Chapter 379| I Will Survive.

​The black volcanic stone walls radiated a suffocating heat.

​Veins of reddish-gold runes pulsed faintly along the corridor. The ceiling was low, littered with blunt stalactites that periodically dripped cold water onto the stone floor.

​Drip. Drip.

​The sound of those drops was the only thing shattering the freezing silence outside the throne room doors.

​Roland Sudrath stood at the very front. His white shirt was already grimy with limestone dust. The wound on his left shoulder throbbed with a stinging pain, but he didn’t shift his upright posture in the slightest. His face was as calm as a frozen lake.

​Behind him, Riven stood like a mountain of stone blocking the path. His bandaged left arm hung relaxed, but the thumb of his right hand continuously stroked the hilt of his short sword. His gray eyes swept through every corner of the shadows.

​"What’s the status?" Roland whispered without turning his head.

​Beside him, Rianor adjusted his dusty glasses. The adamantite plating of the Arcanotech Bracer on his left arm blinked rhythmically in emergency mode.

​"Power is under fourteen percent," Rianor reported flatly. "Just enough for a basic scan. But... hmm, that’s not the issue."

​Rianor took a half-step closer to the massive stone doors in front of them. His index finger hovered a few inches over the sharp-angled carvings.

​"Resonance circuits," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "These patterns aren’t just decorative carvings. The structure is identical to the city’s pillar circuits and... my bracer."

​Riven scoffed lightly from behind. "You mean this door is alive?"

​"This door is holding back an incredibly dense cluster of ancient mana." Rianor swallowed hard. "If it’s forced open without the right resonance key, the shockwave could collapse this entire tunnel right on top of us."

​In the center of the formation, Selene stood frozen. Her blue robes were damp with sweat. She turned toward Yara, who was still clutching her tool bag tightly. The girl’s right hand was trembling violently as she endured the stinging pain of her burns.

​"Are you holding up okay?" Selene whispered gently.

​Yara nodded hastily. She forced a pale smile. "It just... stings a little. I’ll be fine, Miss Selene."

​Borch and Naya blended perfectly into the shadows of the left wall. On the right, Dom stood relaxed yet deadly, while Thorne guarded the rear flank. At the very end, Lieur remained hunched over, shivering and hugging his knees.

​"Borch," Riven called out quietly, his eyes remaining locked on the front. "If the negotiations inside go south..."

​"We move in first," Borch cut in coldly from the shadows. "I’ll pull you guys out through the evac route."

​Clack. Grrrnd...

​The grating sound of the massive stone hinges dragging against the floor brought their conversation to a halt.

​The door, etched with reddish-gold runes, slid half-open. A Dwarf guard wearing a dull steel helm peeked out. His faded red eyes sharply scanned the human delegation.

​He growled something in the Dwarven tongue. Fast and heavy.

​Roland didn’t understand a single word. However, the guard’s abrupt hand gesture jerking inward was clear enough: Enter.

​Far below, inside a stone cell that isolated everything, Rumina Sudrath sat leaning against the volcanic wall.

​The purplish-red runes around her pulsed, radiating a stuffy heat. Rumina’s breathing was steady, even though every exhale caused her right ribs to throb with pain.

​On the uneven floor, a bowl of cold moss soup and a piece of hard bread remained entirely untouched.

​Her dark gray work dress was torn at the back. The blood from the whip lashes had dried, leaving behind a silvery-black crust that stung her skin. Her black hair, usually styled in an elegant bun, now cascaded down in a tangled mess.

​However, her tears had long dried up.

​Crying wouldn’t alter the probabilities. Sadness wouldn’t mask the pain. Emotion was simply an inefficient waste of energy.

​Rumina closed her eyes, letting the cold stone soothe her throbbing head.

​She began to calculate. Factoring the variables.

​Roland was a cunning diplomat. Rianor had a mind as precise as a clockwork engine. Riven was a merciless executioner. Those three men would never let a ruined military outpost be the end of the line. They were definitely tracking her down.

​Amidst the stinging pain tearing into her flesh, Rumina continued to cling to that thread of logical hope. Holding onto it tightly.

​The stone doors of the Throne Room swung wide open.

​Roland marched in at the very front. His boots echoed across the massive stone floor. The room was expansive, but its ceiling was supported by octagonal pillars that gave it an oppressive feel.

​The warm light from the reddish-gold runes on the walls dominated the darkness. At the end of the hall, a giant stone throne loomed.

​A warhammer etched with white runes leaned haphazardly beside it.

​The Dwarf King sat there.

​The skin on his brawny arms was covered in scars and reddish-gold runes. His gray beard was neatly braided with bronze rings. His aged eyes stared down at Roland’s group—tired, yet as sharp as daggers.

