Chapter 25 - Later

Two days later, on the map in his mind, Gromril finally touched Highland Fortress.

"The Ancestor Goddess tells me we've arrived! Everyone who can move, set out immediately and explore in small teams!"

Gromril shouted from his rock ram's back. A full seven millennia had passed since the Ancestors left Highland Fortress and headed north. Seven thousand years ago, Bordeleaux was still a vast ocean, and humans were barely distinguishable from monkeys.

Due to earthquakes and volcanic eruptions during the Dark Ages, the dwarves had lost this first-established fortress for four thousand years. No one knew its condition or if it had been damaged.

Gromril dismounted his rock ram and waited with the wounded. He felt time had never passed so slowly. The helicopters had long run out of fuel, and in the previous great battle, Altman had been forced to use them as horse-drawn chariots.

"Master, we found it!"

"Praise the Ancestor Goddess! Praise Gromril, Chosen of the Goddess!"

Fortunately, Gromril's excited clansmen didn't make him wait long. Soon, a team of clansmen rushed back, cheering and loudly reporting their findings.

"Go!"

Gromril slapped his rock ram's backside, and the small ram galloped forward. A few minutes later, he saw a large group of clansmen gathered in front of a stone wall, loudly chattering.

"Esteemed Chosen of the Goddess, it's here!"

Brann Bronzebeard, the renowned explorer, had an unparalleled nose for ancient ruins. While other clansmen were still conducting a carpet search, he had twisted and turned his way to this spot.

"This?"

Gromril stepped forward. "Perhaps I need glasses!" he muttered to himself. Years of studying knowledge and skills in the dim underground environment had worsened his eyesight.

"Look!"

Brann, having witnessed the Avatar of the Gods, held Gromril in high regard, so he didn't keep Gromril in suspense. When he saw Gromril couldn't immediately make it out, he explained.

"Karak-Zorn, it's the first fortress built by the Ancestors. Unlike our current dwellings, there is no, or almost no, above-ground section here. This stone wall is its gate, only sealed by the Ancestors before they evacuated!"

Following Brann's finger, Gromril and the surrounding clansmen saw a set of cracks that were impossible to spot without close inspection. It was clear that the custom of building exceptionally tall gates originated from that time; without a hint, one would never mistake them for door seams.

"How do we open it? Just push?" Gromril asked directly.

"You are the only Rune Master here; you have to decide!" It was clear Brann also had no experience opening such a secret gate.

"It's been thousands of years; the power has probably severely diminished!" Gromril mused, looking at the dull, unlit runes in the door seams.

He activated the Avatar of the Gods, transforming into a stone statue before his clansmen. Amidst exclamations of awe, he placed his hands on the stone gate.

"Hya!"

With a sharp shout, a "creak!" sounded, and a crack appeared in the stone wall.

"My kin! Let's do this together! Share in the glory of recovering our Ancestral homeland!"

Gromril turned and called out. The dwarves were already eager, rushing forward, wanting to snatch a good position to push the door. This action undoubtedly earned Gromril another round of praise, and he was happy to use such cost-free methods to boost his reputation.

With everyone pushing together, the gate was opened.

"Watch out!"

Gromril roared, and an axe and a war hammer smashed down. Fortunately, the dwarves were still orderly and didn't rush to squeeze through the gate.

"What is this?"

Two stone statues, a head taller than Gromril himself, appeared before the expeditionary force.

"Is this… that kind of thing? Just much smaller!" Brockson leaned in.

The range of movement for these two stone statues seemed to be limited by the gate. After the dwarves retreated from the gate, they stopped but remained vigilant.

Gromril, of course, knew what Brockson was referring to: the Rune Golem found in the deepest part of the Engineers Guild. These two in front of him were likely miniature versions, only the size of an Ogre.

"These things should be called Rune Guardians!"

Brann tugged at his beard. Gromril felt he wasn't entirely certain, but the dwarf's character traits prompted the explorer to declare it loudly.

"They've been found in some lost Mountain Strongholds before, but the runes have been obliterated by time or damaged due to lack of maintenance. Thus, it's hard to distinguish them from ordinary statues."

"Do we not have such things anymore?" Gromril didn't remember any Rune Guardians in Everpeak. Logically, if they existed anywhere in this world, they should be found in the capital of the Mountains Kingdom.

"Since the Chaos invasion, the Ancestors realized that Rune Guardians were still insufficient against the demons of the The Four Gods. Lord Mogrim and Thurni developed a new type of giant-sized Rune Golem, but unfortunately, the techniques for manufacturing both types were lost during the Dark Ages."

Gromril looked at Brann, wondering why he knew so much, but in a flash, he understood. Guild Master Brokk had even entrusted the fledgling Gromril with repairing the Rune Golem; how much more so this explorer famous throughout the Old World?

"Bring my anvil of doom over!"

Gromril commanded. He struck the Hearth and Home rune. Gromril wasn't sure how these constructs distinguished friend from foe, but this initial rune was the best proof of his dwarf identity.

His judgment was not wrong; under the calming power of the rune, the two stone statues stopped.

"Advance slowly!"

Maintaining his Avatar of the Gods state and leading the way, Gromril walked through a short corridor. After calming another pair of guardian statues, the dwarves arrived in a great hall.

"Ancestor Gods above!"

This hall was lined with numerous statues. The dwarves carefully observed them; besides the seven Ancestor Gods standing at the front, most of the other carved figures were lost to history.

These were the original dwarves created by the Ancient Sages. Their power was not as great as the Ancestor Gods, but they were still first-rate powerhouses. Gromril believed this was Highland Fortress's landmark building, the "Ancestor Hall."

In the game, the Ancestor Hall primarily provides buffs for Longbeard units, reducing recruitment costs and upkeep while increasing level and recruitment capacity. This is not difficult to understand, and Gromril believes that many elderly clansmen will be attracted here to pay their respects.

"This place is very well preserved. The ancestors at that time must have evacuated on their own initiative!" Brian said, which was, of course, a truism. "But why is there no news about these evacuees?"

"I believe further exploration will give us the answer!" Gromril said with a smile as he dispelled his stone form. He breathed a sigh of relief; if Highland Fortress had only been ruins, he would have no initial accumulation for further development.

The dwarves once again dispersed into the various passages. The Amazonians and humans were asked to set up camp outside the gate and wait for the dwarves to complete their exploration.

The Amazonians, as mercenaries, earned a fixed salary, while the Knights entrusted Earl Marvin to be their spokesperson. This warrior from Bastonne achieved many victories against Nurgle's Daemonic Army and was guided by a vision deep into the woods that very night, drinking from the Holy Grail and ascending to "Saint Marvin."

The newly promoted Grail Knight decided to follow tradition and build a Grail Chapel at the site of his promotion, by the small lake where the Lady of the Lake appeared, and personally manage it.

The Errant Knights requested territories to be allocated to them on the Lost Plateau, and those with insufficient contribution points had to pay to make up the difference. Only a few Questing Knights who persevered until the end requested to exchange for some equipment.

Gromril agreed to all these conditions. His territory needed more than just dwarves to develop. These Knights would certainly not be lone commanders farming by themselves; more people would naturally migrate there in due time.

Karak-Zorn was not too large; by current standards, it was at most the size of an outpost, and it lacked some building complexes that became widely used only after the Dark Ages.

An hour later, Gromril's subordinates returned with reports. They had discovered three entrances guarded by multiple Rune Guardians, requiring Gromril to lead the exploration. One was on the upper level, and the other two were deeper down.

"Let's go to the upper level first!" Gromril stroked his beard and commanded. Generally, the upper level should be the lord's chambers, which might contain some written materials.

After calming the two Rune Guardians at the door, Gromril pushed open the door. His judgment was not wrong; this was a standard lord's office layout. dwarves were so conservative that the style of their fortresses had not changed much for thousands of years.

On the desk, Gromril saw what he wanted - several book of grudges. Besides the book of grudges for Highland Fortress, there were also those for the Blacksmiths' Guild and the Miners' Guild. He directly picked up the main one and began to read it.

"Venerated God Grimnir is truly skilled in combat! But thinking about it, it makes sense. Mr. Gao is already so extraordinary, so it's only natural for His true self to possess such combat power!"

Gromril muttered as he flipped through the pages. All the previous grudges had been crossed out, and more than half of the avengers listed were the God of War Grimnir.

Gromril touched the words, feeling the residual power in the blood that had replaced ink, even after thousands of years. He had reason to suspect that these were written by Father Grungni himself.

These stories, which should have been, or already were, compiled into epics, were directly skipped by Gromril. After about a third of the book of grudges was read, the scribe's handwriting changed, and unavenged grudges began to appear.

From his knowledge of history, he knew that by this time, the ancestors had already moved north. The later entries focused on Highland Fortress itself. After that point in time, it seemed to be peaceful for a long period, with no forces daring to challenge the flourishing Kingdoms of the Mountains, until the names of the Pointy-ears began to appear frequently.

"The War of the Beard even affected this place!" Gromril rubbed the pages. He saw that during this period, the clansmen of Highland Fortress and the Pointy-ears fought back and forth. Although they lacked in offense, they were more than capable of defending.

