Chapter 146 (Book 4 Chapter 23) (Patreon)

"Please lay down your arms," the Stonewarden said, in a soft voice. "The Thunder Rods are deadlier than you realize. For both our sakes, don't attempt any reckless maneuvers."

"What the fuck, Grant," Elder Alessia flatly stated. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"I cannot permit you to return to Fiend territory. It will soon become a prohibitively dangerous place to reside within."

Seneschal Sylpeiros spat on the ground, his face alight with thunderous rage. ""You bastard whoreson. What happened to our agreement?"

"It remains in effect," the Stonewarden explained, patiently. "Aid will be given to Elven territory in due time. For now, however, I can't have you interfering."

Rob threw his hands up into the air. "Interfere with what? The Blight's dead, dude! Dwarfland is safe! Fiendland is safe! We were all getting along super well!"

Many of the riflemen and Combat Class Dwarves shuffled guiltily. Unlike them, Vevrandi appeared completely lost, seemingly blindsided by the change of affairs. Then there was the Stonewarden, whose expression remained calm, almost unnaturally so, resembling a clockwork automaton created solely to breathe, blink, and speak.

"Come," he said, gesturing for the group to follow. "There is much you've yet to see."

The Seneschal let out a vicious snarl, mana gathering around him in a whirling tempest. "If you think that-"

BANG.

Rob instinctively hit the deck, on the verge of casting Waymark to escape the flurry of bullets about to perforate his Party. When that flurry never came, he paused, glancing over at Seneschal Sylpeiros. The Elf was staring down at his leg in abject shock, eyes fixated on the trickle of blood running out from where one single bullet had struck. He didn't seem especially bothered by the wound itself; rather, that he'd been hit at all.

"Danger Sense went off," Sylpeiros murmured, voice trembling, as if his world was collapsing around him. "I was going to dodge. But...it had already...so fast..."

"In common parlance, we call that a warning shot," Stonewarden Grant stated. "Do not underestimate what the Thunder Rods will do to your vital organs should they strike true." His placid tone remained unchanged. "Now, unless further demonstration is necessary: lay down your arms. I won't ask a third time."

One-by-one, they complied. Keira was the last to relinquish her weapon, sending the Stonewarden a positively venomous glare as she flung her greatsword to the ground. Without another word, Grant turned around and began heading towards a side hall, expecting everyone to follow.

Group Message Continued
Rob: Putting it to a vote.
Rob: Do I use Waymark now, or later?

The Party unanimously voted Later – except for Faelynn, who didn't say anything, apparently too crestfallen to muster the effort. Rob considered overriding their decision and Waymarking anyway, but then they'd be left with no fucking idea why the Stonewarden suddenly turned traitor, while also leaving Elder Alessia behind to get gunned down by some trigger-happy Dwarf.

If he wanted to kill us, he would have, Rob thought. Hasn't even made any demands outside of 'don't leave' and 'follow me'. For the time being, I think we're safe – as long as we do what he says. That's my coping mechanism and I'm sticking to it.

He stepped forward, breathing an internal sigh of relief when forty gunshots didn't ring out at once. Riardin's Rangers fell in line, pale faces stricken with fear as they eyed the dozens of rifles pointed their way. Seneschal Sylpeiros was the last to follow, but he eventually broke out of his stupor, realizing that the closest things he had to allies were vacating the premises. Vevrandi just stood there dumbfounded while everyone else departed, seeming no closer to comprehending what had transpired as she quietly disappeared from view.

Long, tense minutes passed as Stonewarden Grant led them through his fortress, each twisting pathway only serving to heighten the sense of impending violence. Rob half-expected bullets and arrows to start raining down at any moment from the scores of riflemen and Combat Class users 'escorting' his Party. He kept an eye out for any openings in the Dwarves' security, but every hallway they traversed was chock-full of more murder holes with more guns. Despite his circumstances, Rob felt a little impressed with the Stonewarden's planning, a notion that intensified when Grant opened up an honest-to-god secret passageway and casually beckoned them inside.

Five minutes became fifteen. Fifteen became thirty. Riardin's Rangers gradually lost track of time as they descended into the heart of the mountain, well outside of the bounds of Grant's fortress. Rob was beginning to worry that they were just being led to a place where no one would find their bodies – when, mercifully, a door appeared at the end of the hallway. It was barred by a series of combination locks that the Stonewarden disarmed with careful precision, handling each one like a bomb set to explode. Which, considering the secrecy involved in getting this far, might have been exactly the case.

