Three days later.
Green Grass Inn.
The blazing sun beat down mercilessly, scorching everyone hard at work below.
Orum watched Ronald huffing and puffing as he moved wooden planks and pushed carts, building defensive fortifications. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer and asked worriedly:
"Ronald, are you absolutely sure the ritual won't go wrong?"
Orum lowered his voice. "What if... what if everything we're doing right now is just part of the Absurd Poetry Society's elaborate scheme?"
Ronald wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, his expression calm and steady as he replied:
Remember the original website domain: 𝕥𝕨𝕜𝕒𝕟.𝕔𝕠𝕞
"No need to worry. I prayed to the Lord of Dawn about this yesterday and received a divine response. Our plan is absolutely foolproof."
"The power of the gods really is incredible..." Orum looked at Ronald with narrowed eyes, deeply shaken inside.
So this was the advantage of having connections? Whenever you faced something uncertain, you could just ask the big boss directly and get a reliable answer on the spot!
Damn it! That kind of privilege was truly enviable!
Orum stopped looking at Ronald. He sat beneath the dense shade of an old tree, carefully examining his new weapon:
A pitch-black heavy sword with intricate ice-blue patterns etched along the blade.
This heavy sword was much longer than his previous snow-patterned steel sword, reaching an impressive five feet, the size of a medieval European greatsword, and weighing thirty-three pounds. The broad blade made up about three-quarters of the weapon's total length. At the end of the hilt was a hexagonal iron counterweight ball that balanced the center of gravity and could bash enemies in close-quarters combat.
Along the heavy sword, the ice-blue patterns emanated a faint chill. This was unmistakably a magical weapon, enchanted with powerful frost magic. Every swing would deal additional frost damage similar to an Ice Blade spell.
The sword's name was plain and straightforward: Frost Greatsword.
This was a custom weapon Felix had commissioned specifically for Orum, designed for the upcoming hunt against the "Minotaur Troll."
The Minotaur Troll's origin traced back to the Nine Hells' abyssal lord, the "King of Minotaurs," Baphomet. In the Tower of Science within his domain, he had created this hybrid race with terrifying individual combat power.
It possessed the troll's nightmarish regenerative abilities, combined with the minotaur's innate immense strength and massive build, plus the fire magic inherent to hellish demons. Even in the eternal Blood War of the Nine Hells, Minotaur Trolls were exceptionally powerful individual units.
After the Time of Troubles, the barriers between planes had become as fragile and riddled with holes as tattered cloth. Minotaur Trolls began appearing frequently within the kingdoms of the surface world. They would ruthlessly slaughter any adventurers they encountered, or unleash devastating catastrophes in villages and towns.
To deal with this "monster among monsters," you had to use the most targeted attacks, striking at its weakest points.
Normally, when adventurers fought trolls, they used fire and acid to suppress their regenerative abilities. However, Minotaur Trolls with demonic traits could ignore most fire and acid damage. Instead, it was frost damage that could inflict massive harm upon them.
For this reason, Felix and Orum had visited a dwarf-run smithy together and paid a hefty price to rent this Frost Greatsword.
The price difference between enchanted and ordinary weapons was astronomical. Just renting the Frost Greatsword for a single day cost 200 gold coins.
This was only possible because Felix had sufficient credit to actually rent the Frost Greatsword. Otherwise, it would've been a non-starter.
Fortunately, Orum didn't have to foot the rental bill. Felix covered the entire cost himself.
As for replacing the retired "snow-patterned steel sword," Orum was still shopping around, suffering from serious decision paralysis.
"The new weapon needs to be big, heavy, powerful, and devastating!"
Orum's strength kept growing. Ordinary longswords, even greatswords, felt as light as bamboo sticks in his hands.
At the dwarf smithy, Orum had felt like the Monkey King in the Dragon Palace. The dwarf smith would bring him a sword, he'd test its weight, then shake his head dismissively. "Too light, too light, way too light. Not enough heft!"
The dwarf smith would grunt and run back to the warehouse, lugging back a heavy warhammer. Orum would still shake his head. "Too light!"
The dwarf smith, sweating profusely and panting, brought out a heavy two-handed battle-axe. Orum tested it and shook his head again. "Still too light."
"Just how heavy do you want it?!" The dwarf smith lost his temper.
After serious consideration, Orum stated his requirements: "Well... I'd like a weapon as heavy as Raygore's greatsword, but half the size. Otherwise, I can't use it properly with my reach."
Then Orum looked at the dwarf smith and blinked.
"You're not telling me you can't do it, are you?"
"Can't do it?! Hmph!" The dwarf smith instantly flared up, his beard quivering with indignation. "This kind of simple weapon? I could forge it with my eyes closed!"
