The noise of blacksmithing echoed through the hollow, making the environment even tougher to bear. The dwarf leading Charles brought him to a wooden door, stretched out his broad hand, and knocked heavily, then shouted at the top of his voice, "Master Gandren, I've brought Charles for you!"
At that moment, Charles finally understood why dwarves all had such booming voices. In such a noisy environment, if you didn't shout, no one would hear you!
Footsteps soon sounded from within. The door opened, and Gandren appeared in the doorway, bare-chested and wearing only a pair of large shorts. "Very well, you can go now. Charles, please come in."
The guide dwarf left without a backward glance. Charles stepped into Gandren's room, feeling the air even hotter and more stifling than outside.
He instinctively shed his coat, and Gandren, realizing this wasn't a place to linger, quickly moved to a cabinet, opened it, and took out a silver, short-handled warhammer. "I've made the adjustments as requested. Now, it can hold about as much mana as a single third-level spell at once, and it's specialized for a single stunning strike."
"This specialized function… Heh, I can't think of anyone who could remain conscious after taking a hit from this. Anyone hit will be dazed for at least three or five seconds!"
Charles accepted it and couldn't help but praise, "Excellent—now, even if I run into Montport, I could probably smack it silly with this hammer!"
Gandren smiled gently—a rare expression for the usually silent and stern dwarf, very different from his boisterous young kin.
That brief smile proved how pleased he was: "I'm afraid you might not get the chance."
Upon hearing this, Charles's expression changed. "Oh? Why do you say that?"
He suddenly realized that the dwarves, rooted deep in the mountains, must possess information well beyond what he could see.
"Earlier, the Golden Dragon Bank organized a full team to hunt down the chief culprit behind all this—Montport," Gandren explained. "My elder brother volunteered to join. In his last message, he said all those selected were even more famous adventurers than he is."
The gold dragonborn have a stellar reputation, and dwarves—who are normally hard to trust others—prefer to cooperate with their kind.
Granted, much like other dragons—except the blue dragon—they're notoriously stingy, but for eliminating demon lords, it's a win-win: the adventurers gain renown, and the dragons achieve their aims.
Gandren wore a smile: "If past experience holds true, that Abyssal Lord, who never had much of a reputation, likely isn't all that powerful. With that team, they should be able to hunt it down."
"Mr. Charles, if you want to claim the glory of hunting an Abyssal Lord, you'll have to wait until the next time."
Charles perked up. "Your elder brother—is he also a forge domain cleric like you?"
The dwarf nodded. "Indeed."
"And the others?"
"That, he didn't say." Gandren shook his head. "Such things are top secret. The actual roster is never made public."
"Hm… Makes sense." Charles nodded, though a faint unease lingered underneath. Still, he managed a relieved smile. "Still, it's great news—having such a reliable group tackle the crisis means the demon threat shouldn't last much longer."
Gandren agreed, and after a few more casual words, Charles took his leave to report his latest mission and accept a new one. He and Anno together nudged the dwarves' company legal team to move faster on official paperwork. After a long day of running around, he finally collapsed into slumber in Theresa's arms.
...
The next day, having received their new assignment, Charles's group—under the guidance of a new scout team—set off for another dwarven mine to purge fiends, further training their forces and earning more Purification Points.
They journeyed for a full day and a morning before arriving, took a break, and started the battle in the afternoon of the following day.
The demon purge went smoothly as always: after so many missions, they were veterans by now. First, they studied the internal layout of the mines and set traps at key intersections. Then, some bait and noise drew out the fiends en masse, where they were exterminated in a single sweep.
During the operation, Charles personally purified an ape demon and a hezrou, along with countless Dretch. He gained over four thousand Purification Points in a single run—an impressive harvest.
In truth, after several days of consecutive battles, he'd already accumulated over twenty thousand Purification Points—enough to level up. But he was in no rush; after all, there were still a lot of monastery units and constructions yet to be unlocked.
Just as they confirmed there were no surviving foes and prepared to return to dwarven headquarters, a blurry shadow appeared in the sky, rapidly approaching with sweeping wings.
The sun had sunk below the mountaintops, and the light was dim and hazy. The group, which had just relaxed, instantly tensed once again, raising their weapons and preparing for combat.
Then they heard it—the shadow let out a wailing screech, filled with agony.
"For goodness' sake, can we never catch a break?" one of the dwarf guides grumbled, "More demons… who knows how many are following it!"
After an afternoon of preparing, fighting, and searching, the guides were already exhausted and decidedly reluctant to face another fight.
Charles frowned; the sound didn't match that of ordinary demons.
After these days, they were very familiar with the roars of vrocks, ape demons, and hezrou.
"Wait, don't attack just yet," he ordered. "Theresa, give us a bright light—let's see what this thing actually is!"
Beside him, Theresa lifted her hand, quickly chanting an incantation. Above her head, a miniature sun appeared, bathing the landscape in bright light.
Charles narrowed his eyes, finally able to see the airborne figure's true identity.
It was… a gold dragonborn drake?
It looked somewhat like a tyrannosaurus with a wide jaw, but its scales gleamed like gold, and a pair of huge dragon wings spread from its back. Charles was genuinely surprised.
"There's someone on its back," Theresa called suddenly, her magical sight seeing much more clearly than anyone else. "No… it's a half-elven!"
Charles's eyes lit up.
A half-elven? A gold dragonborn drake?
Someone from the Golden Dragon Bank?
A drakewarden ranger?
"Hold your positions, but don't attack!" he ordered. "Nidalee, do you have any way—uh, never mind."
He was about to ask if Nidalee could signal friendly intentions, but the dragon and its half-elven rider were already veering toward them, the shape pitching wildly before crashing to the ground in a heap, with a pained groan: "Roar…"
The nuns eyed the massive creature with a mixture of fear and curiosity, none daring to approach. Charles gave Nidalee a light tap. "Goodberry!"
She quickly began casting, summoning ten magical berries. Charles snatched them, ran up, tossed five into the drake's maw, and mashed the rest into pulp to feed the half-elven.
The juice instantly soaked into the half-elven's lips and vanished—proof he was still alive and could absorb the berries' life-force.
That was good; as long as he was alive, things could be handled.
Thinking so, Charles took a closer look at the half-elven lying before him.
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