Translator: Cinder Translations
...
"Woo——!"
The long sound of a horn echoed through the entire Lavender Valley.
A squad of dwarf warriors, armed with long spears, marched in orderly formation into the valley.
Arriving at the center of the valley's flat ground, the dwarf warriors first turned their column into a horizontal line, then slowly arranged themselves into an arc, standing solemnly, facing the entrance of the valley, awaiting the "guests."
A massive wild boar, with long tusks and a muscular build, slowly walked out from the line of dwarves. On its back sat a dwarf, much like a human or orc riding a horse.
Though similarly stout and with a large beard, this dwarf's appearance immediately stood out as different from the others.
His hair and beard were neatly groomed, and he wore more vibrant silk clothes, looking very extravagant. A golden-trimmed cloak draped over his shoulders, and he wore a large green gemstone ring on his right hand's middle finger.
Malor, the leader of the Stonemason Clan, sat calmly on the boar's back, gazing into the distance, awaiting the one who had been exiled to challenge his position as clan leader.
Time passed, and the sun gradually moved toward the south.
Malor furrowed his brows impatiently.
"Ramsden!"
He called for his vassal.
"My clan leader, what can I do for you?" Ramsden hurried over, asking respectfully.
Ramsden had come as one of the ten warriors to fight in place of the clan leader.
"Where is that sinner? Didn't we agree that he'd come today?" Malor asked, growing more irritated.
"This..." Ramsden scratched his head, unsure how to answer. He too was puzzled.
Could it be that Imar was toying with everyone? If so, he would become a total laughingstock.
"Maybe he's been scared off!" said another warrior, offering his guess, prompting a burst of laughter from the group.
"Perhaps he hasn't fallen so low!" Ramsden said, trying to reassure Malor. "I don't think Imar is so cowardly."
"Fine, I'll wait a little longer," Malor said dismissively. "If he doesn't show up by noon, I'll send word to every clan about this joke of a challenge."
Just as Malor finished speaking, a small group of people appeared in the distance, approaching them.
He laughed loudly. "Oh, our 'honored guest' has finally arrived."
Malor stood proud, waiting for Imar and his followers, ready to enjoy the sight of this fool having his skull crushed by his warriors.
However, to his surprise, Imar's group stopped walking and stood at a distance, merely watching them.
Had Imar been intimidated by the display of power they brought today?
Had he cowardly backed down? This weakling!
He had always known that Imar was such a person! The disgrace of the dwarves!
"What is that?" Ramsden pointed ahead.
"What? Isn't that Imar the bastard?" Malor wondered, squinting his eyes. His smile quickly faded.
At the entrance to the valley in the distance, a massive cloud of dust rose into the air, as though a sandstorm was approaching.
"By the Hammer! What is that?" Malor asked, echoing Ramsden's question.
"It's the orcs!" Ramsden shouted, recognizing the newcomers immediately with his sharp eyesight.
"Why are the orcs here?" the dwarves around them murmured.
At this moment, Imar's group resumed moving toward them, now walking at a rapid pace, almost running.
A small group of orcs caught up with them, marching alongside Imar.
The orcs, all riding horses, moved quickly and reached the front of Malor and the others.
Unsure about the orcs' presence, Malor remained silent.
Imar shouted first.
"Usurper Malor! You bastard, I've come here today to reclaim the glory and everything else that belongs to me, which you stole!"
"Imar!" Ramsden shouted back. "You should explain why there are so many orcs here."
Any fool could see that the appearance of the orcs had something to do with Imar.
"They? Ha ha ha ha!" Imar laughed wildly. "They are all my friends, here to help me reclaim my rightful position as clan leader."
"You bastard!" Malor and his warriors immediately understood what Imar intended and began shouting in anger.
Ramsden yelled furiously, "You are ruining our sacred tradition, shamelessly resorting to foreign help!"
"Oh, poor Ramsden! I can see the panic in your eyes. Please, entertain me more," Imar laughed with red eyes. "I love seeing you like this. It'll provide me with plenty of amusing stories for my future."
Ramsden, veins bulging from his anger, retorted, "Aren't you afraid of being despised by the entire dwarf race?"
"Haaahhh!" Imar screamed, "I've already become a joke of the dwarves, what else should I fear? Besides, none of you will escape today."
As Imar spoke, the orc cavalry surged forward, surrounding the dwarves from both sides.
The dwarves hastily formed a circular formation, their long spears aimed in every direction at the orc cavalry.
At this moment, Clan Leader Malor recognized the orc beside Imar.
"Yujin, my friend!" Malor called out to the old orc. "Why is the Son of the Grasslands meddling in the internal affairs of the Sons of the Highlands?"
As expected, Yujin was recognized, and he reluctantly pulled down his cloak's hood.
Frequently serving as an envoy for the king's tent, Yujin was quite familiar with Malor, and this situation was somewhat awkward.
"My friend, Malor, please allow me to address you one last time as such," Yujin said with a resigned expression. "I'm sorry, but the price Imar offered is just too high."
"What did he promise you? Tell me, perhaps I can offer you more," Malor's voice was sincere.
"Clan Leader!" Ramsden, feeling anxious, spoke up.
Malor shot him a glare. "It's just a matter of tactics."
"You don't need to listen," Yujin responded. "I know you, Malor. What Imar can offer me, you cannot."
The old orc thought to himself that even if Malor did offer something, it would be just a temporary fix, and he was much harder to control than Imar.
Malor ultimately fell into despair.
"Alright, alright, my friend Yujin!" Imar impatiently urged, "Let's get rid of these traitors!"
Yujin waved his hand. "Attack!"
The orc cavalry surged forward, urging their mounts.
"Stonemason Clan warriors! Prepare to face the enemy!" Ramsden yelled, his expression resolute. The dwarves understood that they were now facing certain death.
They could only leave their honor in the world!
First came a wave of intense arrows, followed by the pounding of hooves…
The battle lasted over half an hour, and when the last dwarf warrior fell, Yujin and Imar approached them.
Imar found Malor and Ramsden, their bodies covered in terrifying wounds, their breaths no more.
He carefully took the large ring from Malor's hand and slipped it onto his own, sighing deeply.
"You've finally returned to your rightful owner," he seemed to say to the ring.
"Are you sure that's all you need?" the old orc asked.
"I'm sure!" Imar replied.
Yujin surveyed the battlefield, his face grim. "There are still some breathing. Perhaps they can be saved, Imar."
Imar said decisively, "What use is there for them? Should I let the world know I won this challenge with the help of outsiders?"
"Fine," Yujin sighed inwardly, still respectful of the warriors who fought to the end.
He waved and instructed the cavalry. "Put them out of their misery."
The old orc gazed toward the southern mountains, as though already seeing the world beyond them.
That prosperous, civilized, beautiful world, free of the Black and White Disasters.
"The first great door has finally opened."
(End of the Chapter)
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