CHAPTER 607

【 THE SEALED LANDS 】

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Deep beneath the southern mountain range stretched a labyrinth of winding mine tunnels, twisting in every direction. The passages were oppressive, carved from jagged stone and cloaked in a heavy stillness. Only the wavering glow of oil lamps along the walls offered light, their flames flickering uncertainly and casting the underground region into shifting, distorted shadows.

From time to time, a low and guttural roar rumbled from these hidden depths, its echo crawling through the stone corridors and lending the air an even more sinister and unsettling quality.

The crisscrossing tunnels wound endlessly onward, as though without end, until they finally converged in a vast cavern shaped like a grand plaza.

This cavern, which was large enough to rival four or five football fields, was one of the signature landmark of the underground region, a natural formation both awe-inspiring and oppressive in its immensity.

At its deepest point, a golden radiance pierced the darkness, shining like a miniature sun and casting its brilliance into a corner of the cavern, dispelling the gloom with sacred light.

It was the holy statue of a goddess, shimmering with a mysterious light.

The statue was lifelike, breathtaking in beauty, and radiated a soft glow that carried with it a divine, wondrous power. Whilst bathed in its light, one would feel warmth and closeness, as if both body and soul were soothed by an indescribable sense of relief.

Surrounding the statue stood thirteen dwarves.

Among them were Greycloth, the revered High Pontiff of the dwarves, and Tonglu, the legendary warrior.

The remaining eleven were all Gold-rank: four church high priests clad in white robes, and seven heavily armed elite dwarven warriors.

This was the strongest force that the Dwarven National Church could muster at the moment.

On this occasion, the dwarves had dispatched not ordinary soldiers, but only their most elite experts to guard the elven goddess’s statue.

The dwarves formed a protective circle around it, their expressions solemn and vigilant. At the forefront stood the High Pontiff and Tonglu, their eyes fixed with grave intensity on the towering stone gate up ahead.

The gate was over ten meters tall, its ancient surface engraved with vivid reliefs that, upon close examination, appeared to depict the once-glorious members of the divine dwarven faction.

Cracks marred the ancient stone, and from within them seeped thin strands of black smoke. Yet, whenever the smoke touched the divine light radiating from the statue, it recoiled as though scorched by the very heavens itself.

“At last, we have arrived at the Gate of Siyōú,” the High Pontiff declared solemnly. “Beyond this point lies the very heart of Barolte’s seal.”

In Elvish, the word Siyōú meant “seal.” Thus, the Gate of Siyōú signified the doorway that maintained the great seal.

For races like the dwarves, who had long been influenced by the elves, items of great significance often bore Elvish names, given the elven language’s high aptitude for mana.

The Gate of Siyōú itself had been forged through the combined strength of the entire dwarven race, created to contain and reinforce the seal.

Tonglu nodded, then crouched down. He picked up a handful of blackened soil mixed with fragments of rock from the cavern floor, lifted it to his nose, and sniffed lightly.

His brow furrowed.

“There were once large numbers of demons active here not too long ago,” he said gravely. “But it seems their presence has mostly dissipated. In my estimates, I think they must have departed at least a day ago.”

“They should have entered the Gate of Siyōú,” the High Pontiff sighed. “That is the true core of the seal, after all. Strictly speaking, this area was originally a garrison outpost for monitoring the seal. It was only after it was breach that the demons seized it.”

Tonglu’s expression darkened with worry.

“Then does that mean the evil god, Barolte, has already seized full control of the Gate of Siyōú and the sealed land itself?”

“No, I’m sure he has not gained full control yet,” Greycloth replied, shaking his head. “If he had, then the seal would have already been shattered long ago. Barolte would not have waited for our arrival.”

His gaze shifted to the Gate of Siyōú, calm yet steady.

“If my judgment is correct, he has summoned all the demons back beyond that gate. I’m sure he is preparing to face us there in a decisive battle.”

“Is it not too convenient?” Tonglu muttered, frowning.

“Though the elven Chosen Ones we summoned are indeed powerful, I cannot believe they have already driven Barolte into such desperation.”

Greycloth glanced at the softly glowing statue of the goddess and replied quietly,

“I fear he is waiting precisely for us to summon the Chosen Ones.”

“The sealed land has been corrupted by his influence for too long. Even if the seal is not completely broken, it is already nearly his domain. Do not forget, this place was once his divine kingdom before his fall.” ɽἁΝÖBĘS

“For an evil god, there are two ways to break a seal quickly. One is through gradual corruption. The other is by devouring the souls and flesh of living beings to increase his strength and then shatter the weakened seal in one blow.”

“Barolte… may already be close to achieving it right now.”

At these words, Tonglu clenched his fists slightly, his brows knitted tightly together.

“You mean… he intends to use us instead, to consume the elven Chosen Ones and strengthen himself?” His voice carried disbelief.

