Chapter 437: The Book That Brought The Saintess [Bonus - ]

Chapter 437: The Book That Brought The Saintess [Bonus Chapter]

Thor’s body slammed violently into the invisible floor of the sub-space with apocalyptic force.

The impact cratered the spatial fabric, sending shockwaves rippling across the dome as a massive cloud of pressurized vapor exploded outward.

Morwenna stepped forward with Tidebringer held loosely at her side as her dark coat fluttered in the shockwave.

"Don’t go down yet, thunder-bitch," Morwenna purred, her canines showing in a cruel smirk. "We haven’t even started."

CRACK!

From the center of the crushed floor, a golden lightning bolt blasted through the dust.

Thor rose to her feet, her teeth bared in a wild grin of pure battle-ecstasy.

Her silver armor clanked, her wild blonde hair crackling with static electricity as she hoisted Mjölnir high above her shoulder.

"GWAHAHAHA! NOW THAT IS A PROPER DROP!" Thor roared, her muscles coiling as she launched herself forward like an unstoppable artillery shell, closing the gap in a microsecond.

Morwenna didn’t flinch.

She simply lowered her center of gravity, drawing Tidebringer back in a fluid circular arc. Morwenna leaned in, her lips barely moving as she whispered.

"Tide Blade Arts..."

Thor arrived directly in front of her face, Mjölnir descending in a skull-cracking downward cleave enveloped in world-ending golden thunder.

Moments before the hammer made contact, Morwenna’s smile widened into something beautiful and terrifyingly cold.

She spoke the final words.

"Universal... Water."

FWHUUUUUUM!

Sitting at the edge of the void holding Talira, Aeliana’s eyes snapped wide in alarm.

The elven Archon instantly placed both hands together, channeling every single ounce of her mana into the perimeter barriers because the explosion that detonated dead-center between Morwenna and Thor was so incomprehensibly massive that it tore through the sound barrier entirely.

’What the hell...’

It was an explosion so loud... it produced zero sound...

There was only an apocalyptic flash of deep blue and incandescent golden starlight that swallowed reality whole.

...

Far above the subterranean training vault, on the western perimeter of the territory’s inner district, the heavy iron-reinforced doors of a massive stone complex stood tall against the morning light.

Silas walked down the paved stone walkway, flanked on his left by the quiet observant Aurelia, and on his right by the blue-haired Princess, who was still subtly rubbing the fabric of her skirt to wipe away the phantom dust from her earlier embarrassing fall in the office.

Silas gestured toward the colossal stone archway ahead, above which a massive, glowing runic sign was chiseled into the rock.

’That’s new but it’s the name... The Warlord Foundry.’

"This is our main manufacturing complex," Silas introduced, looking between the two women. "Everything from our light infantry gear to high-tier mythril defenses and heavy siege armaments is forged right here..."

Silas reached out, placing his palm against the heavy iron doors and pushing them inward.

CREEEAK... FWOOSH!

The moment the heavy barriers parted, an intense, suffocating wave of dry, radiant heat washed directly over their faces, carrying the sharp metallic tang of molten iron, crushed spirit-ore, and sulfurous forge-fire.

The interior of the Warlord Foundry was vast, bustling with dozens of muscular soot-stained dwarven artisans and apprentice blacksmiths hammering glowing ingots over anvils, pouring liquid steel into ceramic molds.

Standing at the central master anvil, her muscular sun-kissed arms bare and glistening with sweat beneath her heavy leather apron, was Thora.

The master dwarven smith brought her heavy runic hammer down on a glowing chunk of dark obsidian steel with a concussive clang, sending a shower of bright orange sparks cascading across the workshop.

Hearing the door open, Thora wiped her brow with the back of her forearm, turning her amber eyes toward the entrance.

When her gaze landed on Silas, a wide unhinged grin spread across her soot-streaked face.

"Well, well, well! If it isn’t my handsome Lord Graves!" Thora’s booming cheerful voice rang out over the clatter of hammers.

She set her tongs aside, tossing her hammer onto the anvil with a heavy thud. "What brings you down to my fiery domain, Captain? Did you finally come down here to let me give that fine butt of yours a proper squeeze?"

Silas sighed softly, running a hand down his face with a dry tired smirk.

"Good to see you too, Thora and no, my butt remains strictly off-limits."

Thora let out a hearty booming laugh, resting her thick calloused hands on her hips as her sharp eyes finally swept past Silas, taking in the two women standing at his sides.

The Princess stepped forward, clearing her throat delicately.

