Amber Sword

Whether it’s Vorn or our world, on the battlefields of ancient and modern times, there are always those unnoticed corners. Like a blind spot forgotten by the gaze of the gods, no matter how fierce the fights there are, or whatever strange things happen, within the thought realm of the Commanders of the warring sides, it seems like a vacuum, and no one bothers to give it a second glance. At Ambeser fortress’s east gate—this fortress was built around 1400 in the era of Chaos; a fortress styled like the Elves, yet since its inception, it seems blessed, or cursed. Every war seems to pass it by, even when Eck faced the Barbarians, the mountain people Shamin Min leader ’Razor’ Xihad bypassed the open east four times to attack Ambeser’s South Gate. Later, during the first invasion of Madara into the Dark Tide, the Bone Lord once again spared the ancient fortress. Even today, the Princess Faction and the Northern Nobles agree as if prearranged that Hafeimei Fortress is uninvolved, even though the demon invasion turned the whole city into boiling chaos, the northeast corner remains still as death. For a fortress built to face wars, it’s hard to say if this is a good or bad fortune.

Yet after seven hundred years of weathering, the fortress, almost untouched by the flames of war, does seem a bit aged. Moss has begun to grow on the ramparts, and the walls, under the wind and rain, have turned into a heavy black-green that holds a sense of profound history. The only difference between it and other cities is the three-hundred-meter stretch of wall without any scars or obvious signs of repair. The fortress now has no human soldiers; instead, it’s crowded with noisy harpies perched on the ramparts or circling in the heavy rain—though the Harbor Guard withdrew voluntarily, Hafeimei Fortress luckily missed another opportunity for battle.

Harpies watch from the sky as a large pit, over a hundred meters in diameter, gradually forms below. Hundreds of Cave Dwellers dig in what might be called a construction site but looks more like a muddy pit, or rather, a struggle. In such stormy weather, undertaking any task is unwise, and especially bad are digging and war. Though the Cave Dwellers set up many structures under the command of Jogen Digan underground Magicians to stabilize the walls, collapses still occur. Fortunately, the lives of Cave Dwellers are of little consequence to Lord Stark; he cares little whether one, a hundred, or even a thousand Cave Dwellers perish—they make no difference to him except for how much Gold Coin he spends. Cave Dwellers breed rapidly in Jogen Digan’s underground, often requiring only a small piece of land to produce a whole army. As long as he can unearth that item within the deadline, any losses can be compensated.

From time to time, unsettling sensations emanate from underground—a feeling that ordinary people often regard as a premonition of bad fortune. But Wizards, well-versed in Magic, can quickly discern that these are ripples caused by the flow of Dark Magic beneath the ground, eroding the Order World’s lines—of course, to ordinary people this is certainly not a good thing. However, to Stark, it feels like a box of gold below emanating the rich aroma akin to fine wine. No, not just a box, but a whole hundred boxes, even using the language of those demons from the River of Sulfur to describe it: a hundred boxes of gold couldn’t match the value of that thing, a value beyond the foolish Mortal World’s perception. Though demons shun the shortsightedness of Mortals, Stark equally disdains the demons’ value system.

An invaluable treasure that can’t be measured with Gold Coin? Doesn’t that make it worthless? He shook his large bull head with disdain. Worthless things, Stark looks down on them.

But this time, he must’ve found the right place; Stark could sniff out the ’stench’ of Dark Magic even with his nose, and couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Those Cave Dwellers under him had indeed given him a lot of trouble, and actually, the collapses at the bottom of the pit were continuous. Cave Dwellers had to spend time relocating more of their kin’s corpses up to prevent them from becoming part of the burial below, like right now, when another commotion arose shortly after. What’s the matter? Another collapse? Can’t they just do their job properly? Minotaur Lord Stark never considers the fact that it never rains in Jogen Digan, resolving sternly that if the Cave Dwellers trouble him again, he will surely teach them a deep lesson by throwing them into his favorite Maze—a Maze where even the clever and beautiful Medusa Lady Laismekka failed to find an exit.