Carion's heavy and determined figure, like a stubborn piece of iron repeatedly hammered by time and sorrow, was imprinted on the retinas of Lain and Selya. The dwarf did not look back; he merely kept his head down and used his heavy battle axe to hack through the twisted, entangled vines ahead. Every step was taken with extraordinary force as if he intended to tread through the filthy ground beneath his feet. The sweet, cloying stench of decay wafting in the air, along with the scarcely perceptible whispers, seemed to retreat slightly in deference to the aura of grief and determination emanating from him.
Silence enveloped the makeshift band. Lain and Selya silently followed behind; the previous encounters and Carion's sudden burst of emotion had rendered the atmosphere exceptionally oppressive. Lain wanted to say something several times, but he was at a loss for words. Comfort? Sympathy? In the face of such overwhelming pain that could crush anyone, any words appeared feeble and inadequate. He could only grip his sword hilt tighter and remain ever vigilant, temporarily keeping this weight buried in his heart.
Selya continued to walk in the middle, her hood casting shadows over her expression. Yet Lain sensed that the aura of coldness surrounding her now fluctuated with a barely discernible ripple. Perhaps she could not fully comprehend the specific feeling of the dwarf's loss of his homeland, but the despair of being swallowed by darkness with no hope of reversing it—and the relentless struggle to survive for the sake of some belief—might echo with hidden sentiments deep within her.
They trudged on through the increasingly eerie and bizarre Corrupted Forest for nearly another hour. As the sky gradually darkened, sickly green patches moved between the trees, elongating the grotesque shadows of the twisted trees. The air became even colder and stickier, and the whispers seemed to consolidate into invisible tendrils, trying to crawl into their minds.
"Up ahead… it seems there's something," Carion's voice broke the silence, tinged with fatigue but laced with vigilance. He stopped and listened intently, his thick beard trembling slightly.
Lain and Selya also halted immediately, holding their breath. Besides the rustling of strange leaves stirred by the wind and the occasional hoarse howl of some unknown creature in the distance, there appeared to be a… extremely faint and unusual vibration coming from beneath the ground.
"It's not a living creature," Selya said in her icy blue tone as she scanned ahead, "it's the residual fluctuation of energy. Very ancient, and very faint."
Carion nodded and used his battle axe to push aside a massive, rotten, palm-like fungus blocking the way. "Follow me, and mind your step."
The three turned toward the source of the energy fluctuation and walked for about another fifteen minutes until the view opened up suddenly. An area of relative openness appeared deep within the forest, its ground relatively flat and paved with some broken stone slabs that still bore traces of artificial workmanship, unlike the surrounding twisted vegetation. In the center of the clearing stood several collapsed stone walls and broken stone pillars—the remnants of an ancient ruin.
The scale of the ruins was not large; it appeared to have been a small outpost or an annex of a shrine. Most of the structure had collapsed, covered by black-purple vines and moss, but several core walls still vaguely maintained their outlines, constructed of enormous, unpolished stone blocks in a rugged and primitive style—neither matching the refined design of the Starborne nor the strict structure of the dwarves, exuding an aura that was more primal and ancient.
"This place... should let us rest for a bit," Carion remarked as he surveyed the surroundings, his taut nerves easing slightly. He walked over to a relatively intact stone wall and wiped away the moss with his gloved hand, revealing vague engravings beneath. These were simple and ancient geometric patterns that seemed to contain some special significance.
"Lucky us, these stones are still rather solid," he said as he tapped on the wall with the butt of his axe, producing a dull echo. "At the very least, they can block the wind and offer some cover."
With that, Carion began to move about. Like an indefatigable worker bee, he circled the ruins carefully inspecting every inch. He cleared away the bushes near the base of the wall, which might have hidden poisonous insects or small corrupted creatures, and used the rope he had brought along with a few relatively intact stones to reinforce the only remaining opening that resembled an entrance. He then retrieved some fine metal powder shimmering with a faint glow from his backpack and sprinkled it at several key corners of the ruins.
Lain watched Carion arrange the defenses with skill and order, and he couldn't help but feel a measure of admiration. Although the dwarf was rugged in appearance, his inner meticulousness was evident—especially when survival and safety were at stake, his experience and techniques far exceeded Lain's own.
Selya stood in the center of the ruins with her eyes closed slightly as if sensing the flow of energy in the place. A moment later, she opened her eyes and said to Carion, "The energy field here is relatively stable, and the corruption's erosion is rather mild. The ancient symbols on those walls seem to have a repelling effect, albeit weak."