Provoked by Orum's words, the dwarf smith immediately agreed to custom-forge a greatsword with density, strength, and toughness all double the standard specifications.
However, sourcing the materials became a major problem. Blackwater Town couldn't currently acquire the rare materials meeting such requirements. The dwarf smith would need to order from distant dwarven settlements, which would take a full three months.
Three months was far too long. Orum obviously couldn't wait that long. Things had returned to square one.
"I'll just pick some random warhammer to make do when the time comes," Orum thought to himself.
"I need to speed up my growth. Otherwise, I won't be able to handle whatever changes the 'Black Gate' brings."
Orum recalled a few days ago when they'd gone to Blackwater Town's monitoring station to report to Scholar Hal. The scholar's expression had been one of utter disbelief.
Especially when Scholar Hal saw Orum, his eyes revealed immense surprise as he blurted out:
"Why is it you again?"
In the end, Scholar Hal solemnly accepted the router and divine light rod that Felix had submitted, and along with other researchers, immediately threw himself into analyzing and studying them.
As for the Black Gate, Scholar Hal informed them that in addition to the kingdom's regular military forces, the Adventurers' Guild's elite units would also investigate.
Both the kingdom and the Adventurers' Guild showed great concern over the sudden appearance of a young adult red dragon.
Any evil-aligned chromatic dragon was essentially a walking natural disaster. They had to determine its whereabouts and intentions, or else all of Blackwater Town would face annihilation.
The kingdom's response was all within Orum's expectations. Next, he only needed to wait patiently for feedback.
Through the kingdom's vast intelligence and resource network, he could delve deeper into the mysteries of the "Black Gate."
When leaving the monitoring station, Scholar Hal had mentioned a chilling race:
Mind Flayers.
Mind Flayers were an evil aberrant race. Their bodies were pale purple with slick skin. Their heads resembled octopi, sporting four horrifying tentacles.
As hermaphroditic beings, Mind Flayers reproduced asexually. The tadpole larvae they produced could parasitize and transform humanoid creatures, assimilating them into Mind Flayer kin. Mind Flayers fed on the brains of humanoid creatures, extracting enzymes, hormones, and critical psychic energy.
Every Mind Flayer was a natural psionic master, possessing extremely high intelligence and powerful mental abilities.
They piloted spelljammers to traverse the Astral Plane, crossing countless dimensions and spreading terrible catastrophes wherever they went.
Scholar Hal had said gravely: "The otherworldly portal that appeared above Rook Village may remain open indefinitely in the future.
This aligns perfectly with the Mind Flayers' fervent ideology of 'All Planes as One'... Perhaps this 'Black Gate' incident is part of their grand scheme."
...
At this moment, all idle people at Green Grass Inn had been cleared out. Felix had distributed some copper coins, telling them to find lodging elsewhere.
The Ice Hawk team hadn't forgotten about Reed, who had gone mad after witnessing the Black Gate. A couple days ago, they'd already sent this crucial eyewitness to the monitoring station.
Now, within Green Grass Inn, besides the few laborers hard at work and Ronald with his boundless energy, there were two eye-catching new faces.
One was a short female gnome artificer. The other was a petite human girl, a diviner.
One redhead, one white-haired. Both had cute, youthful appearances like finely crafted dolls.
"You there, young man, steady hands now. These are all volatile explosives. If they blow up, we're in serious trouble."
The one giving orders was none other than Mitty the artificer, whom Felix had hired at considerable expense. She stood perched atop a wooden barrel, directing the laborers.
Mitty had the typical appearance of a female gnome: barely two and a half feet tall, weighing less than sixty-five pounds. Her skin was peachy and delicate, her nose small and pert, with flame-bright red hair loosely tied back with a ribbon.
Overall, she looked like a porcelain doll carved by a master craftsman, inspiring protective affection and the urge to cup her in one's palms.
However, despite Mitty's exquisite and adorable appearance, she spoke with an old-fashioned tone.
After all, she was over 200 years old. In her eyes, all these "young men" around her were like her grandchildren.
As a race far longer-lived than humans, gnomes could live up to 500 years. Logically speaking, a 200-year-old female gnome should be in her prime, without such a strong sense of time, referring to herself as an "old lady."
But there were always exceptions. Just like some humans who lamented their declining faculties at twenty, Mitty was clearly such a gnome, internally aged far beyond her youthful appearance.
Mitty was a professional artificer. Because she wasn't suited for direct combat, she wasn't a formal member of the Ice Hawks. Like the dwarf smith, she provided logistical support for the Ice Hawk team.
For example, the "incendiary bombs" and "smoke bombs" Orum's group had used in previous battles were all crafted by this very artificer, Mitty.
