The Freed Slaves Are Obsessed

Torvar was stunned to see Roksar appear like a hero.

"Roksar, how the hell are you here?"

"How? I ran here to save my friend, of course!"

Half of it was true, half was utter bullshit.

Roksar was not just a blacksmith but also a warrior capable of fighting. However, unlike other Meisters, he hadn’t gone to the surface and had remained underground.

Because of a certain bastard.

"It would be great to block them outside, but that’s not easy, right? If Doomheim is breached by a dragon, someone has to defend the city."

"Fair enough. But, bastard, why are you staring at me while saying this?"

Karami put on an annoyingly innocent expression.

"You lost, didn’t you? The bet."

A drinking bet where the loser had to grant the winner’s request.

Karami had won and had made an absurdly specific demand: “If a dragon breathes its attack, don’t run. Block it.”

"Who knew the bastard would actually make me block a dragon’s breath!"

Looking back now, Karami had already known. That there would be a battle with Skadia. That she would target Magmar’s Heart.

And even more than that—

"The breath is non-negotiable. Even if Skadia charges, don’t move."

"Why the hell not?"

"You can only block it once, can’t you? Then block the strongest breath. That way, we have a fifty-fifty shot."

Chills ran down Roksar’s spine.

Karami had even calculated Roksar’s abilities.

Just how much of this was part of his plan? Was he some kind of prophet?

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t figure it out. Not that he had time to think.

A single moment of distraction and the breath would devour Magmar’s Heart.

"Ugh... why the hell is this so heavy?"

This was heavier than any attack he had endured before.

His hands, frozen to the shield, began to numb.

His body was being pushed back, little by little.

His legs froze, becoming one with the ground.

He felt like he’d become an ice statue at this rate.

But Roksar didn’t back down.

Crack!

He shattered the ice binding his feet.

Instead, he stepped forward.

Raised his shield even higher.

A faint earthen glow enveloped him.

The shield of light began to push back the breath—inch by inch, barely.

"What... how the hell is a mere dwarf deflecting my breath?!"

This was the power of Roksar, the Earth’s Shield.

He was blessed by the earth. He could absorb its energy to amplify his strength.

Of course, even a dwarf’s sturdy body would struggle to handle such immense energy without consequences. To use it again, Roksar would need a long recovery.

But as long as his feet touched the ground, Roksar would never fall.

"I am Roksar, the Earth’s Shield! The strongest and final defense recognized by the earth! Even if my body is crushed, I will never break!"

The barrier’s light grew brighter.

The shield’s size expanded in an instant.

"Uwooooorrrghhh!"

Roksar roared and thrust his shield forward with all his might.

He deflected the breath.

The reversed breath surged toward Skadia.

Boom!

A massive explosion erupted, filling the air with a cloud of blue dust.

"Ugh... My back’s wrecked. I’ll need to hand this job over to a successor after this fight."

Roksar patted his aching back.

"Thanks. If it weren’t for you, I’d be an ice statue by now."

"Save the thanks for later. First, let’s get your daughter out, Torvar."

The two dwarves turned their eyes toward the door.

"Fatherrrrr!"

Unaware of the situation outside, Ferca was still screaming and pounding on the door in desperation.

"...Can’t we just open it later?"

"Like father, like daughter. You talk just as much nonsense. Do you even know how hot it is in there? She’ll be roasted alive. Open it, now."

"Ugh..."

Torvar reluctantly grabbed the vertical handle. The door that hadn’t budged when Ferca was pushing it opened easily when Torvar pulled.

Ferca, who had been leaning against the door, tumbled out. Torvar caught her as she stumbled forward.

"Huh. Father? A ghost?"

"Why the hell does she keep calling me a ghost?"

"But the breath...?"

"This uncle here blocked it like a badass!"

Roksar pointed to himself proudly, puffing out his chest.

Torvar scratched his head awkwardly, avoiding Ferca’s gaze. He had already said his goodbyes and everything, fully expecting this to be the end. Now he felt like someone running into an acquaintance at the bus stop after saying goodbye forever.

Realizing her father was safe, Ferca burst into tears.

"Uwaaahhhh! Father! Don’t leave me! How am I supposed to live if you disappear too?"

Half-dwarf Ferca, taller than Torvar, clung to him, crying with tears and snot streaming down her face. Torvar sighed internally and patted the back of her head.

"See? People need to talk things out. Isn’t this heartwarming?"

Karami appeared, climbing up the same path Ferca had taken. Torvar glared at him.

"You again. Filling Ferca’s head with nonsense, weren’t you?"

