Chapter 378| The Price Of Vengeance Had Been Paid In Blood, Yet The Point Of Convergence Remained Out Of Reach.

​A ceiling of rough volcanic rock was the first thing to greet Rumina’s sight as she slowly opened her eyes.

​Her head pounded fiercely, as if it had just been smashed by an invisible sledgehammer. Her neck muscles were stiff.

​She blinked. The dim light from the purplish-red runic veins on the cell walls pulsed faintly. The temperature inside was warm, but the air felt stuffy and reeked of dead moss.

​Rumina forced herself to sit up. Her trembling back leaned against the stone wall.

​Her dark gray dress was now nothing more than a dull rag stained with dust and dried blood. The grip marks on her shoulder throbbed with a dull ache.

​In the corner of the uneven floor, the clay bowl was still there. The boiled moss soup inside had gone cold, covered by a layer of congealed fat. A piece of rock-hard bread lay beside it.

​Rumina’s stomach churned painfully, demanding to be filled. But she didn’t touch the food at all.

​She wasn’t being arrogant. She was just being rational. The food given by the very people who attacked the outpost and abducted her could easily be laced with poison or sedatives.

​She took a slow breath, counting its rhythm.

​Her treasurer’s mind immediately mapped out the situation. Rianor. Roland. Riven. Were they still alive? Did they manage to escape, or were their bodies left buried beneath the rubble?

​Rumina’s chest suddenly tightened. She hurriedly suppressed the feeling.

​A tiny sliver of hope remained in her mind. Her three brothers weren’t fools. They would definitely come looking for her.

​Silence crept into the cell, filled only by the static hum of the runes and the dripping of water from the ceiling vent. Rumina’s face slowly returned to being as unreadable as marble.

​Clack. Grrrnd...

​The grating sound of stone hinges shattered the silence. Rumina immediately straightened her back.

​The cell door slid open. Three stocky figures marched inside.

​They weren’t the lowly guards who had brought her food earlier. These three wore dull steel plate armor covered in scratches from past battles.

​The first soldier had a dirty brown beard tied in a sloppy knot. His faded red eyes glared at Rumina with pure hostility.

​Behind him, the second soldier tightly gripped a leather whip tipped with metal fibers. Half of his face was ruined by burn scars. The third soldier looked to be the youngest, staring with a hint of hesitation from the back.

​They started growling in the Dwarven tongue. It was rough, heavy, and far too fast. Rumina couldn’t understand a single word.

​Without warning, the first soldier lunged forward. His rough hands clamped down on Rumina’s right arm, yanking her up with a brutal pull.

​Rumina didn’t scream. Nor did she fight back. Her physical strength was no match for the creature’s thick muscles.

​She let her body be dragged out of the cell, the tips of her shoes scraping helplessly against the volcanic stone floor.

​They shoved her into an empty room not far from the cell. There was no furniture. Just thick dust and a single runic light pulsing lazily on the ceiling.

​The first Dwarf hurled Rumina to the ground.

​Her left shoulder slammed into the stone first. The woman’s breath hitched as a sharp pain stung her ribs. She winced, but no sound escaped her pale lips.

​Crack!

​The sound of a whip unfurling cracked through the air. The second Dwarf stepped forward, the metal tip of his whip dragging against the floor.

​Rumina’s heart hammered wildly, slamming against her ribs as if it were about to burst. Yet, her expression remained locked. She slowly propped herself up, half-kneeling, refusing to stay grounded.

​Swish—CRACK!

​The first lash landed squarely on her back.

​A searing pain exploded instantly. Rumina’s frail body was jerked violently forward. A burning sensation tore through the skin of her back.

​Tears threatened to fall, but she bit her lower lip hard, forcing her eyes to stare at the dusty floor.

​CRACK!

​The second strike followed, hitting the exact same spot. Her skin split open. Warm blood began to seep out, turning the color of her dress a wet, dark black.

​CRACK!

​The third lash was much harder, tearing into her shoulder blade. Rumina’s defenses crumbled.

​She collapsed, supporting her body weight with two violently shaking hands. Her breaths came out in ragged gasps. Drops of fresh blood slid down from beneath her dress, hitting the cold volcanic floor.

​The first soldier stepped closer. He spat right next to Rumina’s fingers.

​"You people... all the same," the Dwarf growled. His human tongue was broken, heavy with an ancient dialect. "Humans... burn our homes. Kill our kin. You... the same."

​Before Rumina could even take a breath, the second Dwarf delivered a brutal kick to her right ribs.

​Rumina coughed violently. The air was forcefully ripped from her lungs. She was forced to curl up on the floor, her muscles tensing as she held back a groan. She refused to cry in front of them.

​The first soldier crouched down, bringing his face—which reeked of sour moss—closer to hers.

​"You think... we fear you?" he hissed.

​Gasping for air, Rumina slowly turned her head. She looked straight into those faded red eyes. Her gray eyes were bloodshot from the pain, yet her gaze was as cold as ice.

​"I am... not part of the Iron Empire military," Rumina stated flatly.

