Hearthguard Cairn
Meanwhile at the Oakenbrew Estate
"Tomorrow? That's the fastest they can go?"
Priestess Gabrielle, who was sitting in front of Calgirra, could be seen irritated. Not overtly—there was no raised voice, no slamming fist—but irritation radiated from her all the same, like a pressure change before a storm.
"Apologies, priestess," Calgirra said, his voice steady by training rather than confidence, "The Goldenclaws need extra preparations since this time their target is a military base."
"But you said yourself," Gabrielle replied, her head tilting just slightly, "That base was only a weapon testing facility, filled only with engineer and a handful of test pilots."
She emphasized only with surgical precision.
"The Goldenclaws wanted to make sure that what happened in Moth Pole doesn't happen again," Calgirra said.
"Tch… they better be…" Gabrielle leaned back in her chair. "I'm getting sick with your kind now. Failures after failures… to hear that Dwordoug and the demons are still alive… Good thing the Meridinian have declared to help. It's impossible to stop the war now."
"Apologies for being incapable," Calgirra replied.
He said it the way one recites a known conclusion.
"And what will be the cover-up for the destruction of the base?" Gabrielle asked, her fingers finally separating as she tapped one nail idly against the table. "As far as the whole Dwargonia knows, Dwordoug and Leviathan are already dead."
"We will plant a fake survivor again," Calgirra answered, "and report it as a Murica special forces infiltration."
"And if they fail again?" Gabrielle gave a cold stare.
No heat. No anger. Just calculation.
"I will confess that I authorized the assassination of Dwordoug," he said calmly. "I will claim it was a joint conspiracy between myself and Murica. And afterward… I will take my own life."
"Good."
Gabrielle smiled.
It was not a warm smile.
"Very well. When will be the next assault to Murica and Ravendawn?" Gabrielle asked.
"Our military strategy has already been finalized," Calgirra replied. "The next offensive will commence in two days."
"I hope," Gabrielle said lazily, "that neither your army nor the Goldenclaws embarrass me like last time."
She rose from her chair slowly.
"So when will my airship be ready?" Gabrielle asked. "I can't be here if you screw up again."
"It has been prepared, priestess," Calgirra replied. "The fastest airship we have. It will bring you to Celeste within five days."
"Good. I don't wish to use the same method like when I came here. Secret tunnels and woods.. tch," She irritated. "Finally, I can leave this hole."
---
Boulderhelm Base — Sunrise
It was a clear and peaceful sky during the sunrise in the snowy area around Boulderhelm Base. Pale light spilled over frozen cliffs and blanketed forests, painting the landscape in soft gold and white.
The only thing that had no intention of being peaceful was the twelve black airships flying in formation toward Boulderhelm Base.
They moved with mechanical precision, their silhouettes cutting through the dawn like omens. Steam vents hissed rhythmically along their hulls, and their shadows crawled slowly across the snow below.
Inside one of the airships, the Goldenclaws commander was studying the base's surrounding geography with a tense expression. A base built near the edge of a cliff, surrounded by snowy forest with a clearing before the forest.
"Sir, our blockades said no vehicles have left Boulderhelm since yesterday," an officer reported. "Maybe our spy managed to do a clean job?"
"Or our spy had leaked the plan and they know it's useless to send a messenger," the commander deduced. "Deploy the armors. Be careful for ambushes."
"Aye, sir."
Two airships descended into the clearing, unloading dozens of black steam armors and spider-tanks into the snow.
"This is Crawler team. We're on the ground," said the ground forces leader to his comm.
"Proceed," the comm replied.
The army of black armors and spider tanks began advancing through the forest. Snow crunched beneath metal feet and segmented legs. Above them, the airships maintained position, providing cover and overwatch, their cannons tracking the treeline methodically.
"Tch… I won't repeat the same failure like in Moth Pole this time," the commander muttered.
And then—
KABOOOM
An explosion tore through the woods below.
"What was that? Enemies?" the commander asked.
"CRAWLER 2-2 DOWN!" the comm chattered.
"Check for enemies!" another voice replied.
KABOOOM
Another explosion followed.
"ALL UNITS! HOLD UP!" the Crawler leader commanded.
Silence followed. Several seconds stretched uncomfortably long.
