City-State Era, November 29, Year 40.
Shield City.
The roar of artillery was deafening, making the entire mountain tremble.
Not long ago, the mountainside had been its original grayish-blue; now, it was covered in black.
Demons. They were everywhere.
Dense swarms of demons surged out from the sea, crawling over reefs, scaling cliffs, and flooding up the mountain in layers like a black tide.
At the foot of the mountain lay countless corpses—demons and dwarves mixed together, indistinguishable.
Above the mountainside, the city-state named Shield was roaring in defiance.
The firelight of magic crystal cannons flickered continuously along the walls. With every flash, a swath of demons was wiped out.
Boom—
Boom—
Boom—
The cannon fire never ceased, sounding like a never-ending roll of thunder.
The smell of gunpowder was faint but noticeable even from a distance, drifting through the sea breeze along with the stench of blood and charred flesh.
The rough roars of dwarves drifted down from the ramparts.
"For the Mountain King!"
"Smash these pieces of filth!"
"Hold the walls! Not one step back!"
Their voices were coarse and raspy, yet they carried a near-fanatical battle intent.
The magic crystal cannons on the walls were glowing a red-hot heat.
The dwarven gunners worked stripped to the waist, sweat mixing with blood as it poured down their bodies, but they continued to frantically load, fire, load, and fire again.
Below the walls, demons had completely blanketed the mountain.
They squeezed through cracks in the reefs, rose from the crashing waves, and trampled over the corpses of their own kind.
The black tide came wave after wave.
In Shield City, demons were everywhere—above the walls, below the walls, on the cliffs, and at the foot of the peaks.
Wherever there was an opening, those twisted figures appeared.
They shrieked and climbed, digging their claws into the rock and tearing at the corpses of their kin with their teeth just to get one step closer to the city-state.
And the dwarves held their ground, refusing to retreat a single inch.
Inside Shield City, within Balin's smithy.
The heavy iron doors were pushed open with a dull, grinding sound.
A gust of air thick with blood, gunpowder, and the stench of charred demons rushed in through the gap.
Fortress Lord Balin strode inside.
His full plate armor was splattered with black-red blood; some had dried into crusts, while more was still dripping from the gaps in his plates.
A large section of his left shoulder guard was dented, and three deep claw marks on the edge had nearly torn through the fine steel.
Half of his beard had been scorched away, and the remaining hair was clumped together with gore.
Behind him, seven Legendary dwarves entered in single file, their conditions even worse than Balin's.
The one in the lead had lost his left arm at the elbow; the stump was tied off tightly with scorched strips of cloth, yet blood still seeped through.
His face was terrifyingly pale, but he was still grinning.
"That felt good! I hacked that beast thirty-seven times. When I finally split its skull open, the blood sprayed all over me!"
The dwarf next to him spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm.
He had a wound on his forehead deep enough to show bone, the flesh turned inside out, but he didn't seem to care, casually wiping away the blood running into his eyes.
"You were just lucky. I got hit by that thing's tail three times; at least four of my ribs are snapped. Cough... cough-cough..."
He began to cough violently, spitting blood onto the floor.
"Enough," Balin said in a heavy voice.
He walked over to the furnace in the center of the forge and threw his notched battle-axe onto the floor.
The sound of the axe hitting the stone flags was dull and heavy.
Everyone looked at him.
Balin turned around. The firelight reflected off his face, highlighting a countenance that was weary yet as hard as rock.
"Two Epic demons. We killed them."
He paused for a moment.
"But we paid the price."
"Old Bronzebeard is gone. Iron Mountain is gone. And fifty Transcendent elites remain forever outside the walls."
The surrounding dwarves fell silent.
Some lowered their heads, some clenched their fists, and some ground their teeth.
Balin took a deep breath.
"But this isn't the end."
His gaze swept across every person.
"The Dark Tide has been triggered."
"With the Withered Rift as the epicenter, all surrounding areas—the borderlands, Black Reef Bay, the Silent Sea—all the demons have gone into a frenzy."
"The entire borderlands and the southern Blackwater Corridor have turned into a chaotic mess."
His voice was somber.
"This is the most difficult challenge Shield City has faced in over the decade we have defended it."
He looked at them.
"Shield City might fall because of this."
As the words left his mouth, a dead silence filled the forge.
The dwarves who had been excited just moments ago about slaying Epic demons now only had grim expressions.
The Dark Tide. It was the Dark Tide again.
