Late at night, a massive carriage departed from the newly built castle, racing toward a distant destination.

Even with its speed enhanced with magic, reaching the site would require three hours of nonstop travel.

The Dwarven Ironguard didn't quite understand why they were delivering gold to someone in the dead of night. It was hard for them not to feel resentful. Some even thought that the King's Hand, having lost an arm, was no longer anything like the valiant general who was once a terror on the battlefield.

Ever since the chaos in Alkhemia began, it seemed the dwarves had been handing out gold day after day. So much had been given away, yet no obvious benefits had come of it.

Of course, these thoughts stayed firmly in their heads. No one dared voice them aloud.

Inside the carriage, the captain of the personal guard, disguised as Hoffmann Ironfist through a Shapeshifting spell, was also puzzled.

He understood the need for gold to grease the wheels. If the dwarves wished to avoid war and stabilize their rule over their newly acquired territory, distributing benefits was inevitable.

But why deliver the gold at night? Sneaking around was one thing, but having him assume his superior's appearance to handle the exchange made it feel distinctly improper, as if they were doing something illicit.

Despite his doubts, the captain was absolutely loyal to Hoffmann Ironfist. Orders were orders. He would carry them out.

The carriage sped along, buoyed by antigravity magic. But roughly halfway through the journey, the warhorses suddenly went berserk. They skidded to a violent halt, straining wildly against the reins as if trying to break free.

Something was very wrong. These were rigorously trained warhorses, animals that would not panic even when facing a phalanx.

There had to be something terrifying nearby to provoke such a reaction.

But before the dwarves could investigate, hellfire erupted all around the carriage.

The flames roared upward, forming towering walls that sealed the dwarves inside. Space itself twisted; all spatial magic became unusable. A Hellgate had been opened. From the inferno, howling, shrieking monsters poured forth, surging toward the dwarves like a tidal wave.

The dwarves did not understand why they had been ambushed, but they reacted instantly. Ironguard shields locked together as an arcane energy barrier flared to life, holding the monsters at bay.

The barrier looked thin and transparent, but it held firm against the impact of thousands of demons.

No matter how the lesser dretches clawed at it, they could not leave so much as a scratch.

Defense was the Dwarven Ironguard's greatest strength, and they were particularly experienced in holding out under attack.

The guard captain initially wanted to lead a charge to break through the encirclement of hellfire, only to remember that he was disguised as Hoffmann Ironfist. If he fought personally, he would expose the ruse. He could only shout out orders instead. "Kill the monsters! Break out to the east!"

The Ironguard roared in response, raising their heavy shields and pushing eastward into the demonic tide.

Each step was accompanied by a thunderous shout. Their heavy footfalls carried immense force as they forged forward with the arcane barrier before them, carving a path through the sea of demons.

Many of the dretches were crushed between the dwarves and their own kin, then slowly ground into shapeless pulp.

This was a classic dwarven tactic: deploy an overwhelmingly strong defensive barrier and use it to apply pressure on the enemy until they were destroyed.

Of course, defense wasn't their only means of offense.

With the frontlines protected, the dwarven mages in the rear began casting freely.

Fireballs flew, blasting demons sky-high. Bolts of lightning followed, scorching them into blackened husks.

There were fewer than fifty dwarves in this unit, yet they had already slain hundreds of demons in their initial salvo.

At this rate, they would soon break through the ring of hellfire. Once beyond the zone of spatial distortion, a single mass teleport spell would grant them escape.

But an ambush of this scale would never rely on mere dretches.

As expected, balors entered the fray. Several towering figures of flame blocked the dwarves' path, wielding blazing whips and greatswords as they battered the arcane barrier with frenzied attacks.

Violent collisions of energy exploded across the shield in bursts of light that were brighter than fireworks.

Each blow from a balor made the barrier shudder violently, forcing the Ironguard to halt and devote all their strength to maintaining it.

The dwarven mages focused their fire on the balors, trying to bring them down.

But balors possessed extraordinary magical resistance. Even a relentless barrage of ice spells would struggle to kill them quickly. Once the formation stopped moving, demonic attacks came from all sides in a dense, unending swarm.

The arcane barrier, clearly nearing its limit, flickered constantly.

As the situation deteriorated, the guard captain realized he could no longer maintain the disguise. He raised his warhammer high and smashed it into the ground.