"…Commander," the Crawler leader said through the comm. "They put mines in this forest."
"So they were expecting us," the commander muttered. "Proceed with caution."
"…Affirmative."
Their ground forces slowed their advance, moving step by careful step, scanning for mines, probing snow and soil ahead of every footfall.
KABOOM
Even so, sometimes an unlucky Crawler member still stepped onto a mine.
"C-Crawler 3-4 is down," the comm reported.
"…Keep advancing," the Crawler leader said. "Spread out. Do not use direct approach to the base."
They kept advancing through the forest, even as occasional mine explosions continued to erupt, killing their friends and scattering metal fragments into the snow.
---
Hill Nearby
Mara and several base soldiers watched from afar as the airships advanced in the sky, while distant explosions echoed from within the forest.
"And here we go…" one dwarf soldier said.
Behind her, Cinderclaws and several engineers were still fighting with the radio.
A massive steam-powered contraption dominated the hilltop—gears spinning, pipes hissing, sparks jumping. A gramophone-sized speaker protruded from one side, paired with thick telephone tubes that looked like they belonged in a museum.
"That's quite a bold mine deployment," Mara said. "Only a few mines on the main path, then scatter the rest everywhere else."
"They're elite," Cinderclaws said, grunting as he worked. "But textbook elite."
Cinderclaws raised himself up and dusted his hands.
"I "wrote" the book."
"Alright. Let's try it again. Power it up!" he signaled.
An engineer nodded, shoved enhanced coal into the generator furnace, and flipped a switch.
"Power on!"
They waited.
Then—
Sparks burst from the radio machine, followed by smoke.
"Tch! Turn it off!" Cinderclaws commanded.
Power was cut. An engineer rushed forward to extinguish a small fire.
Cinderclaws sighed deeply. "This electricity thing is a pain in the ass. Why do demons insist on making components so damn small?"
"Well, to be fair," Mara replied, "it's yours that's unexceptionally big."
Cinderclaws snorted and knelt back down. "It's true. All dwarves are raised with the same saying: We may be born small, but we're destined for big dicks and bigger machines."
The other dwarves nodded agreeably.
"Hohoho," Mara chuckled. "That explains a lot."
---
Boulderhelm Base, Surface
After a painstaking fifteen minutes—and a series of mine explosions—the Crawler team finally exited the forest and arrived at the base entrance.
"Casualty report," the Crawler leader demanded.
"Seven light armors, two heavies, one spider," the comm replied.
"…Proceed," the Crawler leader commanded. "Enter the perimeter."
With tactical formations, the Crawler teams took positions using the outer wall as cover. At the commander's signal, several light armors climbed the wall to provide overwatch, while the rest entered through the gate.
Inside the wall, there was no movement.
Nothing.
They swept building after building.
Still nothing.
"Nobody's here, sir," one armor reported.
"…Commander, we're heading down," the Crawler leader said into his comm.
"Understood," the comm replied. "They must have made a stand inside."
"Team B, use the elevator," the Crawler leader commanded. "Team A on me. We take the corridor."
"Yes, sir."
The teams split, leaving only two armors guarding the surface.
---
Hangar Bay
Below ground, the hangar buzzed with controlled chaos.
Engineers and soldiers worked briskly, professionalism barely masking their nerves. This was a weapon-testing base—not a frontline fortress.
At one table, however, calm reigned supreme–
Too calm
At that table sat Levi, Dwordoug, and Hilda.
Levi, Dwordoug, and Hilda sat comfortably, tea cups in hand. A short-range mana-comm rested between them.
"Would you like more sugar?" Hilda asked.
"Ah yes, two please," Levi replied politely.
She dropped two cubes into his cup.
"The same for me," Dwordoug said.
Hilda added six cubes.
They sipped quietly. Only Dwordoug frowned.
"Grand Marshal, Commander," a voice crackled over comms. "Enemies have breached the perimeter. They're descending now."
"Everyone in position?" Hilda asked calmly.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good, continue."
"His voice a bit shaky, no?" Levi asked, blowing gently across his tea before taking a sip.
"Can't blame him," Hilda said, sipping her tea. "Most of them have never fought a real battle before. Good thing Cinderclaws' guards—and the prisoners—are useful."
