CHAPTER 264: IRON KING BOGUL

Within the elven encampment at the Ironforge Bastion, by the border of the dwarven kingdom, Sieg and Gewen sat face-to-face within a dwelling shaped by the natural growth of plants. They were deep in discussion over the condition of the Tree of Life.

"It's been nearly a month now. And there haven't been signs of trouble from the Tree of Life, have they?"

Sieg adjusted his monocle as his gaze settled on Gewen, who sat across from him, lost in thought.

"Yes," Gewen replied slowly. "There's been no signs of trouble. Ever since we purged those false roots, the Tree's condition has steadily improved. It hasn't dispatched any more of those woodlings to hunt down beasts or outsiders, or siphon life through violent means."

He turned over a delicate leaf in his hand, smooth as jade. It shimmered faintly with soft light.

An extension of the Tree of Life grown within the Eden Plain and connected directly to the Tree's core, it reflected the Tree's vitality even across great distances.

The leaf was flawless: clear, luminous, and brimming with life. It indicated that the Tree was likewise healthy and abundant with vitality.

Sieg leaned forward. "Then perhaps it's time to consider that the dwarves had nothing to do with it. So far, aside from pursuing their own goals, they've shown no signs of harming the Tree."

He met Gewen's gaze as he spoke with calm insistence.

Gewen shook his head, still rolling the leaf between his fingers. "I'll admit the possibility, but I still believe the dwarves are involved. No elf would ever tamper with the Tree's roots. Those mineral fragments we found... they could only have come from dwarves. That fact is irrefutable."

His tone was conflicted but firm—the elven elder was clearly unwilling to let go of his suspicions.

"You're being obstinate," Sieg said, frowning. "Those mineral shards might've been brought there by something—or someone—else. Just because the ore came from dwarven mines doesn't mean the dwarves planted them deliberately."

He didn't understand why his old friend clung so stubbornly to this line of thought.

When they first arrived in Liaheim, Gewen's suspicions seemed grounded. But now, with a month of observation behind them and no incidents from the dwarves, Sieg felt Gewen was chasing shadows.

"You know how I am, Sieg," Gewen said, placing the leaf away and rubbing his forehead with a weary hand. "I haven't changed."

"..."

Sieg fell silent. It was true. Gewen had always been this way—unyielding, law-bound, almost obsessively principled. That rigidity could become a liability. And yet, within the elven council, someone so fiercely devoted to order had long been a necessary presence.

Just then, an elven ranger arrived and broke the silence. "Elder Gewen, Master Sieg, Dwarf Tobey requests your presence. He says it's important."

Neither party said another word. They rose and stepped outside.

Tobey Bronzebeard stood just past the doorway, already grumbling at the ranger. "You elves always take your sweet time. I'm here about the alliance we signed a month ago. Let's get things over with. Took me half an hour just to get past your damn gate—had to jump through hoops proving my identity. What, afraid one dwarf's gonna bring your whole camp down?"

Gewen's expression darkened the moment he saw the dwarf. "Tobey Bronzebeard, state your business," he said coolly.

Tobey scowled. "The month is nearly up. Isn't it safe to say that we had nothing to do with this anomaly with the Tree? This alliance agreement is no longer needed."

He crossed his arms. Being accused by Gewen of endangering the Tree through their Deep Delve had been a serious insult to him and his people. Tobey had only tolerated it under pressure and with deep reluctance.

Now that the month was almost up, it was all but clear that the dwarves were innocent. He was in no mood to continue bowing down to the elves.

"You intend to break the contract?"

Gewen's tone was stiff and sharp. Tobey blinked as the elven elder retrieved the parchment, the divine pact signed and bound by the power of the God of Order.

It glowed with radiant force. Overhead, two immense swords of judgment conjured from divine light appeared—one above Gewen, one above Tobey.

The pressure that descended could only be described as overwhelming. The sword above Tobey's head wavered ominously, as though poised to fall and erase him from existence.

Tobey cursed. "I didn't mean that! Don't invoke the pact! I'll abide by it!"

Cold sweat streamed down the dwarf's face. Though a grand knight himself, Tobey felt the holy sword brush right up against his very soul. The pact had interpreted his words—"the agreement is no longer needed"—as intent of betrayal.

If Gewen were to activate the contract now, judgment would descend. It wouldn't kill him—not for a mere lapse of speech—but it might still strike him down half-dead.

"Stop! I'm not here to break the pact!" Tobey blurted out with uncharacteristic haste. "We accelerated our progress. The excavation is complete. You're welcome to inspect the site and confirm we've done nothing to harm the Tree!"

He said it all in a single breath—perhaps the fastest words he had ever spoken in his life.

"..."

Gewen narrowed his eyes, gauging him, then silently dismissed the divine contract. The swords above them vanished into motes of light.

"By the Forge," muttered Tobey, exhaling sharply. "You stubborn bastard. Was that necessary? The identity checks—those were your idea too, weren't they? Of course they were."

He grumbled bitterly, clearly still shaken, though he no longer voiced his anger over the insult to his people.

"..."

Gewen remained silent, as unflinching as ever. His gaze alone was enough to unsettle even the well-tempered Tobey, who stood out for his restraint and patience—at least as far as the average dwarf was concerned.

