Chapter 441 - Golden Anvil (1)
Linus staggered to his feet, clutching one ear with his right hand.
"Ugh."
His eardrum wasn't torn, but there was some damage, a prickling pain lingered.
A ringing filled the inside of his ear, the sounds of the surroundings were barely audible.
"Damn, no doubt he's my master's brother…!"
Dwarves were known for their thunderous war cries, but to incapacitate an opponent with voice alone—aside from Gharun—there was none.
At least among the dwarves Linus knew.
But today, there were two.
Barely managing to communicate with gestures, Linus received a potion from Verden, and took rest in a corner of the village.
Meanwhile, the reunion between Gharun and Geradin continued.
"Gharun, but what in the world happened to your face. Why do you look so old?"
"I'm nearly 300 years old now, old is old, not young. At this age, most others would already be one with the earth. In that sense, there's something I want to ask you first."
With a sigh, shaking off stray thoughts, Gharun spoke quietly.
"How in the world are you still alive?"
There was a six-year age gap between Gharun and Geradin.
Which meant Geradin was now 289 years old.
Even compared to Gharun, who was already treated as an anomaly among dwarves, Geradin was living proof of extraordinary health and longevity.
Considering that the average lifespan of a dwarf was around 120 years, this was far beyond merely "long-lived."
Geradin shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know either. I built my tomb long ago, but as I kept living, I never had use for it. Rather, the dwarves who came to watch me build it ended up buried first."
"Mhm."
Gharun, having experienced something similar, could understand without further explanation.
"Then let me ask the opposite, how are you still alive?"
"Would I know? Hm, as far as I know, none of our ancestors lived this long… Well, anyway. Let's leave it, it's not that important."
Gharun pulled Geradin up.
"There's much I want to ask. How you've lived all this time, what this village is, who the chieftain is… and what became of the second search party."
"Ah, that'll take a while to explain."
Grrrrumble.
Just then, Geradin's stomach growled loudly.
The sound of his lunch being digested and moving through his gut.
Evening was drawing near.
"Shall we eat first, and talk after? If I don't eat, no other dwarf will either. Even if I tell them to eat first, they won't listen."
Geradin picked up a potato lying around and grinned widely.
"Luckily, today's harvest was good. Not only the villagers, but you all can have two each. Steaming won't take long, so just wait a little."
"..."
Gharun's brow twitched.
In the large basket were small potatoes, each smaller than a fist, piled high. By volume, perhaps a few hundred.
But in the end, it was only one basket.
Compared to a dwarf's usual appetite, it was pitifully insufficient. A hearty dwarf could have devoured the whole lot alone.
'So that was it.'
Not only Marmal and Geradin, but most of the dwarves in the village were emaciated. Compared to Gharun, their builds were far too frail.
They simply couldn't produce enough food to put flesh on their bones.
Such were the limits of a village built deep underground.
Geradin had lived through more than 200 years in such conditions.
Damn.
Gharun turned his head.
"Do me a favor."
There was no need to spell it out.
On the aged dwarf's face lay both joy and pity.
Unlike anything shown until now.
"No need to call it a favor."
Verden activated [Raindia].
"Let's call it a donation."
From subspace, a considerable amount of food was summoned.
***
Verden always kept enough supplies prepared for any possible emergency.
Especially food.
Since he had never learned cooking, he couldn't properly process ingredients. Getting proper meals outdoors had always been troublesome.
So Verden mostly bought non-perishable foods or carried some ingredients frozen with magic.
In bulk.
Enough to be excessive.
With assets nearing hundreds of billions of Elk, and a portable subspace at his disposal, there was no reason not to.
A Mage is one who prepares.
Fwooosh.
Fires lit up the village.
Unlike old magic-stone lamps, these burned bright yellow, radiating warmth of a primal kind.
The meat, set close to the bonfire, slowly cooked.
Fat dripped.
A violent aroma never before smelled assaulted their senses.
A dwarf rubbed his eyes.
"This is… meat?"
The only meat they knew was black, and when cooked gave off a rancid stench. Insects, included in that broad category, reeked with foul odor.
But what lay before them was different.
They had never smelled such a scent, nor seen such color. Instead of repulsion, their mouths watered, an instinctive bodily reaction.
While they watched in a daze, the meat finished cooking.
The dwarves hesitated.
"I'll try first."
The eldest after the chieftain, though only 74 years old, stepped up to taste.
Lest his neighbors be poisoned.
Chew, chew.
After a few bites of beef, the dwarf trembled.
"T-the taste is…"
Cutting his words short, he bit again.
The caution he'd shown earlier was gone, he ate eagerly.
He couldn't stop.
With just a glance, he told the others it was fine, and focused on eating.
A strange dinner.
Soon, heartfelt exclamations burst out from other dwarves.
"Delicious!"
"It melts…! I-it can't even be compared to bugs!"
"Why not grill some vegetables too? If we eat together, smack smack, it'll taste even bet—ugh?! Cough, cough!"
"Hey, don't talk with your mouth full. Wait, I'll fetch water."
"This is food of the surface world…?"
"The outside world truly is wonderful."
Objectively, it wasn't anything extraordinary.
Just thawed meat, salted, and grilled. Yet for them, it was the happiest meal imaginable.
A feast opened in the village.
"Pheww, how long has it been since I last drank proper liquor…."
