Chapter 208: White Dwarf

As that Ghorgon tore through the Dwarf battle line ahead, a whole company of Bestigors and seven or eight Minotaurs charged in behind it.

Sinuoli shouted to pull Longbeards over to fill the gaps in the Ironbreaker defensive line; every clansman erupted with sufficient courage, charging forward without hesitation to swing their weapons at the Ghorgon, even though they were not as tall as the beast's hooves.

"Boom!"

A giant tree falling from the sky disintegrated the defensive line the Dwarfs had struggled to reorganize, and another group of warriors was sent flying by the impact; the Longbeards did not have Meteorite Iron Armor and were lighter in mass than their comrades, though this did mean they fell a bit more lightly.

Some of the green lights in mid-air found their targets, and the lucky ones climbed back up under the healing of divine grace, but many clansmen never stood up again.

The Leviathan Butcher Rogov emerged from the crowd, his orange crest standing tall; this warrior had served as the vanguard to enter the valley first to scout for potential ambushes, and had only just returned.

He gripped his great axe tightly, hacked down two blocking Beastmen, rolled a few times to arrive beneath the Ghorgon, and struck a heavy blow at its Achilles tendon, the back of the axe nearly sinking entirely into its twisted flesh.

Slayers are experts at dealing with giant beasts; they know that such behemoths must be struck in their vital points to be effective. Under this fierce blow, the four-armed bull-fiend could no longer support its weight on its left leg, and it knelt down in pain on one knee.

"Rogo..."

The Dwarfs' cheers had not yet faded when the four-armed bull-fiend's aberrated arm swept down at a strange angle; Rogov did not guard against this move, and he was struck into the air, falling heavily to the ground.

Seeing the situation reverse, the brave Slayers were defeated, and many clansmen began to hum ancient dirges, preparing for a final stand against the Beastmen charging into the valley mouth.

"Look!"

Just then, Buluokesen, whose monocular scope never left his person, suddenly pointed at the cliff on the left, where a figure had appeared.

Sinuoli's gaze turned at the sound; the figure's movements were fast, but as Sinuoli recalled it afterward, it felt as if it were imprinted in his heart frame by frame.

From his build, it was a Dwarf; he flipped back his hood and tore off his tattered cloak, revealing a purple cape underneath. Runes flowed across this cape, dancing in the wind under the moonlight and snapping loudly.

His beard was very white; Sinuoli and all the others who witnessed it would swear countless times in the days to come that it was the whitest beard they had ever seen. The long white whiskers were neatly groomed by golden rings.

The Dwarf's face was obscured under a silver helmet, and he wore plate armor that did not seem to be of metallic texture under the moonlight. He suddenly pulled a two-handed battle axe from his pack and, amidst the gaze and gasps of his clansmen, leaped down from the cliff.

"Die, you wretched beast! In the name of my kin Grungni!" The Dwarf's voice was extraordinarily loud, but his strength was even greater than his voice.

The Ghorgon raised its stupid head to gaze at the sky; the moon in the air was the last thing it saw. The warrior descending from the sky used the battle axe in his hands to split the giant beast directly in two!

"Hoo!" He landed lightly on the ground, shook his axe, and let out a long breath.

"Boom! Boom!" The four-armed bull-fiend's body, split into two pieces from the forehead, toppled over, shaking the mountains on both sides.

For a moment, blood rained down, but this did not disturb the one who had descended from the sky. The runes on his purple cape flickered, and not even a drop of filthy beast blood splashed onto him.

"Gr, Grimbrindal?" the Leviathan Butcher Rogov lay on the ground, looking up at the white beard floating before him, and said painfully. The massive impact had severely injured his internal organs, and a mouthful of blood surged out with every word the warrior spoke.

"It is I, little one!" The Dwarf's booming voice rang out again, and the clansmen's inner suspicions were confirmed; they let out a thunderous gasp.

"They all say you come from the halls of the Ancestor Gods; now, can I, can I go in?"

Rogov struggled to ask the question he cared about most. From the moment he became a Slayer, the meaning of his life had been reduced to washing away his sins with an honorable death so that he might regain the qualification to enter that place.

"Of course, you have proven your courage, but it is not yet time!" The face hidden under Grimbrindal's helmet seemed to smile. He waved his hand gently, guiding some green orbs of light into Rogov's body. The Slayer coughed a few times and shifted his body; his injuries seemed to have been brought under control.

"Follow me, Sons of the Mountains! The grudge against these filthy hoofed creatures shall be settled today!" Grimbrindal turned around, and behind him were the roaring Dwarfs.

By this time, Sinuoli's subordinates no longer had any discipline or formation; they acted as if they were even crazier than the Beastmen opposite them! Non-combat personnel also grabbed whatever was nearby to join in this counterattack.

Sinuoli stood on the anvil and watched as Cousin Tomi charged forward, shouting and yelling, with an axe in one hand and an abacus in the other, having found no shield to use as a substitute.

No Dwarf was willing to miss the glory of fighting side-by-side with Grimbrindal. Grimbrindal is a Dwarf term meaning "the ancestor with the white beard." The enemies of the Dwarfs fearfully call him the White Dwarf.

The vast majority of the clansmen believe he is Snorri Whitebeard, the first High King of the Mountain Kingdom, the youngest child of the Ancestor Goddess Valaya and the Father God Grungni.

His elder brothers became lesser Ancestor Gods, and he, as an extremely powerful Demigod, rules and maintains the foundation established by his father and brothers.

When Malekith, who was not yet the Witch King of the Dark Elves, first came to the Old World to explore, he and the White Dwarf formed a deep friendship. Before the White Dwarf passed away, he summoned Malekith, and the two concluded a deathbed oath ensuring that Elves and Dwarfs would remain on good terms for generations.

When Malekith sowed discord between the Elves and Dwarfs to seize the rule of Ulthuan, igniting the fuse for the War of the Beard, that powerful oath, inscribed on the sarcophagus by the Rune Masters of the Golden Age, was broken.

The soul of Snorri Whitebeard returned to the Mortal World under the combined influence of Rune Power and the Grudge, to take revenge on Malekith and all enemies of the Dwarfs.

In the long years that followed, Grimbrindal appeared countless times at the most desperate moments of legendary battles. He wears the Karak Ziflin Rune Helm, dons Grimnir's Scaled Armor, drapes his shoulders in the cape woven by his mother Valaya herself, and turns the tide with the battle axe gifted by Grimnir in his hands.