The War of the Beard ended in a dwarf victory, but then earthquakes and volcanic eruptions ushered in the Dark Ages.

"The northern Mountains collapsed, and we lost contact with the fortresses there. A prospecting team we sent out also lost contact."

"Green-skinned dwarf-goblins and muscle-bound brutes appeared out of nowhere! They don't have proper gear, but they seem to pop up endlessly. A mining outpost to the west was overrun by them."

"Traces of Pointy-ears were found to the south. Those bean sprouts still haven't given up. The ancestors should have smashed their toilet seats into the sea back then!"

Gromril could feel the indignation and helplessness of that dwarf lord in the lines and paragraphs written in blood. The conservative dwarves found it difficult to cope with such enormous changes.

Flipping through the experiences left by the ancestors yielded no solutions, and council discussions only led to endless grumbling and complaints. Wasn't all of this still happening even now?

The record suddenly stopped. Tucked in at the end was a letter, which Gromril unhesitatingly opened.

"What does it say?"

The dwarf administrators gathered around. Earlier, intimidated by Gromril's authority, they had stood silently in the office for a long time, but now they could finally wait no longer.

"They evacuated on their own? That's quite rare!" Brian read the fastest.

"They went east by boat. The boats were Dragon Ships captured from the Pointy-ears. East, what's to the east?" Balin asked curiously.

"The northern Mountains collapsed - so the Lost Plateau should have originally been Mountains, directly destroyed by that earthquake." Andumgar was also analyzing.

"That lord had a good idea. This is already the south of the world; going further south is meaningless. Going west without sailing experience would easily lead them into the arms of the bean sprouts, and things weren't like they are now." Gromril affirmed the ancestors' choice.

"Anyone who comes here and sees this letter must be a Son of the Mountains. When we evacuated, we left the Rune Guardians to protect the gates and the Ancestor Hall, hoping the deceased were not disturbed. The Pointy-ears' broken ships had limited capacity, so the equipment and wealth that couldn't be taken were sealed in the warehouse. You may use them to guard this place."

Joy appeared on Gromril's face. An active evacuation, leaving behind an intact fortress, and even extra resources – how could that not make one happy? After reading the front, he flipped the letter over. On the back was a message written in blood.

"I, Krakluk the Wanderer, am forced to leave the ancestral lands. Hereby, I swear the Slayer's Oath to atone for my actions!"

"They might have gone to the Cathay Empire!" Brian tugged at his beard.

"I heard from Pointy-ears sailors in Lothern that they had seen some sea Slayers, but their clothing, demeanor, and accent were different from our dwarves of the Old World. Perhaps they are descendants of this group of ancestors, who knows!"

Gromril secretly noted Brian's deduction in his heart; if he had the chance, he would still be willing to travel to Cathay. At that time, having some of his clansmen would provide some assistance.

Future matters were temporarily set aside. The Dwarves filed into the lower levels of the fortress, where Rune Guardians were even more densely packed. Fortunately, Gromril was now adept at calming them.

Soon, they arrived before a sealed door.

"The final harvest, don't disappoint me!"

Gromril muttered as he pushed open the door, and dazzling golden light met his eyes.

"Praise these shiny little darlings!"

"The Ancestor Gods bestowed gold upon us; it will not lose its luster with the passage of time!"

"This is Gorlm, gold passed down through generations, stored in ancient vaults; we must use it wisely!"

The Dwarves loved gold so much that they created many words to describe it. These terms distinguished the gold's purity, luster, origin, and history, among other things.

"Balin! Register them! Every member of the expeditionary force is entitled to a share!" Gromril said, calming his clansmen who were dominated by gold fever.

He pushed aside a small mountain of gold as if swimming, exploring deeper into the vault. Around the gold were piled numerous boxes, which Gromril opened one by one, finding them filled with raw ore, standardized equipment, and books.

"No treasures. Well, the Ancestors would certainly have taken anything truly valuable when they migrated!"

A hint of disappointment welled up in Gromril's heart, but he quickly adjusted his mindset. The quality of products from the Golden Age had its pros and cons compared to now. While forging techniques had advanced, the quality of raw ore was not as good as before.

The Dwarves counted three hundred sets of standardized meteorite iron equipment and fifty sets of armor engraved with basic runes. In the Golden Age, all dwarf warriors would have had a set of meteorite iron armor, rather than the regular steel plate armor used today.

After giving instructions for the registration, Gromril let his clansmen joyfully revel in the sea of gold. He himself wandered to the Ancestors' tomb.

The number of Rune Guardians here was the highest, equivalent to the combined total in the offices and warehouses.

Legend says that the earth gave birth to the Dwarf race, so when a dwarf dies, their body should return to the earth. The living attach great importance to protecting the peace of the deceased; the desecration of an Ancestor's tomb is enough to turn every clan member into a butcher.

The Rune Smiths developed a series of runes to guard tombs and protect the departed souls. They also collaborated with engineers to create tireless Rune Guardians to maintain constant vigilance.

Gromril was not here for grave goods; such an act of desecrating a fellow Clansman's tomb would directly tarnish his reputation to be worse than even the rat-like skaven. Dwarves do have a habit of being buried with some personal items, but these are mostly small trinkets like goblets and tobacco pouches. High-quality runic artifacts are almost always passed down as heirlooms to future generations.

After calming the Rune Guardians with hearth and home runes, Gromril bowed deeply before the statue of Gazul at the entrance of the cemetery arch.

"Ancestors above! Your descendant Gromril has regained control of Karak-Zorn and will certainly repair the tomb and arrange sufficient tomb guardians. Now, I must move the Rune Guardians elsewhere, and I ask for your understanding, esteemed Ancestors!"

Since gods truly existed in this world, Gromril dared not show any disrespect. He completed the ritual according to custom before taking control of the Rune Guardians.

After another day spent thoroughly exploring the Highland Fortress inside and out, the outsiders who had been camping outside were also allowed to enter. Gromril sat in the lord's office, reviewing the compiled documents.

The documents meticulously recorded everything discovered within the Highland Fortress. There were a full thirty Rune Guardians. These constructs carved from stone were exceptionally sturdy and powerful; Gromril was certain that the Ogres and Ushabti they had encountered before were no match for them.

The Ogres under Ironhead Aykhatam were relatively low-level; they lacked high-quality weapons and equipment, and confronting statues with their flesh and blood was undoubtedly courting death.

And the human-modeled Ushabti had slender bodies, with far less strength and resilience than the dwarf-modeled Rune Guardians, which were almost cubical in size.

The texts left by the Rune Smith Guild here preserved their manufacturing and control methods. Although the cost was high, Gromril knew that these things would be extremely popular in the Mountains Kingdom.

"Gold equivalent to 300,000 gold coins, not bad!"

Looking at the compiled resource income, Gromril smiled even more broadly. Although a considerable portion of this huge sum would be used for compensation and rewards, what remained should be enough for him to complete the first phase of his territory's construction.

"Assembly hall, armory, forge, furnace, smithy…"

He traced the internal map he had found with his finger. Aside from lacking gunpowder-related buildings, the Highland Fortress was essentially move-in ready, far better than Red Cloud Mountain and Spiderweb Mountain had been.

"I have the money and the place, but I'm still short on manpower!" Gromril pinched his philtrum.

He constantly yearned to send news of the expedition's success back to Everpeak, but he had always lacked a reliable person. Highland Fortress was too far from Iron Peak Fortress, beyond the range of the runic telegraph. He would have to return to Red Cloud Mountain to establish contact.

But for now, the surrounding hostile forces, apart from the High Elves of Dawn Fortress, had not yet been fully identified. Yet, that single High Elves colonial army alone made Gromril hesitant to act rashly.

Now his helicopter had no fuel, completely losing air superiority. His slow movement with his anvil of doom across the Lost Plateau could not escape the sharp eyes of the giant eagles.

No one knew what actions Prince Afazel would take, but whether it was ambushing Gromril himself along the way or launching a surprise attack while Highland Fortress was vulnerable, both were unacceptable to him.

"I wonder if the new function that Old Saint Taiboke gave me has finished loading!" Gromril muttered, clicking open the system. He saw a function that filled him with pleasant surprise.

"Changing the Dwarf race from its roots, hahahaha!"

The dwarf leader, disheveled from the expedition, burst into laughter in the empty office. Previous Valaya Rituals had only addressed problems superficially, treating symptoms rather than causes.

But the Old Saint was truly worthy of being the creator of the Dwarves; these guys could directly ensure that the head would no longer ache. Gromril saw that the latest function allowed him to gradually loosen the preset fertility restrictions for the Dwarf race by investing massive amounts of Revival Points. From pregnancy rates to male-female ratios, everything could be progressively improved.

Gromril did not hesitate for a moment. After reserving a small number of backup points, he invested all the rest into this function.

Gromril closed his eyes after investing the points, trying to feel the changes in his body. The massive amount of Revival Points he had gained from continuously recapturing fortresses and expelling demons along the way had only progressed the overall process by one-third.