Geradin's face was filled with emotion.
His lips glistened with grease, his wrinkled face flushed red, the strong liquor after such a long time had done its work. Of course, this much wasn't enough to get him drunk.
As dwarves had high metabolism, their organs were just as robust.
Gharun and Geradin filled their bellies with liquor and meat, their conversation never ceasing. Having thought the other dead, it was only natural for brothers to have much to say.
Verden waited leisurely.
Time was still flowing, but nothing was so urgent as to disrupt a reunion that came after centuries.
Geradin burst into hearty laughter.
"Khahaha! The Hammer of Integrity, Gharun! Such a nickname is proof of a great dwarf… Indeed, I knew you'd become one of the legendary dwarves. Well done, little brother!"
"What's well done, at my age? Don't be ridiculous. I'm 289 years old and your personality and speech haven't changed one bit."
"And you're the same. But more importantly, that man you came with… that benefactor there, and the one-armed human, who are they?"
He pointed at Verden.
After a bite of freshly grilled meat and a gulp of liquor, Geradin had begun calling Verden a benefactor. The other dwarves followed suit.
"The one who provided the food is something like a client, and the one-armed one is my disciple."
"Disciple? That's unexpected. You took not a dwarf, but a human as apprentice? I suppose time changes the world. Is that the only disciple you have?"
"Yes, only that idiot."
Gharun had excommunicated every one of the dozen or so dwarves who vanished instead of returning to Waystone after hearing his speech.
Gulp, gulp.
The Hammer of Integrity washed the grease in his throat down with liquor.
Hunger was long gone.
The full dwarves were sprawled on the ground, savoring the aftertaste.
The meal was drawing to a close.
"That's enough of my story. We've had a proper meal, now it's your turn, brother."
Gharun called Verden and Linus over.
Two dwarves, one human, a Transcendent, and a hidden mini-golem gathered around the bonfire.
Gharun asked.
"What happened here?"
"Well, how should I explain this… my head's a bit tangled. It was so long ago, my memory is hazy in many parts. But to put it simply."
Geradin stroked his beard.
"The search party was annihilated."
***
The 2nd search party Geradin belonged to tracked the path left by the 1st. Fortunately, more than half the traces remained, so following them wasn't too difficult.
Along the way, abnormal species attacked at all hours, but thanks to thorough preparation, they were repelled without any casualties.
Not long after the 2nd search party was formed, they reached the crater of the buried Black Volcano.
"Even thinking back, the height was terrifying. I remember the search captain cursing it, but to look for another route would have been a waste. The traces of the 1st search party were still there. So in the end, the 2nd decided to descend into the crater."
They pitched tents along the rim, dismantled their siege equipment, and moved the parts through the passage.
Then, after setting up sturdy descent devices, with much time and effort, they managed to bring the 2nd search party's main force and equipment down to the bottom of the crater.
"At the time, I stayed above, as part of the rear. I was the youngest and least experienced, so I did every odd job. But a few days after the search began in earnest, suddenly… an earthquake struck."
"An earthquake?"
"Yes, an earthquake."
Geradin groaned in distress.
"The entire edge of the crater we were on collapsed."
It had been far too sudden.
With no forewarning, there was no response.
The black rock shattered to pieces.
The ground beneath their feet gave way, and the descent devices, even the pitons hammered in for safety, flew loose.
Several dwarves nearby were crushed, skulls split, chests pierced, they died instantly.
"In the end, the ground collapsed completely, and we were dragged down into darkness by gravity. But as you see, I survived. A dwarf from the Green Volcano clan who was in charge of rear command had a magic item, which slowed our fall at the last moment, letting us barely live."
But joy was brief.
Most supplies were destroyed, many had died.
And there was no way back up.
In that direst of situations, the rear search party regrouped as best they could and set out to find the main force.
"But the true worst awaited us there."
At the bottom of the crater lay a passage, beyond its many branches, part of the residential quarter of the Black Volcano Fortress appeared.
The first sight was the fortress citadel in the distance… swallowed by an enormous, unknown tree.
───What in the world…
Geradin was aghast.
It was more than strange, it was chilling.
Then came footsteps.
The rear search party raised their guard, looking, and a dwarf approached.
A member of the main force.
Alone, staggering, his pupils turned white.
"At first, it looked like he was wounded, so we tried to help him… but suddenly, with his pickaxe, he smashed the shoulder of the dwarf commanding the rear."
There was no time for surprise.
At the same time, hundreds of dwarves with white pupils rushed from every side.
Gharun asked.
"That many? Then how did you escape?"
"Hmm? I didn't escape."
It happened in an instant, there was no time to resist.
"..."
"We were dragged into the citadel, bound by huge roots. I could feel my strength fading, it seemed to be draining our life force alive. The roots were so tight, no matter how I strained, they didn't budge."
The process of the Soul Tree sucking nourishment.
Verden had never experienced it directly, but he had rescued adventurers who had.
Geradin scratched his forehead.
"Honestly, I thought I'd die there… but thankfully, we had aid."
"A search party member helped?"
"No, not from the party… You might not believe this, but there was a dwarf inside that tree."
A dwarf?
Inside the Soul Tree?
"Who was it?"
"The Golden Anvil."
You can read more chapters in organised way on my website:- https://revengernovel.com