Chapter 93: Axes and Leverage
Seo-jin cursed under his breath, sending a silent order through the Broodlink for Snare to stay hidden. No more waiting, he needed to end this before the dwarves arrived.
While the spiderling tangled with the copperhead, he watched for the break, muscles coiling tight.
[-1SM]
[Hellfire // Active]
[+10% Damage]
Cold fire seeped from his chest, crawling down his arms in thin black veins. He waited...one heartbeat, two, then struck.
[-2SM]
[Rend // Activated]
[+15% Slicing Damage]
No longer holding back, he vanished from sight, reappearing in a blur beside the fight. His claws erupted into swords, cutting the air with a hiss.
Multiple strikes. Two screams.
[+223 Damage Dealt]
[CRITICAL]
[+316 Damage Dealt]
[+229 Damage Dealt]
[CRITICAL]
[CRITICAL]
....
....
In less than three seconds, everything before him was shredded. Meat, web, and scale torn into wet ribbons.
[+38EXP]
[+143EXP]
[Level // 19]
[Exp // 12088/12665]
[Rend // Deactivated]
[Hellfire // Deactivated]
His claws retracted, cooling as the last flickers of flame sank back into his flesh. Then came the sound of boots and iron...short, heavy steps breaking through the brush.
The dwarves.
He turned slow, finding himself encircled. Axes and hammers ready, their yellow auras flaring bright in his eyes.
He raised his hands, steady, unbothered, as they barked words at him in harsh, guttural tones.
"Sar, grakh!"
"Na-thrund un. Grol un."
"Un na-zrak. Khar un mar."
"Un grumth sarn-durn ar spid-gruld. Gral zrak ar un. Ka az thrund human?"
They didn't attack, at least not yet.
[One wants to kill you. Another says you'd make a decent slave. The leader warned them to be careful—says you killed the snakeman and the demon. He's asking if anyone speaks human… and why you're naked.]
Seo-jin's brow twitched.
'I only have one outfit. Don't wanna ruin them...'
He exhaled through his nose, and made a mental note to stockpile on clothing.
'Translate for me.'
The lead dwarf stepped forward, a thick slab of muscle and scars. His skin was darker than the rest, beard coarse like iron wire. One eye was a cloudy white, a scar running from the back of his bald head to his cheekbone. His battle axe pulsed with heat as he raised it, ready to speak—
Then stopped.
The naked human before him cleared his throat and spoke first, voice steady, rough, and barely fluent in Dwarvish:
"Az... sor. Az na-dorn. Az brul. Az dûm balin. Az urgrum sal uz spid-gruld ar sarn-durn grolûn."
They all froze, faces folding into a raw, open disbelief. Fingers tightened on hafts and shafts until knuckles turned white; the leader let his grip slack just enough to speak.
"Ka uz thrund khaz-drakh, thrund az, shard-mar — thrund thrak uz thrund? Marn human grumth ar-thrak azûn?"
[He called you a shard slave and asked how a single human could possibly help them. He thinks your full of shit as well.]
The system spat out the meaning in clumsy fragments, but it landed. Using the clunky back and forth translation, an open dialogue was able to be achieved. Step one complete.
"I know it is very suspicious that I'm here. I'd be on guard as well. But please believe me when I say, that I am your only hope of avoiding death."
A snort ran through the dwarf ranks; the leader scratched at his wirey beard and narrowed his one bright, cruel eye.
"Bold words. You couldn't even stop us if we wanted to kill you. You're full of slag like I thought. Lies will not save you."
Seo-jin felt the moment tilt toward blood. He couldn't afford his bluff to be mistaken for weakness...so he pushed everything forward.
"You have made a few assumptions. First is I am not lying. I truly can help you wipe both of your enemies from this island. Second is killing all of you right now wouldn't be much of a problem. In fact I wouldn't break a sweat. And third..."
A sheen of bloodlight bled up his veins and pooled around him, a slow, hungry tide.
"I am not a human."
He did what he'd never done before, shift and summon at once. Pain lanced through him, Butcher's Wrath screaming into being as flesh reknit into demon. Before their stunned, widening eyes Azakh-Tur unfolded, horned, ragged, and enormous, holding his cleavers like a demon prepared for battle.
"If you are willing to hear me out, I think you will find my proposal interesting. At least hear it first before you make me kill you all."
The dwarf leader didn't answer at once. He studied the creature before him...horned, scarred, built for war. Not the kind of demon that hid behind spells or incantations. This one fought up close, and his weapon looked hungry for it.
Lowering his axe, the dwarf spoke.
"You will have to wait. I cannot make these kind of decisions."
He jerked his chin toward a younger dwarf.
"Run back. Tell them what's happened. See if the forge master will hear him out."
The young one bolted, heavy boots pounding against the dirt, surprisingly fast for his size.
Azakh-Tur let his shoulders ease slightly. Progress. But he knew better than to trust calm in hostile ground. He watched the leader, voice level.
"I appreciate your judgment. Since you seem reasonable, may I know your name?"
The dwarf hesitated, eyes flicking between the demon's blades and his face.
"Brundar Dromkhur-dûm."
Azakh-Tur rolled the name on his tongue, reading the system's translation. Strong One of the Forge-Hall, Oath-Bound. He gave a slow nod.
"A good name. You may call me Broodfather."
