Amidst the ruins of Alkhemia, a brand-new palace was rising at an astonishing pace.

The desert dwarves truly were masters of construction. Though the palace appeared to have been carved entirely from stone, it was in fact shaped by magic. Desert dwarf mages possessed near-unmatched control over rock and sand; they had completed the palace's main structure within three days, achieving a perfect balance between durability and artistry.

Hoffmann Ironfist stood some distance away, watching the palace change by the day. Turning to Heki Stone beside him, he said, "What a shame. We just don't have enough time. Give it another half a year, and this would make a fine new royal palace."

Heki Stone replied, "Well, who knows? This war with the elves feels abnormal. They aren't short on land. Alkhemia might very well end up in dwarf hands after the peace talks."

Hoffmann Ironfist snorted. "From the very start, you've said that the elven campaign was suspicious. More intel from that friend of yours? But you always refuse to tell me any more than that."

Heki Stone hurriedly explained, "I'm not hiding anything on purpose. He didn't tell me either. That old fox knows I'm on your side, so he keeps me completely in the dark. Still, he did promise he'd do his best to ensure the dwarves get what they want and bring this war to an end as quickly as possible."

"And you believe him?" Hoffmann asked.

Heki hesitated, then nodded. "I think he's trustworthy."

Hoffmann fell silent for a moment, then smiled. "If you trust him, then I won't doubt him either. But listen, old friend, you should still remind him of one thing. If he wants to play the mediator, he has to eliminate any potential variables. This business with the hell worshipers can't continue. If there's another ambush on either the elves or dwarves, who's going to be held responsible?"

Heki felt a pang of guilt. He had been careless and forgotten to warn Ambrose about the matter. Otherwise, the elves might never have walked into that trap.

"Don't worry," he said. "I've already warned him. He's seen firsthand how troublesome those hell worshipers are. He'll handle it."

Hoffmann patted Heki on the shoulder. "Good. Then I'll head back. I need to report to His Majesty."

"Go on. Once the new royal city is finished, let's have a drink."

After parting with his old friend, Hoffmann Ironfist entered the newly constructed palace.

A secret chamber had been prepared for long-distance communication.

Hoffmann stepped in, activated the protective barrier to block all external interference, and then activated the magic circle for communications.

Moments later, an aged face appeared within the array.

Hoffmann Ironfist knelt respectfully before the Dwarf King and reported, "Your Majesty, the negotiations have been rescheduled. They will take place in two days."

The Dwarf King seemed barely able to keep his eyes open. In a weak, rasping voice, he said, "Are the elves completely fine? They're already ready to negotiate again?"

"Yes," Hoffmann replied. "They did fall into an ambush, but they were saved by that lich. We underestimated his strength. He is nothing like the ‘weakest legendary' the rumors would suggest."

"Useless trash!" the king snarled. His agitation triggered a violent coughing fit, and it took him quite some time to catch his breath again.

"Hoffmann, can't you even handle something this trivial? You've been useless ever since you lost that arm! How do you expect to negotiate with the elves like this? What leverage do we have left?! If Lyon passes through the desert barrier and we fail to seize Alkhemia, the kingdom will be done for! If that happens, you'll be the one who brought the kingdom to ruin!"

The king grew more hysterical by the second. He coughed harder and harder until blood stained his lips.

Hoffmann dared not speak. He simply knelt, head lowered.

After a long while, the king finally seemed to grow exhausted. He waved a trembling hand weakly. "The future of the dwarves... is in your hands... Think carefully... very carefully..."

The connection was severed. Hoffmann Ironfist did not rise. He remained kneeling, head bowed.

That way, no one could see the fury twisting his expression.

Even in this sealed chamber, he maintained absolute caution. Only after his emotions had fully settled did Hoffmann stand up.

To the outside world, Hoffmann Ironfist was a dwarven hero, the king's most trusted minister.

But only he knew the truth: the current Dwarf King was a short-tempered, irresponsible tyrant.

At least half the blame for the Lyon Empire's invasion lay with the king.

Originally, the Lyon Empire had little interest in the desert kingdom. Everyone knew the place survived by looting tombs, and the endless sands were a land of death. Seizing such territory offered Lyon no benefit whatsoever.

Years ago, the two nations had only minor friction along their shared border.

The Lyon Empire practiced human supremacy. Dwarves were not human, and desert dwarves were infamous for their foul tempers. People often joked that dwarves were born from stone: they were hard and foul-smelling.

Naturally, interactions with human supremacists were unpleasant, but they were largely limited to petty border disputes and shady merchant tricks.

But everything changed when a desert dwarf merchant accused the Lyon Empire of stealing his goods and brought a complaint directly to the Dwarf King. That merchant had been a relative of the king; without conducting even the briefest investigation, the king flew into a rage and ordered a military strike.

The sudden assault overran a Lyon border outpost. Humans were captured, and lives were lost.

That was the day the Lyon Empire formally declared war on the desert dwarves.

Even back then, Hoffmann Ironfist had sensed that something was wrong. Lyon's humans were arrogant and looked down on other races, but they worshiped the Lord of Dawn. They might discriminate against the dwarves, but they would not break their own laws merely out of prejudice.

It made no sense for the Lyon Empire to steal dwarven goods.

Most Lyon citizens valued doctrine above their own lives. A bit of merchandise would never be worth violating the teachings of the Lord of Dawn.

But at the time, Hoffmann was only a common soldier. He had no power to investigate.