Today, Felix had paid handsomely to bring Mitty here to set up a massive explosive trap!
Felix's plan was to blow the Minotaur Troll to smithereens the instant it was summoned!
"Art is an explosion!" Felix's plan made Mitty's dead-fish eyes, which seemed to have witnessed ages of history, sparkle with excitement!
Mitty readily agreed to help the Ice Hawk team deploy the alchemical explosive array.
"Little Felix, you must be careful with the operation. Don't waste all these bombs. These are Granny's inventory from several years..."
At this moment, Mitty earnestly cautioned Felix.
"Understood, Master Mitty." Felix replied solemnly. "I'll be extremely careful."
Actually, the plan's execution was quite simple. The moment the Minotaur Troll appeared, they'd immediately press the detonator.
It's just that Mitty, being elderly, couldn't help worrying and nagging.
"It'll be fine. Felix's operation will definitely go smoothly, hehe."
"Because Nia has already divined it."
Nearby, a silver-haired girl about five foot three, wearing a black hood, revealed a mischievous smile.
She held a crystal ball in her hands, draped with a thin layer of purple gauze.
Beneath the gauze, faint shifting lights could be glimpsed flowing within.
Most striking of all, on the girl's pale, pretty face, her left eye was as blue as an icy lake, while her right eye resembled flowing pale golden sand.
Distinctly heterochromatic eyes like a Persian cat.
"Nia, thank you for your divination and prophecy. It provides crucial support for our battle."
Felix smiled and reached out, gently ruffling the silver-haired girl's hair.
Though Nia looked young, only about sixteen, she was actually a quasi-professional with a spell-like ability: "Divination."
Unlike the charlatans on street corners, Nia's divinations were remarkably accurate, achieving about an 80% success rate. As a result, many adventurers came to her for divinations.
After all, adventuring was a genuinely high-risk profession.
Every time they accepted a high-paying job, they were risking their lives. Fear inevitably arose in their hearts. No one could confidently guarantee they'd survive to collect their reward.
However, due to her naturally mischievous personality, whenever Nia saw adventurers receive bad divination results, she'd let out a snake-like laugh and mock them mercilessly:
"Weakling, weakling! The divination says death, hehe!"
"Mister Adventurer, you're really such a weakling!"
"Isn't this a bratty girl?" Orum was shocked when he heard about this. "Isn't she afraid of getting beaten up?"
"No, the adventurers who get insulted are actually quite pleased, because a divination of death means they've dodged a bullet."
Ronald replied with a complicated expression. "Some even say they feel strangely pleased when she insults them, and beg Nia to curse them some more..."
"Absolute degenerates..." Orum put his palm to his face.
To avoid disrupting fate's trajectory, Nia typically only divined for the same person once per season, four times a year, corresponding to spring, summer, autumn, and winter.
Moreover, at irregular intervals each year, Nia would gain an ability called "Prophecy," allowing her to slightly nudge someone's fate over the next few days, either in a favorable or unfavorable direction.
This power was consumable.
After using it on someone, it would be exhausted and she'd have to wait for the next "Moment of Fate" to arrive.
These past few days happened to be when Nia's "Prophecy" power had revived. Felix purchased this precious blessing of fate to add an extra measure of fortunate protection to his "Minotaur Troll" hunting operation.
During the earlier divination, a small incident had occurred.
Orum, Felix, Raygore, and Ronald stood together, each holding their weapons, striking an imposing pose as if facing a formidable enemy.
"Perfect, hold that pose. I can feel fate's inspiration surging!"
Nia's heterochromatic eyes suddenly brightened. She cupped the crystal ball in both hands and addressed the four Ice Hawks.
But unexpectedly, when the divination result appeared, the crystal ball showed only pitch darkness. Nothing could be seen.
"What's going on?"
Puzzled, Nia could only re-divine each of them individually.
Felix, Ronald, and Raygore's divination results were all normal. Their near future looked smooth, without impending disaster.
But only that black-haired youth who emanated a faint bloody scent, whose eyes harbored a cold gleam, showed nothing but pitch blackness when divined.
This result was neither good nor bad, because nothing could be seen. No trace to follow.
"Maybe the crystal ball malfunctioned, so the divination showed nothing."
"Ugh, I'll need to buy a new one." Nia stuck out her tongue, sneaking a glance at the calm-faced youth.
For some reason, whenever she looked at Orum, her heart would suddenly feel strange and nervous! Her heartbeat would race!
When Nia found the gnome Mitty nearby and told her about this odd occurrence...
Mitty's answer left Nia thunderstruck, frozen on the spot!
"Oh, child, the answer couldn't be more obvious. You're in love."
Mitty said gently with a knowing smile. "And it's love at first sight, no less."
Nia: "????"