Then an idea struck. He crouched and dragged the edge of Butcher's Wrath through the dirt, carving rough dwarven runes. The system fed him the shapes as he cut.
ᛒᚱᚢᚾᛞᚨᚱᛞᚱᛟᛗᚴᚺᚢᚱᚴᚱᚢᚴᛜᛞᚢᛗ
When he finished, Brundar looked down, snorted, and bared a tooth.
"Your runes are shit. Don't talk until word gets back."
Azakh-Tur blinked once.
'Well, that failed.'
[They're dwarves, not children.]
He said nothing, settling into stillness while time crawled. His mind wandered, briefly finding entertainment imagining Lilid's rage when her spawn's link went silent. That brought a faint grin. Above, he felt Snare's presence, steady and controlled.
Good. He's learning patience. He could have sent the broodling after the runner, but visibility would ruin everything, a single caught movement would shatter the facade and end negotiations before they began.
Time crawled. Then Snare's whisper came, soft and urgent.
'There is a large group coming, Broodfather. I suggest we get ready to fight. All of them are extremely hostile.'
Snare's staff-sight did the reading, hostility levels, aura heat. Useful, precise.
'Try to make visual contact. Priority on staying hidden. But tell me if you see any of them that stand out. Like one that seems important, or different.'
'Yes Broodfather...I can see them. They're all about the—no, yes, one of them is different.'
'How?'
'It's got four arms.'
The forgemaster...so the one in charge had come to listen in person. Azakh-Tur let a tight smile crease his face and stepped forward, voice smooth as oil.
"Your people have arrived. It seems your forgemaster has agreed to hear me out. Thank you again Brundar."
Brundar's brow knotted. The young runner returned with ten others in tow—sturdy, armed, grim. One larger than the rest pushed through, carrying age and authority like armor.
Brundar's voice came out low and harsh.
"Be careful how you speak demon. Our people will take no disrespect towards our leader. No matter how valuable you are, your words carry consequence."
"Understood."
The caution in the dwarf's tone felt less like threat and more like counsel. Azakh-Tur filed the man away, an interest he'd have to pay more attention to in the future. If he could.
The new arrivals stamped presence into the clearing: heavier weapons, brighter auras. They shifted aside until the largest stepped forward, Azakh-Tur's Soul Sight seeing dark red.
Arms thick as tree-trunks, he was a standing mountain with four gauntleted hands and a grey beard that hit his belt. Scars crisscrossed his face; skin the color of rusted iron. He smelled of hearth and old blood.
"I am Thragdur Dromkhur-urth. Forgemaster. What is your name demon?"
Azakh-Tur moved to meet him. Authority radiated from the dwarf in waves, centuries folded into bone and callus. This was a being who'd seen entire lifetimes burn and still kept his hammer hand steady.
"My name is Broodfather. Although you all look as though you are ready for war, I hope you are willing to hear what I have to say."
"Speak and be warned, if I find your words to be hollow, you will not leave with your life."
He inclined his head, calm an armor as real as flesh.
"Of course."
He slid Butcher's Wrath back into his arms, muscle and bone parting. He needed to show restraint. The crowd reacted—some eyes hungry for the blades, others sour with disgust.
"Thragdur Dromkhur-urth, I will speak plainly. Right now, the spider queen Lilid and I have made a temporary alliance."
The crowd's mood tightened the moment eyes slid to the spider corpse behind him. Seo-jin didn't flinch; suspicion was unavoidable.
"She thinks I came to broker peace in her name. Her offer was simple: we help you crush the Snake Tribe, you build a ship to carry her and me off this rock."
He watched the Forgemaster's face for a tick. Nothing. He pushed on.
"We would seal it with a contract. But her true plan—she'd write the clauses so she could kill you once you'd done your work."
Murmurs skittered like rats through the dwarves. Fingers found hafts. Heat rose around him; the intent to kill smelled metallic and close.
The Forgemaster kept his face carved from stone. Silent.
"But that's not my plan. I want a real contract, one to establish trade between us. Mutual gain."
The forgemaster's gauntlets rasped together as his hands tightened. Finally he spoke.
"Nothing but time wasted. Your offer does not fulfill a need. I will end—"
"You have every need."
Azakh-Tur interrupted...and laughed. A slow, dangerous sound.
"If you kill me, my death will only hand you your destruction."
The assembled dwarves surged forward, curses on their lips, weapons rising. The forgemaster's single word halted them.
"Explain."
Azakh-Tur took the risk. He had to finish the pitch, not with more words, but with a proof none could ignore.
"I didn't come to this island like you. I came by boat from the mainland—that's my home, that's where my people are, and they know I'm here. If I don't come back, what do you think they'll do? They'll come for you. And even before that, I'll tear your forces to pieces rather than let you slit my throat. You'll kill me, but you'll pay a heavy price."
For his final step, system light twisted around him, searing the air as fabric took shape in his hands. His body collapsed inward, bone and horn folding until only flesh remained.
The dwarves broke into shouts, half disbelief, half alarm. Even the Forgemaster's gaze sharpened. None of them had ever seen it before...a demon using a shard.
Seo-jin dressed slow, deliberate. He stepped through the wall of axes and blades until he stood within striking distance of the old dwarf.
"You've stared into my eyes this whole time Forgemaster. Tell me—am I lying?"
The old dwarf didn't answer. The only sound was the hum of his gauntlets heating as the air thickened, waiting to decide if the next breath would end in words, or blood.