The final lock disengaged with an ominous click. Grant hesitated, his hand on the door, expression shifting by an imperceptible fraction. "Tell me," he began. "What would you do if your people were pushed to the brink? What would you do if you were willing to do anything to preserve their safety? What would you do if, in your darkest hour, you got down on your hands and knees and fervently prayed to the divine for succor?"

He pushed the door open. "And what would you do if the divine listened?"

Everyone except Rob stared into the room with a sort of mystified confusion. They didn't have the background knowledge to comprehend what they were looking at. Rob, on the other hand, let out a low whistle as he scrutinized what was undoubtedly the Stonewarden's secret underground laboratory. Desks and shelves were lined with documents, metals, tubes, and various materials that Rob couldn't specify without casting Identify. The lab itself was the size of a football field, with numerous connecting pathways leading off into side rooms containing even more equipment. It was evident that no expense had been spared.

Stonewarden Grant strode inside, nodding to a group of Dwarven scientists who were huddled in the corner. Rob felt a flash of sympathy as he noted their lowered postures and averted eyes. They were probably unaccustomed to guests, let alone a high-Level tour group with a Human, two Fiends, and two Leaders. To the scientists' blatant relief, the Stonewarden walked right past them, heading straight towards a device that Rob recognized all too well.

"Manaless light was the first gift," Grant said. He flicked a switch, turning on the lightbulb, and illuminating the room in an off-white glow. "Or rather, the design documents for it were. Can you imagine? A revelation embodied within a single sheaf of papers. Elegant in its design, yer harnessing the power of lightning itself. We set to work recreating it, and the results were astounding. Installing manaless light throughout the city provided immediate benefits; instead of expending mana to emulate the glory that surface-dwellers enjoy by virtue of existing, we could dedicate our mages to other avenues of expansion and development."

The Stonewarden's left eye twitched. "That...should have been sufficient, I suppose. My initial entreaty stemmed more from desperation than any expectation of a result. I had beseeched Titan for something, anything to grant my subjects an easier life. To lessen the hardships they suffered on a daily basis. The fact that he heeded my pleas at all was a once-in-a-lifetime miracle."

Grant turned away. "And yet, I am greedy. So I begged for more."

He continued to the next room. Riardin's Rangers and Seneschal Sylpeiros followed, spurred onward by the guns at their backs and the curiosity in their hearts. Stonewarden Grant approached another workbench and picked up a metal, rectangular object that was obviously a radio, holding it up for everyone to see. Rob flinched as Grant pressed a button on its side, prompting crackling static to emit from within. That particular sound was starting to become something of a sore spot.

"Portable Message Crystals." Grant half-chuckled, half-sighed. "Perhaps our naming conventions have gone astray. Portable Message Crystals allow a person to communicate at long distances, although they involve no actual Crystals. Our Thunder Rods, despite their moniker, do not utilize thunder – unlike the manaless lights, which very much do." He paused, his arm lowering as he began to mumble to himself. "The things that one focuses on when the end draws near..."

Grant cleared his throat. "Regardless, this was the second gift that Titan bestowed upon us. The few Portable Message Crystals we've manufactured thus far have already lessened our dependence on traditional Message Crystals. Once we officially put them into mass production, Dwarven culture is anticipated to undergo an overnight paradigm shift."

A wisp of a smile spread across his face. "Parents won't be left wondering for days if their children happened to survive the recent battle. Miners and explorers will always be in contact, preventing them from losing their way and vanishing into the mountain's depths."

"How do the Portable Message Crystals work?" Elder Alessia asked. Grant stared at her for several seconds, blinking vacantly as if he'd forgotten anyone else was there, before eventually replying.

"We are not entirely sure," he admitted. "Some of the concepts described within Titan's instructions continue to elude us. We learn more every day, but divine insight is so far beyond our grasp that deciphering it is a humbling experience. Due to our evolving grasp of how Titan's gifts function, they are primarily constructed by laboriously transforming his designs into step-by-step processes. Even if we cannot fully understand them, we can still replicate the end result."