“That is only my suspicion,” the High Pontiff sighed. Then his tone shifted.

“However, there is a simple way to confirm whether I am indeed correct.”

“What is it Your Holiness?” asked Tonglu.

“Simple. It’s whether I can easily open the Gate of Siyōú with ease,” Greycloth said, looking at the towering stone door.

Tonglu’s eyes flickered with understanding.

Every High Pontiff of the dwarven church possessed the means to open the Gate of Siyōú.

Yet now, the gate had clearly been tainted by the power of the Abyss, and Barolte had even managed to use it as a conduit to dispatch his demon minions.

This indicated that he had already gained influence over it.

Under such circumstances, if the High Pontiff could still open the gate with ease, then it could only mean one thing:

Barolte permitted their entry.

Or perhaps… he was waiting for it.

The High Pontiff finished speaking and stepped before the great stone gate.

After closing his eyes, he began to chant an ancient incantation.

Immediately, the gate blazed with a deep, enigmatic light before slowly groaning open, its ancient hinges echoing faintly through the cavern.

“Alas… it seems my suspicions were correct,” murmured the High Pontiff, his eyes opening with a trace of sorrow.

Tonglu’s expression grew grim, the weight of foreboding settling heavily upon his brow.

Beyond the threshold stretched only endless darkness. Yet upon closer scrutiny, a vast, swirling black vortex could be seen, its ceaseless rotation like an abyss that devoured all light. From within, waves of abyssal energy surged outward, only to recoil violently the instant they brushed against the divine radiance emanating from the goddess’s statue.

Again and again, this cycle repeated, like the eternal struggle between corruption and purification.

That vortex was no ordinary void, but rather a spatial passageway.

The so-called Sealed Lands was, in truth, once the divine kingdom of Barolte before his fall into corruption. It had since been remade into a prison, locked away through the combined power of the dwarves and the God of Smithing, Dorft, who bound the fallen evil deity within it.

And now, standing before them, the Gate of Siyōú marked its entrance.

“Regardless, we have reached this point. Even knowing that the enemy lies within it waiting for us, we have no choice but to proceed forward,” the High Pontiff sighed deeply.

With a gesture, he ordered one of the priests to move the statue of the goddess forward, positioning it between himself and Tonglu.

Only when the sacred glow enveloped them fully, and he sensed within his spirit an invisible blessing, did Greycloth allow himself a breath of relief.

Turning to Tonglu, he asked gravely, “Tonglu, let me confirm one last time. Will that ‘one’ from the elves truly descend?”

The legendary warrior instantly understood whom he meant.

His eyes drifted unconsciously toward the beautiful, holy statue.

“I’m sure She will,” he answered firmly. “If Barolte manifests, She will descend through her greatest mortal vessel. That was the personal assurance given to me by the high council of the Church of Life before I departed.”

“Good,” Greycloth exhaled, visibly reassured.

Only a god could stand against a god.

At least, in most cases.

The High Pontiff straightened his robes and declared, “Then let us begin the sixth summoning of the Chosen Ones. Once the first group descends, then we shall march into the core area of the sealed lands.

Also, the statue must be protected at all costs. Our victory or defeat rests upon it after all.”

Tonglu nodded firmly.

“So long as I draw breath, I shall safeguard the statue of the Goddess of Life.”

Yet after speaking those words with conviction, a faint hesitation flickered across his face. His eyes shifted, as if some unspoken weight pressed upon his heart.

“What is it that troubles you, my friend?” Greycloth asked softly, his gaze steady. The High Pontiff had already discerned the change in Tonglu’s expression.

Tonglu paused, struggling briefly with the thought, before he spoke again. “Your Holiness… if we send forth no warriors of our own, and leave the burden of battle solely upon the Chosen Ones, while we remain behind merely to guard the statue… does that not seem unworthy of allies? We are meant to fight at their side, not stand idle as they bleed for us.”

His words were heavy, laden with both loyalty and guilt. Though he did not state it outright, the High Pontiff understood the heart of the matter. Tonglu, ever the righteous warrior, could not bear the idea of watching the elven Chosen Ones fall one by one in battle while their supposed allies, the dwarves, remained in the safety of the rear.

Greycloth studied him with an unreadable expression.

His gaze lingered so long that Tonglu shifted uncomfortably.

At last, the High Pontiff shook his head.

“Do not burden your conscience,” he said. “This decision spares our people from needless loss. The Chosen Ones do not fear death, but we do.”

We the dwarves are not afraid of death either!

Tonglu almost retorted instinctively.

We the Dwarves never yield to anyone!

But the High Pontiff’s next words silenced him.

“Besides, without our troops on the battlefield, the Chosen Ones may fight more freely.”

Tonglu fell silent.

He recalled their past battles and realized there was truth in the High Pontiff’s words.

