Chapter 168

The ground beneath Aatrox's feet shattered instantly, and his cobbled-together body was utterly powerless to withstand the force. Almost immediately, a series of terrifying sounds erupted—first the sound of bones breaking, then the sound of muscles shattering and blood splattering.

His leg bones were shattered into a pile of fragments.

"Huh?!" Aatrox finally realized his mistake—he had severely underestimated the goat's strength!

That foolish goat... is far better than that big bear!

This power!

"Again!!"

Aatrox struggled to move to the side, sacrificing his own legs to escape the crushing weight of the giant hammer.

Ornn was strong, but his speed was far inferior to his, and he immediately took advantage of this to launch a counterattack—flying over and swinging his sword before Ornn could retract his giant hammer.

Clang!

But when the Darkin Blade struck, it produced a sound like steel clashing.

Aatrox, defiant, roared and pressed forward with all his might.

Finally, the Darkin Blade sliced through Ornn's tough skin.

Scalding hot blood flowed out, scorching the earth like lava...

But... this is completely insignificant to Ornn.

His body was as massive as a mountain; what did a mere wound a few meters long mean to him?

It's just like a human being bitten by a mosquito.

"Overestimating oneself..."

Ornn's deep voice came crashing down along with his giant hammer.

Thump--!!

Aatrox was slammed into the ground, creating a crater that almost reached the interior of the volcano.

He gritted his teeth, flapped his wings again, and flew up—towards his broken legs.

He picked up the severed legs and stuffed them into his mouth without hesitation.

The blood magic worked, and the flesh and blood helped him recover from his injuries to some extent—but of course, it took a toll, and the final effect was far less than before.

Fortunately, he had a backup plan --

"World Ender--!"

In his full form, his already enormous and twisted body became even more terrifying.

That overwhelming aura also instilled despair... except for Ornn.

"A small black bug..." Aatrox, whose size had increased again, was still no different from a bug in front of Ornn, and there was no need to pay him any attention.

The giant hammer swung, hurtling straight towards Aatrox.

The latter did not dodge; enraged, he prepared to meet the attack head-on with his sword—he never avoided battle, for a direct confrontation was the honor of Ascended!

Unfortunately, there is a price to pay for glory.

Thump--!

Unsurprisingly, Aatrox was once again sent flying by the giant hammer.

And the bigger one is yet to come—

With a resounding horn, lava flowed from the black cliffs, spreading into a fiery river network that gushed forth from the ground, rushing towards Aatrox on the mountaintop, chasing each other, waves crashing and surging.

Hot fluid flowed between the rock walls, eroding the torn rock. A thick, pungent fog enveloped the entire pit opening. As the smoke billowed, Aatrox could only see the faint, hellish crimson flames peeking through.

Then he saw the erupting flames coalesce into a powerful ram, its mane and beard bristling. Ornn charged toward this molten behemoth.

The impact sent everyone flying, while the terrifying behemoth made of magma elements charged wildly in the other direction.

Right in the middle of the roaring Aatrox.

The fragile body was instantly engulfed by wildfire and lava.

But the roars didn't diminish at all...

Lissandra used all her strength to summon a "True Ice Safe House".

Everyone huddled under True Ice's protection, while the roars and brutal bellows of the Furnace Ram outside continued for a very long time.

It might be several hours... or it might have been more than half a day. The duration of this anxious and agonizing wait is always hard to predict.

In short, after a long period of time, the external shocks gradually subsided.

To be honest, this has far exceeded Chen Ce's expectations.

He originally thought Ornn would finish off Aatrox within ten minutes... or at most half an hour? But in reality, they fought for a full half day.

Aatrox's strength or tenacity once again shattered his understanding.

Even though Ornn's power completely overwhelmed him, even though there wasn't a single "mobile health pack" on this desolate volcano, even though he had been clearly at a disadvantage since the start of the fight... even under all these unfavorable factors, he was still able to fight Ornn for such a long time.

They fought from day to night.

Even when being thoroughly beaten, they managed to hold on for so long.

"Aatrox is much more durable than you. He lasted a long time against Ornn ..." Chen Ce nudged the Darkin Scythe beside him.

"[If you hadn't deserted me in the face of battle, how could I have ended up like this!] "Rhaast retorted, "[I could have fought him all day!]"

"Didn't you say you'd crush him? How come you can brag about beating him all day now?"

[This is... that is... you don't understand!]

"Hesitate." Chen Ce smiled but didn't speak, then turned to look at Lissandra.

The latter understood, waved wearily, and the "True Ice Safe House" immediately revealed a small opening just big enough for one person to pass through.

As night fell and the dust settled, Chen Ce saw that the surrounding hillsides were covered with smoking rubble, and jagged basalt columns stood interlocking.

He gradually let his whole body, along with his head, emerge from the safe house, then looked up at the goat's head that seemed to be as tall as the stars.

Ornn's body was also covered with all sorts of tiny, densely packed wounds.

Each of these sword marks was several meters long and nearly a meter deep. An ordinary person would have died countless times by now, but they were no problem for Ornn was of such a huge size.

That's equivalent to an average person being scratched dozens of times by a cat.

It will hurt, it will bleed, and it will leave marks, but it's nothing serious.

In contrast, Aatrox...

His body was completely gone.

That cheap body was crushed into a pile of rotten flesh by Ornn —or rather, powder—and the bones and shell were eroded into a pile of charred remains by the high-temperature magma.

Only the enormous Darkin Blade remained as new as ever.

Ornn looked down at the mortals at his feet, letting out a disdainful yet slightly proud snort like fireworks.

"The troublesome fool who overestimated himself has been dealt with... Now, tell me the secret of the gate..."

Upon hearing this, Chen Ce pulled Braum's Shield out of the True Ice Safe House, but did not immediately explain to Ornn Braum's "method of countering" from back then.

