Black Rock Dwarves, Earth Fury Golems

Whenever Garos sensed danger,

his first thought was to eliminate its source.

What he really wanted was to strike under cover of darkness that very night, racing through the night and, just as he had dealt with the Goblin Tribe before, wiping out the Black Rock Principality troops stationed at the oil field—the "potential danger"—in one uninterrupted night.

Unfortunately.

Garos was very confident that he was absolutely no match for the Black Rock Troops. Attacking them directly would be suicide, so he could only think of other ways to reduce the risk.

Such as relocating.

Such as burning the hills to erase all traces.

Garos felt that he might be a little paranoid, placing too much value on his own life, but he saw no harm in being more careful. In this perilous Wilderness, caution was necessary.

Walking on thin ice was only to reach the other side.

"One day, when I become strong enough, I won't need to live so cautiously anymore."

"Even if the whole world stands against me then, I will not retreat. I will burn it to ash and reduce it to dust."

Glancing back at the hills burning in the night like an enormous torch, Garos silently thought to himself. Then, without a trace of lingering attachment, he beat his dragon wings and chased after Samantha and Mobel.

Seeing the Earth-Splitting Centipede Mobel was carrying, Garos thought for a moment and told him to put it down before destroying it completely.

It was a pity, but he was not sure whether the thing had some kind of tracking system. He could not take it with him, so he might as well destroy it.

Time passed slowly.

Three days later, morning light spilled across the scorched earth of the Iron Fir Hills.

Along with the dawn came a group of unwelcome visitors.

The iron hooves of Rock-Armor War Rams crushed the charred ground, while the War Hammer insignia of the [Black Rock Principality 3rd Heavy Cavalry Regiment] gleamed coldly on their armor.

Led by an Alchemy Golem, the many Black Rock cavalrymen came to a halt.

The Alchemy Golem at the front of the cavalry stood eight meters tall and nearly eight meters wide. Humanoid in shape, it was roughly the same height as a Giant-Arm Miner, but its body was covered in thick, solid armor. Complex, intricate runes like blood vessels were engraved everywhere. As the Alchemy Engine within it thundered to life, dark blue energy flowed through the runes like blood, spreading across its entire body.

Its model name was carved onto the Alchemy Golem's shoulder in Ancient Dwarven language.

[Earth Fury]

At first glance, it looked like an enormous Dwarf.

Stout, heavy, and hard.

Compared to it, a Giant-Arm Miner looked as frail as a reed.

Their true difference in strength was dozens of times greater than the difference in their size. Earth Fury was capable of contending with a Young Dragon.

Only one had come here.

There were many more Earth Fury Golems stationed at the oil field, along with several other models.

With cracking sounds, the ground bulged and split open as several Earth-Splitting Centipedes crawled out. Though one had been repaired, traces of the last battle could still be seen on it.

It was precisely the Earth-Splitting Centipede that had fought Garos in the Iron Fir Hills and barely escaped by burrowing underground.

The machine raised its triangular head and swayed it several times toward the Iron Fir Hills.

"This is the place where the Hatchling Dragons that stole Oil Soil, causing some of our Black Oil to be lost, and destroyed two Earth-Splitting Centipedes are located."

Patting the Earth-Splitting Centipede's head, a Dwarf warlock spoke.

He stood around one meter forty tall. His bronze beard reached his chest and was bound with an iron ring. His exposed arms were incomparably thick, and his powerful muscles bulged like boulders.

Fire Tongs Gronie, Dwarf Alchemist.

The cavalry leader removed his helmet, revealing half a face scarred by burns.

It was a badge of honor left from battling a powerful beast five years ago.

War Hammer Olaf, Dwarf knight.

Olaf spat, leaving a small pit in the ground. His bell-sized eyes swept across the scorched earth.

"This wasn't caused by a wildfire."

"That little dragon bastard burned this place cleaner than the flame ale at Deep Furnace Tavern!"

Olaf was around one meter sixty tall, and even more robust than the Dwarf warlock. Though clad in rune-inscribed heavy armor that seemed forged from steel and cast from iron, his breathing remained steady. The muscles beneath his armor were packed like asphalt and petroleum, while veins crisscrossed like the roots of ancient trees. His vitality blazed as fiercely as a furnace.

Dwarves.

This race was naturally strong and sturdy, with greater muscle and bone density than humans.

Though they were generally not very tall, in a battle between Dwarf and human warriors of the same rank, the Dwarf warrior always had better odds of winning.

As Olaf spoke, he casually pulled a wineskin from his waist and tipped it back toward his mouth.

But an invisible force sealed the mouth of the wineskin, and not a single drop came out.

The Dwarf warlock Gronie glanced at the drunkard and said:

"Olaf, you drank three whole barrels of rye ale at camp last night, and lost all of this month's wages while you were at it. We're here on business today. Curb your thirst for drink."

Stroking his beard, Gronie pondered. "According to the information sent back by the Earth-Splitting Centipedes, there are two Hatchling Dragons here: one Red Dragon, and the other seems to be a Red Iron Dragon hybrid."

"Most evil Hatchling Dragons are arrogant and self-important by nature. I didn't expect this one to be so cautious."

Olaf chuckled and scratched the scar on his face.

"Red Dragon balls can be steeped into a potent liquor that boosts virility and makes you grow again. A Red Dragon hybrid should work too. I've never had any before. If we catch those Hatchling Dragons this time, I have to find out what they taste like!"

The Dwarf warlock shook his head.

"I'm afraid it won't be that simple."

As he spoke, he shook his beard. A swarm of tiny bee-like things crawled out from within its thick strands, buzzing as they scattered in every direction, circling through the ash-covered Iron Fir Hills in search of clues.

The cavalrymen and Golems also began moving, stepping onto the scorched earth to search for traces of dragons.

As oil field guards, they received fixed pay from the Principality.

But if they could catch Hatchling Dragons, it would be an unexpected windfall, enough to exchange for who knew how much strong liquor.

Time trickled away, but even by evening, when moonlight poured down like water, the Dwarves had found nothing of value.

"Pack up and go back for drinks. This trip was for nothing,"

Olaf said.

"Wait, you're too impatient."

The Dwarf warlock held out his palm.

Several bees circled over it and placed a tiny fragment of blackish-gray scale into his hand.

"It was cautious, but even a raging fire that burned the hills could not erase every trace. At the very least, this scale fragment of its may allow me to determine its general direction."

Olaf burst into laughter, pulled out a crude bronze cup, filled it with rye ale, and splashed it across the scorched earth.

"To you, cunning little dragon! This drink celebrates in advance that your bones will become my new pipe, and your steel balls will become my virility liquor!"

Offering a drink to one's enemy before setting out was an ancient tradition of the Black Rock Principality.

Turning to the Dwarf warlock, Olaf eagerly said, "Hurry up and locate it! I can't wait any longer."

The Dwarf warlock shook his head and said disdainfully, "The little dragon burned the hills, leaving only this tiny scale fragment behind. Do you think that makes for a useful medium? I said perhaps, understand? Perhaps! Not definitely. I need time to prepare, and there's no guarantee it will work."

Olaf spat again and rolled his eyes at the warlock.

"Then why the hell did you tell me? You wasted my rye ale!"

"Come on, boys, we're heading back!"

After a full day of fruitless work, the Dwarves turned back toward the oil field under the moonlight.

The scolded Dwarf warlock did not argue. He examined the scale fragment for a few moments, then tucked it into his robes.