Chapter 778: War Begins in the Forge (Patreon)

Ahead of them stood a settlement of dirt houses. Or burrows. Luke couldn’t really tell. He’d been here once before on his own, but Illyra was stronger now, strong enough to come with them. The place looked like a village. Or maybe a tribe. Its inhabitants were beetles that walked upright on two legs, with thick shells and horns of all shapes and sizes.

“We come in peace,” Luke said as soon as the locals noticed them.

“You’re not an alien, man,” Artemis said. “Well, maybe to them you are.”

Some of the beetles rolled away. Others ran. A few rushed toward them, openly hostile. Unlike the others, their horns were sharp and vicious, like a rhinoceros beetle’s.

“My name is Luke Moon. I’m a Monarch, and these are my servants.”

The beetles began surrounding them. Then Illyra spoke.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m back.”

One of the beetles froze.

“G-Great Spirit?”

And just like that, the misunderstanding was over.

The village leader appeared soon after. Luke and the others were taken inside one of the dirt houses, which turned out to be far roomier than it looked from the outside. As Luke listened to the tribal chief, he studied their surroundings.

My Core doesn’t reach this far down. So much for making them citizens.

“I understand,” the beetle chief said. “The Great Spirit wants our help.”

Luke’s goal, aside from getting stronger in the underworld, was to finish healing Illyra. Her true core was somewhere deeper down.

“We haven’t had any contact with the lower realms,” Besogog said.

A female beetle brought over a few leaves filled with a thick liquid. Probably their version of tea.

“Thank you, but we already ate.”

Maybe it wouldn’t poison him, but the thick purple sludge already looked like it tasted awful.

“I want some!” Franky said.

“No, he doesn’t, beetle lady.”

The last thing Luke needed was the snake kid getting a stomachache halfway through the trip.

“Hmm...” The beetle stared at Luke’s arms. “Those were made by our kind. Where did you find them if you’ve never been to the realms below? Or are there beings like us where you come from?”

“These?” Luke looked down at the bracers.

[Tamn Rift Bracers (Epic)]:

A pair of dark leather bracers forged by an ancient tribe of insectoid beings from the lands north of Tamn. Worn by time yet still unyielding, they carry the quiet resilience of artifacts made for war. After the rebellions and the merging of worlds, they ended up in a place where they were never meant to exist. In Tamn, wearing them may be mistaken for a sign of allegiance to the kingdom’s old enemies.

Enchantments:[Stinger Launch (Epic)]: Each bracer can store a throwing knife and fire it at great speed. Even if the knife is made of mana, it will not dissipate while held within the bracer. The more stamina infused into the bracer, the more powerful the shot becomes. The bracer also functions as a magical extension of its wearer, allowing skills to be applied to the knife without direct physical contact.

Information:Rarity: EpicCore: EType: EquipmentBonus: +100 Dexterity, +50 Lethality, +50 ToughnessRequirement: Level 70+ Assassin Class.

These were from the underworld all along? Then how the hell did they end up in the Sunken Realms?

Luke looked back at the beetle woman.

“I found them. What we call the System gave them to me.”

“I see.”

Afterward, they were taken outside. Illyra asked the chief to help them get a better sense of the area.

“That way lies a valley inhabited by extremely dangerous beasts,” Besogog said.

“That’s where we came from,” Angie replied.

“Then I wouldn’t recommend exploring too much. There are truly dangerous things in that valley. Large beasts make their homes there, and they usually don’t come this way. That is their territory. If you head against the wind, you’ll eventually reach a glowing forest. Other tribes live there.”

They didn’t use north, south, east, or west. Down here, everything was measured by the direction of the wind, and the wind always blew the same way.

“What about the desert?” Luke asked.

That was what they really wanted to know. The desert was the way deeper into the underworld.

“Simply follow the wind. It will always lead you farther down. But...” Besogog lowered the claw he’d been pointing with. “The path through the desert is... not really passable.”