Outside the barrier, the earth shook violently. Countless earthen spikes erupted from the ground, impaling demons where they stood.

One balor failed to evade in time. Its feet were pierced clean through as it let out a howl of agony.

The captain himself was a legendary-tier combatant, an arcane knight.

"Buff me. I'll handle the balors!"

At his command, the mages unleashed every enhancement they had. Bull's Strength, Cat's Grace, Owl's Wisdom, Stoneskin, Bless—every conceivable buff was piled onto him until he shone like a multicolored beacon.

He then raised his hammer and summoned his magical mount, a massive black mountain goat.

Larger than an ox, the goat leapt over the arcane barrier in a single bound, carrying the captain straight into the demon ranks.

The moment they landed, the captain and his mount blurred. Three identical illusions appeared beside them.

Unable to distinguish the captain from his clones, the demons' attacks mostly struck empty air.

Meanwhile, the captain waded into the heart of the enemy ranks. The warhammer, weighing dozens of pounds, seemed weightless in his hands. He swung it so fast that the air itself cracked with sonic booms.

A legendary warrior, buffed by all manner of enhancements, could swing his weapon faster than the speed of sound.

Nor was his spellcasting weak. Fighting with hammer in one hand and magic in the other, the arcane knight hurled Thunder Waves, Burning Hands, and other area spells en masse. Any demon that came too close was blasted away. He tore a bloody path through the horde alone.

Advancing rapidly, the captain soon reached the balors.

The disparity in size was obvious. Without his mount, he would not even reach a balor's knee.

But size did not equal strength. Shielded by layers of magical protection, he was completely protected against the balors' fiery auras, which produced little more than harmless sparks.

The captain hurled his warhammer. It streaked like a meteor and smashed into a balor's skull. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

The blow was devastatingly precise. With a dull crack, a massive fissure split open at the balor's brow. Molten blood poured forth.

But that was only the beginning. The instant the hammer struck, it whistled back into the captain's hand. This was the arcane knight's exclusive ability: weapon binding.

Arcane knights could bind weapons to themselves. A bound weapon would never be lost; even when thrown, it would return instantly to its master's grasp.

This technique gave rise to an entire school of combat, of which the guard captain was clearly a master.

His throws were not only precise but even carried numerous special effects. On the second throw, the balor's head exploded outright, leaving it no chance to regenerate.

After killing one balor, he spun and hurled the hammer at another. He tugged the reins to send the black goat leaping to the side, narrowly avoiding a lash from a flaming whip.

Just like that, he carved back and forth through the demon ranks. Occasional attacks struck him, but with dozens of buffs layered over his body, he ignored the damage completely. His hammer throws felled balors two strikes at a time. At this rate, the dwarves would be freed in no time.

But it was not to be.

Just as the second balor fell, three beams of crimson light descended from the sky.

Three arcane detonations slammed into the captain with pinpoint accuracy. His body convulsed as several of his protective spells shattered at once.

His enemy was no ordinary caster. Those spells had been imbued with legendary power.

The captain looked up instinctively. In the dim sky, a winged shadow swept past.

"A... dragon?!"

The draconic silhouette dove toward him, jaws opening as it unleashed a searing breath of fire.

The captain barely managed to raise his shield. Crackling sounds filled the air as more protective magic shattered, and even the black goat beneath him was grievously burned.

The captain hurled his hammer once more, swift as a falling star, striking the dragon's head and sending showers of sparks across its dense scales.

The dragon roared and surged upward, beating its wings as it rained arcane detonations down on him in rapid succession.

Blast after blast slammed into the captain, and he began to falter.

Throwing the hammer was useless. Even if it could break the sound barrier, the dragon was too high up in the air. By the time the hammer reached it, its momentum had already bled away. Several throws were easily evaded outright.

The captain was forced into a desperate struggle, forced to endure the assault with no way to strike back.

As the dragon tied him down, the rest of the dwarves were pushed to the brink.

The endless host of demons steadily ground down the arcane barrier. Once it collapsed, every dwarf would be slaughtered. The captain could do nothing about it. An arcane knight had spells, yes, but not the breadth or flexibility of a true mage.

The dragon in the sky perfectly countered him. If this dragged on, defeat was inevitable.

And so the captain made a ruthless decision. He abandoned the other dwarves and prepared to break through alone.

At the very least, someone had to make it back to deliver a warning.