The Freed Slaves Are Obsessed-Chapter 173: A Flower Blooming in Winter (4)

The battle in Doomheim was fierce.

The dwarves’ forces were led by two massive golems, with smaller ones following closely behind.

Though called “small,” these golems were intricate marvels of engineering, filled with complex magical circuits that allowed them to unleash barrages of spells with a simple infusion of mana.

The massive golems, on the other hand, couldn’t wield magic, but their overwhelming weight and strength dominated the battlefield. Even in a contest of raw power, they held their own against Skadia.

The sight of the golem army alone was enough to inspire awe and courage. Behind them stood three Meisters.

Among them, Hargran, the Berserker’s Hammer, was the most battle-hardened.

True to his title, Hargran reveled in the fight. He swung his hammer with wild abandon, shattering chunks of ice and deflecting Skadia’s tail strikes.

Wulbram supported Hargran’s frenzy.

He awakened the souls within the dwarven weapons, each one performing its role as if it were alive.

Shields formed an improvised ceiling for the city, protecting it from falling debris and Skadia’s attacks.

Bows nocked arrows autonomously and unleashed volleys without a single wielder. Other weapons relentlessly harassed Skadia, keeping her distracted.

Among these were not only ordinary weapons but also masterpieces forged by the finest artisans—some rivaling or even surpassing the Celestial Oath Karami had gifted to Mirabel.

Storms raged, lightning struck, and flames spewed forth.

Even cursed weapons, typically forbidden, were unleashed. They proved surprisingly effective, engraving countless curses upon Skadia.

Although they couldn’t inflict critical damage, their effects were noticeable.

“Fools who don’t know their place!”

Skadia roared in fury.

Her claws gleamed with a cold blue light as she swung her massive forelimb.

Three sharp slashes, akin to sword energy, shot toward Hargran, who had just lost his footing while breaking through ice.

“Gah!”

Hargran hastily raised his hammer to guard, bracing himself for the impact.

As the slashes closed in—

Shhhrack!

“Huh?”

Hargran froze in surprise.

He was flung backward, crashing into the ground.

A protective barrier of Ashies’s ice had intervened.

Although the barrier didn’t absorb all the impact, it was far better than taking a direct hit.

“Urgh... Thank you, Princess.”

Ashies, confirming Hargran’s safety, redirected her focus back to Skadia.

The situation was dire.

If not for the battle taking place in Doomheim, the scales of power would have tipped long ago.

Magmar’s Heart was the reason.

The forge’s searing heat significantly reduced the potency of Skadia’s frost.

And Skadia knew it.

She realized that these insignificant mortals were only managing to hold their ground because of that infernal forge.

Her target changed.

Magmar’s Heart.

The dwarves’ spiritual pillar.

Skadia didn’t resort to magic.

She used a simple, devastating body slam.

“Is she...?”

“She’s going for Magmar’s Heart! We have to stop her!”

But stopping her was impossible.

The massive golems, for all their size and strength, moved too slowly.

Shields were raised, ice walls constructed, but nothing could counter the sheer weight of Skadia’s charge.

Shattering every obstacle in her path, Skadia collided with the forge.

*****

Meanwhile, Ferca climbed the underground stairs.

Her steps were hurried, her heart pounding.

She had to know.

She had to ask Torvar why he had been home that day.

Was Karami’s claim true?

She needed answers now.

“Wha...?”

Emerging from the bunker, Ferca froze at the sight before her.

The landscape had drastically changed since she’d last seen it.

Dust clouds hung thick in the air.

The once-impenetrable walls were crumbled, and debris was scattered everywhere.

Above all, it was cold.

Doomheim, always warm year-round, now felt frigid.

It didn’t take long to realize why.

The centerpiece of Doomheim, its underground lighthouse—Magmar’s Heart—had fallen.

And with it, so had Torvar, its guardian.

“Dad...?”

Ferca’s face turned pale as she realized what this meant.

She ran up the ruined stairs toward the core chamber, slipping and stumbling over patches of frost along the way.

Finally, she reached the entrance to the core chamber.

The metal walls, made of the same material as the bunker, hadn’t shattered but were bent and dented.

Ferca’s heart sank.

She banged on the warped metal door.

“Dad? Dad!”

“Move aside.”

“Huh?”

“Step back. I’m opening the door.”

“Oh...”

Ferca hesitated before stepping back.

The door groaned loudly as it swung open, revealing Torvar.

“D-Dad? Are you... a ghost?”

“A ghost? What a blazing, ungrateful daughter I’ve raised. If Magmar’s Heart is gone, I don’t think I’m needed anymore.”