“Inaccessible?” Charlie asked.

“You can enter. But you won’t leave.” The chief went silent for a moment. “Something dangerous lives there. It is the reason we lost contact with the realms below.”

Of course there was. Because a dangerous desert apparently wasn’t enough.

“Something that should still be sleeping. It woke some time ago, and it hasn’t slept since.”

Besogog went quiet. “Many have given it names. We call it the Devourer of Realms.”

After saying their goodbyes to the tribe, Luke and the others continued on.

“This is going to be a pain, Illyra. Making you one of my citizens isn’t going to be as easy as I thought.”

“At least you’re getting all those experience points you wanted,” she replied.

“There’s that. The beasts down here are a lot worse than the ones on the surface.”

They had a few possible routes, but decided to head toward the Glowing Forest. The desert was out of the question for now. There was grinding, and then there was walking straight into something called the Devourer of Realms.

Besides, Illyra wanted to know what had happened to the other tribes.

The more Luke thought about how completely she’d lost contact with everyone, the more he started to doubt only fifty years had passed. From the way the beetles described things, it could easily have been closer to five hundred. The underworld Illyra remembered just wasn’t the same anymore.

“Those world integrations you mentioned may have affected me,” she said. “I imagine the same happened to the other guardians.”

The other guardians were trees protecting entrances to the underworld.

“There isn’t another one on the continent we’re on?” Luke asked.

“I don’t know how large this landmass you call a continent actually is. But I can tell you this: the other guardians and I are very far apart. There are only a few of us in each world.”

Part of the beasts’ territory stretched into the Glowing Forest, forcing them to circle around and approach from another direction. Along the way, they reached a clearing filled with shallow lakes, where enormous creatures wandered through the water.

They tried to avoid a fight. The beasts charged anyway.

They looked like triceratops, only bigger, meaner, and covered in absurdly durable armor. They were level 130. Luke’s first knife barely sank into the gap between two plates. The second went deeper.

That was enough.

Charlie had it worse. Her sword bounced off one of the creatures’ armor, forcing her to put the weapon away and start hammering it with her fists instead.

Please let one of these things have a core.

After they killed two, a notification flashed in front of Luke.

[Your class [Shadow Phantom Reaper] has reached Level 120!] (+30 Lethality, +24 Agility, +23 Perception, +22 Intelligence, +18 Wisdom, +13 Willpower, +10 Dexterity, +20 Free Points)

[You have unlocked a new Class Skill]

Luke’s grin widened. “Oh, that’s good.”

***

Kargan had been hunting the Orc Treasure for weeks. This time, the trail hadn’t gone cold.

“We’re close,” he told the pack.

His wolves moved with him through the forest, silent except for the occasional rustle of leaves beneath their paws. To other orcs, wolves were mindless beasts. To Kargan, they were brothers in war. He had saved them back on the orc continent, keeping them from being devoured, and ever since, they had served as Lord Rokhan’s elite pack.

Rokhan was one of the most feared orcs in the entire kingdom. He was also the one who had saved Kargan when he was still just a pup, tearing him from the hands of another orc who had slaughtered his family and planned to devour him to make himself stronger. Kargan had been the only survivor.

Rokhan saved him, raised him, and made him his War Wolf. They fought side by side through countless battles, but now they were in a new land, a continent ruled by humans. His lord wanted the Orc King’s throne, and Kargan wanted to see him sitting on it. Rokhan was strong enough to take it. If anyone deserved that throne, it was him. What he lacked was a decisive advantage.

The Orc Treasure.

It was lost somewhere in these lands, and Kargan had devoted himself to finding it. Rokhan couldn’t trust his generals with that task. If one of them found the Orc Treasure, they might claim it for themselves or, worse, use it to bargain their way back into the Orc King’s favor.

Not even my nose can find it.

