Chapter 597: A Thread of Hope ( 597 )

“He does not come here, Chieftain. He said… he’s waiting for a command. From someone.”

Gumarak furrowed his brow. “Waiting for a command?”

“Yes… He didn’t elaborate. Only said he was awaiting orders.”

Gumarak’s heart sank slightly. He had a feeling—a dangerous, undeniable feeling.

“This… Lord Javier… Did he mention who he is? His family, perhaps?”

The commander nodded slowly. “He… he mentioned the Armand family.”

The name echoed like a thunderclap in Gumarak’s ears.

Armand.

His breath hitched. The mighty chieftain of the Dwarven Kingdom, fell to his knees.

Tears welled in his eyes. Not from fear. Not from shame. But from a flood of pent-up guilt and the overwhelming realization of what was unfolding.

So… Garius received the news… One of the messengers made it. I didn’t think it possible—between the Halflings and the Human Kingdom cutting off every path.

He swallowed hard.

And now… it’s too late to run. Garius will not be merciful. He won’t say much. He’ll just watch.

He laughed bitterly through his tears, face twisted in self-loathing.

Lioness will scold me with that deadpan face of his. Mylezra will nag for three hours straight. Veldrac might yell. But Garius… he’ll let me talk… and then hand out my punishment in absolute silence. That’s the worst part.

His hands clenched into fists on the floor.

I was a fool to claim that damned Celestial . A fool who dragged his people into ruin.

He trembled, overcome with everything at once—shame, regret, and a flicker of hope that perhaps… just perhaps… it wasn’t too late.

Gumarak, still on his knees, trembled. His voice cracked as he asked again, “Did… did the boy mention anything?”

The commander shook his head. “He didn’t say anything else yet, Chieftain. Only that… he has a mission.”

Gumarak felt the weight of those words collapse upon his shoulders.

A mission… from Garius…

That could only mean one thing.

The boy—Javier—was here to capture him.

Not to kill. Not to destroy. But to bring him in. Alive.

Because that was how Garius punished those he once called friend.

Gumarak stared down at the floor, his fingers curling against the stone. It’s all my fault… He’d let the celestial corrupt him, let his pride blind him, and now—now his kingdom paid the price.

The last stronghold had fallen. The wyvern skies were outmatched. His people were starving, boxed in by two kingdoms, with no path of escape. And the Celestial inside him never stopped screaming.

Devour. Kill. Devour. Kill.

He clutched his chest.

“…I’m already captured,” he muttered hoarsely. “Just not in chains yet.”

The room remained frozen. No one dared speak.

The dwarven king, once unshakable, sat kneeling in silence—waiting for the arrival of the judgment he knew he could never run from.

“…Stand up,” he ordered the kneeling commander.

The commander rose without hesitation.

“Go,” Gumarak continued. “Distribute the food. Prioritize the wounded and the children. Then the frontline. Everyone else comes after.”

“Yes, Chieftain!”

Gumarak’s eyes didn’t leave him. “And the 3,000 soldiers you brought with you… are they able to fight? Are they still loyal to the Dwarven Kingdom?”

The commander nodded. “Yes, Chieftain. Their morale returned the moment we received food. And more than that… the knights that came with Lord Javier—they’re ready to line up along our defenses, too. All they await is your permission.”

Gumarak narrowed his eyes. “They’ll fight for us?”

“I… I don’t know, Chieftain. They didn’t speak.But before we left, Lord Javier gave me a message: if you give permission, just tell it to the one wearing adamantite armor and wielding adamantite weapons.”

The entire war room froze.

“…A-adamantite?” one of the generals muttered.

A gasp swept through the dwarves. Even the most stoic among them flinched.

Adamantite—so rare that even the Dwarven Royal Treasury only held a few scraps. A metal said to rival the strength of divine ore, capable of enduring flame, mana, and time without a scratch.

Mithril was already hailed as the pride of dwarven craftsmanship. But adamantite? That was myth made metal.

“A-all of them?” one of the officers asked, voice shaky.

“No,” the commander said. “Only one. But that one… I swear to the ancestors, he radiates fear. Even our best warriors flinched when they saw him.”

Gumarak felt the knot in his chest tighten.

The Armand boy… no, the son of Garius… was truly not ordinary.

“…Grant them permission,” he said at last. “Let them line our walls.”

“But, Chieftain—”

“I said grant it,” Gumarak repeated, his tone sharp. “If that boy… if Lord Javier wishes to protect, even after all we’ve done… then we accept. With humility.”

“Now move!”

“Yes, Chieftain!”

The commander saluted, turned on his heel, and ran out of the war room with urgency in his steps.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind him, leaving only silence in the room.

Gumarak leaned back in his stone-carved chair.

“I really hope we can stand and defend this last line of defense… before that monster Edmund sends his troops… and his damned wyverns to crush everything.”

The room remained still.

No one dared interrupt the silence.

Because every dwarf in that chamber knew the truth—Edmund would come. The question was only when. And how brutal it would be.

But for now, they had food. They had a temporary wall of steel and mithril standing beside them.

And they had a sliver of hope—one that wore a demon mask and called himself Javier.

Meanwhile, in the third Dwarven stronghold—

“Ehehehe~ Come and catch me, Buddy!”

Cuquawked!!

The sound of sharp talons scratching against the stone echoed as the large Pekko, Buddy, dashed playfully after Javier, who held a roasted leg of beast meat high above his head like a prize.

“Too slow! You want this? Then work for it!”

Cuquawked!!

Buddy flapped his wings in short bursts, eyes locked on the dangling meat. His large beak snapped harmlessly as Javier ducked under a low archway, laughing.

The nearby Dwarven guards froze mid-patrol, mouths agape at the bizarre sight of the feared masked warrior—the one who crushed 120,000 Halflings without lifting a sword—now playing tag with a bird.

Javier finally paused, holding the meat up with one hand and letting out a breath.

“Alright, alright. Here—who’s a good bird?”

Cuquawked!

Buddy lunged forward and happily snatched the meat from his master’s hand, munching loudly and flapping his wings in victory.

( End Of Chapter )

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