According to the Old Ones' annotations, if this function were fully filled, it would elevate the Dwarf race's reproductive capacity to near human levels. The male-female ratio would normalize, and the frequency of female births would also increase.

Gromril estimated in his heart that he had many places that needed Revival Points; even treating the wounded after the war might not be enough. The next opportunity for a large acquisition would probably be when recapturing Eight Peaks Mountain and the other surrounding fortress clusters.

Only a thin line separated him from Level Seven, and Gromril now had meticulous control over his body. He keenly detected changes in his reproductive system; that set of organs seemed more active, which was undoubtedly a beneficial effect.

"What a pity, there are no females in this group, and the only Amazonians probably have reproductive isolation!"

Gromril muttered softly. The effect of his most important upgrade wouldn't be seen immediately; he could only wait for future feedback. This made him feel as if the Revival Points had been thrown into the water, without enough sense of accomplishment.

"There's too much to do next!"

"Balin, call a meeting!"

Soon, the expeditionary force's administrators gathered in the office. Gromril requested the knights and Amazonians to explore the forces around Highland Fortress on the surface, while also asking the Dwarves to survey the underground mineral deposits.

One by one, the responsible parties left after receiving their orders, leaving only Andumgar, the ranger with a bear mount, standing at the table.

"It's like this, there's a rather important task I need to entrust to you. I wonder if you have the courage to accomplish it!"

"I have already proven my bravery and ability, please just give your orders!"

The young ranger thumped his chest. Along the way, his view of Gromril had changed from "a lucky one who received divine grace" to a leader with ability and wisdom.

"Deliver a message. Send the news of our expedition's success, along with relevant letters and tokens, back to Karag-Red Cloud Mountain Fortress! Along the way, you only have Spiderweb Mountain as a supply point. Our own clansmen don't have mounts, and the only support I can give you are a few knights!"

Gromril tapped the table. Possible interceptions on the return journey included the routed Savage orks; the Pygmies, whose leaders hadn't been seen, so their alignment was unknown; the fleeing spider remnants; and the High Elves.

Even if he sent a force of over a hundred men, he couldn't guarantee safety, and it would slow down progress. But if he sent more, the safety of Highland Fortress would be difficult to guarantee.

Gunpowder could not yet be produced here, so Gromril's artillery and helicopters were in a state of stagnation. Crossbowmen could reuse arrows after battles, but cannonballs were gone once fired. Without their help, the Dwarves would struggle to inflict damage on large units.

Andumgar left with the items, and Gromril sat in the room, poring over the ancient texts left by the Rune Smith Guild. These books recorded many lost runes and techniques. With these, he could improve himself and also have the opportunity to recruit some fellow practitioners to serve him.

A few days later, the scouts returned with the latest information. South of Highland Fortress was, of course, Prince Althran's Dawn Fortress. To the west, there was said to be a rainforest where Wood Elves had been sighted.

To the northwest, beyond the rainforest, was Ka-Sabar, the Bronze City of Nehekhara, and also the southernmost stronghold of the Land of the Dead. This place was once a mining and forging center, so the warriors were well-equipped, and the resurrected skeletons were similarly so.

On the eastern side of the World's Edge Mountains, closer to the ocean, there was another stretch of rainforest at the foot of the mountains. The scouts had brief contact with the indigenous people there and saw a large number of Skinks. There was no doubt that a Lizardmen temple city was in the rainforest.

Gromril knew from the strategic map that it should be the White Bone Temple, the last guardian of Axlotl in the game, the domain of Kroq-Gar, Hand of the Gods. However, Gromril was unsure if Commander Kroq-Gar had arrived in the Southlands at this time.

He stroked his beard, looking at the map marked with faction indicators. The environment around Highland Fortress was not good; although three sides were inhabited by order-aligned races, their relationship with the Dwarves was far from friendly.

Highland Fortress, and indeed the entire Southlands section of the World's Edge Mountains, was in a state of disrepair. Any internal political breakthrough was impossible with his mere thousand or so men, who only had weapons and lacked tools and raw materials.

Gromril felt like every day was a year in the fortress. After months of intense campaigning and marching, suddenly being idle made him very uncomfortable.

He couldn't focus on reading the ancient texts. He went out and wandered around, visiting the wounded, hunting beasts, but Highland Fortress was only so big. Soon, he fell into a state of agitation again.

"Perhaps I should first try to establish contact with a faction!" Gromril made this decision.

"Where should I start? High Elves are definitely out. Whether I can deal with them or not, getting involved with those pointy-eared elves will certainly affect future recruitment of our clansmen."

Gromril analyzed to himself. He didn't have any qualified strategists around to consult. In fact, in dwarf society, the role of a lord's strategist was often played by a Rune Master.

"Wood Elves are even harder to deal with than High Elves. At least the Phoenix King changes, but Wood Elves have always been presided over by the demigods Orion and Ariel. They are more conservative than anyone. This expeditionary force in the Southlands might be different, but with our current weak strength, it's better not to gamble!"

"It'll be the Lizardmen!" Gromril made up his mind. He summoned Anagonda and handed a letter to the Amazonian leader.

"Communicate if you can. It's best to communicate directly with the Slann. If not, a Skinks leader will do. Gold is not a big deal. Start with a non-aggression pact, and if there's an opportunity to go deeper, even better."

Gromril carefully chose his words as he instructed. He didn't know how strong the Southlands Lizardmen were, or what their attitude was towards outsiders, but there was always a chance for communication.

"Slann Mage-Priest Otlax invites you to meet at the foot of the mountain!" A few days later, the Amazonians returned with a satisfactory reply for Gromril.

The dwarf lord boarded the anvil of doom, surrounded by Anvil Guards and Hammerers, and headed down the mountain. Halfway down, the Dwarves heard a rustling sound, and shadowy figures moved in the rainforest.

Seeing the Dwarves, with a sharp shriek, a large group of creatures with amber-colored crests emerged from under the trees. They were hunched over, appearing even shorter than the Dwarves, but their movements were light and agile.

These Skinks were unarmored, holding various simple pieces of equipment. Seeing their impoverished gear, the Dwarves' eyes gleamed with gold. These were excellent potential customers, provided they could afford the price.

I will try to resolve the school matters as soon as possible, and update daily next month.

As the Skinks surged out of the forest and approached the Dwarf race's contingent, Gromril observed the small creatures. Some held obsidian sword-shields, others stone spears, and some carried blowpipes similar to those used by Pygmies.

Gromril, of course, knew that the Pygmies learned to use blowpipes from the Skinks; the Lizardmen were the firstborn of the Old Ones, meaning other races learned from them, not the other way around.

Immediately following, a palanquin with a peculiar decorative style appeared, upon which sat a corpulent, toad-like creature. The palanquin was floating, undoubtedly due to the powerful magic of its occupant.

The Dwarf race let out a gasp of admiration. As an equally ancient race, they knew the arrival was a Slann Mage-Priest, the Old Ones' most favored servant. These beings possessed high intelligence and magical abilities.

However, Gromril was not intimidated by the floating conveyance. He knew that the truly powerful elder Slann rode on Triceratops. The ancient Triceratops chosen as mounts even bore powerful weapons left behind by the Old Ones on their backs.

This Otlax was most likely a Fourth or Fifth Generation Slann Mage-Priest. He was surrounded by a group of Skinks, faster and stronger than their kin, with red crests and wielding two-handed warhammers that looked somewhat disproportionate to their bodies.

Gromril remembered that normally, Slann were protected by Temple Guard, a respected and unique group among the Lizardmen. They were hatched specifically to protect the Slann and the temple-cities. This change indirectly indicated the weakness of the Southlands' Lizardmen.

"Dwarves, after thousands of years, you have finally returned to the homeland your masters designated for you!"

"Yes, revered Slann, we have returned to the original place!"

Gromril responded, and after he spoke, he saw his clansmen looking at him with surprise. Gromril paused, then realized that the Slann had not spoken aloud but communicated directly with him through his mind. To everyone else, he had just blurted out a sentence without context.

Although the Slann possessed telepathic abilities, this did not mean the Amazonians had not demonstrated their worth. The Slann's physical bodies were relatively fragile, and they were always under the strict protection of other Lizardmen. To meet them, one would certainly need to communicate with the Lizardmen in advance.

"You requested to see me, Guardian of the White Bone Temple, for what purpose?" The Slann opposite him did not open his eyes; he looked as if he were sleeping, but Gromril could feel his immense soul fluctuations.

Slann perceive the world differently from mortals; their orderly consciousness knows no rest, constantly interpreting profound questions and contemplating the true meaning of the universe. Some Mage-Priests' meditations delve so deep that even their vital signs become difficult to detect, so his closed eyes do not signify hostility.

"We have traveled a long way and are not yet familiar with the surrounding environment. We wish to communicate with our neighbors, build good relations, and if possible, exchange resources and develop together to contribute to the Great Plan."

Gromril adopted a very humble attitude towards the Lizardmen. If it came to fighting, both Elven factions would be simpler choices. For the eastern side of his territory, he only desired peace.

"The Great Plan! You, you actually know about this?"

The Slann's eyelids twitched slightly. He was quite shocked to hear such a term from a short-lived race.