But why'd you go from light bulbs to radios? Rob thought. He couldn't figure out how the two were correlated outside of sharing an electricity requirement. It felt like jumping around on the tech tree. Either the gods were picking random pieces of Earth technology to offer the Dwarves, or something else was at play.

He didn't have time to ponder the notion for long, as Stonewarden Grant was already moving on. The next room's centerpiece needed no introduction; hundreds of identical rifles were proudly on display. "For his third gift," Grant began, "Titan did something extraordinary. He asked me what our people needed most. When I told him that we lacked ways to defend our borders, he granted us knowledge of the Thunder Rod. Some elements of its composition were unknown to us, but the Mines provide, as they always do. We've discovered veins that provide the requisite materials to outfit as many soldiers as are willing."

His eyes sparked with excitement. "It takes less of an investment to train and arm thirty Utility Class users with Thunder Rods than it does to cultivate a single high-Level Combat Class user. The ranks of our standing army have swelled immensely in just a few short years. Once the Blight and Dragon Queen are dealt with, nothing shall dare threaten Dwarven territory for centuries to come."

Despite the circumstances, Riardin's Rangers were listening intently to the Stonewarden's explanations. While they would've preferred to learn about the origin of the Dwarves' technological developments in a more...relaxed setting, at least now they were finally getting some answers.

It was a shame, Rob thought, that the answers were horrifying. There was so much he wanted to tell the Stonewarden, and none of it would go over well if he tried. How were you supposed to inform the leader of a medieval society – a leader who legitimately cared for his people's well-being, no less – that the god showering him with lifechanging technological wonders was a manipulative prick? That would've been a nigh-impossible sell even for Diplomacy.

As Stonewarden Grant continued to speak, the embers of excitement within his expression rapidly faded, reverting to the disquieted calm from before. "Three gifts," he whispered. "Three wonders. More than enough to pave the road to Dwarven territory's prosperity. My greed had been satiated beyond my wildest dreams."

He closed his eyes. "And yet. And yet, and yet, and yet..." Grant's face tightened. "Why stop there, when I had the ear of a god? Another chance like this might never arise again in the history of Elatra. Thus, I made one final request. My largest, and most important plea."

Grant opened his eyes. Within them resided a hollow nothing. "I asked for the end of all wars."

Rob's stomach churned the instant he heard those words. Panic bubbled inside, simmering and insistent, worsening to a volcanic eruption as Grant led them into the deepest section of his workshop. There was only one item in this room, much bigger than any of the other devices the Dwarves had been developing. It was roughly fifteen feet long, oval-shaped, consisting of a metal exterior, and with fin-like appendages attached to its bottom end. The device was situated below an extremely wide ceiling tunnel that let in natural light from outside – to ensure that it could be launched from right where it was.

Overall, by this point in time, Rob was confident in his ability to roll with Elatra's punches, as long as he could compartmentalize it under 'weird fantasy bullshit'. Even if a giant Cthulhu tentacle monster dropped out of the sky tomorrow, he'd just shrug and see if calamari cooked with the Flames of Vengeance tasted any good. He may have been a stranger in a strange land, but he was surviving, damnit, and he would wade through miles of Elatran nonsense if it eventually led him back to the blissful normalcy of Earth.

Normalcy. He suppressed the manic laughter threatening to escape his throat. In that moment, as Rob came face to face with a nightmare given form, he became distinctly aware that he'd spent too long away from home. His nostalgia goggles needed re-adjusting. Elatra had issues, but Earth was hardly all sunshine and rainbows. It possessed its own horrors that matched – if not exceeded – the worst Elatra could offer. Forces of destruction that shouldn't exist in this or any other world.

And one of them was here.

"Constructing the fourth gift was...difficult," Stonewarden Grant explained. "Its instructions were far more complex than those for the manaless light, Portable Message Crystals, or Thunder Rods. We still understand so little of what we've created. Separate sciences were invented wholesale simply to comprehend parts of its design. Significant trial and error was required, as well as supplementing gaps in material components and information with uniquely-tailored spells. Titan even intervened with divine inspiration on several occasions. It took great effort, but after years of testing, we-"

"Testing?"

Rob giggled as he spoke the word. "You...made more of these? And tested them? Did I hear that right?"

"Smaller versions deep within the Mines, yes. Safely away from Dhalerune City. We also tested its firing mechanism by launching empty shells into the northern sea."