She smoothed down her gold-embroidered silk gown, raising her chin to offer a practiced introduction. "Greetings, Master Blacksmith. I am the Princess of the—"

Thora didn’t even let the Princess finish her sentence.

The dwarf completely bypassed the blue-haired royal maiden as if she were a piece of decorative furniture, stepping right past her and stopping directly in front of Aurelia.

Thora’s amber eyes widened in genuine, deep amazement as she looked up at the tall, platinum-haired Saintess.

"By the ancestral forge!" Thora gasped, reaching out and grabbing Aurelia’s slender, scarred hands in her own rough calloused palms, pumping them up and down in an enthusiastic bone-rattling handshake. "Welcome! Welcome to the Blessed Land, lass! It is an honor to have the Saintess of the Argent Sanctum standing in my foundry!"

Aurelia blinked, completely caught off-guard by the dwarf’s overwhelming affectionate warmth.

"I... thank you, Master Smith," Aurelia stammered softly, a flustered blush touching her porcelain cheeks. "I am honored to be here."

Thora beamed with immense pride, tapping her heavy leather apron with a soot-covered thumb. "You know, lass... if we’re being completely honest, it was actually because of me that Lord Graves was able to summon you here in the first place!"

Aurelia’s golden-amber eyes widened slightly in confusion. "Because of you...?"

"Aye! Hold on a second, don’t move!"

Thora spun on her heel, bustling across the stone floor toward a row of reinforced iron bookshelves lining the master office wall.

She rummaged through a stack of leather-bound tomes before pulling out a thick one bound in dark dragon-hide with gold-leaf trim.

She jogged back, blowing a layer of dust off the heavy cover, and proudly flipped open the pages before thrusting the book into Aurelia’s hands.

"Look right here!" Thora pointed with a thick blackened finger. "This is the book I found in the Library! Though... the text in this book explicitly stated that you were completely blind and withered away to nothing, but I guess you can never truly trust what these old scribes write down, eh?"

Aurelia looked down at the open page.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Etched across the parchment was a detailed, beautifully rendered illustration of herself from her last day... where she had killed everyone.

Beside the image was a comprehensive historical profile detailing her divine awakening, her role as the High Saintess of the Meolion Kingdom, and the tragedy of her service.

Aurelia’s slender trembling fingers slowly turned the page backward.

On the preceding leaf, a large colored portrait of a silver-haired man dominated the last one.

[Cassian — The Otherworldly Hero.]

Aurelia’s golden eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening as she read the historical text inscribed beneath his name.

[...Following his miraculous resurrection from the fatal Demon Rot by the grace of Saintess Aurelia, the summoned hero Cassian underwent severe psychological deterioration. Consumed by unchecked megalomania, he declared himself the ’Invincible Champion’ believing all mortal lives beneath his absolute authority. Records confirm that prior to the final purge, Cassian forcefully coerced the Crown Princess into concubinage, fathering an imperial heir to secure his political bloodline while condemning his savior to the crypts...]

A sharp bitter grimace crossed Aurelia’s face.

The cold black ink laid bare the ugly unvarnished truth of the man she had once loved.

Seeing it documented so coldly in the historical records of a foreign realm made the lingering ashes of her past feel completely dead.

She turned the page back to her own profile, looking down at the text with quiet realization.

’This book...’ Aurelia thought, her chest swelling with overwhelming, fragile emotion. ’This ancient chronicle was the anchor... It was through this text that Silas learned of my existence, searched the Great Void, and pulled me from the dark...’

Aurelia closed the heavy tome with a soft reverent thud.

She looked down at the soot-stained dwarven master smith before her. Without a word of hesitation, Aurelia leaned down, wrapping her slender arms around Thora in a tight, heartfelt embrace.

She gently pressed her lips against the dwarf’s forehead in a sacred, celestial blessing, before whispering softly.

"May I... kiss the book as well?"

Thora stood completely dazed, her amber eyes wide and her face flushing bright red beneath the soot as she patted Aurelia’s back awkwardly.

"Y-yes... go right ahead! It’s all yours!"

Aurelia smiled gently, bringing the leather cover to her lips and planting a soft reverent kiss upon the book that had saved her life.

"Boss Thora! The cooling tanks on the primary crucible are boiling over!" a dwarven apprentice shouted frantically from the back of the foundry.

"Hold your horses, you hammer-headed idiot, I’m coming!" Thora barked over her shoulder.

She turned back to Silas, giving him a quick wink. "Make yourselves at home, Captain! I’ll be right back!"