"As far as I know, you and your kin in the Southlands have lost contact with your counterparts in Lustria, is that not so?"

Gromril spoke in his mind. This was a deduction from his previous life, but the lack of powerful Lizardmen around the Slann confirmed his judgment.

"Hmph! Indeed, for various reasons, the geomantic web here is in disrepair, and our sporadic communication with our ancestors across the Great Pond is intermittent. Moreover, it seems that I, and some of them, do not share the same understanding of the Great Plan!"

Otlax sighed. To the Slann, the vast ocean was merely a Great Pond. But the understanding of the Great Plan limited the Slann's subjective initiative.

"May I ask which generation of Slann you are?" Gromril asked the question he was most concerned about.

"You even know this? Regular visitors are only interested in our golden plaques!" The Slann became more interested in the Dwarf race before him. "Yes, I was created last by the masters, even after your ancestors."

Gromril nodded. Otlax gave him a feeling inferior to The Fay Enchantress, perhaps even to Malagor the Dark Omen. He felt that by activating Avatar of the Gods and relying on the greatly enhanced magic resistance, he might even be able to overpower the Slann before him.

"I think we can define our borders to avoid friction. How about using the Mountains as the boundary?" Gromril proposed his suggestion after his assessment.

"It is only right. The Mountains belong to you. Even after you left, I have always restrained my subordinates from entering the Mountains!" The Slann's voice was very calm. This created guardian adhered to the original laws more strictly than the Dwarf race.

"Very good, very good!" Gromril hadn't expected his minimum goal—a non-aggression pact—to be achieved with virtually no effort.

"Then perhaps our two sides can do something else together! You know, we Sons of the Mountains have a unique talent for forging equipment and constructing buildings."

"Dwarf race, what do you wish to gain? Gold? In that case, you are no different from your greedy kin before you! I truly don't know what's wrong with the minds of you rock-born creatures, valuing gold more than your own lives!"

It seemed Otlax had been disturbed by the Dwarf race coveting his treasures many times during his long life. Hearing this, he became agitated, and Gromril could feel his mental fluctuations transform from a gentle trickle into a torrent.

Gromril knew that the Lizardmen's gold was primarily used to make plaques for recording information, the most crucial of which was the Great Plan and its interpretations. They valued gold more for the content recorded on it.

The reason for this was that paper and leather easily became damp and decayed in the tropical rainforests where they lived. In contrast, gold had anti-corrosion properties and was relatively soft, making it easy to engrave text.

"Calm yourself, I am different from my compatriots before! You can exchange your products and services for grain, knowledge, technology, and so on. Of course, if there are jewels or anything similar, that would also be good."

Gromril had long overcome his gold fever. With the End Times looming, if they couldn't withstand it and the world was gone, what use would gold be?

"That sounds good. My temple-city certainly has many places that could use your help. It's been a long time since any Dread Saurians hatched, and many tasks cannot be completed by Skinks."

When the Lizardmen were created, their division of labor was clear: the Slann oversaw the big picture; the Saurus, or Lizardmen, served as the main fighting force; the Skinks handled logistics such as farming and craftsmanship; and the Kroxigor, the strongest of them, bore the brunt of heavy labor.

From Otlax's account, it might be the lack of Kroxigor that hindered him and the other Slann in the Southlands from rebuilding the geomantic web.

In the game, Master Mazdamundi sent Commander Kroq-Gar to the Southlands for this very reason.

Currently, Gromril doesn't have enough manpower to work for the Lizardmen, but for an immortal creature like a Slann, a few months or even years might just be a nap.

After leaving Balin and a Skink leader with a noticeably more ornate headdress to coordinate, Gromril returned to Karak-Zorn with his men.

He began another long wait, as further development plans had to be determined based on the support received from the Old World.

Gromril ordered his subordinates not to venture into the western rainforests, where the Wood Elves, much like their counterparts in the Old World, were holed up in their treehouses, unwilling to move, and had not yet realized they had new neighbors.

"What did my uncle say?"

South of Highland Fortress, on a mist-shrouded island, stood a pristine High Elf fortress.

Prince Afazel of the Kingdom of Eataine paced in his council chamber.

"High King Finubar's intention is to observe for now and not engage them proactively.

He believes your previous actions were too rash, and we have more important adversaries."

A High Elf, dressed in robes, holding a staff, and with a sword at his waist, responded.

If Gromril were present, he would quickly recognize this as an Archmage from the White Tower of Hoeth, as they mastered long-distance communication spells.

High Elves have a natural affinity for the Winds of Magic, making it easier for them to produce spellcasters and master more powerful magic.

There are enough mages willing to serve as advisors, offering their wisdom and magical power to lords.

"Am I just supposed to watch those Dwarves prance around under my nose?

What will the nobles of other kingdoms think then..."

"Your duty is to guard the Southern Seas, isn't it?"

The Archmage understood the young prince's thoughts; he was often questioned about his abilities because he was the Phoenix King's nephew, and he was eager to find opportunities to prove himself.

"Lord Teclis senses the power of the Great Vortex weakening, and Her Majesty the Everqueen has also warned of a resurgence of dark forces.

The previous Nurgle's Daemonic Army is clear proof. To put it bluntly, when facing demons, the Dwarves might be more trustworthy than our own kin."

The Archmage persuaded him, as the affinity for the Winds of Magic also brought more opportunities for corruption and temptation, with the Dark Elves being the best proof.

The White Tower of Hoeth first rose to prominence during the civil war against the Cult of Pleasure.

Prince Afazel's lips moved twice, but in the end, he didn't continue the debate.

The High Elves had sensed the great battle between Gromril and Kugath, and he wasn't confident he could defeat a Great Unclean One.

Panosen had left a ship for messaging on his return voyage; without provisions and sailing downstream, the speed would be faster.

About a month after departing Andumgar, Gromril's anvil of doom suddenly lit up.

"Someone!"

He shouted, and a young man named Nori rushed in.

He was Balin's assistant and a literate noble descendant.

With the popularization of rune telegraphs, telegraph operators became a new profession among the Dwarves.

"Who can send a telegram this far?"

Gromril muttered as he watched Nori scribble.

With his own ability, he would need to set up another base station in Red Cloud Mountain to contact Iron Peak Fortress.

Thorek Ironbrow had only recently become a Rune Master, so he shouldn't be so much stronger than himself.

"It's from Everpeak!

Asking if it's true!"

Nori turned to report to Gromril.

"Of course!"

Gromril gestured for him to reply directly.

The master-level communication rune on the anvil of doom was powered by the energy gathered by the anvil; he just needed to activate it.

"He said to send him a Rune Guardian back."

"That's it?"

Gromril jumped up from his chair.

"The sender is Master Krag!

Oh my, I'm talking to that legend!"

Nori's next sentence made him plop back down.

"His Majesty the High King is not suitable to travel by sea rashly.

He has entrusted Lord Panos of Sea Gate to verify your battle achievements on behalf of the kings of the allied states.

The fleet will depart immediately, carrying the urgently needed supplies you mentioned and the relevant letters of appointment."

It seemed Master Krag sent his personal message first before starting with official business; in Gromril's memory, this was indeed his master's style.

"Excellent!"

Gromril slammed the table.

"Master Krag will contact you every three days thereafter.

He has dispatched your senior brother, Master Nathan, who will be stationed at Red Cloud Mountain Fortress to facilitate communication between here and Karak-Azul."

"Master Nathan!"

Gromril muttered.

He had some impression of this senior brother; he was the oldest of Master Krag's living disciples and likely the strongest.

In recent years, he had lived a reclusive life, not accepting employment from lords, and dedicating himself to the study of rune knowledge.

Gromril felt the following days passed much faster.

The three-day contact made him feel like he had something to look forward to.

Finally, the person sending him telegrams changed; Lord Panos's fleet arrived at the Great River Mortis Delta, and Master Nathan connected with Gromril.

This fleet was twice the size of the previous one.

Lord Panos brought almost all his men, except for the necessary garrison.

Gromril understood their concerns; since the Dark Ages, it wasn't that no one had recaptured lost fortresses, but holding them was harder than recapturing them.

Expeditionary forces would always find secret passages not yet discovered by the foolish races occupying the fortresses, attack, and reclaim key halls.

But their numbers were small, and if subsequent reinforcements arrived late, failure would precede them.

With the previous route map, Lord Panos's fleet quickly advanced to Quata.

Some ships returned after unloading, while others remained to fortify the port.

Gromril maintained contact with them throughout the rest of the journey.

Aside from some harassment from wandering undead in Casket Canyon, no other creatures dared to disturb this larger dwarf force.

Master Nathan did not stay directly at Red Cloud Mountain Fortress but followed the troops to Highland Fortress first.

They, like Gromril before them, discovered the High Elves.

Fortunately, Lord Panos, who led the team, had long dealt with elves, which helped the troops maintain restraint.

Updates will begin daily starting tomorrow.

After much anticipation, Gromril finally welcomed Lord Panos and his troops. One thousand dwarves arrived at Highland Fortress, bringing with them enough artillery. This was after Lord Panos had already detached some of his forces to help defend three outposts along the way.

