Chapter 522: Hands That Rebuild ( 522 )

A wooden trapdoor groaned as it opened near the remains of a house.

Another stone slab shifted, revealing a hidden crawlspace underground.

Boards were lifted from under floor panels, and cracked walls gave way to small, narrow openings.

From every direction—

they appeared.

Dwarves.

Tired.

Thin.

Their eyes sunken from hunger and fear.

Some limped along.

Others helped each other walk.

Mothers carried quiet children.

Fathers gripped rusty tools—not as weapons, but as what little they had left.

They didn’t speak.

They simply moved forward into the sunlight of the morning.

One man knelt.

Then another.

Then more.

Until the whole group of survivors was kneeling—on the broken streets—

All of them—

before Javier.

No one looked up.

No one asked questions.

He had ended their nightmare.

And now,

they waited for his judgment.

Javier opened his magic storage.

Twenty puppet knights stepped forward.

Their armor shone silver—silent and disciplined.

One by one, they entered his storage—walking into the magic space like it was nothing.

A moment later, they returned—

carrying sacks of flour, bundles of fresh meat, and crates of basic supplies.

They carefully laid the supplies on the ground in front of the crowd.

None of the food was spoiled.

Everything was fresh—as if it had just been brought in today.

Javier didn’t stop.

He lifted his hand again.

A soft green light spread out over the dwarves, moving like a gentle wave.

His magic healed them—wounds sealed, cracked skin smoothed, bruises faded.

Javier stood tall, arms crossed, his puppet knights quietly standing around him.

The dwarves still knelt, their thin bodies trembling in silence, unsure of what would happen next.

His voice cut through the quiet—calm, firm, and absolute.

“Anyone who can cook,” he said bluntly. “Start now. Use the food. Distribute it.”

He didn’t need to raise his voice.

He didn’t have to.

“Since this town is mine—and I already defeated the halfling army that was here—you’re all under my control now. Whether you like it or not.”

No one spoke.

They understood there was no arguing with him.

The puppet knights stood quietly, their weapons on the ground.

The banner of Armand waved gently behind Javier, catching the morning light with its golden emblem.

Javier’s tone became sharper.

“Now…” He looked over the crowd. “Who’s in charge here?”

Heads turned, some hesitating.

Finally, a middle-aged dwarf—ragged and avoiding eye contact—stepped forward.

His voice shook. “I… I… I am…”

“Good,” Javier said. He stepped closer, casting his shadow over the dwarf. “Make sure everyone eats and gets some rest. No chaos. No disorder. And if anyone tries to run—”

He paused, his voice cold and firm.

“I declare them a criminal.”

His words were icy.

“My knights will hunt them down. And kill them.”

The dwarf gulped, voice trembling. “Y-Yes…”

Javier’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes what?”

The dwarf steadied himself and answered louder:

“Yes, my lord.”

Without another word, Javier turned and walked away.

Javier looked around the ruined town.

It needed a lot of work to fix.

His eyes took in the broken buildings, cracked roads, and torn fences.

It would take time to rebuild.

He slightly turned his head, glancing back at the dwarves.

They had already started moving.

Several adults gathered near the piles of food.

A few lit small fires.

One began setting up a makeshift cooking station using a broken cart as a table.

Javier saw it—some of the children were smiling, even if just a little.

Just enough.

They didn’t understand everything happening, but they knew the fear was gone.

Other dwarves were fetching water.

A group rolled out a large iron pot and began filling it.

A woman washed her hands quietly, then started cutting meat into strips carefully and precisely.

Two younger men opened sacks of flour, pouring the contents into wide wooden bowls.

They kneaded the dough quietly, focused on their task.

Another group gathered broken wood, crates, and anything that could be burned.

No one complained.

No one asked questions.

They just worked.

Javier walked through the broken street, looking carefully at what was left.

Some walls were still standing.

One building near the center had a sturdy frame.

The roof was damaged, but the foundation seemed solid.

That could be useful—a temporary base.

Something to start with until they could rebuild properly.

He turned his gaze toward the trees outside the town walls.

There were plenty of thick trees—very useful.

He raised his hand and opened his magic storage again.

Immediately, fifty puppet knights appeared in formation—

all carrying heavy axes on their backs.

Their mithril armor gleamed in the sunlight.

Silent and prepared.

“Command,” Javier said softly.

“Cut down those trees. Bring the wood back here.”

The knights responded instantly.

“Understood,” they answered.

They turned without hesitation and marched toward the forest beyond the ruined gate.

The nearby dwarves paused, watching the new group of knights.

They stared at the soldiers—each taller than a man, glowing silver armor, weapons ready—feeling both awe and fear.

Javier looked around, searching for Buddy.

He didn’t see the big bird near the gate or among the puppet knights.

Then he spotted him.

Buddy was standing near the cooking area, silently watching the dwarves work.

His neck stretched out, eyes fixed on the meat they were preparing.

Javier shook his head slightly and muttered, “As long as he doesn’t steal their food… fine.”

He started walking again.

Then he looked toward the crowd and raised his hand.

“You. The one in charge. Come here.”

The dwarf man who had been assigned earlier looked up quickly.

He hurried over, wiping flour from his hands.

“Y-Yes, my lord?”

Javier kept his tone simple and flat.

“How many people are here?”

The dwarf nodded promptly.

“I already counted, my lord. There are thirty-nine of us in total.”

Javier nodded briefly.

“Good. Keep working.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The dwarf turned and moved back to the work without saying another word.

Javier looked across the recovering town, watching the dwarves move with purpose, and the steady return of puppet knights from the forest, bringing lumber.

But there was one last thing to do.

He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small, shiny crystal device.

It was simple, polished, and faintly pulsed with white light.

He knelt down in the center of the ruined plaza and gently placed the device into a crack in the stone.

As soon as it touched, a soft pulse spread outward—an invisible shield flowing into the soil, into the buildings, beneath the streets…

A barrier against the spreading miasma.

Javier stood slowly, dusting off his gloves.

“This town is protected now,” he muttered quietly.

He tapped the device once.

The glow steadied.

The corruption wouldn’t come back, not while this seal was in place.

Then he raised his voice slightly and called out,

“Buddy.”

Cuquawk!!

The big Pekko perked up, lifting his head from the cooking station.

“Come here.”

Cuquawk!!

Buddy waddled over clumsily, trying to look innocent despite the grease on his beak.

Javier sighed, crossing his arms.

“You stole food again, didn’t you?”

Cuquawk!!

Javier squinted but said nothing, then turned away.

“…Forget it.”

He glanced back once more at the dwarves—who were now watching Buddy curiously—before looking toward the distant mountains beyond the forest.

His next target was waiting.

But for now, the town was safe.

( End Of Chapter )

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