"Why do you always suspect me? I just pointed out the obvious. Leaving the shelter was entirely Miss Ferca’s decision."

Karami shrugged with an air of feigned innocence.

Ferca’s complete liberation as a slave required Torvar’s death.

A sacrifice in her place. A clichéd melodrama where the death of a family member leads to emotional realization—just like Mirabelle.

Torvar’s death, followed by Ferca’s belated realization of her affection for him, leads to her striving to inherit the Will of Fire and become the Ember Keeper.

"But Ferca isn’t my slave, is she?"

Why should I bother granting her full liberation?

Honestly, Karami had no intention of giving Ferca such glory. Instead, she would live her life enduring Torvar’s nagging without ever becoming the Ember Keeper.

"Hehehe."

"...What’s wrong with that bastard?"

"No idea. Maybe his brain’s frozen."

Wulbram, Hargran, and Ashies, returning late to the forge to assess the situation, quickly decided an emergency meeting was in order.

The golems were buying time by battling Skadia, but the dragon wasn’t at full strength either, likely due to the damage she had sustained.

"So, what do we do? The power of the ember has weakened. We won’t last long at this rate."

The situation was already dire.

The ember’s heat, which had been suppressing Skadia’s power, was under attack and diminishing rapidly.

"Can’t we just rekindle the ember?"

"You scrawny bastard. How do you plan to do that? If it were that easy, we wouldn’t be standing here, would we?"

"There is a way, actually."

As Hargran predictably tried to undercut Karami’s suggestion, Torvar, unusually, agreed with him.

"The Magmar Ember grows from the passion and soul of dwarves. If we rekindle it the same way, we can reignite the flame."

Wulbram asked, "And how exactly do we do that, Torvar?"

"There’s only one way to do it—the thing dwarves do best."

"What dwarves do best...?"

"Hammering, of course."

Karami gave the correct answer, and Torvar nodded in agreement.

"Every blacksmith needs to return to their forge and begin forging. Their passion will flow through the ley lines and reach Magmar’s Heart, allowing us to rekindle the ember."

"But isn’t that too dangerous? The dragon’s still flying around out there...."

"It’s dangerous, yes. But I know no other way."

These words carried weight, coming from none other than Torvar, the Ember Keeper. No one knew Magmar’s Heart better than he did.

Every single dwarf hiding in the bunkers would need to be gathered and ordered to forge as if nothing were amiss, even with a dragon wreaking havoc above.

Boom!

The deafening sound of impact turned all their heads.

One of the giant constructs battling Skadia had collapsed. The weakening ember had left them vulnerable to the cold seeping into their joints, making it impossible to hold out.

"There’s no time left."

"Understood. Let’s gather the people."

"Wait. Let’s say we revive the ember—what then? At best, we’re back to square one, maybe even worse off."

"Exactly. I’m barely holding on after that last attack. If the dragon breathes again, I won’t be able to stop it."

"......."

Hargran and Roksar hit the nail on the head.

No one could argue against their grim reality. Without a way to defeat Skadia, all their efforts would be nothing more than a futile struggle.

"That part will be handled by me and ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) Miss Ashies."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"I have my methods."

The claim was baseless.

Moreover, the speaker was a human slave trader, not a dwarf.

There wasn’t a shred of reason to trust him.

"Damn it. Of all the people, we’re supposed to trust you?"

"I feel the same."

"Haha, but what choice do we have? Is there anyone better suited to the task?"

"And that’s what pisses me off even more. This goddamned reality where we have no choice but to agree."

No one voiced objections.

The decision was unanimous.

"Let’s move quickly, then."

"First, we need to convince the others."

"Urghdar and I will handle that."

"Understood. Wulbram will take care of things underground. Torvar, stay here with your troublesome daughter. The rest of us will help Hergen buy some time."

"Got it."

The dwarves, moving as one, swiftly formulated their plan and began acting on it without delay.

"We should get moving too."

Even if the dwarves did their part, the true protagonist of this Snow White tale would still be Snow White herself. The key to defeating Skadia lay with Ashies.

"What was it like fighting her?"

"She’s strong. And magic doesn’t work on her...."

"She’s essentially a god of ice, after all."

But so was Ashies.

Blessed by Skadia, Ashies had immense resistance to frost—so much so that it might as well have been immunity.

That was the vulnerability.

Even now, in the middle of this battle, Skadia’s blessing still protected Ashies. This could only mean one thing: Skadia cared deeply for her.

Skadia’s unrequited love for Ashies.

A devoted, obsessive dragon.

And there’s only one way to deal with a lovesick fool.

"Nothing beats a good NTR."