Chapter 295: Return to the Everpeak

"The school is giving us a half-day off tomorrow, and I'm going to the city gate to take a look. They say His Majesty Snorri Thorsson, King of the Southlands, is coming back! If I can catch a glimpse of him, it'll be enough for me to brag about until the Grungni Festival!"

When the news of Snorri leaving Haimenguan was delivered to Karaz-a-Karak via the rune telegraph, the entire Everpeak erupted. A young Little Beard kicked open the hinged door of his family's tavern and shouted at his father, who was wiping a mug inside.

"Johnny, the ancestors taught us well; we Sons of the Mountains should be as steady as stone. You're so boisterous, where is your composure?" The tavern owner muttered as he hung a polished mug upside down on the rack above his head.

"What did you say? A day off? What day is it tomorrow? The Summer Solstice hasn't passed long ago, the Harvest Festival is still far off, is it Thurni's birthday? That's not your place to celebrate anyway! Thanks to the Ancestor Chosen, more people have awakened Rune Power in the last two years, but unfortunately, sigh, you didn't..."

The owner muttered, his hearing damaged by the noisy working environment. However, he still keenly caught the word "day off." For someone in the service industry like him, this meant a large influx of customers, so he was well-versed in the calendar.

"Dad, it's His Majesty Snorri, who defeated the Plague Father in the Southlands and slew the Demigod, he's coming back!" The young man raised his voice and shouted.

"The Grudge Council? His Majesty Snorri is certainly early! But then again, he walked out of our Everpeak, and he will surely return again in the future." The tavern was the information hub for the Dwarf race, and the owner had heard many related rumors.

"I heard that in the Southlands there are two-legged lizards of all sizes; there are walking, talking skeletons, and also..."

It seemed the nature of the Dwarf race was vividly displayed in this young man, as he gestured wildly while recounting his hearsay knowledge of the Southlands.

"Uncle Danik wrote to say he's doing well in the Southlands and invited our family to go over. Dad, have you replied to him? He said that nobody knows what to do at night over there, and they are just in need of a tavern! With your great cooking skills..."

"Perhaps, it's good for you to go and broaden your horizons tomorrow, but remember to come back early. Business will surely be very good in the evening, and I'll need your help." The tavern owner wrung out his rag and hung it up.

"I need to go talk to the Clan elders. Thanks to the Ancestor Chosen, my wife's belly has movement again, and I don't know if it's a son or a daughter. Perhaps I really should go to the South and venture out, otherwise, where would I get the money for Johnny's bride price?"

Watching his son skip out the door to play with friends, he sat behind the bar and poured himself a drink. In the days before, there seemed to be no good news; His Majesty Thorgrim crossed off one grudge after another, but new ones were always added.

Oh, the Dwarf race, originally sliding slowly into the abyss due to internal and external troubles, but now a substance called "hope," invisible and intangible, was spreading widely throughout the Mountain Kingdom.

For the long lives of the Dwarfs, seven years was not too long. The tavern owner could feel that after that Battle of Iron Gate, the customers' helpless complaints had decreased, they were spending more lavishly, and their tempers had even improved.

"Creak!"

"Are you open, my Dwarf friend?" Just as the owner was deep in thought, the sound of the door opening startled him. A Human holding a long staff, with a hood covering half his face, walked in.

"Uh, of course, my friend, what would you like? My house's Fire Brew and Tender Roasted Rock Sheep Leg are a perfect match!" The owner immediately entered work mode.

"Why not?" The Human placed a few silver coins on the bar.

"Coming right up! By the way, have you heard? The great Lord of the Southlands, the Restorer His Majesty Snorri, is returning to the Everpeak tomorrow!" Business came as soon as he opened, and the owner was in high spirits.

"Of course, I came here for him. He brought change and hope, which is exactly what we all like, isn't it?" The Human leaned his staff against the wall and smiled, pursing his lips.

"Change and hope? Hmm, you summarized it so well!" The owner subconsciously echoed, chewing on these two words, and suddenly felt they were very fitting.

At noon the next day, Snorri and the caravan arrived at the foot of the Everpeak. With a long horn blast, the gate, personally inscribed with runes by Valaya, was opened amidst a slight strange sound caused by the lack of lubrication on the hinges.

"Clang! Clang!"

Sunlight shone into the shadows of the mountain belly, and the sound of rhythmic footsteps followed. The Throne of Power appeared, with the figure of Thorgrim Grudgebearer wearing the Dragon Crown sitting upon it.

Beside him were the blue-uniformed Eternal Hammer Guard; these battle-hardened warriors carried their double-handed hammers on their shoulders. Their pressure made the guards around Snorri tremble slightly, and the other members of the caravan were even more terrified into silence.

"Welcome back, King of the South World's Edge Mountains, Snorri Thorsson of the Drazh-Karrad Clan!"

Thorgrim's voice echoed in the valley. The High King did not use that long string of titles to address Snorri. Instead, he pointed out his identity and origin in the most concise way, and anyone could hear the High King's pride.

"Restorer!"

"Ancestor Chosen!"

"Storm Hammer!"

One stone stirred up a thousand waves. After Thorgrim started, all kinds of welcome words poured out from the fortress. To Dwarfs of different statuses, Snorri also shone with different lights, but the commonality among them was the word "hero."

Driving the Rock Sheep forward to fall slightly behind the Throne of Power, and side-by-side with the two seat-bearers behind, Snorri passed through the gate, waving to the clansmen lined up to welcome him along the way.

Looking at the crowd that filled the main road, which was wide enough for four carriages to travel side-by-side, for a moment he suddenly wanted to bestow divine grace. But he immediately realized there was no need for that anymore; in the eyes of his clansmen, he seemed to have already stepped half a foot across the boundary between mortals and gods.

"How does this feel?" Thorgrim smiled, turning his head to look at his son.

"Very good, very gratifying, but, um, there is also pressure." Snorri spoke his heartfelt words. He knew that he was still at least halfway away from his ultimate goal, and several hard bones were still waiting to be chewed!

"Work hard, you carry the hopes of your clansmen."

"Yes, I know I cannot lose."

Snorri raised his eyebrows. Creating a god is the best way to increase cohesion in a short time. But it also means that the one being created will have to walk on thin ice from now on; the backlash brought by failure is unbearable.

"I, we, will do our best to give you the greatest support." Thorgrim let his voice stubbornly reach Snorri's ears amidst the mountain-collapsing cheers.