Ashen Dragon

Aivendel, this fortress that has stood in Black Stone Mountain for thousands of years, is now a place of broken walls and countless scars.

Dwarf, Elves silently gather the bodies of their fallen comrades, burning the pile of Orc corpses at the city gate.

Thick gray smoke rises softly, a solemn atmosphere pervades within the city, Dwarf Craftsmen repair the walls while softly chanting an ancient song.

"Accompanied by the clinking melody of the hammer, the Dwarves crafted a magnificent and mighty fortress..."

Lonely war cries come from the northern plains, where barbaric and evil creatures gather..."

After this brutal battle, the outskirts of Aivendel are nearly reduced to ruins, with nearly six thousand Dwarf Heroes buried underground.

It's worth noting that there are only a little over thirty thousand Dwarves in Aivendel, almost every resident has lost a familiar relative, lover, or friend.

And the remaining over nine thousand Dwarf Warriors, along with the Elves from Serinia, are stationed outside the city, forming patrol teams, striving to eliminate scattered Beastman Cavalry scouts, scouting the next moves of the Red Blood Tribe from the north.

"The fine wine once shared with you spills onto the ground, shining brighter than gold and gemstones in Solania...

Farewell, my friend..."

Ed Klein stands at the top of the city wall, softly singing the "Farewell Song" that has been passed down among the Dwarf Clan.

He gazes at the vast Wuge Prairie, emitting a long sigh, for the Dwarves have paid a steep price in this battle.

But... they have won.

The millennia-old heritage of the High Mountain Kingdom, the glory of the Shield Dwarves, has been preserved, but what will their future hold?

Bjorn appears behind him, leaning on a cane, his voice filled with concern.

"Your Majesty, we have clearly achieved a splendid victory, why then do you sigh so sorrowfully?"

"Bjorn, you should see..."

"..."

The old Dwarf does not reply, only silently watches Ed's pale, weak face.

The Dwarf King lets out a wry smile, continuing, "I never expected, I probably won't outlive you, an old man over four hundred years old.

I'm not afraid of death, but I don't want to die yet, I can't let go of the High Mountain Kingdom."

"Your Majesty, you..."

"..."

Suddenly, the two Dwarves fall silent, having worked together for a hundred years, they could guess each other's thoughts even without speaking.

Ed knows his body melded with the Rock Hammer has doomed him, he wouldn't be alive now if not for the "Dragon of Dawn" stepping in to help.

The Soul-forging Fire contained within the Rock Hammer is too intense; now, not only his body but even his soul is slowly burning, irreversibly fading away.

Even Resurrection Technique might struggle to reverse this process, especially as Dwarves are not a Race proficient in spells.

And now, with the continent in such chaos, not only the northern Orcs, the Abyss, the Nine Layers of Hell, the Three Great Kingdoms, all forces are restless and not to be underestimated.

When the next crisis arrives, without the support of this "Furnace Controller," how will the High Mountain Kingdom survive?

"We enter the profound underground caves, seeking that enchanting golden color..."

Ed, Bjorn thus look together towards the distance, silently Listening to the song echoing within the city.

The old Dwarf hesitates for a moment, his mouth quivering slightly: "Your Majesty, I have a method, it might protect Aivendel for at least a hundred years..."

Ed turns to him, seemingly guessing Bjorn's thoughts, his voice calm: "Do you think... it really could work?

For thousands of years, we Shield Dwarves have always relied on ourselves, standing firm in the world with our hammers and resilience..."

Bjorn drops his eyelids, sighs in despair: "Your Majesty, this is merely the last resort."

"Ao——"

Suddenly, a loud howl comes from afar, Dwarf, Elves all look up promptly, only to see a blurry black spot appearing on the horizon.

"What is that?"

"Look, there in the sky!"

"Is this friend or foe this time? It's not those Orcs' allies, is it?"

"Alert! Swear to defend Aivendel!"

The patrolling Dwarves and Elves immediately grab their weapons, poised as if facing a great enemy, their mouths buzzing with discussion.

And Ed, Bjorn are no exception, their expressions grave, looking into the distance.

Before long, the black spot grows larger in their vision, finally revealing itself as a giant Golden Dragon more than ten meters long.

"Is this... another visiting Gold Dragon?"

Ed quickly raises his hand, signaling his soldiers to lower their weapons, he commands in a deep voice.

"Everyone, lower your weapons, this is a noble and good Gold Dragon, our High Mountain Kingdom's eternal benefactor—the kin of Lord Titus!"

"It's a Gold Dragon!"

"As expected of a kin to Lord Titus, such an elegant and beautiful creature!"

The soldiers on and beneath the city walls promptly relax, lowering their Crossbows, Spears, and other weapons, their expressions significantly more relieved.

They have witnessed this Gold Dragon helping vigorously, incinerating their enemies, killing the Chieftain of the Red Blood Tribe.

And during these days, Lord Titus has often circled above their city, casting down warm radiance, healing the wounded; the Dwarves are even more appreciative.

In the hearts