The war was rapidly escalating into a slaughterhouse, and the loyalty of the Dwarf Kingdom had found its single, terrifying epicenter: Thrain Ironhand. Riding a magnificent warhorse with black wings that shimmered faintly—though he chose to remain grounded, clearing the land first—Thrain moved like a machine built solely for destruction.
He was a menace. Man, woman, and even the corrupted children pressed into service by Zeron and Lenard were cut down indiscriminately. His dark steel hair flowed behind him, intertwined with copper braids, and his gold-brown eyes were alight with pure, combat focus. Utilizing a terrifying combination of Void and Lightning powers, he would create localized fields of devastation, instantly followed by the silver arc of his divine sword, "Killer."
Zeron, watching the rising body count, felt a cold dread gripping his core. He realized Thrain was not just a threat; he was a catastrophe for their entire strategy. "Thrain is going to be a huge, insurmountable advantage for Borin. We must eliminate him, and we must do it fast," Zeron hissed, his voice strained.
Zevan, standing beside his son, Rezo, and his sister Leora, his face pale, spoke with deep reverence and terror. "Zeron, mark my words. In the previous war, Borin and I participated as guards for the King, and we saw him. He looks like a war machine who only cares about killing. You do not know the depth of his power. The only person who ever defeated him was Queen Beatrice of the Human Kingdom."
Zevan recalled the ancient history, the chilling impact of that war still resonating in the spiritual atmosphere of the Dwarf Kingdom. "Even Beatrice was shocked when she saw him personally kill nearly 39 percent of the Human Kingdom's soldiers. She didn't kill him then out of sheer respect. He is over 650 years old; Beatrice is only 600. The war happened a century ago, but its impact is still palpable. In that moment, Zeron, we truly understood that we were mere ants in the presence of a Laxines." (Laxines: A mythical beast, shaped like a lion, roaring like a tiger, yet possessing massive wings.)
"This man, Thrain, was the one who stood until the war was officially over," Zevan concluded, the memory of Thrain's terrifying resilience haunting his eyes.
Zeron's mind worked furiously. "So you are saying we cannot kill him. Then we must make him busy. We must tie him down and buy us time. In that meantime, we can focus our main assault and make our preparations to attack Borin directly."
Zevan nodded, accepting the brutal sacrifice. "Then I am going to commit half of our attack and defense squad to this singular task. They will keep him busy."
Leora, the logistics expert, screamed in anger. "Are you mad, Zevan? We are going to waste nearly one lakh fifty thousand troops! Our total troop count is four lakhs! Borin's loyalists number six lakhs!"
Zevan, his face contorted in a silent scream of frustration, rounded on her. "Sister! You do not know him! You were a child then, and as a woman, you did not participate in the field war! If you saw him, you would understand why I am scared!" He pointed a trembling finger toward the relentless figure.
Leora finally fixed her gaze on Thrain. She saw the horseman, the black wings of his mount, the constant flashes of Void and Lightning around his form, and the silent, deadly arc of the divine silver sword "Killer." The sight of the massive destruction he wielded, entirely without effort, shocked her. The logistics of the loss suddenly became irrelevant. With a heavy sigh, Leora accepted the desperate plan.
Zeron immediately issued the command to Lenard (a high-tier field commander) to redirect the massive force. In moments, nearly half of the Shadow Crown's entire army charged forward, not to fight the main defense, but to swarm and consume Thrain Ironhand in a sea of bodies.
King Borin, floating high above, saw the massive redirection of enemy troops toward his Marshal. He smiled wider. He understood the desperate plan immediately. Zeron and Zevan were making Thrain their primary target to distract him while the leaders prepared their final, devastating push against the King himself.
Borin was no fool; he was, after all, the masterful manipulator who orchestrated his father's death to seize the throne. He knew how to think like Zeron—and how to think several steps ahead. He knew how powerful Thrain was, but also how long it would take Zeron to break him.
The moment the enemy's massive force was committed to Thrain, Borin knew the true attack was imminent.
"Zevan, Leora, attack now!" Zeron screamed, not waiting for the main force to engage.
But before their offensive could even begin, the world around Zeron, Zevan, and Leora shattered.
They didn't move; they were teleported into a localized psychic realm.
In this surreal domain, the three Shadow Crown leaders stood frozen in one corner. On the opposite side stood King Borin. The environment was hyper-realistic, manifesting as the Throne Palace—the original palace before the war between humans and dwarfs had occurred, a place steeped in memory and ritual.
Borin walked slowly toward the central throne. He paused, staring at the black throne seat, its presence radiating ancient authority, before slowly, deliberately, sitting down.
The three enemies—Zeron, Zevan, and Leora—were utterly paralyzed. Their spiritual energy, trapped in this psychic domain, held their breaths, daring not to attack the King in his seat of power.
Borin broke the agonizing silence, his voice calm, yet impossibly loud within the realm.
"Brother, sister, and my son," he began, his voice resonating with Tier 2 Dominance. "I am saying this one last time. If you refuse, the consequences are not my fault. I want you and your troops to surrender now. If you do not, I will exterminate everyone of your people. There is nothing you can do about it."
His gaze locked onto Leora, penetrating her deepest self. "Hey! Leora. You think I didn't notice you when you joined the palace as a guard? I noticed you instantly. I thought you were the only true loyalist left, other than my immediate children, and I enjoyed your suggestions; I was always proud of you. But you betrayed me and kidnapped my daughter."
His expression hardened. "I will give you one final, absolute chance: give me my daughter back. If you do this, I will leave you and your people without doing any harm. But if you refuse, the output will be so brutal that you will beg me to kill you."
A chilling, invisible sweat broke out on the three villains' faces, an unknown, primal fear filling their hearts.
Zeron finally spoke, his voice trembling but defiant. "I am not going to release Morisa. I am going to take revenge on you, Zayn, and all your people on my mother's behalf!"
Borin smiled, a terrible, booming laugh filling the chamber. "Boy, your mother died giving birth to Zayn. It is no one's fault but fate's. Just because you were born ugly doesn't mean no one would talk to you. Your own brother, Zayn, tried to talk with you, but you refused. Your ugliness and your mother's death are no one's responsibility but your own."
The blunt, brutal psychological attack hit Zeron's core wound. Still, they all stood firm. They refused, their stubborn pride triumphing over fear.
The calm vanished from Borin's face. His eyes slowly turned a terrifying purple, and purple flames—the ethereal energy of his Tier 2 God Seeker Core—erupted from his body. He was no longer on the throne.
He instantly transported across the realm, taking out his violet and purple-mixed color sword. With a single, fluid strike of divine speed, he took the heads of all three.
The world snapped back into reality.
Zeron, Zevan, and Leora reappeared at the edge of the battlefield. They were standing exactly where they had been moments before. Their bodies were intact, their swords still sheathed, but their minds were reeling.
They touched their necks, expecting blood, finding only cold sweat. The psychic realm had felt terrifyingly real. They looked at each other, their faces filled with dawning horror.
They understood. This was not a physical attack; it was Borin's Tier 2 psychic hallucination. The King, without lifting a finger, had just shown them the precise, brutal, effortless ease with which he could exterminate them all.
They had been rendered psychologically sterile. They had to abandon their current plan. They had to make a new, desperate plan to defeat a Tier 2 Master who could kill them using only their own minds.