Rob thought back to the tunnel that Stonewarden Grant forbade them from exploring. He recalled the warning sign, and mentally replaced its skull icon with a certain other hazard symbol.

The Stonewarden's reticence suddenly made a lot more sense. It would've been tough to come up with an excuse for why people were getting the 'Radiation Poisoning' Status Effect.

"I think I was overly worried about Dhalerune Mines," Rob said, in a lightheaded tone. "There's no way we were ever going to collapse it if setting off nukes inside couldn't."

Stonewarden Grant frowned. "The fourth gift has been dubbed 'Titan's Fist'."

"It's a nuke, you stupid fucking lunatic." Uncaring of the Dwarves' affronted looks and gasps of shock, Rob ran his nails down his face, drawing flecks of blood as he came close to screaming. "So here's a quick summary for everyone in the audience! Imagine a Firebomb. Now imagine it's powerful enough to erase an entire city from the map. Like a Cataclysm ray times ten. Oh, and it poisons the land with temporary Corruption."

Rob spread his arms wide as he spoke, deriving a sort of grim pleasure from the expressions of horror on his friends' faces. "But wait, there's more! This nuke was apparently cobbled together using magic. So, in addition to everything else I mentioned, it likely has some extra side effects we don't even know about. That is the weapon that Stonewarden Grant has decided to bring into your world."

Grant merely stared at him, tilting his head as if attempting to solve a puzzle. "Your world?" the Stonewarden repeated. "That reminds me – the Blight which possessed Silviel spoke of other worlds. One called Earth, with a person called Jason. It seemed to assume that you knew what it was referring to. Why is that? And how do you know so much about Titan's Fist?"

"Yeah, I think the time for friendly Q&A sessions is well past over." Rob's eyes drifted towards the avatar of death sitting innocently in the background, an involuntary shudder passing through his body. "Christ almighty. Do you even have the slightest idea of what you've created?"

"It is the end to all wars," Grant plainly stated. "And a path to our salvation. While the Thunder Rods are lethal against Combat Class users, they are less effective against the Blight and its spawn. We cannot rely on your Purging abilities for the duration of an entire war – should you succumb to Leveling High or fall in battle, Elatra will soon follow."

Elder Alessia crossed her arms. "If this weapon is so powerful, then why did you require our assistance with the Blight of Dhalerune Mines?"

"Transporting Titan's Fist to the Mines would have been prohibitively dangerous. It is meant to be launched from a safe distance. By ferrying it through narrow caverns, we risked premature detonation – or worse, handing our deadliest asset to the Blight itself. In the future, we intend to use Titan's Fist to annihilate roaming Blights on Elatra's surface, potentially without losing a single soldier in the process."

He glanced at the Elven Seneschal. "Think, Sylpeiros. Aside from the Blight, this will finally let us rid ourselves of the Dragon Queen. You especially should desire that more than anyone here."

Sylpeiros grimaced and lowered his head, a thoughtful look on his face. Riardin's Rangers wore similar expressions, caught between their wariness and the prospect of gaining a way to even the playing field. Rob had to give the Stonewarden credit – he was actually starting to win over the room.

Time to nip that in the bud.

"Sounds great," Rob said, clapping loudly. "New super weapon to fight the Dragon Queen and the Blight! Woooo!! I'm sure you're not planning to ever, ever use it on anyone else, am I right?"

The Stonewarden posture stiffened by a hair. "I will do whatever is necessary to protect my people."

"I'm not hearing a 'no'."

"Your concerns are immaterial. Once the other nations witness what Titan's Fist could do to their cities, they won't be foolish enough to risk incurring our retribution."

Rob prepared to fire back with a list of all the examples in Earth's history when nuclear war was avoided by a sliver – and then froze, his mouth halfway open. Something about the phrasing of the Stonewarden's last sentence felt...odd. Before he could ask for a clarification, Faelynn raised her voice, speaking up for the first time in hours. "Witness," she mumbled, in a stilted tone. "How would they witness?"

Grant fixed his eyes on her, smoldering hatred piercing through the hollow depths of his gaze. "By watching closely as Titan's justice turns Fiend territory into a ruined husk."

