Lord Titus, what is that...?" Zain asked grimly.
"The Eye of Gruush."
Titus scowled. "A truly evil relic. You're not ready to contain it. I'll keep it safe."
"Yes, Lord Titus."
Zain was shocked. Who knew such a cursed artifact was sealed in the Lonely Mountain Vault?
But Titus—or rather, Cassius—was elated inside. With this, he would forever guard both the dwarves' treasures and this half of the Eye of Gruush!