Kargan had searched forests, mountain foothills, forgotten trails, and places long abandoned. While Rokhan’s generals advanced across the land, he hunted the treasure. There had been a few times when he felt close. He could smell it in the air, the lingering trace of something that had passed through. He kept finding places where the Orc Treasure had been.

Never where it was.

One of those trails had led him to a small goblin. Kargan had been searching the forest when he came across a group of orcs dragging goblins away as prisoners. He thought the Orc Treasure might be with them, and when he realized those orcs served the Orc King, he didn’t waste the opportunity. One attack was all it took. The goblins were taken to a fortress where other prisoners were kept as laborers. They broke stone, chopped wood, and handled whatever work the orcs considered beneath them. Since then, Kargan had continued searching the forest.

Now that search had brought him to the entrance of a cave guarded by orcs. The sound of hammers striking metal rang from within, while dwarves moved back and forth with their heads lowered. They worked for Lord Rokhan, forging weapons and armor.

Not willingly, of course.

“Where’s Vice General Thork Stone Shield?”

One of the orcs led him inside.

Kargan entered the cave. The dwarves worked in silence, some with their ankles bound, while goblins broke stones nearby.

“Move faster!” an orc shouted, whipping one of them.

When Kargan reached the vice general, the orc greeted him with open contempt.

“To what do I owe the displeasure of your visit, General Kargan?”

Orcs hated beasts. They saw them as lower than slaves, but Rokhan had given Kargan authority over them, which only made them hate him more.

“Send word to your general. Lord Rokhan is summoning everyone back to the fortress. He needs to discuss our next moves. More ships from the Orc King are coming.”

“My general?” Thork spat the words like poison. “Ruax is hiding in that Ratmen tribe like a frightened pig. Ever since he got crushed trying to invade that human city, the coward’s been holed up there. I should be the new general.”

“I don’t care. Deliver the message.”

Every Orc General had vice generals beneath them. Orcs were competitive by nature, so it was better to keep them competing with each other than eyeing the general's position, especially those recently awakened by a Core.

Two dwarves entered, both covered in old wounds and wearing chains around their ankles.

“The food is late,” Thork said with a laugh. “I was starting to think I’d have to eat you.”

The two were husband and wife, the leaders of the dwarf tribe. Terrified, they carried a massive chunk of roasted meat between them.

“Dwarves are about as good at cooking as they are at being on time.”

Thork whipped them both. Kargan hated whips, but he said nothing.

“Let’s go back to the forge,” the dwarf said, pulling his wife away.

Kargan stopped. Something in the air had changed. Smoke, iron, sweat, blood... and beneath it all, something else. The scent was faint, almost completely buried, but it was there. Kargan’s eyes narrowed.

“Where?!” he roared, lunging toward the dwarves. “Where is it?!”

The two stumbled backward, terrified. It was here. That damned scent was right here, on the dwarves.

The Orc Treasure.

Thork had to have known. Kargan snapped his head toward him.

“You. You’re a traitor.”

“Traitor?!” Thork shot to his feet. “Have you lost your mind, Kargan? I’ll tear out your tongue for that!”

Kargan howled, calling his wolves.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing bringing your filthy wolves into my cave?!” Thork shouted.

Kargan growled at the dwarves. “Take me there. Now.”

A few snarls from the pack were enough. Trembling, the dwarf couple started toward the forge, while Thork followed, curious and furious.

“How long?!” Kargan demanded.

“I-I swear we were going to tell you!” one of the dwarves cried. “Please, don’t kill my wife!”

The treasure had been here all along.

“What are you talking about, Kargan?” Thork demanded.

Kargan ignored everyone around him and followed the scent through the forge. It grew stronger near the anvil, so he shoved aside tools, ash, and pieces of metal until he found a hidden door beneath it.

“Open it.”

The moment the hidden passage was exposed, Thork froze.

“The Orc Treasure...”

Thork stared down into the passage for one long second. Then he smiled.

“I’m not letting you take that.”

And attacked.

They slammed into each other hard enough to shake the forge.

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