She sipped calmly.
"Well, most of the guards had served with him in the past," Dwordoug said.
"Heh, Cinderclaws the Red-Sledge…" Hilda chuckled softly. "Never thought I will see him again in battle."
"Oh?" Levi asked. "He's famous?"
"Quite," Dwordoug said. "Two hundred fifty years ago, during the civil war against the Goldenclaws. He earned the name because he used a sledgehammer."
"And red is the color of his enemies' blood?" Levi said, feeling amused.
Dwordoug nodded.
"After the war, he led an elite unit," Dwordoug continued. "Rescue missions. Dwarven slave liberations. Goldenclaws hunts."
He paused.
"Until he retired eighty years ago."
"But civilian life doesn't work for him. He's too… dangerous for society."
"What happened?" Levi wondered. "He hurt civilians?"
"What? No…" Dwordoug said. Then hesitated. "Well… actually yes, but not directly."
"Fufufu…" Hilda chuckled.
"When he was retired, he was still doing his hobby building machines in his hometown," Dwordoug said. "Children even asked him some toys using cookies and milk for payment. And he made it for them."
"The only problem is…" Dwordoug continued, "…everything he made always ended up being military grade."
Hilda burst into laughter at the memory.
"Toy soldiers with miniature muskets," Dwordoug continued. "Toy airships with functional cannons. Powerful enough for children to ride."
"When the kids played war," Hilda added, "his hometown became one."
"Oh my," Levi said. "Murican children would love those."
"So we convinced him to re-enlist," Dwordoug said. "Government position. Not military."
"My father even offered heavy industry," Hilda added. "But he refused. Too rigid, he said."
"That's why I sent him to Moth Pole," Dwordoug concluded. "Whatever mayhem he built, it wouldn't affect civilians."
He sighed.
"Even though building giant armor was actually beyond my expectations."
"What a wonderful story," Levi said.
Suddenly, the comm crackled again.
"Commander. They are entering the kill zone."
"Oh," Hilda said brightly. "About time."
She placed her cup down carefully.
"Very well. All units…"
She paused just long enough for the silence to stretch.
"Execute!"
---
Upper Level
Crawler Team A advanced down the corridor in tight, disciplined formation. Weapons raised, sensors sweeping—yet no soldiers appeared.
Then—
THUNK THUNK THUNK
Suddenly, all lights in the entire corridor shut down.
"What happened?" muttered one armor.
"Did we do that?" another whispered.
"Quiet," the Crawler leader snapped. "Watch for ambush."
---
Main Elevator
The same blackout struck Team B inside the massive elevator shaft. The platform jolted to a halt, plunging the chamber into darkness.
"Fuck… the lever won't work…" said one heavy, flipping the elevator lever several times.
"…Are they planning to trap us here forever?" said a spider pilot.
"Lights. Now," another heavy ordered.
Spotlights flicked on—one by one—casting harsh beams across the steel walls.
They scanned their surroundings.
"Hey… why there's a door on the wall?" someone said.
"That's too small for armor… it's even barely fit for a dwarf."
"Wait—there's another one."
As the lights swept wider, the truth set in.
Doors.
Dozens of small steel doors.
Lining the walls. Surrounding them.
---
Upper Level
Crawler Team A scanned their surroundings using their lights.
Still no enemies.
Then their comm suddenly crackled—
"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!!"
"AAAGHH!"
"THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!"
Screams and cannon fire flooded the channel—then cut out mid-sound.
"TEAM B! REPORT!" the Crawler leader shouted. "TEAM B!"
No response.
Then—
THUMP THUMP THUMP
Metal barriers dropped from the ceiling and walls, separating the Team A armors from one another, trapping them in isolated segments.
"ANYONE SEE ANYTHING?!" the Crawler leader commanded.
"Negative!"
"Negative!"
Then—
"Kikikiki."
A thin, crawling laugh echoed through the dark.
"Kikikikikikikiki."
More laughter—closer now. The armors spun, lights sweeping wildly. Still nothing.
"KIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKIKI!"
CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK
Every shutter on the ventilation shafts snapped open at once.
The Crawler leader looked up—
—and saw nightmares crawling out from every opening.
"Oh fuck…"