Darvish and my father both tensed at the same time.
The creatures were getting closer.
Everyone could hear the digging now, claws and bodies tearing through packed earth somewhere to our left. The sound scraped along my spine. They positioned themselves in front of me without a word, forming a wall of steel and resolve, ready to face whatever was forcing its way through the mountain.
The tunnel we stood in was empty. Old, age-rotted timber strained beneath the mountain’s weight, beams groaning as if protesting their continued existence. No dwarves remained down here. No help was coming.
I could not even see the golem guide anymore.
“Father, uhhh… what should I do?” I asked, my voice betraying me despite my effort to sound steady.
“Just stay still, my boy,” my father replied. There was an unexpected enthusiasm in his tone, almost eager. “Darvy and I do not wield these weapons for show.”
With nothing else to do, I drew my twin blades. I held them the way my mother had drilled into me day after day, stance firm, grip steady. The digging grew louder. Whatever was coming was close.
My father’s axe began to glow.
A vibrant pale blue light crawled across the blade as crackling lightning traced its edges. His armor followed, then his boots, all of it glowing the same electric hue as condensed energy coated him in a thin, shimmering sheen of plasma.
Normally, changing electricity into plasma requires such an immense voltage that it ionizes the surrounding gas. That is basic science. In this world, though, the process seemed effortless. Mana interference and manipulation bypassed what should have been impossible barriers.
I doubted anyone here understood the science behind it. They probably believed Mana alone was responsible. From what I could tell, Mana acted as a facilitator, easing what would otherwise be an absurdly complex transition.
That realization sparked excitement.
If my otherworldly scientific knowledge could influence Mana behavior, then maybe I could experiment. Maybe I could develop new mana-infused technolo—
Oh shit.
They burst through the earth.
I stumbled backward as Father and Darvish snapped into motion, weapons already drawn. The creatures tore free of ancient soil and collapsed into view.
They were massive worm-like things, nearly three meters long. No legs, but each had two thick arms ending in three razor-sharp claws. At the front of their bodies sat two small, glowing purple eyes above a gaping mouth filled with overlapping rows of teeth. A living meat grinder.
Black and purple liquid oozed from every orifice. Thick drool spilled from their jaws, sizzling as it hit the ground.
Acidic drool. Perfect.
No one spoke.
Sir Darvish planted his foot hard enough to shake loose pebbles. His leather armor creaked under the force as he swung his spear in a wide horizontal arc. He was far too distant to strike the creatures directly.
That was not his intention.
His spear glowed a rustic brown, and the ground beneath it responded.
Earth surged upward, mimicking his swing. A hardened missile of dirt and stone erupted forward, slamming into the first two creatures.
The impact sounded like wet mud being slapped against a wall.
The first worm’s head exploded. Black-purple blood sprayed outward, hissing and burning wherever it landed. The projectile punched through it and struck the second creature, tearing deep but not quite killing it.
That was when my father moved.
A thunderous clap echoed through the tunnel. The support beams shuddered violently. Blue streaks scorched the ground where my father had been standing, his footsteps burned into the dirt.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
I could not even track his movement.
One moment he was beside me. The next, the second creature collapsed, convulsing, its body charred black and smoking.
Even caught off guard, even injured, it never stood a chance.
“Darvy, protect Lance,” my father shouted. “The last one is Tier Four.”
My eyes widened.
Before I could say anything, Sir Darvish jogged back to me and slammed his fists together. The ground trembled. A dome of earth and stone rose around us, sealing us inside.
“How could you leave Father?” I shouted, anger flaring as panic followed close behind. “What are you doing?”
“I follow your father’s orders, Sir Lance,” Darvish replied calmly. “And besides, your father is much stronger than you think.”
His relaxed tone did nothing to ease my worry.
I had no way to stop him.
Outside the dome, my father stood alone.
The final creature slithered free of the hole left behind by the others. It was larger, thicker, its body warped and swollen with corruption.
“Speak, worm,” my father said coldly. “Where did you come into contact with this corruption?”
As a Keeper and a Tier Five, he held privileges others did not. One of those was knowledge.
The Keepers of the North’s Frost Wall had held back enemies most people did not even know existed for centuries.
He invoked the system.
