Chapter 145: Chapter 145: Toward Karak-Zorn (2)

As they approached the mountain pass, the trees grew denser. The air turned colder, forcing Dayat to pull his jacket tighter. In the distance, a colossal stone wall began to loom. The entrance to the Terragard mountains.

The queue was quite long. Adventurers, merchants, and caravans waited their turn for inspection. Dayat cut the engine, and they joined the line.

“This is going to take a while,” Dayat complained.

“Be patient.” Dola patted his thigh. “This is the gate to the capital. Security is bound to be tight.”

The guards here were different from those in Bolhart. They wore superior armor—likely the Enchanted-Gold of the Earth-Shielders, or at least elite troops. Their posture was rigid, their movements disciplined.

When it was their turn, a Dwarf with a thick beard and piercing eyes approached. “Identity and purpose?”

Dayat stepped down, reached for the hilt of Silver Thorn on his back, and revealed the blade slightly. “Hidayat Nur Mustafidl. Heading to Karak-Zorn.”

The Dwarf froze. His eyes widened, and he immediately snapped into a salute. “My apologies, Sir! I did not know! Please, enter! Our King will surely be pleased to hear of your arrival!”

Without further questioning, they were ushered through. The massive gate swung open, revealing a vast tunnel leading deep into the mountain.

Dola whispered to Dayat, “Your magic sword worked again.”

“Are you jealous?”

“No.” Dola smiled. “I’m proud.”

Karak-Loden

The moment they passed through the tunnel and entered the mountain interior, Dayat was instantly awestruck.

The walls of the cavernous hall soared high, carved with giant crystal lamps that radiated a warm glow in every direction. Stone buildings rose on both sides, some reaching dozens of meters in height, connected by stone bridges spanning deep chasms. The sound of steam engines echoed from various directions, mingling with the tramp of thousands of feet, the chatter of merchants, and the occasional roar of a mount.

“Unbelievable,” Dayat whispered. “Karak-Zorn was cool, but this is just as impressive.”

Dola scanned the area, her eyes moving rapidly. “Karak-Loden. A transit city before the capital. A distribution hub for minerals and a resting place for merchants.”

“Have you seen the data on this place?”

“I have.” Dola nodded. “But seeing it in person is much more impressive.”

They walked down the bustling main street. Dwarves hurried about with clipboards and measuring tools. A few humans and Elves were also visible—likely adventurers or traders. The atmosphere was chaotic, yet organized.

“Let’s find information about the train first,” Dayat said.

“Agreed. Taking the train is safer than manifesting our own vehicle inside the mountain.”

They asked a passing Dwarf and were directed to a large building with a sign that read: “Karak-Loden Merchant Union—Mineral Distribution Center.” The building was made of polished black stone, with thick glass windows and double doors made of ironwood.

Inside, the atmosphere was frantic. Dwarven merchants bustled about, some sitting at wooden tables waiting their turn. One officer was recording entries into a ledger while another weighed stacks of minerals.

Dayat approached the reception desk. Behind it sat an old Dwarf with thin white hair and thick glasses perched on the tip of his nose. His name—according to the desk plate—was Grimm Stonebeard.

“Excuse me, Sir,” Dayat greeted politely.

Grimm looked up, his eyes squinting as he examined Dayat from head to toe. “What do you need, lad? Looking to register for trade? Sell minerals? Or just asking for directions?”

“I wanted to ask about the train to Karak-Zorn. When is the next departure?”

Grimm let out a long sigh and opened a massive ledger. The pages were filled with scrawled numbers and notes. “To Karak-Zorn, eh… Hmm, as luck would have it, there’s a trade convoy sending minerals in two days. They usually accept passengers to tag along, mostly for extra security.”

“Can we join?”

“You can, if you pay.” Grimm gave Dayat a calculating look. “But you don’t look like a wealthy merchant. Your clothes… strange style. That black jacket. You’re not from around here, are you?”

Dayat offered a faint smile. He reached for the hilt of Silver Thorn on his back, revealing it just enough. “Is this sufficient?”

Grimm froze. The glasses on the tip of his nose nearly slipped off. His hands fumbled on the desk, searching for something to grip.

“W-wait… that… is that Silver Thorn?” His voice trembled. “The legendary blade from the Era of the Seven Kingdoms War?”

“It is.”

“Are you… the Hero who assisted us during the Void Breach? The one who taught precision math to our technicians?”

“Yes.”

Grimm immediately stood up and bowed so deeply his head nearly hit the desk. “Forgive me, forgive me! I had no idea! Please, Sir! Of course you can join! Free of charge! I will arrange the best spot for you in the convoy!”

