Ever since discovering the steadily approaching fleet, Dwarf King Eitri had been deeply worried.
Normally, a fleet like this only looked intimidating. No one dared attack Nidavellir under Odin's protection. The Bifrost could transport Asgardian warriors anywhere, and no matter how powerful the enemy fleet was, they would ultimately be dragged into the Asgardians' favored domain—close combat.
Besides, the Bifrost itself was a powerful weapon, capable of striking anywhere in the universe from distant Asgard, not to mention Odin's formidable strength and his vast collection.
But now... Asgard had not responded to them.
"Hey, my King, let's have some fun, shall we?" A pot-bellied dwarf drunkenly slapped Eitri on the shoulder.
But Eitri was consumed with anxiety. How could he possibly be in the mood to drink with them?
Seeing Eitri's helpless expression, the dwarf smacked his forehead.
"Oh, I forgot. The King has the right not to drink!"
Bang!
With that, the fellow drunkenly collapsed to the ground.
This was the dwarves' life. With Odin's protection, they had given up all military power and celebrated festivals every day.
Today was the Beer Festival, tomorrow was the Craftsmen's Festival, and the day after that was... well, another festival anyway, perhaps something like Labor Day.
And because of that, once Asgard stopped responding, they were as good as dead.
There were hundreds of Warships, more than all the dwarves on the entire Ring.
After much deliberation, he decided to broadcast the news over the public channel... though it was futile. There were no entrances to any Hyperspace Lanes near Nidavellir. This place was a remote backwater; no one cared, and no one dared care.
He could only hope that they were merely passing through, or that Asgard would realize what was happening before the fleet landed on the Ring and dispatch