Chapter 143: Chapter 143: The Gates of Terragard

​Two days after their decision to detour, the obsidian trees of the Forest of Lamentation finally began to thin out.

​The sulfurous mists that had accompanied them for nearly a week gradually dissipated, replaced by a dry, crisp air that felt foreign yet refreshing in Dayat’s lungs. He took a deep, steady breath, savoring the stark contrast. Outside the Jeep’s windows, the sky finally revealed itself—marking the first time in days they had seen a true shade of blue above their heads.

​Dayat glanced at Dola sitting beside him. She was staring out the window with a calm expression, though the corners of her lips were curled into a faint, satisfied smile.

​”Happy?” Dayat asked.

​Dola nodded slowly. “The air is different here. Pristine. My database records the Terragard region as having the second-best air quality in Aethera, surpassed only by Verdia.”

​”Second? So Verdia is still better?”

​”Verdia possesses the natural filtration of the World Tree. But here…” Dola inhaled deeply once more. “There is a subtle metallic aftertaste. Likely due to the extensive mining activities.”

​Dayat smiled, seeing Dola’s quiet enthusiasm. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

​Dola turned to him, her eyes shimmering. “Is Master Dayat being attentive to my feelings?”

​”Well, yeah. You are my wife, after all.”

​”Ah~” Dola leaned in, resting her head on Dayat’s shoulder. “Such a dutiful husband.”

​Dayat just shook his head with a fond smirk, his hands remaining steady on the wheel.

​They pulled over at the roadside half an hour later. Dayat stepped out to stretch his cramped limbs. Before them lay a vast expanse of golden grasslands, where herds of creatures resembling deer—but with four-branched antlers and bluish fur—grazed peacefully. In the distance, the Terragard mountains rose majestically, their peaks shrouded in a crown of white clouds.

​”This… this view is worlds apart from that forest,” Dayat murmured.

​Dola stood beside him, taking in the vista. “The fauna here is distinct as well. Those aren’t ordinary deer—they are Moss-Back Stags. Their meat is tough, but their fur is highly sought after for crafting premium cloaks.”

​”Is there anything you don’t know?”

​”I am the Maiden of Reason, Master Dayat. Knowledge is—” Dola cut herself off, then smiled. “Never mind. I don’t need to explain the obvious.”

​Dayat let out a small laugh. “Back in. Let’s keep moving.”

​The Jeep surged forward again, leaving fresh tracks across the grassland. As they drew closer to the mountains, signs of civilization became more frequent: stone-carved signposts, wagons pulled by massive Iron-Oxen, and the occasional group of adventurers traveling on foot or horseback.

​After about two hours, a colossal stone wall began to materialize in the distance.

​The Gates of Terragard.

​Dayat hit the brakes. He stepped out and closed his eyes for a moment. The green veins beneath his skin pulsed with a dim light, and slowly, the Jeep behind him began to destabilize—transforming into shimmering purple particles that swirled in the air before vanishing like mist under the sun.

​Dola stepped up to him and reached for his hand. Their fingers intertwined perfectly.

​”Holding hands?” Dayat asked.

​”We are husband and wife. It is only natural,” Dola replied with a sweet smile.

​Dayat didn’t argue. They walked hand-in-hand toward the gates, joining a short queue of adventurers from various races. There were humans, several Dwarves, an Elf with a sour expression, and a bipedal furred creature resembling a wolf whose race Dayat couldn’t identify.

​”Adventurers,” Dola whispered. “They have likely just returned from missions in the Forest of Lamentation—or at least the borderlands.”

​”How can you tell?”

​”Their equipment. It’s caked in mud, moss-stained, and in some cases, tattered. Classic hallmarks of the forest.”

​Dayat nodded in admiration. His wife truly was extraordinary.

​Upon reaching the front of the gate, two Dwarven guards stood clad in dark metallic plate armor. They were stout and muscular, with thick beards flowing down to their chests and sharp eyes that scrutinized every traveler.

​One of them, possessing a particularly red beard, raised a hand. “Halt. State your identity and purpose.”

​Dayat replied casually. “Hidayat Nur Mustafidl. I’m here to see Master Ironbeard.”

​The Dwarf furrowed his brow. “See the King? You think the King can be summoned on a whim? There are procedures to follow, boy—”

​His eyes suddenly locked onto Dayat’s back. There, the silver hilt of an intricately carved sword was visible. Silver Thorn.

​The Dwarf froze.

​”You…” His tone shifted instantly. “Are you the Hero who assisted us during the Void Breach a few months ago?”

​Dayat offered a thin smile. “Yeah. But ’Hero’ is a bit of an exaggeration. I just helped out a little.”

​The Dwarf glanced at his comrade, and both immediately swung the massive gates wide open. “Enter! We shall send word to the palace at once!”

​”I can find my own way, thanks.” Dayat stepped forward, Dola still walking snugly at his side.

​Before entering, Dola glanced back at the guard and gave him a charming smile. “Thank you~” Her voice was soft, but her eyes—as only Dayat knew—carried a hint of mischief.

​The Dwarf looked utterly spellbound. “Y-you’re welcome, My Lady.”

​Once they were inside, Dola whispered to Dayat. “Back when I was a rigid AI, these Dwarves only respected you for your precise calculations. Now, they are mesmerized by me. Quite an improvement, wouldn’t you say?”

​Dayat snorted. “You’re such a tease, Dola.”

​”Only for the right audience.”

​The sun began to dip below the horizon as they stepped into the city of Bolhart.