If the Dark Tide hadn't originated in the borderlands, why would they be suffering such a terrifying onslaught of demons?
But that was the horror of the Dark Tide. Even at a distance of several hundred kilometers, it could trigger all demons, driving them into a total madness.
"Therefore," Balin continued, "we must organize our people to enter the Root Tunnels."
"Everyone, including the humans and other races we evacuated from Blackwater Port into Shield City, must retreat into them."
The dwarves were stunned. Immediately, a clamor of voices erupted.
"Fortress Lord! We can still fight! It's not the end yet!"
"Exactly, Lord Balin! I don't think the situation has reached that point yet!"
"If the Alliance's Inspectors find out we abandoned our post without a fight, they will definitely put pressure on the Dwarven Royal City!"
"The mist of the Wall of Sighs is becoming unstable. The Royal City is in an unstable state right now; we can't afford to offend the Alliance Council!"
"The gates of Shield City haven't been breached! We can hold! we can hold it!"
Balin raised his hand, and everyone fell silent.
"First, move the survival supplies, food, and water into the Root Tunnels," he said in a steady, unquestionable voice.
"Let the civilians go first."
He paused.
"You all will defend Shield City."
Then, he looked up, his eyes shining with a startling intensity in the firelight.
"As for me..."
He spoke one word at a time.
"I will go to the Second Shield City. There, I will pin the demon leaders to the gates."
"As long as we can rebuild that fallen city-state and activate the barrier, we can completely suppress these demons."
"But, if..."
Balin's voice lowered.
"If the light of the Second Shield City does not shine, if the activation fails..."
He looked at them intently.
"I will hold back the tide of demons with my life to prevent them from breaching the city."
"When that time comes, you take the civilians and leave. Head to the northern part of the Blackwater Corridor and find the dwarves of the Royal City."
He paused.
"If an Inspector comes later to investigate the reason, pin all the responsibility on me."
A cold smirk appeared on his fire-lit face.
"They would love nothing more than for me to die; they won't go out of their way to make things difficult for you."
The moment he finished speaking, the forge exploded with noise.
"No!"
"Fortress Lord, what kind of nonsense are you talking!"
"We're going with you!"
"If we die, we die together! Why should you carry this alone!"
The dwarves' booming voices rose one after another.
Roars, protests, and curses mingled together, even momentarily drowning out the sound of cannon fire from outside.
Some thundered their chests, offering to go in his place.
Some pointed at his nose, calling him a senile old fool.
Some could only shake their heads repeatedly, their eyes red and unable to find words.
The clamor was so great it made the dust fall from the ceiling beams.
Bang—!
Balin slammed a hand down onto the nearby anvil.
The anvil weighed at least a thousand jin, yet it shifted half an inch from the blow.
The entire forge vibrated, and tools hanging on the walls clattered to the ground.
"Enough!"
He bellowed in a rage, the veins in his neck bulging as his face flushed red.
"I am the only one who can do this!"
"If you all go, you'll just be snacks for those Epic demons!"
He punched the anvil, making it ring with a resonant drone.
"This is not up for negotiation!"
The surrounding dwarves flinched at his roar, but their eyes still burned with defiance.
Some clenched their fists, their chests heaving; some stared at the ground, their shoulders trembling slightly; some opened their mouths to speak but were silenced by his overwhelming presence.
A standoff. Silence.
Only the faint sound of cannons outside served as a reminder that time was running out.
Just then, an elderly voice spoke up.
"Fortress Lord."
The crowd parted automatically.
A dwarf with entirely white hair and a beard that reached his chest walked forward slowly, leaning on a cane.
He was so old that his skin was covered in age spots and his back was too hunched to straighten. Yet as he walked over, everyone instinctively lowered their heads.
He was the oldest dwarf in the city.
Gloin.
The only person in this city who might possibly convince Balin to abandon this suicide mission.
Balin frowned as he looked at him. "Gloin, old friend, you know this is the only way."
He stood there, still upright like an iron tower, his muscles gleaming with a bronze light under the fire.
As Gloin stood before him, he was so stooped that he almost had to crane his neck to see Balin's face.
In truth, they were nearly the same age; Gloin was only a few months older than Balin.
But as they stood together now, they looked like they were separated by an entire generation.
Balin's face showed almost no signs of aging, only the scars from his battles. His beard was still thick and dark, and the muscles in his arms were still taut and powerful.