Then came the full-scale war. At first, the dwarves relied on the desert terrain to bloody Lyon's forces and repel several offensives. The Dwarf King grew smug, convinced he had been right all along. Lyon couldn't defeat the dwarves. Those so-called paladin legions were nothing but useless tin cans once they reached the desert.

For a time, the entire kingdom rejoiced. Even the Lyon Empire had been beaten. The desert dwarves truly were invincible.

But the good times did not last. The Lyon Empire abandoned reckless raids and switched to a steady, methodical advance.

Once the paladins decided a cause was just, they became unstoppable.

One desert dwarf city after another fell. The Ironguard could not stop the paladin legions, and even the desert itself could no longer protect its children.

It was then that the kingdom changed course and opened its borders to large numbers of foreign immigrants. Hearing they would be fighting the Lyon Empire, many outsiders were eager to join. The kingdom's military strength improved somewhat, at least in terms of cannon fodder.

But that could hardly solve the core problem.

Even after more than a century of racial tolerance, the dwarves had merely gone from losing one city every three years to one every ten.

Worse still, mixed populations brought endless instability. Different races, cultures, diets, customs, and taboos crowded out the dwarves' own culture.

If not for constant pressure from the Lyon Empire, the dwarven kingdom would have collapsed into civil war long ago.

It was in this era of chaos that Hoffmann Ironfist distinguished himself on the battlefield, rising from a common soldier to general, and finally the King's Hand: effectively the kingdom's chancellor.

By the time Hoffmann gained the power to investigate the truth behind the original incident, however, it was already too late.

The dwarf kingdom stood on the precipice of collapse.

Lyon's borders continued to expand. Eventually, they built a new province in the desert. New paladin legions trained there; in a few more decades, they would be more adapted to the sands than the dwarves themselves.

It was then that the Dwarf King finally admitted his mistake.

He sent Hoffmann to seek peace. Reparations were acceptable. Even ceded territory could be surrendered outright. Lyon responded with a single list: the casualties from the dwarves' first invasion.

Hoffmann remembered the meeting clearly. After reading off the names, the Lyon envoy introduced himself: "My grandfather was a survivor of that attack. His family, and one of his arms, were left behind at that outpost."

At that moment, Hoffmann understood that peace was impossible. Otherwise, Lyon would never have sent a man carrying such hatred as an envoy.

Hoffmann thought Lyon extreme. Over the years, the dwarf kingdom had lost ten, even a hundred times as many lives. And yet, to Lyon, this still wasn't enough to atone for the original crime.

Any kingdoms that dared to invade Lyon and kill Lyon citizens would be met with extreme prejudice. That was the nature of the Lyon Empire's human supremacy.

Yet it was precisely this extremism that caused Lyon to be so terrifyingly united. The cost of war was enormous, but Lyon's people applauded it and were eager to give everything they had.

After visiting the Lyon Empire himself, Hoffmann knew that the war could not be won. How could anyone fight against hundreds of millions of united Lyon citizens? Their collective will was strong enough to make even gods retreat.

But when Hoffmann returned with this truth, the only thing awaiting him was the Dwarf King's abuse.

"Useless trash."

That was the king's favorite phrase. Fortunately, years of defeat had drained the old man's strength. Lately, even his insults had lacked any force.

Yet he showed no restraint. The ambush against the elves had been his idea.

Alkhemia was the dwarves' final chance. With bloodshot eyes, the dwarven king had demanded that Hoffmann seize it in its entirety. By then, Hoffmann had already deduced that the elves' campaign was abnormal and likely driven by internal problems rather than a desire for invasion in and of itself.

The king fantasized about a total elven defeat: devouring Alkhemia whole and forcing the Court of the Silver Moon to pay for the dwarves' great retreat.

Hoffmann, on his part, thought the king had gone mad.Splitting Alkhemia evenly would have been enough to give the dwarves breathing room, even if it wouldn't be ideal. Why antagonize the elves and burn their bridges too?

But he was only the King's Hand, not the king himself. Only one-third of the Ironguard answered directly to Hoffmann. The rest obeyed the king alone.

Hoffmann had no choice but to obey the king.

Because Ambrose treated the dwarves as partners while viewing the elves as potential enemies, more information flowed to the dwarves' side. Hoffmann had easily learned of the elves' route.

He had passed that intelligence to the infernal worshipers.

The House of Cerberus thrived on chaos. They wanted the peace talks to fail, and had agreed to carry out the ambush. They didn't expect Ambrose to intervene, nor for him to possess such overwhelming power. The infernal forces had been routed before they could even enact any contingency plans against Queen Catherine.

Hoffmann had urged Ambrose to deal with the hell worshipers through Heki Stone in hopes of distancing himself from the entire affair in advance. He could later claim that Ambrose's actions provoked the cultists, leading them to ambush the elves in retaliation.

Who would have known that Heki Stone would forget the matter entirely, nearly exposing Hoffmann as a result?

Now the Dwarf King was forcing him to move against the elves once more. Unwilling as he was, Hoffmann had no choice but to contact the House of Cerberus again.

The magic circle flared to life.

This time, though, the figure that appeared wasn't a member of the House of Cerberus, but rather a grotesque half-dragon.

What kind of monster was this? Another hellspawn created by the House of Cerberus?

The half-dragon interrupted before Hoffmann could speak. "So you're the desert dwarf. You're here again to find someone to deal with the elves, aren't you?"