The warehouse echoed with the low hum of the Heart of the Deep Forge, its light washing the cracked walls in pale white and molten gold.
Dren’s eyes lingered on Zane only for a mont before snapping back to Mira. There was no warmth in them now—only disdain.
"Why are you doing this, Dren...?" Mira asked again, her voice trembling despite herself.
For a split second, sothing twisted in Dren’s expression.
Then it hardened.
"Shut up," he snapped. "You were always like this. Pathetic. Always in my way."
Mira flinched as if struck.
Dren took a step forward, the Heart drifting with him, its barrier gliding effortlessly through the air.
"It was you," he continued, voice sharp and venomous, "who ruined him. You changed the old man."
Grom’s grip on his hamr tightened, knuckles whitening.
"A human," Dren went on, sneering. "A pathetic human girl who thought she could stand shoulder to shoulder with dwarves. With ."
Mira’s vision blurred. Tears welled up despite her trying to hold them back.
"No matter how hard you try," Dren said coldly, "you’ll always be inferior. You don’t belong here. You never did."
The words sank deep.
Mira’s shoulders trembled, her fingers curling into her sleeves as she stared at the floor, breathing uneven.
Grom roared, mana surging violently. "Enough, Dren—!"
The warehouse shook as Grom roared and swung again.
The hamr beca a blur—overhead strikes, sweeping arcs, brutal downward crashes. Each blow landed with the force of an earthquake. Shockwaves tore through the floor, steel beams bending and snapping, walls collapsing inward as dust and debris rained from above.
But the barrier didn’t even ripple.
White light flared calmly around Dren, smooth and flawless, as if Grom’s rage was nothing more than wind brushing glass.
The hamr rebounded again.
Grom caught it, muscles screaming, veins bulging along his arms—and struck again.
And again.
And again.
Useless.
Inside the barrier, Dren laughed.
"It’s pointless, Master," he said, voice relaxed, almost gentle. "You of all people should understand."
He lifted the Heart of the Deep Forge slightly. Infinite mana pulsed within it, steady and absolute.
"There is nothing in this world that can pierce this barrier."
Grom froze, chest heaving.
"...What more do you want from ?" he demanded, voice raw.
Dren’s smile sharpened.
"Just the final ingredient," he said softly.
He pointed to the Heart.
"Then—"
His finger shifted.
It pointed at Grom.
"—your living essence."
The words hit like a blade.
Grom’s eyes widened. "What...?"
Dren’s expression twisted with fanatic hunger.
"I’m going to take it."
He snapped his fingers.
Once.
Nothing happened.
The air remained still. No chains. No drain. No reaction from the Heart.
Dren frowned.
He snapped again.
Silence.
"...What?" His eyes darted to the Heart, then to Grom. "That’s not—"
He snapped a third ti, irritation creeping into his voice.
"This isn’t supposed to happen."
For the first ti, uncertainty cracked through his confidence.
Zane sighed.
A quiet, almost bored sound.
"You’re waiting for the parasite," Zane said calmly.
Dren stiffened.
Zane stepped forward, boots crunching over broken stone. His eyes were cold now—sharp, dissecting.
"The one you planted inside him. The one that drains, binds, and extracts essence on command."
Zane tilted his head.
"But that thing died."
Dren’s pupils shrank.
"No," he snapped. "That’s impossible. I felt it—"
Zane interrupted, voice flat.
"You felt a replica."
The words landed like a hamr.
"I replaced it," Zane continued. "Copied its structure. Its signal. Its leash."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"But it answers to ."
Dren’s breathing quickened.
"You think," Zane went on, "I’d let you walk around with a remote trigger inside soone I’m standing next to?"
The barrier flickered.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Mira gasped.
Grom stared at Zane, realization dawning slowly.
Dren’s face twisted.
Fear burned away—replaced by rage.
"Kill them!" he roared.
The shadows answered.
From the fractured walls, from beneath collapsed beams, from corners where light should have existed but didn’t—figures rose. One after another. Masks slick and black, blades already drawn, killing intent flooding the warehouse like a tide.
They moved as one.
Mira reacted first.
Mana flared around her body as she stepped back, hands clenching instinctively. She clenched her teeth, eyes sharp despite the tremor in her heart.
"Master—!"
"I’m fine!" Grom bellowed, hamr slamming into the ground.
The impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, crushing two assassins mid-leap and flinging others into the shattered walls. He charged forward without hesitation, every swing of his hamr caving masks, armor, bones—raw fury poured into each strike.
The warehouse beca a battlefield.
Steel clashed. Mana exploded. Shadows died screaming.
And in the middle of it all—
Zane stood still.
An assassin lunged at him from behind, blade aid for the neck.
He never reached it.
The attacker split cleanly in half, a thin red line appearing before the body slid apart and collapsed.
Another ca from the side.
Cut.
Another from above.
Cut.
No motion. No casting. No visible strike.
Anyone who stepped within a certain distance of Zane simply... ceased to exist in one piece.
Blood painted the floor around him, yet his coat remained untouched.
Zane’s gaze never left Dren.
Inside the white barrier, Dren’s hands flew across the Heart of the Deep Forge, runes flaring brighter, pressure rings spinning faster. Sweat ran down his face as he forced mana into unstable alignnts.
"Just—just a little more..." he muttered, teeth clenched.
The barrier pulsed violently, responding to his desperation.
Mira noticed it.
"Zane!" she shouted while punching assassin back with a burst of mana . "That thing—!"
"I know," Zane replied calmly.
Another body fell at his feet.
Dren glanced up—and saw it.
Zane wasn’t fighting.
He was waiting.
The realization sent a chill through Dren’s spine.
But it was too late to stop now.
"I’ll finish it!" Dren snarled, forcing more mana into the Heart. "I just need ti!"
Zane stepped forward.
The pressure in the warehouse spiked instantly.
Inside the barrier, Dren’s pupils shrank. His confidence didn’t break—but panic slipped through the cracks. The Heart of the Deep Forge reacted to it, its runes flaring violently as if echoing his agitation.
"Tch—!"
Without hesitation, Dren thrust the artifact forward.
A beam of pure mana erupted from the Heart.
Not fire.
Not lightning.
Not light or shadow.
Just raw, condensed mana—violent, formless, overwhelming.
The kind of energy that crushed spells instead of clashing with them.
It tore through the air straight toward Mira and Grom.
Grom’s eyes widened.
"Oh no—!"
He moved on instinct, stepping in front of Mira, hamr raised, but even he knew—
This wasn’t sothing he could block.
The beam was about to swallow them—
And then—
Zane was there.
He appeared between them and the beam as if the distance never existed. One step. One motion. One raised hand.
The mana wave hit his palm.
And stopped.
Not dispersed or
deflected.
Stopped.
The beam scread as it compressed against his hand, space around it warping under the pressure. The warehouse walls cracked outward, glass and tal shrieking as the excess force bled away—but the mana itself went nowhere.
Zane’s coat fluttered slightly.
That was all.
He looked at the writhing beam pressed against his palm and tilted his head, mildly impressed.
"...How about that," he said.
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