By dwarf standards, Gromril's expedition was undoubtedly a blitzkrieg. The kings of the various states were still primarily focused on preparing supplies when news of his victory reached them. Some clansmen who hadn't favored Gromril had estimated he would still be holed up in Karag-Red Cloud Mountain Fortress!

As the one responsible for transportation, Lord Panos knew exactly how much strength Gromril had. He didn't dare wait for clansmen and foreign troops from other fortresses, besides the nearest Everpeak, to arrive, and urgently set off.

Having received word from Master Nathan, Gromril waited at the main gate. His expeditionary force warmly embraced their dust-covered compatriots.

"Thanks be to the Ancestor Gods, thanks be to the Ancient Kings, thanks be to you, and thanks be to those who brought you here!"

Lord Panos stood before the gates of Highland Fortress, grasping Gromril's hand, speaking incoherently. The white-bearded Lord looked a few years older than before, but his spirits were high.

Most of the pressure for transporting supplies for this sea-route expedition fell on Sea Gate. Lord Panos was Gromril's second-largest benefactor, and thankfully, Gromril had not disappointed him.

After admiring the Ancestor Hall, filled with statues, and witnessing the awe-inspiring Rune Guardians, the dwarves held a grand celebration banquet in the hall. This celebration had been postponed due to a lack of sufficient alcohol!

"Undoubtedly, the Ancestor Gods, and Grimbrindal, have chosen you. Lord Gromril of the Drazklad Clan, the Mountains Kingdom will rely on you from now on!"

Lord Panos had drunk a good deal. As the saying goes, "The duck is the first to know when the river warms in spring." As the master of the most open fortress among the various states, he had the most direct experience of the Dwarf race's decline. It was precisely for this reason that he had vigorously supported every promising expeditionary force in recent years.

"What a vast expanse of land! From the northernmost Bleak Hold to the Everpeak, it's only this much!" He praised, patting Gromril's shoulder.

"Perhaps it's also thanks to you; before I left, many women suddenly found themselves with child! My wife has never been so busy. Perhaps I truly will see us rise to glory once more!"

Hearing this, Gromril's shoulder, beneath the old dwarf's hand, trembled slightly. He caught a flicker of clarity hidden in Lord Panos's drunken eyes. The ruler of Sea Gate possessed remarkably keen intelligence and sensitivity.

"Hahahaha! Some things should be said. I truly do deserve some credit for this!" With a decent territory in hand and his own power greatly increased, Gromril no longer intended to hide his achievements as he had before.

"I promise you, you will see it. I have sworn an oath before the Ancestor Goddess to revive our race and restore the Mountains Kingdom to its former glory!"

Gromril raised his voice, and his declaration elicited a considerable amount of cheering. Every clansmen was extremely satisfied; bringing the original fortress back under control held extraordinary significance. dwarves once achieved glory here, so why couldn't they revive from here again?

At the end of the banquet, Lord Panos publicly presented Gromril with his letter of appointment and the accompanying book of grudges.

The title "Lord of the Southern World's Edge Mountains" was exactly as Gromril had anticipated; at this point in time, no one had the desire or the right to infringe upon Gromril's newly acquired interests.

The newly acquired title came with its own set of rights. Firstly, it meant that Gromril had officially established his own household, to some extent separating himself from his father's faction.

Secondly, he had entered the Dwarf race's decision-making body, gaining the right to attend all meetings at the High King's Court, including the Grudge Gathering, and possessing voting rights during deliberations. Before, he was at most a high-ranking advisor representing the will of the gods.

Simultaneously, the officials and staff he appointed would be recognized throughout dwarf society, no longer being a motley crew or makeshift organization. Such "within the system" positions would undoubtedly help attract talent.

Currently, Gromril's sphere of influence could be said to be second only to Thorgrim Grudgebearer, who rules the Silver Road. Even Slayer King Agrimm does not possess such a vast expanse of Mountains. However, he only owns the land; the buildings and residents must be planned and acquired by himself.

Lord Panos arrived quickly and departed just as swiftly. He had left in a hurry, and many matters had not been fully resolved. This was also what Gromril wanted; the sooner Lord Panos confirmed his victory, the sooner he could recruit people and develop his territory.

The reinforcements brought gunpowder, cannonballs, and helicopter fuel. These supplies set Gromril's war machine in motion once again. The five hundred fresh troops left by Panos were, of course, an excellent addition, all of which bolstered Gromril's confidence.

Gromril briefly communicated with Master Nathan. He was not well acquainted with this Senior Brother; Master Nathan had already completed his apprenticeship before Gromril joined. But without a doubt, he did not want to miss out on such a powerful Rune user who had come to him.

Master Nathan was already close to five hundred years old. From his appearance, he was practically a replica of Master Krag. A floor-length white beard, simple but rune-glowing armor, and a serious face.

Under the combined influence of the High King's request, his teacher's instructions, and Gromril's immense prestige, Master Nathan stated that he was willing to follow Gromril's command and contribute to the Mountains Kingdom in the final stage of his life, ensuring a good position in the Ancestor Hall.

The Master's primary mission here was to help maintain communications. After some discussion, Gromril learned that as long as he was provided with qualified assistants, he could also undertake the responsibility of managing a small city. After all, he possessed all the things most respected by dwarves: beard, skill, wealth, and strength.

The newly arrived clansmen settled in, and the Senior Brother, escorted by his Anvil Guard, returned to Red Cloud Mountain to fulfill his duties. Karak-Zorn fell silent once again, but Gromril hoped this would be the last time.

"How should we develop next? There are simply too many things to do!"

Gromril spread out the map, pondering. Highland Fortress was far from the Old World, and development would face many obstacles. Of course, from another perspective, it also held enormous potential.

"Various preferential policies need to be actively formulated, and more importantly, roads must be built."

From Red Cloud Mountain to Highland Fortress, without mounts, it would take a month on foot, and that's without transporting goods. In contrast, once out of the Mountains, there were steamships on the waterways, which drastically cut down travel time.

"The grand plan has completed its first phase, and the second phase is about to begin."

Gromril, having recovered from several days of feasting, sat in his office and resumed work. When he first transmigrated, his initial goal was to secure a territory for himself, then develop it well, and once he had accumulated enough strength, he would reclaim Karak-Eight-Peaks and the surrounding fortresses.

After that, he would resolve the threat of the Skaven through several major battles, push back into the Chaos Wastes before Archaon, the Everchosen, moved south, close the Chaos Gates at the poles, and save this world from the clutches of the Chaos Gods.

"What should I do for the first step of the second major phase?"

Gromril flicked his pen, sat up straight, and began writing on a draft paper on his desk. He suspected this seat was the predecessor to the throne of power; the stone-carved chair was uncomfortable, and the fixed distance from the desk forced him to sit rigidly.

"Population, I need everything: dwarves, Humans, and the indigenous people of the Southlands. Those Pygmies must also be mobilized. At least, we need to achieve self-sufficiency."

Gromril muttered as he wrote, feeling it was necessary to set a deadline for his plan—one that was neither too long nor too short.

Five years seemed good; his previous country and many similar works often chose five years as a planning cycle.

"In the first five years, I want to move as many people as possible into the Southern World's Edge Mountains and achieve food self-sufficiency."

Currently, all he had were warriors. Food, apart from external supplies, relied purely on hunting and gathering. If contact were cut off, they would immediately be reduced to everyone hunting rabbits. No lord with ambition and a desire to achieve anything could accept this.

"I also need to build roads in these five years, from Highland Fortress to Red Cloud Mountain, and then the desert section from Red Cloud Mountain to Quata," Gromril continued to write.

"To get rich, build roads first" was also a truth from his previous life. Convenient transportation is a necessary condition for prosperity and can drive the flourishing of other industries. The influx of people and the output of goods are all closely related to transportation.

More important than these was safety. If Red Cloud Mountain were attacked, and Master Nathan sent Gromril a plea for help, but reinforcements would take a month of forced march to arrive, that would undoubtedly be a terrible situation.

"What should I build?"

Gromril tugged at his beard. According to dwarf tradition, it would undoubtedly be to reorganize the geomantic network. But he was clearly not a traditional dwarf, and even the geomantic network relied on walking, just relatively easier walking.

"Still, I should build railways. Although the cost is high, it benefits the present and future generations." Gromril mused. In fact, he had always thought dwarves could build subways. The geomantic network was built so wide that there was more than enough room for tracks.

However, the distance between Everpeak and several surrounding large fortresses—Zhufbar, Sea Gate, and Butcher Keep—was within acceptable walking distance. That area was the heartland of the Mountain Kingdom, where conservative forces were strongest, all of which increased resistance to building railways.

Another key point for building railways on this route was that the original Mountains were destroyed into the Lost Plateau during the Great Earthquake, and the geomantic network within it, of course, disintegrated. Compared to re-excavating tunnels, laying tracks on the surface would undoubtedly involve less work.

"Since we're building, we might as well include the short distance from Red Cloud Mountain to Quata. But the difficulty here isn't the distance; it's clearing the ownerless undead in Casket Canyon. These tasks can be left to adventurers, which also serves as an opportunity to attract people."