​The King leaned his broad back against the throne.

​"Hah... you just left through my ancestors’ path," his baritone voice echoed heavily, his human tongue broken but intimidating. "And now... you walk right back into my domain. Are you lot stupid... or just tired of living?"

​Roland stopped at the base of the steps. He gave a brief nod—a gesture of pure diplomatic courtesy without a shred of submission.

​"We didn’t return to stoke your ire, Your Majesty," Roland stated clearly. "We returned because we demand justice."

​The Dwarf King let out a rough scoff. His eyes scanned Roland’s dirty shirt, Riven’s bandages, and the dying circuits of Rianor’s Bracer.

​"Justice?" the King mocked. "Tsk. Tell me, Human... what do you want from an old king bound by the oaths of the underground?"

​Roland took a step forward. His eyes directly challenged the King’s gaze.

​"The Military Outpost was destroyed," Roland said bluntly. "My little sister, the Grand Treasurer of Northreach, was abducted from there."

​The King’s bushy eyebrows furrowed. "Humans slaughtering each other. Not my concern."

​"It wasn’t humans," Roland interjected sharply. "We found evidence. Coarse woven fabric. Wide boot tracks. The attack was carried out by Dwarves."

​The air in the throne room seemed to be sucked dry. The two heavily armored guards flanking the throne immediately stood at attention, their hands instinctively gripping the hilts of their double-bitted axes.

​The Dwarf King’s jaw clenched tight. The runes on the skin of his arms suddenly flickered dimly.

​"Coarse weave..." the King muttered softly, his tone turning dark. "What color?"

​Rianor took a step forward, aligning himself with Roland. "Purplish-red pigment," he reported precisely. "Not reddish-gold like your royal guards."

​The King let out a harsh exhale. His voice sounded like the howling wind through an ancient graveyard.

​"Grendel."

​Roland narrowed his eyes. "Who is he?"

​"Commander Grendel." The King rubbed the rough bridge of his nose. "Leader of the eastern border clan. A war veteran who refuses to yield to diplomacy with the outside world. To him... human blood is the only ransom that can pay for the sins of the past."

​"Where is he holding my little sister?" Roland cut in coldly.

​"A stone fortress deep within the volcanic rift," the King answered, staring straight ahead. "Listen to me, Human. Grendel is operating outside my command. If I send an edict there, he will see it as a sign of weakness... and immediately behead the prisoner."

​Roland’s knuckles turned white at his sides. "In that case, we will take her back ourselves."

​The Dwarf King fell silent. A flash of hesitation flickered in his eyes, before ultimately shifting into a look of acknowledgment toward the man’s sheer audacity.

​"Grendel will skin you alive before you even have the chance to open your mouths," he warned.

​"We’ve been numb to fear since the moment we stepped into this mountain," Roland shot back.

​The King gave a slow nod. He raised his thick left hand, gesturing to his two guards.

​"Take two of my royal guards," the King decreed. "They know the fastest route to the eastern border. They will not join the fight... but they are insurance so you don’t die a foolish death wandering the labyrinth."

​Roland bowed deeply. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

​The crunch of boots against volcanic gravel shattered the dark silence of the northern tunnel.

​The two Dwarf guards marched swiftly at the front, leading the way. Their dull armor clinked softly in rhythm with their steps.

​Roland followed right behind them, his eyes locked on the darkness ahead.

​The dying, flickering blue light from Rianor’s Bracer served as the only artificial lantern in the center of their formation.

​"We have guides," Rianor whispered from behind Roland. "But logically... a radical commander like this Grendel won’t be swayed by sweet negotiations."

​Roland clenched his jaw. "I have no intention of playing nice, Rianor. We give him an absolute ultimatum. If he refuses, we destroy his options."

​Riven, who was guarding the rear, scoffed lightly upon hearing that. "Tsk. Now that sounds like a Sudrath."

​The narrow tunnel slowly widened. The cold chill of the stone began to be replaced by gusts of hot wind that reeked of sulfur. At the end of the path, the fiery orange glow of an underground lava river began to lick at the walls.

​The eastern border fortress awaited them.

​Inside the isolated stone cell, Rumina still hadn’t moved.

​Drip. Drip.

​The water drops from the ceiling continued to fall in a monotonous rhythm. Rumina slowly looked up, staring at the narrow ventilation slit that let in a faint sliver of light from the outside.

​Every time her lungs expanded, the whip lashes on her back felt as if they were being sliced open all over again. Yet, behind her exhausted gray eyes, the embers refused to die out.

​I will survive, she whispered silently. Binding her own vow to the darkness.