Gumarak's hands shook as they gripped the cold stone floor.
Tears fell silently, dripping between his knuckles and disappearing into the dust.
"This… this is all my fault…"
His voice was hoarse—no longer that of a chieftain, no longer the proud warlord of the Dwarves.
"If I hadn't claid this damn thing… if I had just let it stay buried…
I thought I could control it. Thought I could use its power to protect us."
He gritted his teeth and punched the ground once, his gauntlet cracking the stone.
"But now—now our borders are burning. My people are dying. All because I was too proud to ask for help. Too proud to be weak."
The voice inside his head whispered again, almost gleeful:
"You were never strong enough. But you could be."
"Devour more. Beco more."
"Take everything. Even your regrets."
"NO!!" Gumarak roared.
He slamd his fist against the side of his head, shutting the voice out for just a mont.
Then he looked up.
His mind drifted to Garius.
The man who refused power.
The one who sealed the celestials with his bare hands and blade.
The man who always stood at the front—even when everyone else faltered.
"Garius…" Gumarak whispered.
"You were right. You always were."
He stood slowly, every breath heavy with regret.
"General!" he barked, his voice hoarse but gaining strength.
The nearby officer stepped forward imdiately.
"Yes, Chieftain!"
"Write a letter.
To King Lioness of the Beastkin Kingdom. Request military aid imdiately."
"Use the fastest ssenger. And have a second copy prepared to send to Garius of Armand."
"Seal them both with my mark."
"We… can't survive this alone."
The general hesitated for just a mont, then saluted, pounding a fist to his chest.
"As you command, Chieftain!"
As the soldier rushed off, Gumarak slumped against a nearby pillar.
"Forgive , my people… if I fall, at least let fall buying you ti."
And deep within his soul, the celestial snarled.
"You'll regret this."
But Gumarak, for the first ti, didn't respond.
He sat quietly by the war table, his heavy breaths the only sound in the great hall.
The flas of the sconces flickered along the stone walls, casting tired shadows on his weathered face.
His generals had left.
The ssengers were already riding out with the letters.
And for a mont… he was just a man.
Not a chieftain.
Not a vessel.
Just Gumarak.
He slowly reached for a worn goblet of ale, but his hand stopped halfway.
The trembling returned.
"Damn it all…"
He clenched his fist.
"When Garius sees this letter, he's going to nag to death.
Like a damn parent finding out his kid burned the workshop down."
Gumarak smirked bitterly.
"He'll start with that deep sigh. Then the judgntal stare.
Then a lecture."
His face twisted in embarrassnt.
"And then—then Rasdingen's going to find out."
He groaned loudly.
"That damn mountain of a dwarf will punch straight into the wall and laugh like a drunken mule.
'You what? Claid a celestial?! Bahahahahaha!'"
He could already hear it—Rasdingen's booming voice, followed by a punch heavy enough to shake the mountain.
"Stupid Gumarak! You always think with your beard, not your head!"
He leaned back, covering his face with one hand.
"I'm going to be the joke of Armand for a decade…"
But then… his expression softened.
He looked at the towering war axe leaning against the wall.
Then at the map.
Then at the empty cups and abandoned helts.
He didn't care anymore.
Not about the nagging.
Not about the bruises.
Not about the sha.
"I don't care if they mock ."
"I don't care if they punch , scold , or drag through the mud."
"As long as my people live."
He stood once more.
And whispered quietly—almost like a prayer.
"Garius… Rasdingen… please. Co before it's too late."
"Chieftain!!"
The war room doors burst open. A scout officer, breathing hard, rushed in with a scroll tightly clutched in his hand.
"What now!?" Gumarak snapped, the fatigue in his voice barely hiding the fury bubbling beneath it.
The scout hesitated, swallowing hard.
"Our eastern town—the one guarding the main road to the Beastkin Kingdom…"
Gumarak's brow furrowed.
"What about it?"
"It's fallen.
King Edmund's forces have taken it."
"WHAT!!??"
The shout echoed like thunder through the stone hall.
Gumarak surged from his seat, snatching the scroll from the scout and tearing it open. His eyes darted over the parchnt, disbelief slowly shifting into grim realization.
"That route was our only secure channel for sending a call to Lioness…"
He slamd the scroll onto the table, making tankards jump.
"Shit!! SHIT!!! SHIT!!!"
Another officer burst in, face pale.
"Chieftain—further reports just ca from our hawk handlers."
"We tried sending Dwarven Hawks to fly over the mountain pass toward the Beastkin border."
Gumarak turned sharply.
"And!?"
The officer swallowed again.
"Intercepted. All of them."
"They say it's the Royal Wyvern Force.
Estimated five hundred riders patrolling the sky."
"…Five hundred…?"
Gumarak's voice dropped to almost a whisper.
"A royal force of flying mages… they're cutting us off completely."
He stumbled back a step, his knuckles turning white on the edge of the table.
"They're isolating us.
Surrounding us on land… choking us from the sky…"
He looked at the map, his hand hovering over the last open route—now marked red.
"Those bastards planned this all along…"
His voice cracked.
"We can't send ssengers.
We can't call for help."
"This... is a siege. An invisible, silent siege."
"Send fifty of our best riders—no, the best people."
Gumarak jabbed a thick finger against the map, tracing a winding path through the forested terrain and cliff passes.
"Make them go by land. Horses first. Then walk if they must. Keep to the shadows. Stay unseen."
The officer frowned.
"Chieftain… that'll take too long. Weeks, maybe—"
"I know."
Gumarak's voice cut like steel.
"But it's better than sitting here waiting to be strangled by silence."
"Even one ssage getting through could save our kingdom."
He turned toward his generals.
"Pull back our main troops—slowly."
"Not all at once. Make it seem like we're holding ground."
"But reinforce the capital."
"Move civilians behind the third wall."
"Ration the food. Prepare the ergency vaults."
He pointed to the map again.
"Fortify these three strongholds."
"Here." Tap.
"Here." Tap.
"And here." Firm tap.
**"If they fall, we're done."
"Build temporary camps here, here, and here. Smaller. Mobile."
"Use the ravines. The cave systems. Anything that hides us."
An officer stepped forward with a report scroll.
"Chieftain, the Giant Hawk Unit—currently one hundred in total."
Gumarak nodded without hesitation.
"Split them. Ten for each fort."
"I want them on standby, ready to fly decoys or last-minute evacuation signals.
If we lose the sky, we lose everything."
He leaned forward, both hands planted on the table.
"We don't have much ti."
"So we buy what little we can."
( End Of Chapter )
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