Gromril said, then switched to a new piece of paper and continued to write down the next key point of the Five-Year Plan.

"Regarding population migration, to get people from various races in the Old World to travel thousands of miles to settle here, there must be sufficiently attractive policies."

He felt like this was like controlling an entire province in a game and issuing edicts. In the game, dwarves could choose edicts like Master of Iron and Stone (reducing construction and recruitment costs); Ancestor Worship (increasing public order, reducing corruption); High King's Tribute (increasing lord income); and Authorized Guilds (increasing development and trade).

However, it was clear that reality was not as simple and direct as in a game; implementing policies with a single click was unrealistic. Gromril analyzed that three main factors influenced population migration.

First, natural environmental factors: climate, fresh water, soil, mineral deposits, natural disasters, etc. Almost no one would choose to relocate to an uninhabitable place. In this regard, the Southern World's Edge Mountains had not suffered much damage over thousands of years and could be considered quite advantageous.

Second, economic factors: in most cases, people migrate to pursue better economic income, which leads to a better standard of living. Gromril's territory had vast arable land and many easily exploitable mineral deposits.

In most Dwarf Holds in the Old World, after thousands of years of intensive development, to find decent ore, workers had to delve deep underground to an unacceptable distance, or else leave the fortress and venture out at risk.

Gromril believed that as long as they were willing to come and could accept the initial growing pains of inadequate infrastructure, their economic income would surely increase significantly.

To encourage more population migration, Gromril and his staff needed to draft preferential policies and promote them widely in the Old World. Gromril decided to discuss this part in a meeting later, as the "degree" was very important.

Although his reputation among the Dwarf Holds had already reached its peak, and many in the Knight Kingdom of Bretonnia also sang his stories, which lord with a brain didn't know the importance of population?

If Gromril offered excessive incentives, it would inevitably cause resentment among the lords. If they not only refused to cooperate with the propaganda but also actively obstructed those who wished to migrate, population influx would become very difficult.

Even if they truly didn't interfere, an excessive influx of people would drastically increase Gromril's logistical pressure before self-sufficiency could be achieved. If this problem was not handled well, a significant drop in reputation would be a minor consequence.

"Notify everyone, call a meeting of the civil officials!"

Gromril shouted out of his office. There were no message buttons like in Thorgrim's office; he could only convey his orders by traditional methods.

Soon, Balin and several of his subordinates arrived in the office. Gromril followed the world's tradition in appointing officials, simply dividing them into civil and military classes, and then handling specific matters. dwarf society had a small population, so there was no need or ability to support a complex bureaucracy.

Specific matters in various industries such as forging, stonework, and agricultural production would be managed by the guild masters. dwarf lords generally served concurrently as chief commanders and judges, and in Gromril's current situation, he undoubtedly also served as priest.

Balin and several civilian dwarves around him served as secretaries, cashiers, and telegraph operators. From the start of the expedition until now, Gromril had not clearly defined their respective duties.

On one hand, the expeditionary force was small, the tasks were minor and varied, and the civilian staff was limited. On the other hand, Gromril believed that a certain degree of functional overlap, while trust was not yet fully established, helped ensure efficiency and integrity.

In fact, he had underestimated the loyalty and reliability of the Dwarf race. Even with his deliberate efforts to observe and test these young clansmen, they had not disappointed him.

Gromril appointed Balin as the Minister of Internal Affairs, with the other clansmen serving as his subordinates. His cousin, at an exceptionally young age, became an administrator. This was quite rare in the Mountains Kingdom, where most lords preferred to trust the wisdom that came with age.

Gromril also promised to establish more than one mid-level position in the future, as he did not want his territory to become stagnant at its inception. This arrangement indeed boosted his subordinates' enthusiasm for work.

"My territory needs population, the more the better, and the sooner the better! Share your opinions," Gromril said. Some practices from his previous life might not be suitable for transplantation, so he decided to listen to the wisdom of the local people.

"We should spread the news throughout the entire Mountains Kingdom via runic telegraph!" the telegraph operator Nori jumped in to answer.

"That's not enough. The clansmen who can afford a runic telegraph machine are still a minority. You can't expect the leaders of settlements to come here to settle, can you? If you ask me, the taverns must be utilized!"

The young man's view was immediately criticized. The speaker was Oin, who was two hundred years old, the oldest among Gromril's civil servant team. He had originally served as a clerk in the High King's Court, but due to his humble background, he had no opportunities for promotion, which is why he signed up for the expedition to seek opportunities.

"His Majesty Gromril, you are renowned throughout the Mountains as the Generous One. If we give the tavern owners some referral fees, I believe they will be more diligent in their promotion."

Oin, being middle-aged, had a better understanding of society. His idea was approved by Gromril. Taverns were gathering places for dwarves to exchange news, and the owners and barkeepers might be as effective in promotion as a lord.

"The clansmen who are willing to come may, perhaps, not have many savings," Balin said cautiously, not wanting to fall behind his subordinates. These days, he had learned an essential skill for those in power: speaking with reservation.

"I think we need to provide them with temporary housing, and consider things like supplies along the way. More importantly, after the clansmen arrive here, we must cover their living expenses before the production and trade systems are established."

Balin's words hit the mark. Although there were quite a few factions around Highland Fortress, the dwarves had only established a trade agreement with the Lizardmen. The lord needed to regulate the entire economic system before it became fully operational.

"I have considered this," Gromril said, pushing the road construction draft in front of the civil servants. Although they had long been aware of Gromril's attitude of treating gold like dirt, a simple calculation of the cost of such a large project made every dwarf gasp.

"Ancestor Gods above!"

"Brockson will probably be overjoyed!"

"Didn't the Ancestor Goddess teach us to save?"

The civil servants exclaimed loudly, all of which was within Gromril's expectations. It was precisely for this reason that he made the decision to build the railway without discussion. dwarves are inherently reluctant to spend money, and even someone as wise as Thorgrim would be affected by this.

"With such a large project, I believe that everyone who is willing will be able to support themselves," Balin said blankly. Work relief was a policy proven effective in both worlds.

"If that's not enough, helping the Lizardmen rebuild their temple cities and clearing Casket Canyon can also be put on the agenda, but the latter requires combat experience," Gromril added. He didn't want the clansmen who traveled so far to suffer heavy losses at the hands of those fellows.

"The initial funding for the first phase of construction, in addition to our existing wealth, can also be supplemented by the proceeds from selling land in the Lost Plateau," Gromril said, changing the subject and narrowing his eyes.

How to deal with the vast, fertile land of the Lost Plateau was a very difficult problem. He felt like he was walking a tightrope, and one wrong step could lead to significant negative consequences in the future.

"That is our Mountains, after all!"

"This, this is very difficult..."

The members of the expeditionary force all knew about Gromril's promise to allocate territories from the Lost Plateau to the knights, but privately, everyone avoided discussing it. Now that it was brought up openly and without outsiders present, the civil servants decided to offer some more advice.

Although everyone admitted that these knights had good combat power and had made considerable contributions along the way, the Mountains had belonged to the Dwarf race since ancient times! This was a truly "ancestor-defying decision," and only Gromril's prestige kept the dissenting voices at bay.

"I understand your thoughts, but introducing knights and their people has many benefits. First, military power; they will, of course, protect their homes. That plateau is too vast and lacks fortresses to rely on, making it difficult for us to control alone. Moreover, in times of external conflict, cooperating with us is a promise that must be kept."

Gromril took a sip of coffee, a product of the Southlands' rainforests. He decided to first ensure the ideological alignment of these most sensible subordinates, as he would later rely on them to alleviate the opposition from the clansmen below.

"Furthermore, they will become an important part of our economic cycle. Farmers tilling and herding will provide us with food; they will need tools and to build houses, which will create market demand for us. Our economic characteristics are clear: we buy agricultural products and export high-value goods and craftsmanship."

"Indeed, selling unique Southlands specialties is fine, but transporting highly homogenized crafts back to the Old World to sell would be a foolish act only a Goblin would commit," Balin understood immediately. Transportation costs dictated that the dwarves of the Southern World's Edge Mountains had to find markets locally.

"The price for selling the land shouldn't be too high. After all, relocating farmers is the knights' own business. If they can't make it work, those farms will be a one-time deal." Seeing the civil servants nod, Gromril continued.

"We need to screen for buyers with strong financial resources and good character. The Ancestor Goddess has revived, and She told me that the birth rate will gradually increase. There are not many good, unclaimed places left in this world; we should leave some room for future generations." The Old One's upgrade to the system prompted Gromril to make additional considerations.

"We need a spokesperson for this matter." Gromril stroked his beard; selecting the right neighbors was crucial, as even among the Knights who revered the Lady of the Lake, there were bound to be scoundrels.

"I suggest you ask His Majesty Thorgrim to speak directly with the Knight King, ork Slayer – Chalen. After all, the Lost Plateau is as large as two ducal territories combined. Even if you don't intend to give up all of it, the number of Knights relocating here will not be small."