"...Come," Tobey said at last. "I'll take you underground. We kept you out before because the project was of utmost importance to our people. We couldn't risk any interference until it was finished. But now that it is, there's no reason to keep secrets."

He turned and started off toward the edge of the elven camp, beckoning for the two of them to follow. Sieg and Gewen exchanged a brief word with the others, gave a few quiet instructions, then followed Tobey toward the deep pit that opened up beyond the walls of Ironforge Bastion.

There was no need to worry that Tobey intended to lure Sieg and Gewen into the depths and dispose of them—such an act was explicitly forbidden in the God of Order's pact. If the dwarves dared such treachery, Tobey wouldn't be the only one to pay the price with his life.

They boarded the Iron Serpent, a dwarven train that thundered along the tracks connecting the surface to the subterranean world. Sieg and Gewen were ferried to the heart of the dwarves' Deep Delve—the terminus of the Tree of Life's root system.

"We dwarves would never harm your Tree," Tobey began. They were all sharing the same carriage. "Sure, you pointy-ears can be annoying sometimes, but we're still allies. There's no point in doing something so senseless."

He had learned not to wait for Gewen to respond. Instead, he pressed on, speaking more to the air before him than the elf.

"Since you insist on seeing for yourselves what we've been doing with your tree's roots, so be it.

"The roots served the role of an incredible healer for our project. The natural vitality they emit was the key to keeping the ‘brain' of our dwarven masterpiece alive in the harsh underground before all our preparations were complete.

"We dug so deep because the low-mana, low-void, and low-interference environment below allowed our alchemical processes to remain stable. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been so eager to burrow that far.

"This creation is a marvel combining every advancement in dwarven alchemy from recent years, along with the half-baked tech from our gnome collaborators. We call it..."

Tobey's tone shifted. A reluctant envoy he might be, but also a craftsman unable to restrain his pride. As he detailed the Deep Delve's workings, his words began to glow with the warmth of admiration, even reverence.

The Iron Serpent delved deeper and deeper until it reached its destination: the very depot where Tobey had once brought his grandson Olaf, a place previously used only for unloading raw materials.

But the cavern had been transformed.

Once an empty, rough-hewn void, it was now a vital hub. The walls, re-excavated and reinforced, were strung with glowing mana-crystal lanterns that bathed the immense space in warm yellow light.

Metal scaffolding clung to the cavern's walls and ceiling. Dwarves and gnomes bustled about, each tending to their own duties, all centered on a singular creation.

The massive mechanical arm that Olaf had so admired now rumbled in action, lifting components too heavy for any mortal to carry and placing them into reinforced storage vaults filled with the costly fruits of dwarven craft.

Yet even that awe-inspiring limb paled in comparison to what stood at the heart of the space: an iron giant.

Forged of steel, it towered like a god made manifest, over forty meters high. The runes engraved upon its body and the magically protected machinery exposed at its joints made it clear that this was more than mere armor.

Only then did Sieg realize the source of the ceaseless rumble that had begun when they first boarded the train.

From within the giant's chest blazed a great furnace. Crimson light glowed through the iron plating, forming a radiant ring at its core—a terrifying symbol of power.

The furnace roared with deafening intensity. Alchemical reactions surging within generated an incredible wealth of energy, driving this massive colossus forward.

Atop the giant, a dwarven war-helm scaled to monstrous proportions sat upon a headless neck. No face could be seen behind the visor; two glowing red lights shone coldly from the darkness, lifeless, merciless, and disdainful.

Gewen's eyes were drawn to the base of the iron colossus's neck. There, roots from the Tree of Life had broken through the stone. Guided by dwarven scaffolding, they had woven themselves into the giant's structure, slipping through an opening in the helm and disappearing into the unseen interior.

Tobey's voice, which had been filled with pride, now grew solemn and reverent as he spoke the name of this towering marvel.

"We call this the Iron King of Protection, Bogul."

Elsewhere, Wang Yu and Avia continued their analysis of the Sorensen Mountains. "The corruption's been dealt with by the druids, so I'd say the mountains are stable for now. Next, we should look into what became of the other intelligent beings around here—dark elves and the like," Wang Yu muttered.

He stared out at the moss that now spread like a green veil over the ashen plains of the Sorensen Mountains.

"If this artificial ecosystem really was the druids' handiwork," murmured Avia, "then their disappearance makes sense. It might look lush now, but it's still fragile. The presence of intelligent species would be far too heavy a burden."

"Then let's head back and report this to the elves," Wang Yu said. "With their capabilities, they should—"

"Mr. Wang Yu, Miss Avia—wait," Sif interrupted, her tone sharp with focus. "There's natural magic in the moss. It's transmitting something related to the both of you. My words of nature are picking it up. Allow me to relay it."

Her brows furrowed in concentration. A moment later, her voice came, bearing a message not her own.

"Archbishop... to think I'd see you again in our homeland. So, you've come here as well..."

Wang Yu's eyes widened slightly. There was only one person who would address him so—and who would call the Sorensen Mountains home.

A dark elven druid, and a member of the Church of Nightfall—Holo.