"Hmm, ancient guardian runes," Carion replied without looking up as he inscribed something on the ground near the entrance with a sharp stone. "The most basic sort—they don't offer much offense, but they cause those mindless corrupted things to instinctively keep their distance. It'll do for now."
After finishing the engraving, he stood up and brushed the dust from his hands. A simple pattern composed of straight lines and sharp angles was left on the ground. "Alright, at least we can catch our breath for a while. We'll take turns standing guard at night."
The three of them briefly arranged the watch schedule: Carion for the first half of the night, Selya for the latter half, and Lain for the darkest period before dawn. They cleared a small area on the leeward side of the stone wall, and Carion even pulled out a small bundle of specially processed kindling from his bag—wood that produced very little smoke when burned—and lit a modest campfire. The dancing flames dispelled some of the chills, bringing a long-missed warmth and a sense of security.
Lain and Selya took out their provisions and water skins and ate in silence. Carion, meanwhile, sat by the fire and took out his weathered battle axe, carefully honing its blade with an oilstone. The dim firelight cast its glow on his weather-beaten face, and in those deep-set eyes, the pain and anger of earlier seemed to subside, replaced by focused intensity and… a nearly devout expression.
"Carion," Lain hesitated for a moment before he couldn't help but ask, "what you drew on the ground earlier, and that stone you used against the corrupted wolves—are those… dwarf rune magic?"
Carion paused his motion of honing the blade and looked up at Lain, seemingly surprised that he would ask. "I suppose you could call it that. Dwarf runes, they're quite different from the magic of your human mages or the Starborne." He set aside the oilstone, picked up a partially carved wooden talisman, and continued to etch it with a small knife, "We don't manipulate the elements directly; it's more like… channeling and solidifying power. We inscribe specific forces, wills, or principles onto matter through runes, thereby producing particular effects."
He raised the talisman in his hand, on which a complex symbol interweaving a shield and radiant light had been carved. "For instance, this 'Defiance Rune' is one of the basic defensive runes. When inscribed on a shield, it can slightly enhance its resilience; when carved on a talisman, it offers faint energy protection against low-level curses or impacts."
He then picked up another flat stone, upon which spiral patterns had been engraved. "This is a variant of the 'Purification Rune', similar to the one I used before, capable of dispersing or suppressing unclean forces within a small area, like shadows and corruption. But its effectiveness is limited and it requires energy activation, draining quickly."
Carion lifted his axe and pointed to the more complex patterns on its blade, which shimmered faintly. "The truly formidable runes are those that can act directly on the level of universal principles. For example, 'Armor-Breaking Runes', 'Evil-Slaying Runes', or even the higher-grade 'Sealing Runes'. In dwarf history, there were once masters who could forge city gates inscribed with the 'Everlasting Barrier', or battle axes like the 'Earth-Splitting Axe' capable of cleaving mountains in a single blow. Of course, those are mere legends now… part of the past."
"Then… can these runes completely eradicate the corruption?" Lain asked, hope flickering in his eyes.
Carion fell silent for a moment and shook his head. "Eradicate? No. Corruption… that thing is very mysterious; it's not merely dark energy, but more like a distortion and negation of existence itself. Our runes are mostly used to 'seal', 'purify', or 'expel'. Like building a dam to hold back a flood, or burning away the debris where plague thrives. They can temporarily solve the problem, but if the source remains, the flood and the plague might surge again."
He picked up a piece of material resembling obsidian and began to carefully engrave on it. "However, dwarf ingenuity is not to be underestimated. We have been researching ways to more effectively combat this force. Targeted 'Evil-Breaking Runes' or 'Soul-Calming Runes' have some effect against corrupted creatures or the undead. There are also higher-grade 'Order Runes' which are said to repair localized distortions of reality… but they require an immensely powerful energy source and medium."
Carion's actions paused as he gazed into the campfire, its flames dancing in his eyes and reflecting his complex thoughts. In the surrounding forest, sounds of strange rustlings arose one after another in the dark, rendering this small ruin like an isolated island amidst roaring waves.
The dwarf said no more, silently resuming his work. He pulled out a compact yet intricately structured portable forge and some tools from his pack, then rummaged in a corner of the ruins to find materials resembling fragments of metal ore or some special kind of clay. Using the heat of the campfire and forge, he began to clink and strike away.