SYSTEM IDENTIFICATION
[ Corrupted Bile Spitter ]
Rank: Tier 4
Class: Bile Spitter
Type: Corrupted Earthen slug
Role: Ambush Assassin
Traits: Acidic Spit. Corrupted Aura (weak), Slash Abilities and increased Dig skills.
“It has been hundreds of years since corruption reached this far into the mainland,” my father muttered. “What the hell is going on?”
The creature did not answer. It could not. There was no intelligence left within it.
My father charged.
The worm spat a glowing purple mass from its mouth, a crude attempt at an attack. My father vanished in a flash of lightning.
ARC STEP.
Sparks marked where he had been. He reappeared high above the creature, lightning mana condensing along the edge of his axe.
He brought it down in a vertical slash.
The worm split cleanly in half. A wave of plasma tore outward, carving a burning scar into the stone floor beneath it.
My father walked over the remains, grimacing as the acidic blood hissed against the ground.
“What the hell is the Guardian doing, not notifying us of this?” he muttered. “Do the dwarves even know?”
He shook his head sharply.
“Come out, you two. We need to make haste.”
The dome dissolved.
Sir Darvish looked bored. I looked anything but.
“Are you alright, Father?” I asked. Inside the dome, all I had heard was a single thunderous clap and the hiss of electricity. My imagination had filled in everything else.
“Yes,” he said, resting his axe on his back. “We must leave these tunnels and find the Guardian. There are matters I must discuss with him.”
We jogged onward, Father leading, me in the middle, Darvish guarding the rear. The smell of ozone clung to him, sharp and biting.
The tunnel brightened ahead.
Finally, we emerged onto a mountain ledge.
Cold air flooded my lungs, pure and frigid. I gasped, my chest burning as I took it in. The view stole my breath.
We were close to the peak.
Below us sprawled our growing town. I could see the great tree on our estate grounds, the massive stone walls guarding the settlement, and beyond them the green forest creeping ever closer to the northern border.
It was a terrifying vantage point. If an enemy reached this height, the damage they could inflict would be catastrophic.
Father spoke. “We will camp here for a few hours. We have traveled for a day and a half without rest. The next climb will be brutal. Darvish, start a fire.”
A day and a half.
It felt like only hours.
Before Darvish could move, the air shifted.
Mana stirred violently.
“Everyone close together. Now,” Father barked.
I drew my blades instantly. Whatever this was, it was not a monster.
The wind howled. My father’s hair stood on end.
So did mine.
Reality twisted.
The mountain vanished beneath our feet. Color spiraled inward, collapsing into blinding white. A low hum filled my ears. Breathing became impossible. My body felt frozen and burning all at once.
I tried to scream.
My mouth snapped shut painfully.
“None of that, dear boy,” a voice said lazily. “I can barely tolerate Mirium speaking. I do not need a child screaming as well.”
I blinked furiously.
My father and Darvish were kneeling.
Before them stood a colossal snow leopard.
Fifteen meters tall. Its paws alone could shade a house. Lightning danced within its eyes, constellations swirling in their depths. It stood atop the highest peak of the Northern Wall, arcs of power rippling across its body, its tail thrumming with restrained force.
This had to be the Guardian of the North.
“Keeper Lars Loren, Baron of Knighhelm’s Frost Wall, greets the Guardian,” my father said.
The leopard regarded us calmly. “Humans are always so tense. I apologize for the sudden summons. My retainer informed me of your ascent. Your Keeper token allowed me to locate you.”
Its gaze shifted to me.
“My interest, however, lies with the boy. Lightning-blessed, with frost affinity compatibility. Rare beyond measure. Such potential may serve Silara well. Or threaten it.”
I dropped to my knees, eyes fixed on the ground.
“Siruis, you old fucking cat,” a new voice snapped, sharp and clear. “You are terrifying the skin off that poor baby.”
Above us, perched upon an ancient frost-covered tree, rested a massive avian figure. Snow-white feathers shimmered like falling ice, beautiful and lethal. Her eyes shone with white and gold light.
“That is Mirium,” the leopard said mildly. “My retainer. And my only equal along the Frost Wall.”
Mana bent toward them. Drawn, desperate.
I finally understood.
These were not just guardians.
They were pillars of the world itself.
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