Dola, who had been silent, whispered to Dayat, “Your magic sword is truly remarkable.”

Dayat only gave an awkward smile. “Thanks, Master Grimm. I’ll wait for two days.”

“Understood, Sir! I will notify you early that morning! The convoy leaves from the west!”

They left the Merchant Union. Dola glanced at Dayat with a playful smirk. “So, where to now, my famous husband?”

“Find an inn.” Dayat sighed. “Anywhere we can sleep. I don’t have money, so let’s look for something simple.”

They walked through the narrow streets of Karak-Loden, passing workshops still in operation, bars beginning to fill, and weapon shops displaying swords and axes in their windows.

After half an hour, they found one—a small inn with a weathered wooden sign that read: “The Sleeping Pickaxe.” The building was modest, its paint peeling in places, but the lamp in front was still lit.

“One room?” asked the innkeeper—an old Dwarven woman with grey hair tied back.

“One,” Dayat replied. “We are husband and wife.”

The old Dwarf eyed Dola for a moment, then shrugged. “Two coins a night.”

“We… don’t have any money.”

The Dwarf frowned. “Are you joking? Staying here without coin?”

Dayat showed her Silver Thorn. The Dwarf froze, and her expression shifted instantly.

“Oh… oh! My apologies, my apologies! Please, stay for free! I am truly sorry!” She began bowing repeatedly.

They entered the room. It was simple—just a wooden bed, a small wardrobe, and a table. But the mattress was soft, the sheets clean, and there was a thick blanket.

“A simple room,” Dola commented, sitting on the bed. “But clean.”

They spent their two days in Karak-Loden resting and occasionally sightseeing.

On the first day, they toured the city. Dola pointed out several interesting sights—a massive workshop where Dwarven technicians worked, a market where merchants from various races traded, and a small bar where adventurers hung out.

In that bar, Dayat tried to gather information about Brassvale. He sat in a corner, ordered a drink—a Dwarven ale that tasted somewhat bitter—and listened to the conversations around him.

“I heard the Inquisition is getting more aggressive,” a human adventurer at the next table said.

“Yeah. They’re looking for anyone associated with the Maiden’s envoys.”

“Dammit. Lucky we’ve never been to Brassvale.”

Dayat listened, his face expressionless. Dola, sitting beside him, only gave a thin smile.

“No concrete information,” Dola whispered. “Just rumors.”

“Yeah. But at least we know they’re still searching.”

That night, in the inn room, Dola lay beside Dayat. The Mana oil lamp in the corner dimmed, creating a warm atmosphere.

“Would you like a massage tonight?” Dola asked suddenly.

Dayat turned to her. “Are you serious?”

“I can do it. I told you, I have the data.”

“But—”

“I’m only joking.” Dola chuckled, then pressed closer to Dayat. “Go to sleep, Husband. We have a train to catch tomorrow.”

Dayat stroked her silver hair. “Thanks, Dola.”

“For what?”

“For sticking with me. For driving. For… everything.”

Dola was quiet for a moment. Then she whispered, “I will always stay with you. Wherever you go. For as long as we exist.”

The night passed peacefully.

The next morning, they woke up early. The sun—or at least the simulated light within the mountain—had not yet appeared. But they were ready, gear packed, and headed to the Merchant Union.

Grimm Stonebeard was already waiting with a wide grin. “Good morning, Master Hero! The convoy is ready! Please follow me!”

They walked to the convoy assembly area. Four massive carts were ready. Two were pulled by Stone Drakes—giant reptilian creatures with grey scales and glowing red eyes. The other two were pulled by Iron-Oxen, mechanical beasts powered by crystals.

“This is the convoy,” Grimm explained. “They’re delivering minerals to Karak-Zorn. The journey takes about three days, depending on conditions. You can ride in the third cart—it’s for passengers.”

Dayat observed the adventurers who would be guarding them. There were ten in total—a mix of humans, Dwarves, and one Elf. They were checking gear, sharpening weapons, and speaking in low tones.

“Thank you, Master Grimm.”

“My pleasure, Sir!” Grimm bowed. “May your journey be smooth!”

Dayat and Dola boarded the third cart. Inside, there were already several other passengers—small-time merchants joining the convoy. They stared at Dayat and Dola with curiosity, but no one asked any questions.

The convoy began to move. Iron-rimmed wooden wheels creaked against the stone road. The crack of a whip echoed, followed by the deep roar of a Stone Drake.

“It’s starting,” Dayat muttered.

Dola rested her head on his shoulder. “A new journey begins.”

Before them, a dark tunnel stretched out, swallowing the convoy as they ventured deeper into the heart of the mountain. The adventure to Karak-Zorn had truly begun.

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