There it is, Rob thought, as a stunned silence spread across the room. While his friends were in various states of shock, he'd been waiting for the Stonewarden to drop a bomb, so to speak. It allowed him to respond before Grant could start rambling again. "We're allies now, in case you've forgotten," Rob pointed out.

"That does not negate the generations of bloodshed Fiends have inflicted upon us."

Rob stepped forward, cognizant of the multitude of rifles that immediately took aim at him. "Look. I get it. You haven't actually seen a nuke in action. It's too abstract for you. So just...remember the devastation caused by the Cataclysm. Remember the lives it stole and ruined. Then realize that, if you start firing nukes into Fiendland, you'll be the one perpetrating a brand new tragedy. Hundreds of thousands of people will die."

"Hundreds of thousands of monsters." Grant bared his teeth. "And to be perfectly clear, I meant that in the literal sense. Fiends are nothing more than mana-born monsters who have evolved into a masquerade of civilization."

...Shit. Rob's heart sank as the room descended into chaos. His Party was demanding answers, Vul'to looked like he was going through a second existential crisis, and Faelynn looked like she was about to cry and going through an existential crisis. This was not the way Rob had wanted this particular secret to come out.

"After ruminating over what Silviel mentioned," Grant continued, "I searched through old archives to see if I could corroborate her claim of Fiends being creatures of mana. Were you aware that, around two centuries ago, there was a Harpy Archmage who announced that he'd discovered the same – only for him to mysteriously disappear the very next day? As if clandestine powers had ordered his removal."

His voice rose as he spoke, becoming outright feverish. "Upon realizing this, I searched deeper, uncovering several more instances where this knowledge surfaced before being ruthlessly suppressed. Only one conclusion can be drawn from this: Fiends are the same type of species as monsters, and they have been hiding their true nature since they first came to Elatra."

"Who fucking cares?"

The Stonewarden jerked back like he'd been slapped. "What?"

"I said who FUCKING cares?" Rob snarled. He took another step forward. "Even if what you're saying is correct, I don't give a shit. The Fiends are people – it doesn't matter who their ancestors were. You know this. Faelynn helped save your whole goddamn city. Vevrandi's been to Fiendland, and she can vouch that they're normal. It's...just...son of a BITCH."

Rob furiously scratched his head. "I'm sick and fucking tired of people using whatever logic they feel like to justify their worst impulses. Can't believe we're even having this argument. You're calling the Fiends monsters after threatening to nuke them? Don't make me laugh, you sick, twisted, fuck." He took another step forw-

BANG.

Silence. Rob peered down at the wound in his chest – that had torn straight through to his heart. He briefly considered Lifesurge, but a cursory glance at his Status Screen informed him that needn't bother. His HP was close to 90%; Tough Skin had mitigated the damage, and Regeneration and Platelet Party were already patching him up, stemming his internal bleeding and gradually forcing the bullet out of his body.

Static raging in his head, Rob directed a glare at the offending rifleman. "Do that again and I'll rip out your spine." The Level 13 Utility Class user loudly gulped, his hands shaking as he struggled to keep a bead on the Level 65 creature who'd shrugged off a shot to the heart.

"Did you know?" the Stonewarden suddenly interjected. "About the Fiends' true nature."

"Yup." Ignoring the surprised looks from his Party members, Rob focused his attention solely on Grant. "I've known for months. They're good people who've treated me and my friends well." After some growing pains, but it probably wouldn't be wise to mention that right now.

Grant shook his head. "They are deceiving you. Just as they deceived the Humans of old."

"...Okay, this part I don't know about."

The Stonewarden sighed. "Have you heard of Project Socius?"

In fact, Rob had. During one of his Locus Attunement benders, he'd been shown a flashback of Humans making war plans. They'd namedropped Project Socius, discussed how it was a last-ditch effort to avoid imminent extinction via Dragon Queen, and...that was all Rob learned before waking up.

"I've heard of it in passing," he answered. "Don't know the details, though."

"It was the Humans' final resort," the Stonewarden explained. "One born out of pure desperation. They intended to contact the Fiends and request assistance in some manner. As far as I am aware, they succeeded."

Grant's expression hardened. "Weeks later, the Cataclysm tore Elatra asunder."