​The Dwarf let out a crude laugh. "Pfft. Liar."

​"Tsk. Idiots."

​The word slipped from Rumina’s lips. Her voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the Dwarf’s laughter as sharply as a scalpel.

​The first Dwarf froze. The veins on his temples bulged, his knuckles turning white in the air.

​Rumina forced herself to look up, ignoring her burning back.

​"If you had half a brain," she hissed sharply, "you would realize it. The Iron Empire was holding me at that base. I was their prisoner. Just like you, I am their enemy. We are not allies."

​The three Dwarves stood frozen, processing the undeniable logic she had just thrown in their faces.

​"I came to this border for diplomacy," Rumina continued, her voice beginning to tremble from the pain. "But it seems you lot are too stupid to tell the difference between a guest... and an enemy."

​The first Dwarf’s eyes flashed with feral rage. His anger exploded, unable to accept being humiliated by a weak human. He snatched the whip from his comrade, raising it high, preparing to strike Rumina’s face.

​BANG!

​The stone door was slammed open, crashing heavily against the wall.

​The mid-air whip instantly stopped. The three lowly soldiers instinctively backed away, their postures shrinking.

​At the doorway, the Dwarf Commander stood towering over them. His brawny figure blocked the entrance. The dark red rune on his chestplate radiated a thick, intimidating aura.

​The commander’s eyes stared at the bleeding, huddled Rumina for two seconds. His gaze was unreadable—no sympathy, no regret.

​Then, he turned to his three soldiers. His baritone voice boomed like an avalanche, hurling absolute threats in the Dwarven tongue.

​Two of the soldiers immediately bowed their heads. The young soldier tried to mutter a protest, but a sharp glare from the commander made him quickly back away against the wall.

​Without saying a word to Rumina, the commander turned around and gestured toward the corridor outside.

​Two of his personal guards stepped in. They pulled Rumina’s arms to get her up. It was slightly more humane than before, but she was still dragged. A trail of blood was left behind in the room.

​They threw her back into her cell.

​Clack.

​The thick door was shut tight. Locking the darkness back in.

​Rumina slumped onto the stone floor. Her back felt as if it were being roasted alive, and every time she took a breath, her ribs throbbed with a sickening ache. With great effort, she dragged her body to the corner of the wall, then pulled both knees to her chest.

​She buried her face in them.

​And for the first time since being dragged underground... a single teardrop slipped free.

​It wasn’t because of her torn flesh or her aching bones. She cried because the reality had finally hit her hard: she was all alone.

​She didn’t know where Rianor was. She didn’t know if Riven had managed to carve an escape path with his sword. She didn’t know if Roland had a plan, or if his diplomacy had completely fallen apart.

​Rumina’s tears flowed heavily in silence. Her shoulders trembled.

​I am not a burden, she thought, recalling the arrogant words she had told Rianor back on the NRS Orion.

​But tonight, her voice felt so incredibly fragile. She let her soundless sobs drown out alongside the dripping water from the ceiling.

​However, amidst that despair, she once again clung to that tiny sliver called hope. Holding onto it tightly.

​Far from that cell, in the suffocating depths of the northern tunnel, the advance continued.

​The rocky ceiling dipped even lower. Riven was forced to hunch over as he walked, keeping his massive frame from bumping into the stalactites.

​The only light in the area came from the neon-blue glow of Rianor’s adamantite Arcanotech Bracer. Its microcircuits blinked weakly in emergency mode, illuminating the silhouettes of the tense faces behind him.

​Rianor’s gray shirt was soaked with sweat. His thin glasses had slipped down and were covered in dust, but his gray eyes stared sharply, piercing through the silence.

​In the center of the formation, Rianor clenched his jaw. He set aside all calculations of worst-case probabilities. He firmly believed that his little sister was still alive. This was a pure gamble on instinct.

​Rianor’s footsteps suddenly came to a halt. The blue light from his bracer shone upon a massive structure at the end of the tunnel.

​A massive stone door blocked their path. Its geometric motifs had sharp angles, filled with reddish-gold runic veins. The hallmark of a Dwarf King’s throne room.

​Roland stepped forward past his older brother. The wound on his left shoulder was well hidden behind his dominant, upright posture.

​The two Dwarf guards armed with double-bitted axes guarding the door narrowed their eyes. Their jaws tightened at the sight of humans who were supposed to have left.

​"We demand an audience with the King," Roland stated coldly. His voice brooked no refusal. "This concerns a life and the future of our cooperation."

​The two guards exchanged a glance. Their suspicious gazes swept across the group—from Riven’s ready-to-draw sword, Selene’s graceful charm, to Yara clutching her tool bag tightly.

​Without saying much, one of the guards turned a small lever on the wall.

​The massive door slid open with a heavy, grating grind. Just wide enough for the guard to slip through and enter, before the door clamped shut and locked once again.

​Now, the delegation could only stand in silence in the dark tunnel, waiting.

​Time continued to tick down. The price of vengeance had been paid in blood, yet the point of convergence remained out of reach.