Torvar’s familiar tone, complete with his sarcastic jabs, confirmed it was really him.

He was alive, though his forehead bled, and his body bore numerous injuries.

“What happened? What about the dragon?”

“That beast rammed its head into the building like an idiot. But what are you doing here?”

“Well, I...”

“Let me guess, you couldn’t sit still and came running like a fool. This isn’t a place for you. Go back.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going back to relight the forge.”

As Torvar turned to leave, Ferca grabbed his sleeve. He glanced down at her hand, clutching his tattered clothes.

“Don’t go. Please.”

“What?”

“The flames are out. Can’t you see the ice? The forge has lost its power. Going back won’t change anything—you’ll only get yourself killed.”

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“Do you even know what you’re saying...?”

“I do. I know.”

Ferca cut him off sharply.

“But so what if the forge dies? We can reignite it. But if you die, that’s it. You can’t come back. Are you telling me this forge is more important than your life?”

“...”

Torvar’s expression turned icy.

Ferca’s words had denied the very life he’d devoted to protecting the flame.

She knew it too.

This wasn’t what she wanted to say.

These weren’t the words she meant to speak.

But standing in front of Torvar, her mouth refused to follow her intentions. The words came out wrong, as they always did.

Torvar sighed, turning his back to her.

“Enough nonsense. Go back. This isn’t a playground.”

Ferca clenched her fists, aware that she was the problem. Yet a part of her resented Torvar for being so unyielding. She was only worried about him, but he refused to listen.

That resentment fueled her stubbornness. If Torvar wouldn’t give in, neither would she. She plopped down on the ground.

“I’m not leaving until you do.”

“What?”

“If something happens to me, it’s because of your stubbornness.”

“You little—!”

Before Torvar could scold her—

Boom!

A tremor shook the ground, causing both of them to stumble.

Through a crack in the building, they could see outside.

Skadia had her maw wide open.

Air was being sucked in like a black hole, distorting the space around her.

It was the prelude to a dragon’s breath attack.

Her target: Magmar’s Heart.

She intended to extinguish the flame entirely.

“Get out of here! Now!”

“No! I’m not leaving unless you come too!”

“Damn it...”

Time was running out.

Ferca was being completely unreasonable.

And it was already too late to retreat to the bunker.

The dragon’s breath would engulf all of Doomheim.

There was nowhere safe.

Except for one place.

“Ugh?”

Torvar grabbed Ferca roughly and pushed her toward the core chamber where the flame once burned. She stumbled and fell inside.

“Ah!”

Before she could get up, Torvar slammed the door shut. Pressing his body against the warped metal, he used all his strength to force it closed, wedging it into place.

The door sealed the core chamber, cutting it off °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° from the outside.

“Dad! Dad!”

Ferca scrambled to her feet and tried to push the door open, but it didn’t budge. Torvar was holding it firmly from the outside.

“Open this door!”

“Do you think I’d open it just because you’re yelling? Stop whining and stay by the flame! It’s hot enough to protect you.”

“Then you come inside too!”

“You fool. The door’s broken. Someone has to hold it shut from out here.”

“Dad!”

Torvar ignored her desperate pleas.

A thought surfaced in his mind.

“If parents don’t say it, children will never know.”

Of all things, it was that bastard’s words haunting him now.

But perhaps he wasn’t wrong.

Even now, his fool of a daughter didn’t understand a parent’s heart.

Torvar muttered softly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Dad...?”

“What parent doesn’t love their child, you idiot?”

He pictured Ferca behind the door.

She was probably wide-eyed, blinking like a fool.

And soon enough—

“Dad! Dad!”

She’d be screaming his name like a child.

Torvar let out a bitter chuckle.

“That’s better. Sounds way nicer than your lousy attempts at being tough.”

“Daaaad!”

By then, Skadia had finished charging her breath attack.

A blinding light filled the air.

A beam of icy blue shot forward.

Facing the dragon’s breath, Torvar struck a pose. If he was going to become an ice sculpture, he’d do it in style—a dwarf’s skewed sense of craftsmanship to the bitter end.

The icy breath closed in on Magmar’s Heart.

“Here comes the shield!”

A booming voice echoed as a dwarf stepped in front of Torvar.

A massive, earthen-colored shield manifested in the air ahead.

Crash!

The breath collided with the shield, sending shards of ice and debris flying in all directions.

Torvar’s eyes widened as he blinked in disbelief.

“You call that a pose, friend? Surely that’s not what you consider style? Where’s your spirit? Where’s your pride?”

“Roksar?”

It was Roksar, the Earth’s Shield.

The indomitable bulwark of the dwarves.

The steadfast guardian of the ground.

Roksar had arrived.