Rob's mouth slammed shut. That...was new. He racked his brain for what to say, knowing full well that the rest of his Party wasn't going to be of any help in defusing this situation. They were too busy reeling from the never-ending conga line of revelations. "You can't prove it was the Fiends' fault," he settled on. "As a suggestion, maybe try talking to them before slaughtering thousands of innocent people."

"No word of truth will pass through their lips. They are duplicitous, murderous snakes, to the last." Faelynn hunched down lower with every word, and Rob had to suppress his urge to dash forward and cut the Stonewarden's neck open. "Leaving them alive would endanger all of Dwarven territory," Grant continued, "and that is a risk I am unwilling to take."

Just then, Seneschal Sylpeiros spoke up. "Restrain your bloodlust," he half-said, half-pleaded. "Thousands of my people are currently residing in Fiend territory. While they may be Deserters, they are still Elves. I won't stand aside as you murder them to sate a vendetta."

Grant's cheek twitched. "There is no vendetta. I am simply doing what I must."

"Horseshit of the highest order," Sylpeiros flatly stated. "I scarcely need Cold Reading to tell me that. Regardless of the Fiends' supposed origins or dishonest natures, an intelligent, rational Leader would adapt to those developments and manipulate them to his advantage. Instead, you are throwing away a historic alliance, one with the potential to shape the course of Elatra. Frankly speaking, your behavior is baffling – you've never seemed this shackled by unchecked emotions in the past. Is it because..."

He frowned. "Ah. You tried, didn't you? To accept the Fiends. That's why you met with her earlier today." Sylpeiros pointed at Faelynn. "It wasn't a strategy meeting; it was an experiment to see if you could stomach her presence. And you failed. Too many memories of Dwarven comrades slain in battle. A hundred years could go by, and you'd still hate the Fiends with every fiber of your being. No different than how the Dragon Queen hates Humans."

Stonewarden Grant's demeanor cracked open, revealing a raging vortex of emotion within, before being sealed up just as quickly. "You sound as if you're speaking from personal experience, Sylpeiros."

The Seneschal instantly fell silent.

"This conversation is finished," Grant said, in a voice that brooked no argument. "Titan's Fist launches in three days. You shall spend that time in a holding cell. As a courtesy, I will allow Faelynn and Vul'to to live. Once my task is complete, you may join our war against the Blight, should you wish. Rob will be tasked with restoring any Corrupted Loci we encounter – that stipulation is non-negotiable."

His gaze sharpened. "Be at ease. Once the Fiends, Blight, and Dragon Queen are dead, Dwarven territory shall lead Elatra to a new era of peace and prosperity."

Rob's mind raced, trying to figure out a way to turn the situation around. He ran the odds of how an all-out brawl between Riardin's Rangers and the Stonewarden's forces would go, even going so far as to accept as many casualties as necessary. The results still weren't encouraging. Grant was Level 81 and backed by Combat Class users and a shitload of guns, while Riardin's Rangers were unarmed. Rob could re-arm them with spare weapons from his Spatial Storage, but that would cost precious time. They might have a slim chance of victory if Seneschal Sylpeiros fought with them, but he was unlikely to put his life on the line when they were this heavily outnumbered.

"You are being misled," Elder Alessia said, in a strained tone. "The gods mean to-"

She stopped as Grant raised his hand, prompting the riflemen to stand up straighter. "Shoot the next person who speaks," he ordered. "Titan's gifts shall not be profaned within my presence."

Rob clenched his teeth. If they couldn't talk and they couldn't fight, then this scenario was already a lost cause. Okay, he told himself. Stay calm. We can stop this. I'm not going to let motherfucking nukes get used on the people I just got done saving. Dwarves want to stick us in solitary? Fine. We'll regroup, confer, find a way to deal with the Stonewarden...who is...now approaching me.

Riardin's Rangers watched, collectively holding their breaths, as Grant slowly walked towards Rob. The Stonewarden's riflemen and Combat Class were no less confused, exchanging worried glances while their esteemed Leader casually put himself in melee range of enemy combatants. Rob was sorely tempted to try gutting him like a fish, but from what he knew, Grant hadn't skimped out on Vitality. Any attempt at a quick assassination would be doomed to fail.

The Stonewarden stopped when he was mere inches apart. He stared up, an unreadable expression on his face. After a few seconds, Grant closed his eyes and turned away, muttering a whisper meant for Rob's ears only.

"I wish you could have stopped me."

--

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