Chapter 48: Black Rock Dwarves, Earth Fury Golem

When danger is sensed.

Garos's first instinct was to eliminate the source of the danger.

What he truly wanted most was to strike tonight under the cover of darkness, launching a night raid just as he had against the goblin tribe before, wiping out the Black Rock Duchy's oil field garrison—this "potential threat"—in one continuous night without pause.

Unfortunately.

Garos was confident that he was no match for the Black Rock forces; attacking them head-on would be suicide, so he could only seek ways to reduce the risk through other means.

Such as relocating their position.

Such as burning the mountain to erase all traces.

Garos felt he might be suffering from a touch of paranoia, caring too much for his own life, but he believed there was no harm in being extra cautious; in this wilderness teeming with peril, prudence was essential.

Walking on thin ice was merely to reach the opposite shore.

"One day, when I become strong enough, I will no longer need to live so cautiously."

"By then, even if the entire world turns against me, I will not retreat; I will burn it all to ash, reduce it to dust."

Glancing back at the hillside that resembled a giant torch burning through the night, Garos thought silently in his heart, then, without a shred of lingering attachment, he flapped his dragon wings and pursued Samantha and Mober.

Seeing Mober carrying the Earth-Splitting Centipede, Garos considered for a moment, ordered him to set it down, and then completely destroy it.

Though it was somewhat regrettable, he was unsure whether the creature possessed a positioning system; unable to take it with him, he simply destroyed it.

Time passed slowly.

Three days later, morning light spilled down, illuminating the scorched earth of the Ironwood Hills.

Arriving with the dawn light was a group of unwelcome guests.

The iron hooves of Rock-Armored War Goats trampled over the blackened ground, the warhammer insignia of the 【Black Rock Duchy Third Heavy Cavalry Regiment】 on their armor gleaming with a cold, metallic luster.

Under the leadership of an Alchemical Golem, numerous Black Rock cavalrymen halted.

The Alchemical Golem at the very front of the cavalry stood eight meters tall, nearly eight meters wide, humanoid in shape, roughly the same height as the Great-Armed Miner, yet its entire body was clad in thick, hard armor, everywhere inscribed with complex, intricate runes resembling blood vessels; as the alchemical engine within roared to life, streams of deep blue energy, like blood, flowed between the runes, spreading throughout its entire form.

Carved onto the Alchemical Golem's shoulder in ancient Dwarvish was its model name.

【Earth Fury】

At first glance, it appeared like a giantized dwarf.

Sturdy, heavy, hard.

Compared to it, the Great-Armed Miner was as thin and weak as a hemp stalk.

And the true gap in their 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.

Many more Earth Fury Golems were stationed at the oil field, along with several other model types.

Crack-crack, the ground bulged and split open, and several Earth-Splitting Centipedes emerged from within; among them, one, though repaired, still bore faint traces of the previous battle.

It was none other than the Earth-Splitting Centipede that had fought Garos in the Ironwood Hills and narrowly escaped by burrowing underground.

This Earth-Splitting Centipede raised its triangular head and swayed it a few times toward the direction of the Ironwood Hills.

"This is the place; the young dragon that stole the oil soil, causing the loss and waste of some of our black oil, and destroyed two Earth-Splitting Centipede larvae."

Patting the head of the Earth-Splitting Centipede, a Dwarf Sorcerer spoke.

He stood about 1.4 meters tall, his copper-colored beard grown down to his chest and bound with an iron ring; his arms, exposed to the air, were immensely thick, with powerful muscle blocks rising like rocks.

【Fire Tongs】 Groni, Dwarf Alchemist.

The cavalryman leading the group removed his helmet, revealing half of his face scarred by fire.

It was a medal earned from a fierce battle with a powerful beast five years ago.

【Warhammer】 Olaf, Dwarf Knight.

Olaf spat, creating a small pit in the ground, his bell-like eyes scanning the scorched earth.

"Not caused by a wildfire."

"This little dragon brat burned it cleaner than the fiery ale at Deep Furnace Tavern!"

Olaf stood about 1.6 meters tall, his strength surpassing even that of the Dwarf Sorcerer; clad in a suit of steel-cast, rune-etched heavy armor, he breathed steadily, the muscles beneath the heavy armor packed tightly like asphalt and oil, with veins and tendons interwoven like the roots of an ancient tree, his life force burning as fiercely as a furnace.

Dwarves.

This race possessed immense strength and robust physiques, with muscle density and bone density higher than humans.

Although their height was generally short, if a Dwarf Warrior and a Human Warrior of equal rank fought, the Dwarf Warrior always had a greater chance of winning.

As Olaf spoke, he casually took a flask from his waist and tilted his head back to pour it directly into his mouth.

But the mouth of the flask was sealed by an invisible force; not a single drop could be poured out.

The Dwarf Sorcerer Groni glanced at this drunkard and said:

"Olaf, last night at the camp you drank an entire three barrels of black ale, and in the process lost all of this month's pay; today we are here to handle serious business, so save your thirst for alcohol."

Stroking his beard, Groni pondered aloud: "According to the information returned by the Earth-Splitting Centipedes, there are two young dragons here: one red dragon, and the other appears to be a red iron dragon hybrid."

"Naturally evil young dragons are mostly arrogant and conceited; I never expected this one to be so cautious and careful."

Olaf chuckled, scratching the scar on his face.

"Red dragon testicles can be brewed into a strong liquor that promotes virility and secondary development; a hybrid red dragon should work too. I haven't tasted it yet; if we manage to catch a young dragon this time, I must try what it tastes like!"

The Dwarf Sorcerer shook his head.

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

Speaking thus, he shook his beard, and from within his thick beard emerged a swarm of bee-like creatures; buzzing loudly, they scattered in all directions, circling and searching over the scorched earth and ash of the Ironwood Hills.

The cavalrymen and golems also moved into action, stepping onto the scorched ground to search for traces of the dragons' presence.

Stationed at the oil field, they received a fixed salary from the duchy.

But if they managed to catch a young dragon, it would be an unexpected windfall, enough to purchase an unknown quantity of strong liquor.

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

"Retreat and go drink; this trip was for nothing."

Olaf said.

"Wait, you are too hasty."

The dwarf shaman spread his palm.

Several bees circled and placed a tiny, minuscule black-gray fragment of scale into the dwarf shaman's palm.

"It is cautious, but even a fire that burns the mountain cannot destroy all traces; at the very least, this fragment of its scale might allow me to point toward its general direction."

Olaf let out a hearty laugh, pulled out a rugged copper cup, filled it with rye ale, and splashed it onto the scorched earth.

"To you, cunning little dragon! This cup celebrates in advance that your bones will become my new pipe! That your steel balls will become my aphrodisiac strong liquor!"

Toasting the enemy before marching out is an ancient tradition of the Black Rock Duchy.

Turning to look at the dwarf shaman, Olaf said eagerly, "Quickly locate its position! I can hardly wait."

The dwarf shaman shook his head and said contemptuously, "The dragon whelp burned the mountain and scorched the hills, leaving only this tiny fragment of scale; do you think it is a very useful medium? I just said 'might,' do you understand 'might'? Not 'definitely.' I need time to prepare, and I do not guarantee success."

Olaf spat again and rolled his eyes at the shaman.

"Then tell me what the hell! You wasted my rye ale!"

"Let's go, lads, back!"

After a busy whole day, the dwarves who found nothing turned back under the moonlight to guard the oil field.

The scolded dwarf shaman did not argue; he examined the scale fragment a few times, then tucked it into his chest.

(End of this chapter)