​The city was different from what Dayat had envisioned. It wasn’t a subterranean city like Karak-Zorn, but a surface settlement featuring distinct Dwarven architecture: sturdy stone houses with clay tile roofs, crystal lamps emitting a warm glow at every corner, and the tantalizing aroma of spiced grilled meats.

​And it was crowded. Incredibly crowded.

​Adventurers of all races packed the streets. Dayat saw human parties in full plate, Dwarves carrying mining gear, and even a few Elves who appeared to be mercenaries. The sounds of haggling at the market, the rhythmic thud of footsteps, and the clanging of hammers from small smithies blended into a single, vibrant melody of life.

​”Busy place,” Dayat remarked.

​”A frontier city,” Dola explained. “A hub for adventurers to rest before or after missions into the Forest of Lamentation.”

​Many citizens turned their heads as they passed. Several Dwarven women blushed upon seeing Dayat, while others—mostly the men—were captivated by Dola. Her silver hair, electric blue eyes, and aura of effortless elegance were impossible to ignore.

​Dola returned every stare with a smile, occasionally waving. Dayat could only shake his head.

​”Are you showing off?”

​”I am not showing off. I am promoting my husband. Look, they are all envious of you.”

​”I didn’t ask for a promotion.”

​”But I enjoy it.”

​Dayat stopped in front of an elderly Dwarf sitting beside a stall of roasted meat. “Excuse me, sir. Where’s the nearest inn?”

​The Dwarf pointed north. “The Glowing Hearth. Best in the city. Follow the main road; you can’t miss the sign with the crystal lights.”

​”Thanks.”

​They walked on, passing a large building with a sign that read “Bolhart Adventurers’ Guild.” Dayat glanced at it briefly—perhaps another time—and continued on.

​The Glowing Hearth was exactly as its name suggested. A two-story building of white stone with large windows radiating warm crystal light. From within, the muffled sounds of chatter and laughter could be heard.

​Dayat pushed the door open, Dola entering beside him.

​The receptionist was a Dwarven woman with short, curly red hair and a professional smile. Her eyes widened slightly upon seeing Dola, but she remained composed.

​”Good evening. Looking for a room?”

​”Yes, one room,” Dayat replied.

​The woman checked a large ledger in front of her. “For one night, the price is—” She looked up, and her gaze caught the silver hilt on Dayat’s back. Silver Thorn.

​Silence.

​Her face instantly lit up. “You… you’re the Hero who taught the precision calculations to our technicians a few months ago!”

​Dayat scratched his head awkwardly. “Ah, well… yes.”

​”No need to pay! It’s on the house!” The woman stood up and bowed deeply. “Our King has issued a decree: should the Hero return to Terragard, he is to be served with the highest honors!”

​Dayat glanced at Dola. His wife was smiling triumphantly, her eyes dancing with mischief. “See, Husband? Your sword is worth more than gold.”

​”Do you really enjoy seeing me this awkward?”

​”Immensely.”

​The Dwarven woman handed them the key to a room on the second floor. “The finest room for the finest guest! Please, if you need anything at all, just call for me—my name is Helga.”

​”Thanks, Helga.”

​The room was luxurious—at least by Dwarven standards. A massive bed with carved wooden posts, a window overlooking the mountains, a small fireplace already crackling with warmth, and a private bath with running hot water.

​Dayat immediately flopped onto the mattress. “Finally… I can actually lie down on a real bed.”

​Dola sat beside him, letting out a soft chuckle. “Tired?”

​”Exhausted and relieved. A week in the forest, sleeping in a car… I’m finally realizing how good a mattress feels.”

​”Would Master Dayat like a massage?”

​Dayat looked at her suspiciously. “You know how to massage?”

​”I can calculate the exact pressure points. The effect will feel like a week’s worth of reflexology.” Dola smiled sweetly. “But there might be a reward involved.”

​”What kind of reward?”

​Dola leaned in, her face just inches from his. “Take a guess.”

​Dayat felt his face heat up. “Dola…”

​”I’m only joking.” Dola pulled back, laughing. “But if Master Dayat wants to be serious, I am also prepared.”

​”You’re too much…” Dayat sighed, though he couldn’t hide his grin.

​They lay side by side, staring up at the wooden ceiling. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, warming the room.

​”Are we proceeding to Karak-Zorn tomorrow?” Dola asked.

​”Yeah. We’ll take the train, according to the plan. It’s safer than manifesting my own car—it would be too conspicuous inside the mountain tunnels.”

​”Agreed.”

​A brief silence followed.

​”Aren’t you worried?” Dayat asked suddenly. “About Master Ironbeard. Maybe he’s changed, maybe he—”

​”No,” Dola interrupted. “I have calculated it. Master Ironbeard is an individual who deeply values knowledge. You gave him the gift of precision that transformed their craftsmanship. He will welcome you with open arms.”

​”I hope you’re right.”

​”I am always right.” Dola turned her head to look at Dayat. “About calculations, at least. About feelings? I might be wrong on occasion. But on this, I am certain.”

​Dayat smiled. “Thanks, Dola.”

​”For what?”

​”For sticking with me. Through the forest, the monsters… through everything.”

​Dola was quiet for a moment. Then she scooted closer, resting her head on Dayat’s chest. “I will always stay with Master Dayat. Wherever you go. For as long as we exist.”

​Dayat gently stroked her silver hair. “I believe you.”

​Outside, the night wind whistled, carrying the scent of mountains and iron. Inside the room, two souls—a former clerk from Jakarta and a former goddess of destruction—rested together.

​Tomorrow, the journey to the heart of Terragard would begin.

​But for tonight, there was only warmth.

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