These underground spaces were narrow. Against demons, the dwarves were far less effective than the Chosen Ones, and having too many warriors in such a cramped area only hindered their movements. Worse still, there had been times when elven Chosen Ones had thrown themselves into mortal peril just to shield the dwarves who were reckless in the heat of battle.

Those elves had died protecting them who might otherwise have survived.

The memory stirred Tonglu deeply.

“Have no doubt,” the High Pontiff said firmly. “The Chosen Ones, and that ‘one’ in the Elven Forest, will surely understand our reasoning.”

Tonglu let out a long breath and held his tongue.

When this battle is over, I must ask Lady Salty Cat to tell me the names of every Chosen One who fell in battle. I will see each name carved upon our memorial stone, to be honored in prayer year after year…

They deserve to be remembered.

So Tonglu vowed silently.

The dwarven High Pontiff quickly began the summoning process. With the experience of several previous rituals, his actions had become smooth and practiced by now.

Three spatial rings filled with summoning offerings slowly dissolved into nothingness, while the radiant and holy statue of the Elven goddess burst forth with dazzling light.

A translucent wave of energy spread outward from the statue, and under the expectant, reverent, and curious gazes of the dwarves, countless golden magical arrays blossomed throughout the ground, illuminating the surroundings as though it were daytime.

Moments later, tall and slender figures began to take shape above the circles. One by one, elves appeared—some clad in gleaming armor, whilst others robed in spellcaster garments.

The once-quiet caverns instantly came alive with noise and movement.

The newly summoned elves were overjoyed, shouting and running about. Some even bounded with excitement like children, while one, upon arrival, sprinted straight into the depths of a mineshaft and disappeared without a trace, leaving the first-time dwarf soldiers staring in utter bewilderment.

The others, however including High Pontiff and the legendary warrior Tonglu remained calm even after seeing their antics, their expressions betraying long-standing familiarity with such scenes.

This was normal.

Not strange at all.

Outside of battle, the Chosen Ones were always chaotic, restless, and noisy. But once combat began, they would transform into completely different beings, fighting as one with extraordinary coordination.

In fact, during their last campaign to clear the demons remaining on the outer fringes, several Chosen Ones had even gotten lost within the cavern tunnels.

Fortunately, their activity seemed naturally bound to the goddess’s statue. Thus no matter how far they strayed, they would never wander beyond reach, and once the battle began, they would return faster than the dwarves could recall them.

The most effective method, however, was simply to give them direct orders.

Tonglu could swear before the gods that in over a hundred years of life he had never seen warriors as obedient as these elves. Once commanded, they would charge wherever they were directed, without hesitation even if the order led them to certain death.

That, above all, was what struck him with awe.

The only inexplicable behavior they have was their constant habit of pestering anyone for “hidden quest,” especially before the battle had even begun.

As proof, the moment the summoning finished, a crowd of enthusiastic elves swarmed Tonglu, chattering loudly:

“Lord Tonglu, do you have any hidden quests for us?”

“Lord Tonglu, do you remember me! I’m sure you recognize me!”

“Lord Tonglu, just give the command—I’ll strike wherever you point your sword!”

“Lord Tonglu…”

Tonglu: “…”

He scanned the group of Chosen Ones but saw no familiar faces. As expected, this group was different from those summoned previously. Their strength seemed adequate, at least, though he still wondered how they even knew his name.

Perhaps Lady Salty Cat and the others who had returned told them?

While the Chosen Ones continued to surround the dwarves in excitement, the commanding voice of High Pontiff resounded through the cavern:

“Our elven allies, thank you for answering the call!”

“Today, we launch the final counteroffensive upon the Evil God Barolte. The outcome will be decided here and now!”

“Behold this opened gate! Our mission is to enter that black vortex, annihilate every demon within it, and locate the seal that binds the evil god Barolte!”

His words were concise and direct, laying out the task without embellishment.

This was the communication style the dwarves had learned through the previous summons: the Chosen Ones had little patience for lengthy speeches or background explanations.

The more one said, the less they listened.

Even rousing words meant to inspire them would only make them restless.

On the other hand, they thrived when given straightforward, simple orders.

The shorter, the better.

They would not object, nor ask why—simply obey.

Such naïve simplicity made Tonglu wonder uneasily if, in dealings with other races, the elves might one day be tricked into handing over their coin purses with smiles of gratitude.

Still, he thought to himself, such was the nature of the elves.

Even if their nature had shifted somewhat, their childlike purity still remained unchanged.

At the High Pontiff’s command, the eyes of every Chosen Ones lit up.

“So that vortex is the entrance?”

“Is it a spatial passageway?”

“Ah, no wonder we haven’t seen any demons yet… there’s another map ahead!”

“Bro, come on! When can we enter that dungeon?”

They chattered excitedly.

Before Greycloth or Tonglu could add another word, the radiant Chosen Ones rushed headlong into the swirling black vortex.

In an instant, their figures vanished from sight.

Tonglu: “…”

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