"Please wait a moment, Your Majesty the God of Forging." He bowed respectfully, glancing at the Darkin Blade the other had casually tossed to the ground. "Before explaining everything, I need a few minutes to attend to an important matter."

"Hmph..." Ornn exhaled another puff of fiery breath from his nostrils, which could be considered an admission.

Chen Ce didn't hesitate and walked straight towards the Darkin Blade.

Then, right in front of Aatrox, he revealed the sharp Darkin Scythe.

"Aatrox, I told you before... if you want to kill me, you'd better really kill me."

"[What do you want to do?!]" Aatrox roared. He already knew what the other party wanted to do.

Just like they said before.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to," Chen Ce replied with a smile, then placed the sharp tip of the Darkin Scythe on the Darkin Blade.

[No! No!! No--!!!]

"It's too late..."

[Stop!! Stop it--!!!]

"I'm going to start carving... I am Miss Twilight Spirit's dog~?"

Chapter 44 Brother To, you don't want others to see your handwriting, do you?

There's a little-known story about Braum's "shield"—it involves the great Forgemaster Ornn and a cunning troll.

This shield is not actually a real shield.

Instead... it's a door. The door to a treasure trove.

"Grubgrack the Hideous" is the oldest troll in the world. He has long chest hair that can wrap around his thick toes... so he always trips over himself and breaks his nose. Because he's fallen so many times, his nose has completely lost its original shape and become a fleshy blob. He only has two good teeth, one eye has poor eyesight, and the other is even worse. His round belly is covered with moles and warts.

One day in ancient times, he knocked on the door of Hearth-Home and shouted at Ornn, who had not yet fallen into despair:

"Build me a door to protect my treasure, the kind of door that thieves can never steal from. In return, I'll give you ten barrels of troll mead, brewed using a family secret recipe."

Ornn might enjoy drinking—this mortal beverage, when consumed in large quantities, gave him more energy while forging. But he disliked the trolls. This cunning race was either stupid or treacherous, like two extremes of evil—the former often bullied the Hearth-Home, the latter often deceived Hearth-Home, and either way, they were wicked.

Ornn ignored him, but Guabrac stuck his foot in to block the door. Ornn didn't want the troll's sticky foot to dirty the paint, so he let Guabrac continue his "troll trick."

"Let's make a bet," said the ugly troll. "Whoever can finish a barrel of troll mead first, the other person has to do something for them."

Upon hearing the bet, Ornn burst into laughter.

He had never lost at the dinner table, let alone to a mere mortal.

His enormous body shrank rapidly under the immense divine power, eventually shrinking to about the size of a troll—in his normal form, a barrel of mead wouldn't even be enough to fill a tooth gap for him—this was no exaggeration, he dared to assure anyone.

"If this will make you leave, then fine." Ornn laughed and sat down.

Guabrac laughed too. Just as Ornn turned around, the troll stuffed a shard of True Ice into the Gragas and handed it to him.

They exchanged the traditional Freljord drinking toast, then began to drink heartily. Ornn found the mead rather weak and didn't particularly like it. However, by this time, Guabrac had already drunk half of it, while his own was still almost full. Ornn tilted his head back and gulped it down, nearly thinking he was going to drown.

But Guabrac was quicker than him, smashing the empty Gragas on the ground. The troll let out a burp, instantly turning the hearth fire a ghastly green! Ornn coughed and mumbled incoherently.

"What's wrong?" Guabulaq asked with a grin. "Did you choke?"

Ornn then noticed the True Ice in the wine. It was the constantly melting ice that diluted the mead. No matter how much he gulped it down, the True Ice would keep coming back. Ornn smashed the Gragas with one hand.

"You cheated!" Enraged, Ornn returned to his normal form, his fury and fire breath enough to sink several small islands to the bottom of the sea.

But the old troll Guabrak remained unfazed, boasting loudly, "Of course! Otherwise, how could an ugly troll like me possibly defeat the great Ornn?"

After a pause, he revealed his greedy and cunning nature again. "We've made a bet, and you may not be able to go back on your word!"

"My word is as hard as a hammer!" Ornn growled. "Even if you tricked me...!"

So Ornn spent ten days building a gate that no one could match. He placed a ram's head on the gate, just like himself, and like the ram deep within the Freljord. This gate would not be corrupted by magic, let alone by those who would try to pick locks. Guabrac was so satisfied he was speechless; this was rarely seen on trolls.

Having done all this, Ornn let out a sly grumble, then sauntered down the mountain, leaving Guabrac alone to admire his new gate.

Then, after admiring it for a long time, the ugliest troll discovered a serious problem—he couldn't get in either!

Yes, the thief couldn't get in, but neither could he! There was no key to that ram's horn gate!

He tried to force it open, but the ram's gate wouldn't budge. Then he tried to smoke off the paint with his foul breath. The gate still didn't respond.

For several years afterward, Guablark tried to access his treasure, but the door was never opened, and he couldn't even find the keyhole.

And whenever he scratched his head in front of the gate, the ram's head on the gate would stare straight at him, forever reminding him that he had once deceived the great Ornn...

"So, how did you—or your friend—crack this gate?" The great Ornn questioned from the now quiet summit of the dead volcano.

He wasn't questioning the mortal before him, nor was he questioning whether the "shield" was a fake—he was confident that no counterfeit could escape his eyes. It was his own creation!

He was questioning... himself. How could a mere mortal have opened what was supposedly an "impossible door"?

He began to doubt whether his skills were worthy of the title "the greatest craftsman in history".

"The one who broke through this gate is called Braum —a Freljord with the blood of frost giants," Chen Ce answered loudly, shield in hand. "Perhaps he succeeded because of his immense strength, but even more so because of his kind heart!"