Gloin, on the other hand, had entirely white hair, skin as wrinkled as dried bark, and even speaking took several breaths.
This was the difference between Epic and Transcendent. The stronger the power, the more vigorous the life force within, and the longer one's lifespan—and youthfulness—lasted.
Gloin sighed. He looked at Balin, his cloudy eyes filled with helplessness.
"The Second Shield City has been fallen for eight years."
His voice was elderly yet clear.
"Something that you and Marbas couldn't achieve together back then..."
He paused.
"Do you really think that now, with the Dark Tide surging and the demons in their greatest frenzy, you can repair the Second Shield City standing out there in the ocean on your own?"
Balin shook his head.
"It's different."
"At least this time, I have a Barrier Stone."
He turned and walked to a secret box in the back of the forge. He opened it and took out a pure white stone, placing it on the anvil.
The stone was small, about the size of a fist, entirely ivory-white and emitting a faint, shimmering light.
"This is the Barrier Stone the messenger boy gave me."
Balin looked at the stone.
"Its range is narrow and its level is low."
"But I've tested it. While it's active, it can hold off a few Epic and Legendary demons for half an hour without any problem."
He looked up.
"That time is enough for me to repair Shield Island."
Pausing, he continued: "Moreover, the frenzy caused by the Dark Tide isn't necessarily a bad thing."
"It will cause our arch-enemies—those who have always blocked me from reaching Shield Island—to lose their minds."
He pointed toward the forge's exterior, toward the mountain covered in black.
"Look, the Epic demons that used to guard Shield Island have all surged here, haven't they?"
"Right now, Shield Island's defenses are at their weakest."
His point made sense. The terrifying demon riots brought by the Dark Tide, while bringing disaster to everyone, also controlled those high-intelligence deep-sea Epic demons.
It turned them into irrational, mindless beasts. They no longer used tactics or cooperation; they only knew how to frantically attack everything in sight.
This was indeed an opportunity.
But Gloin remained unconvinced. He asked directly:
"How do you plan to transport the massive materials needed to rebuild Shield Island, as well as those magic crystal cannons that are almost as large as your smithy, to that location?"
He stared at Balin.
"By skyship? Or dwarven cannon?"
"Even if you crammed all the necessary construction materials into a transport vehicle, could you handle protecting it while fighting the demons swarming the mountain to carve out a path?"
"Even if you could, how do you plan to carry thousands of tons of materials across the ocean?"
His voice grew heavier.
"Let me remind you, our skyships cannot carry such heavy loads."
"In fact, none of the Wheelless Trains we build for other transport teams can carry them either."
"Or do you intend to make seven trips back and forth?"
He took a breath.
"Even when we sent out all our elites just now, we couldn't break through. Do you think you can do it alone?"
Gloin stared at him.
"You are an Epic powerhouse, that's true, but the demons out there aren't pushovers."
He reached out and pointed out of the forge. Through the thick stone walls, one could hear the relentless boom of artillery.
"By a rough estimate, the number of Epic demons outside is almost in double digits."
"There are over a hundred Legendary demons."
"It's not just the deep-sea demons from the Silent Sea; there are those from the Forbidden Zone behind Shield City, the Blackwater Forest, and the surrounding wilderness."
His voice was low.
"In these numbers, even the Alliance's strongest Black Dragon Army would have to back down."
"If Shield City weren't a defensive city-state to begin with, and if it hadn't absorbed supplies donated by major factions..."
He paused.
"Shield City would have fallen long ago."
Balin fell silent. He stood there, the firelight flickering on his face, showing his furrowed brow.
Materials were indeed a problem. If he personally took responsibility for the transport, it would undoubtedly cost him much of his combat strength, which was extremely dangerous in the current situation.
He turned his head to look at a dwarf standing in the corner.
That was the leader of the Black Rock transport group, a Legendary dwarf warrior named Barna.
Barna had returned to Shield City from the Carter Royal Capital with supplies just two months ago, which meant he had managed to avoid the initial disaster. Now, he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a helpless look on his face.
Noticing Balin's gaze, Barna shrugged.
"Fortress Lord."
He spoke in a rough voice.
"To transport such heavy cargo there under these circumstances..."
He paused.
"I believe only a transport team that simultaneously possesses a mage who knows Levitation and masters Legendary or higher-level concealment magic would have even a tiny sliver of a chance of getting the stuff through."
He spread his hands.
"Unfortunately, we of Black Rock possess neither of those skills."
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