Chapter 112: Dwarven burial ground (1/2)

Chapter 112: Dwarven burial ground

The darkness before dawn shrouded Windsough Canyon.

Here was the only road to the southern desolate lands. Humans had never settled anywhere in the southern wastelands at any time in history, though they were five times the area of the kingdom of Eiche. No one founded glorious ancient kingdoms there. Even the earliest beastmen tribes didn’t like the wastelands’ barrenness, preferring wilder and nastier environments like the demon forests where beast, monsters, and poisonous creatures gathered.

Some gnome and dwarven tribes had always lived in these lands. These dwarven and gnome tribes weren’t very open for the most part, living in seclusion from the world, to the point they had always meticulously hidden their tracks out their innate dread of the outside world. They were as barren as the wastelands, as desolate, surviving thanks to some simple farming and gathering.

What was worth mentioning was that there was once a gnome tribe called “Moro.” They were innate tradesmen, careful and cautious by nature. Unlike the earliest dwarven kingdoms that traded with large-scale caravans, they instead wandered to every remote corner of the continent carrying willow baskets and leather bags on their backs. With the most ancient forms of barter and retail, they established one gnome store after another.

In these gnome stores, none of the merchandise was available in great quantity, because it was impossible to transport too great a reserve with the most ancient form of travel on foot.

Yet there was a great variety of goods. Men had to stoop to enter each of these wooden houses that looked as if they could only contain a bed and some shelves, yet you could see thousand kinds of goods. From ornaments manufactured from lizard teeth, to candies with bizarre tastes, to high-end gems manufactured especially for arcane masters, everything was on offer.

Even in the most chaotic of war eras, the footprints of these gnome tribes still covered every corner of the continent, to the point one could find traces of these gnome stores even in these most remote wastelands, in some aboriginal tribes, or in some magic beast forests only beastmen could live in.

Gooseberry Town was but a small-scale gathering spot surrounding a famous diviner back in the short era when bragging, swindling diviners were in vogue on the continent of Doraster. There were only a dozen different shops and hostels there, a gnome store among them.

“An Evil Dragon apostle is a generic appellation for the believers and followers of the Evil Dragon on the continent. The greatest lure about them is the power of the Evil Dragon’s bloodline.”

Ciaran directed Moss and Ayrin to establish a camp inside a forest on a hillside. She arranged some warning snares and traps, while answering some interrogations the two of them had at the same time.

“In the true sense, the Evil Dragon apostles who obtained the bloodline of the Evil Dragon were those present during the very end of the War of the Dragon, when the Evil Dragon King Ned died. The combination of the blood and arcane particles he released resulted in a kind of peculiar particle that could be absorbed and confer some of the gifts of his bloodline. After that, many people discovered that his bloodline could be transmitted in this manner, without the need to transmit it through holy artifacts. Everyone who obtained the Evil Dragon’s bloodline possesses formidable talent and power… The reason why King Ned could lead so many dragons in that era was that his bloodline was precisely the strongest among dragon bloodlines. Also, the most important thing is, the bloodline of the Evil dragon had the power of ‘Dirt.’

“The life essence condensed with their blood and arcane particles can dirty another arcane master’s blood. It’s the greatest poison for other arcane masters. That’s why the arcane masters pursuing them also often die from the mutual destructive methods they use.

“According to previous news, Evil Dragon followers established a secret camp in a certain ravine at the southern tail end of the Dragon Breath mountain range. In a straight line, the southern tail end of the Dragon Breath Mountains is closer to our St. Lauren than to many parts of our kingdom of Eiche, but we just happen to be on two projections stretching into the southern wastelands. To come here in a straight line, they would need to cross through a great patch of unknown wasteland. That’s why Evil Dragon followers have been active around the several towns near the tail end of the Dragon Breath Mountains, while we never found tracks of their activities in these parts before.”

“You can instantly transform from the most mediocre arcane master into a genius like Stingham after obtaining the Evil Dragon’s bloodline, and you can even obtain some formidable arcane skills imparted by the Evil Dragon camp. That’s why, because of the lure of this pure power, many fallen arcane masters will lose their allegiance to safeguarding the peace of the continent, serving the Evil Dragon apostles instead, thereby obtaining the Evil Dragon’s bloodline.”

“To obtain the approval from the Evil Dragon camp, they can even kill their own friends and families, assassinate those who protect the kingdom and who they believe to be their greatest threats. They’re the most deranged degenerates who trample on their own beliefs.”

“We have to fight forever, unless every single one of our enemies is dead.” Moss inexplicably remembered this sentence inscribed on the wall of a certain temple inside Holy Dawn Academy.

“They can butcher their families and friends, kill the arcane masters protecting the peace of the homeland, because of their lust for power. In the future, I absolutely have to become a battlemaster and fight against these people.”

Moss suddenly felt as if his life gained a new meaning.

“What?”

Ciaran felt that, in front of her, Ayrin’s expression was a little strange.

“I don’t know. This canyon looks a little strange.”

Frowning, Ayrin looked at the canyon in front of him.

This canyon was an especially wide canyon, like a plain squeezed between two mountain ranges. They were in the middle part of this canyon, on a rather tall hillside. But even so, in the faint daylight, he couldn’t see either end of the canyon.

Wind blew in from the southern wastelands, giving off an especially mournful and desolate feeling, for some inexplicable reason. The wind even seemed to carry the sound of whimpers.

“It’s just like the lands of departed spirits and angry ghosts from the legends. Ghosts seem to drift in the wind.” Hearing the sound of the wind, Ayrin honestly expressed his impression.