Thora rushed back toward the master anvil, shouting orders at her smiths as the foundry resumed its chaotic symphony of clanging steel.

Silas, Aurelia, and the Princess walked further into the expansive workshop, stepping away from the central traffic of apprentices.

A minute later, Thora returned, wiping her hands on an oily rag as she approached them with a proud, toothy grin.

"Alright, Captain! What are we outfitting today?" Thora asked, looking between the two newcomers.

"I need two complete sets of lightweight high-durability traveling armor," Silas explained, gesturing to the girls. "One for Aurelia, and one for our royal guest here. Along with appropriate sidearm armaments that suit their mobility..."

Thora nodded decisively, turning to two nearby dwarven workers. "Gari, Borde! Wheel out the master racks from Vault Three! Let the ladies browse our finest light-enchanted stock!"

"Right away, Boss!"

The two dwarves jogged toward the back storage, quickly returning with two towering rolling iron racks laden with dozens of exquisitely crafted breastplates, pauldrons, vambraces, and enchanted leather armor sets.

Thora stepped up beside Silas, lowering her voice slightly as she gave her daily operational report.

"By the way, Captain... we officially processed that armor that Brida hauled in yesterday."

Silas raised an eyebrow in interest. "How’s the quality?"

"Incredible," Thora grinned, rubbing her chin. "I’m already drawing up blue-prints to weave the material or construct something similar to it directly into our Blessed Land armor plates... it’ll boost physical damage reduction by at least forty percent across the board but for today, these sets on the racks will serve the ladies more than adequately."

"Excellent work, Thora. Thank you," Silas nodded with genuine appreciation.

He turned toward Aurelia and the Princess, gesturing to the rolling racks. "Go ahead, girls. Choose what fits your frame best."

The Princess stepped up to the nearest armor rack, her azure eyes sweeping over the dark polished steel breastplates.

Etched prominently into the center of every single chest piece was a striking, majestic territorial crest...

A cracked dark obsidian shield, pierced straight down the middle by a glowing golden sword, with a heavy dwarven pickaxe crossed behind the hilt.

The Princess tilted her head, admiring the craftsmanship. "The insignia... it is remarkably striking. It balances martial conquest with industrious foundation."

Silas walked up beside her, pointing toward a rack of lightweight, mithril-mesh tunics.

"Make sure you pick something light, Princess. You’re already carrying twenty pounds of imperial jewelry and barrier generators on your hips. If you pick a heavy plate, the weight will crush your artifacts and pin you to the floor."

The Princess puffed her cheeks out into a haughty pout, crossing her arms beneath her chest. "I will have you know, Lord Silas, that my physical conditioning is far superior to what you assume! A Princess such as myself does not get crushed by simple steel!"

"Right, sure," Silas smirked. "Just pick the light mesh."

Meanwhile, Aurelia stepped gracefully toward the second rack.

Her fingers brushed against a set of pristine white-enameled steel armor reinforced with flexible leather undergarments.

A female dwarven assistant stepped forward, handing Aurelia a pair of dark expandable leather leggings designed to be worn beneath armored greaves, along with a fitted breastplate trimmed in silver.

"The fitting room is right through that curtain, Saintess," the assistant offered politely, pointing to a clean, partitioned alcove near the office. "It is fully private."

"Thank you," Aurelia nodded.

Taking the armor set and holding the book securely beneath her arm, Aurelia stepped through the heavy canvas curtain into the private dressing room.

The room was surprisingly spotless, free of the soot and iron shavings that filled the main workshop as a large, full-length bronze mirror stood in the corner beside a cedar bench.

Aurelia set the heavy chronicle carefully on the bench. She began sliding the dark, expandable leggings up her legs, feeling the enchanted fabric contour smoothly against her thighs and calves.

She stepped in front of the mirror, adjusting the fit as she moved her legs, testing the flexibility of the material.

Her gaze drifted down to the leather-bound book on the bench.

Aurelia reached out, picking up the heavy volume and flipping it open once more to the Chapter documenting the Meolion Kingdom.

’Is there anything else written here...?’ she thought, her fingers slowly turning the parchment leaves.

She looked at her own profile again.

Seeing the text summarize six years of soul-tearing torture, endless decapitations, and horrific dungeon rot into four brief paragraphs of dry historical summary felt almost insulting.

How could simple ink ever capture the suffocating horror of drowning in other people’s blood for six straight years?

’...And yet,’ Aurelia smiled softly, tracing the golden lettering of her name, ’it was this very insult of a book that allowed Silas to find me. It saved my life.’