A young man, Gloin, who hadn't spoken before, offered this suggestion. He was Oin's cousin, from the same clan as Oin. But unlike the middle-aged man who had worked for half his life and grown disillusioned with the aristocracy, this young man still held deep respect and reverence for the monarchy.

"Well said!" Gromril praised. For such a big matter, it was more convenient to consult his father than to ponder it himself. It was good to have a big tree to lean on.

"Draft a plan! Once Lord Panos returns to the Old World and we establish contact, we must execute it. Development should be pursued sooner rather than later!" Gromril gestured for his subordinates to handle the arrangements. He didn't want to get bogged down in details; he hadn't even enjoyed his transmigration yet, so he couldn't afford to exhaust himself by worrying about everything.

"Taking one step and looking two in the grand scheme of things, what do I want to accomplish in the second five-year period?" With time still on his hands, Gromril began to think further.

"Ensure the security of the territory!" he wrote. There were still two Elven factions around Highland Fortress; at the very least, he needed to reach a non-aggression pact or better with them to secure a stable rear.

"The Lost Plateau, to its east, is home to the Tomb Kings under Settra. They might not bother us, but Black Arkhan must be guarded against."

Gromril mumbled and wrote. Arkhan, mimicking his master, had built a smaller black pyramid for himself—Arkhan's Black Tower. He was entrenched there, plotting the resurrection of Nagash.

The Lich King possessed immense magical power, subtly leading the Undead forces of the world. It was rumored that Vampires and Necromancers also served him. The Undying Emperor could not defeat him and, to that end, even stooped to enticing the dwarves to fight him.

"What's in the western rainforest is unknown for now, but as long as it's not a race of Order, we can try to cooperate with the Lizardmen. Spiderweb Mountain should not be a concern; the Brood Queen managed it for thousands of years, and after her death, nothing dared to stir up trouble there."

"The real difficulty lies in Red Cloud Mountain!" Gromril frowned as he looked at the map. The Tomb Kings west of Casket Canyon had not been conquered by Settra, and there were traces of high-level Vampires in Lahmia.

Even more terrifying was that it was separated from Nagash's wilderness by only a strait. Nagashizzar—the city the Lord of the Undead established after his first defeat and escape—was on the other side of the strait. It was said that there were once massive reserves of warpstone beneath it, for which Nagash had waged war with the Skaven for a century.

Gromril had no information about Nagashizzar, but it was obvious that an evil force occupied it. He suddenly thought of Minas Morgul, the lair of the Ringwraiths in The Lord of the Rings from his previous life.

North of Red Cloud Mountain were the Badlands. A crucial point in Gromril's second major step was to open a land route between Red Cloud Mountain and Karak-Azul. The ocean ultimately did not belong to the dwarves; if they relied entirely on sea transport, the consequences could be disastrous if something went wrong.

The most challenging aspect of this route was the unknown. The dwarves didn't know how many Greenskins were in the tunnels and mountain gorges, nor could they distinguish which tribes they belonged to or who answered to whom.

The entire Badlands was a paradise for Greenskins; they were constantly "having a good time" there. And once a Warboss emerged among them to unite the tribes, then disaster would befall the Old World.

If Red Cloud Mountain and Iron Peak Fortress could be connected, then reclaiming Eight Peaks Mountain, Dragon Cliff Stronghold, and Black Rock Fortress would no longer be a rootless endeavor. Gromril knew that King Kazador of Iron Peak Fortress would be happy to cooperate with him; he too was a Dragon Slayer.

But to march north, he first had to ensure the security of the Southern World's Edge Mountains. To ensure security, Gromril thought, he needed to build the gunpowder furnace, cannon foundry, and that whole series of buildings. Not to mention being able to produce his own helicopters, at least cannons had to be manufacturable.

"Now, all that's left is to wait for news!" Piling the documents together, Gromril shifted his backside to sit more comfortably. He fell into a reverie about the future:

Lord Panos confirmed his victory, and the mountain winds carried the news of triumph in all directions. The entire Mountain Kingdom cheered Gromril's name. A flood of population and resources poured in, the territory flourished, and Gromril's power grew. He trampled the Council of Thirteen, smashed the Everchosen, and then… a month later, Gromril's anvil glowed.

"Can you hear me? This is Red Cloud Mountain." Nori translated.

"Of course!" Gromril laughed heartily. With Master Nathan as an intermediary, he could finally easily contact the Everpeak.

"By my reckoning, Lord Panos should be back by now. I wonder how much support the kings of the various states will give me!" Gromril licked his lips expectantly.

"News from the Everpeak: the various city-states and guilds have resolved to award you and the brave warriors of the expeditionary force five thousand Oath Gold! One thousand will be disbursed in cash, and the rest can be accounted for anywhere in the Mountain Kingdom."

"Splendid, that's a huge sum!" Gromril praised.

"However, they each raised some requests or questions. Let me see, most want Rune Guardians, and some hope you can pray to the Mother Goddess for blessings for them."

"That's reasonable." Gromril nodded. The initial support for the expedition was gratuitous, as he had nothing at that time. Subsequent support should naturally entail some recompense.

"Iron Peak Fortress, King Kazador, and Rune Master Thorek Ironbrow are providing you with forty sets of Iron Hammer Guard equipment, with no strings attached," Nori continued to report.

"Although few are willing to admit it, Iron Peak Fortress's weapons might be the best in the Mountain Kingdom." Gromril praised. Iron Peak Fortress was named for its abundant and high-quality iron ore resources.

Matched with this were the most advanced forging and rune production lines, craftsmen who strictly adhered to standards, and the fiery-tempered, stubborn supervisor Ironbrow. All of these factors made Iron Peak Fortress's high-quality weapons bestsellers in the Old World and allowed her to stand like a reef in the vast ocean of Badlands Greenskins.

As the closest neighbor, it was normal for King Kazador to show him goodwill. Gromril was not an unappreciative dwarf either, and Rune Guardians would naturally be offered in return.

"My master wants you to state your demands!" The next piece of information made Gromril's heart skip a beat.

"As expected, with Grand Master Krag's temperament and reputation, he wouldn't take his disciple's things for nothing!" Gromril was overjoyed. "Don't rush, just tell him I'll consider it."

"Send over our population relocation plan and then contact Zhufbar. Hmm, Grand Master Silverfinger is in charge of the Rune Anvil there, so some things are difficult to say directly. Just ask Guild Master Brokk to come to Highland Fortress; good things await him!"

Gromril suddenly had an idea. He thought that such a large order for building a long-distance railway might come with some Additional conditions.

Purchasing more unannounced, latest-model weapons was the bottom line. If possible, requesting Zhufbar's help to develop engineer-sequence buildings might even be feasible.

After all, Gromril needed to find a way to be self-sufficient for technical personnel like artillery crews and pilots. The railway, once built, would also require people to operate and maintain it. If he relied entirely on Zhufbar's Engineers Guild, wouldn't he be held hostage?

Gromril suddenly realized that among the engineering forces he relied on, there wasn't a single dwarf who was traditionally 'his own'—a blood relative from his clan. Brockson was from Zhufbar, and Altman was from Sea Gate.

Guilds balance the monarchy, and guilds should balance each other internally. If no adjustments were made and the structure of his subordinates was allowed to continue developing this way, the emergence of certain problems years down the line was foreseeable.

"So who will balance the Engineers Guild?" Gromril thought. "The Rune Smith Guild? The Rune Smiths, representing tradition, are directly clashing with the engineers, who represent new technology!" He recalled what he had seen and heard in Zhufbar at the time.

"I am a Rune Master, and Senior Brother Nathan is too; we can be considered to come from a distinguished lineage! Now, theoretically, I can organize the Highland Fortress Rune Smith Guild on the spot. Me serving as the Vice President of the main guild and concurrently the local President is reasonable and compliant!"

Gromril thought of a solution to the problem, but he immediately realized that this "Highland Fortress branch" had only one member. Even if it expanded to the "Southern World's Edge Mountains branch," there would only be a handful of people.

Grand Master Nathan's personality was also similar to Grand Master Krag's; he was busy with research. The Anvil Guard had only formed half a team. He was very selective with his disciples, and there weren't many, nor had all of them been brought to the Southlands.

"How can I expand my influence? Recruiting Rune Smiths has already proven not to be very effective. Oh, right, I can train them myself!" Gromril slapped his head. Ever since he became a formal Rune Smith, he had been qualified to take apprentices, let alone now as a divinely chosen Rune Master.

"Although Rune Smiths take a long time to grow, if I need them urgently, I can use the Ritual of Toolni to accelerate their growth! However, revival points would be another huge expense; I'd have to exploit them thoroughly to break even!"

"It's been sent. Is there anything else?" Gromril's musings were interrupted by Nori, and he finally came back to his senses.

"Please ask my father to keep an eye out for Nagash's Nine Books of Sorcery for me. The Ancestor Goddess has a way to suppress them!" Cousin Tomi, after all, was just a merchant with limited influence. During this time, his discreet inquiries only yielded unsubstantiated rumors. To obtain the treasures in Settra's possession, the power of the entire Dwarf Holds would be needed.

"High King delivered a private message. He said he's about to become a grandfather. And he told you to hurry up here. If you have any ideas, arrange them yourself, otherwise just wait for news, hahaha!"

Nori laughed as he spoke, and the smile on Gromril's face froze. He suddenly understood why, despite the effort, many leaders insisted on personally handling telegrams.

Given the Dwarf race's temperament, alas, the news of him being urged to marry would likely spread throughout Highland Fortress tonight! After a sufficient supply of alcohol was delivered, Brian opened a tavern near the square. With his extensive travels, he also served as a bard. With no war currently, his business was booming.

"You go, I'll handle the rest myself!"

Gromril, with a grim face, sent the telegraph operator out. He opened his codebook and began communicating with Everpeak. In his opinion, dealing with this matter when he had free time was reasonable, but Dwarf race females were still difficult to accept.

The Transmigrator rubbed his hands and came up with a reason. This matter couldn't be pushed onto the Ancestor Goddess; after all, procreation was also within the Mother Goddess's purview, and saying She didn't allow him to marry would be hard to believe.

However, a large part of why the Dwarf race were eager to marry was their extremely low birth rate; every moment sooner meant a slightly higher chance of hitting the jackpot. And now, he had, to some extent, improved this problem through the system.

After temporarily stabilizing his family issues, Gromril once again fell into waiting. However, this time he didn't just wait idly as before; instead, he activated Avatar of the Gods to familiarize himself with combat in his stone statue form.

The Rune Guardians were natural sparring partners. Gromril, through sparring with these larger stone statues, mastered the technique of wielding immense weight and also clarified the limits of his damage tolerance.

"My master's promise is basically a legendary item. What should I ask for?" Gromril was not in a hurry to claim Grand Master Krag's promise. With no new war plans for the time being, he could ponder it slowly.

Legendary quality equipment each had their unique uses, but given Gromril's current state, he would definitely lean towards a weapon or armor rather than accessories or attachments like rings, crowns, or belts.

His initial thought was still to prioritize life-saving armor. The original one, hastily made by Grand Master Iron Chisel before his expedition, had been completely destroyed in the two major battles against the Spider Demigod and Nurgle's Daemonic Army.

The problem was, as far as he knew, there shouldn't be any existing legendary armor with a retractable rune. And Grand Master Krag had only completed a handful of legendary quality items in his thousand-year lifespan.

Even if this powerful individual, comparable to the Ancestor Gods, could eventually forge one, it would likely involve a lengthy process of design, experimentation, and trial-and-error, which would probably mean waiting for decades or even centuries.

Could Gromril afford to wait? The answer was, of course, no. Therefore, he turned his hopes to acquiring a finished product. In that case, he would be limited to weapons, equipment not interfered with by the Avatar of the Gods effect.

Just as he was about to send a telegram to his master, the civil officials announced that a new batch of personnel and supplies from the Old World would arrive soon. They were two days earlier than expected, perhaps because they had become familiar with the sea and land routes, slightly reducing the travel time.

Gromril personally came to the fortress gate to wait. This incoming group likely included many dignitaries who wished to visit the ancestral homeland, and Guild Master Brokk was among the companions. He saw that the group of visitors looked tired and dusty.

"What's going on? Did they force-march all the way here?"

As the team drew closer, Gromril felt his runic energy become active. This experience, identical to when he first transmigrated, made him instantly realize what was happening—Master Kragg had arrived.

The ingrained awe for his master made Gromril adjust his sleeves and straighten the emblem on his chest. Soon, that familiar, perpetually stern face appeared.

Master Kragg strode at the very front of the team. He wasn't carrying his anvil of doom, but the Anvil Guards followed behind him. Gromril, as his disciple, stepped forward to greet him.

"There are Pointy-ears nearby, why have you never mentioned it?" Master Kragg greeted his disciple with an icy remark.

"This, this, they are nothing to worry about!"

Gromril's expression froze. Yes, he had only mentioned the distribution of forces around Highland Fortress in his secret letter to Thorgrim. For future development, widely publicizing the presence of two Elven factions nearby would undoubtedly have a negative effect.

"Is that so? These two sprouts seem to disagree with your assessment! Those treacherous fools have a stronghold around here, led by some… thing!"

Master Kragg waved his hand, and four strong guards escorted two High Elves, who looked like they had been through a lot, to the front of the team.

"Ancestor Gods above!" Gromril inwardly cried out in alarm. Gromril had always known that the High Elves were monitoring his territory via airpower, but even after his helicopters could fly again, he hadn't asked his pilots to contend for air superiority with the Elves.

Although there were only two helicopters, and air combat was unlikely to be a match for them, Gromril's unwillingness to go to war with the Elves was an even more decisive factor. Currently, the Dwarf Holds had varying attitudes towards the High Elves.

The most open fortresses like Breezehold and Sea Gate could accept cooperation with Elves when necessary; clansmen in the Black and Grey Mountains Holds would not actively attack Elves and would generally ignore their existence; while in the conservative World's Edge Mountains, many Longbeard Elders would still hold the book of grudges and recite the blood debts recorded thousands of years ago.

Of course, these were general attitudes, and there would always be some fluctuations due to individual differences. Master Kragg, standing before him, was undoubtedly the most conservative among the conservative clansmen of the World's Edge Mountains. His not directly killing these two Elves was probably out of consideration for Gromril.

"Master, the clansmen have come a long way and are very tired. How about we let everyone go inside first, and then we can talk?"

Just as Gromril was trying to find the right words, a figure with an Ironhand prosthesis emerged from behind. Brokk, the Guildmaster of Zhufbar, bit the bullet and provided Gromril with an out.

"Please, please! Master, let's go see the lost statue in the Ancestor Hall first!" Gromril breathed a sigh of relief and quickly led his master inside. Master Kragg furrowed his brow but ultimately did not insist at the fortress gate.

"What happened to them?" Gromril deliberately lagged behind the team, quietly conversing with Guildmaster Brokk. He needed to understand the situation to resolve the issue.

"When we were walking on that plateau, those two Pointy-ears were monitoring us from the air on their giant eagles. Master Kragg triggered some rune, pulling them and their eagles directly out of the sky."

"The sprouts were caught, but what about their eagles?" Gromril asked again.

"They can understand speech and be controlled, but the eagles can't. They kept flapping when pinned to the ground, so we just stewed them for dinner," Guildmaster Brokk tugged at his beard with his Ironhand, revealing a hint of an awkward smile.

"Those two High Elves and the giant eagles had a bond beyond their species. Originally, I and a few other old-timers with some influence tried to persuade your master to give them a dignified chance. But after their eagle was stewed, they struggled fiercely, so those Anvil Guards had no choice but to help them find dignity."

Guildmaster Brokk said with a touch of regret. He knew it wasn't easy for Gromril to establish this territory, and he also knew Gromril was a lord who enjoyed using technology. Calling him specifically from Zhufbar surely meant there were important cooperation projects to discuss.

"The Pointy-ears consider themselves descendants of their false god, and the King of Eagles, Talyn, is a subordinate deity—a lackey—of Asuryan in their ghost stories. Those giant eagles are therefore as close as brothers to some Pointy-ears!"

A dwarf dressed in ornate and strange attire sighed and grumbled nearby. He carried a salty scent from the ocean, leading Gromril to guess he was a wealthy merchant from Sea Gate.

"Ahem, Venerated God Grimnir teaches us: if killing brings peace, then kill; if war stops war, then fight!" With things at this point, Gromril couldn't possibly blame his master, nor could he bow to the High Elves in front of all the clansmen.

Moreover, he also knew that allowing Elves to freely invade the airspace of the Southern World's Edge Mountains was not a long-term solution. As the vigorous development of his territory was observed, the Elves of Dawn Fortress would inevitably feel threatened, and conflict would be unavoidable then.

"That's more like it!"

Gromril vaguely heard Kragg say something. After the group toured the Ancestor Hall, the master and disciple went straight to the lord's office on the upper floor.

Apparently to check for eavesdropping and prying eyes, Master Kragg circled the room first after entering. Gromril paid no mind to this; he knew his master had this habit. Kragg had always suspected someone wanted to steal his knowledge.

"I must say, you've done well!" After taking a swig from the flask on his waist, Kragg nodded at his disciple, offering a rare compliment.

"It's all thanks to your excellent guidance!" The young man replied politely.

"No, open your safe!" Kragg suddenly reached out, his hand forming an empty grasp, as if he had caught something. Gromril didn't delay; he knew his master wouldn't plot against him for anything.

"Thurni above!" Kragg's face, for the first time in Gromril's memory, showed an expression other than anger. He pulled out a slightly bent iron bar from his embrace with his withered hand.

Gromril was momentarily stunned the instant he saw the iron bar. His system popped up a notification: "Discovered the right half of the clamp." This item was the other part of Thurni's runic clamp. The system hadn't detected it before, likely due to interference from Master Kragg's power.

"It really is it! From my grandmaster onwards, we tried to track it down, and I never expected it to be realized in our hands!" Master Kragg tremblingly put the two iron bars together. They reformed into the shape of a clamp, though the runes on it could not be restored just like that.

"Phew! I swear I will spend the rest of my life repairing this sacred artifact!"