His actions were focused and absorbed as if the entire world had shrunk to just him and the metal in his hands. Every strike was precise and forceful, sending sparks flying and tracing brief, brilliant streaks in the dim ruins. He was not merely repairing equipment—it was more like performing a ritual. He embedded the previously carved rune talisman onto the shaft of an arrow, securing it with a special adhesive; he applied some ground, faintly glowing mineral powder onto Lain's scabbard, forming a dull protective layer; and he even polished a few diamond-shaped throwing stones found in the ruins, etching them with simple purification runes.
As he worked, his expression would sometimes be one of deep focus, at other times a distant reverie. Lain could see that his gaze occasionally drifted off as if piercing through the stone walls of the ruin and the dark corruption of the forest, returning to a sunlit mountain kingdom filled with the clang of hammers and the sound of singing.
"…My master once said, with every strike you must carry a heart of reverence. Iron has its soul, and fire its spirit; runes are the language through which they communicate…" he muttered softly as if talking to himself or an unseen audience, "…he said that a dwarf's hammer can not only forge weapons but also protect one's homeland… protect…"
His voice choked for a moment, and his hammering paused briefly. Lain saw him close his eyes tightly, the veins on his burly neck standing out as his knuckles turned white from the grip on the hammer. After a while, he took a deep breath and swung the hammer again, though this time the sound of the blow was even heavier, laden with sorrowful oppression.
Lain watched silently, not disturbing him. He could imagine that Carion's mind was reeling with visions of Stoneheart Stronghold's downfall—the burning homeland, the distorted kin, the resounding howls, and his own... helpless despair. This pain, like worms gnawing at his very bones, devoured his soul day and night.
Carion seemed to sense Lain's gaze; he set down his work, picked up an arrow freshly made and carved with a purification rune, and handed it to Lain. "Take this, kid. Against those low-level corrupted things, it might do some good. Remember, hit their energy cores or weak points—the rune activation requires direct contact."
Lain accepted the arrow, feeling its weight; a faint energy ripple emanated from the rune. "Thank you, Carion."
Carion waved his hand dismissively and then picked up a fragment of mineral that shone with a starry, ghostly blue hue, examining it intently. "These basic materials are ultimately just a drop in the bucket," he said gravely, a trace of discontent in his tone. "To truly combat the power deep within the corruption, even… to sever the tendrils of that 'Void's Throat', we need mightier weapons and stronger runes."
He looked up and swept his gaze over Lain, finally resting on the barely healed, thin wound on his wrist from a previous battle. The skin around the wound seemed paler than elsewhere, emitting a faint, strange glow.
"Truly potent anti-corruption weapons, or a medium capable of carrying top-tier sealing or purification runes," Carion's voice grew exceptionally solemn, each word laden with immense weight, "often require the infusion of extraordinarily powerful life-force or… impeccably pure magical energy to 'awaken' and 'activate' them."
He paused, his eyes meeting Lain's once again; this time, they were as unfathomable as a deep mine. "And among all energies, there is one that is the most special, and the most effective…"
His gaze seemed to settle on Lain as if it had substance, filled with a complex and inscrutable emotion—reverence, curiosity, and even a trace of… barely perceptible greed, a longing for power and the hope of retribution.
"That is… the blood of the Starborne," Carion said slowly, his voice ringing clearly beside the crackling fire, "because of it… contains the most primal and pure starlight power to combat the shadows."
Lain's heart skipped a beat, a chill surging from his spine to the back of his head. Instinctively, he clenched his fist, as the wound on his wrist seemed to throb with pain. Carion's thoughtful gaze acted like an invisible key, suddenly unlocking the vague suspicions and unease that had long resided in Lain's heart. He remembered Selya's unusual reaction to his blood, the visions, and the backlash brought by the fallen star... so it turned out that his rare bloodline—considered a curse more than a glory by his family—harbored such a critical power?
For a moment, the air seemed to be still. Selya's downcast eyelids lifted slightly; her ice-blue eyes flickered with a complex gleam in the firelight. She glanced at Lain and then quickly averted her gaze, her fingers unconsciously tightening around her water skin.
Carion seemed to realize the weight of his words. He shifted his gaze away, picked up his hammer again, and struck a red-hot piece of metal with heavy blows that resounded like a vow upon an anvil as if to shatter the suffocating silence that had just descended.
"Don't overthink it, kid," he muttered without looking up, "I'm merely stating a fact. That's what the ancient knowledge of the dwarves records. Whether you'll make use of it, and how to use it… that's another story."
Despite his words, the seed called "implication" had already been deeply planted in Lain's heart. It filled him with an inexplicable dread, as if his very body was no longer his own but a "vessel" that harbored immense power—and might also attract endless calamities.
Silence fell once more, this time even heavier than before. Only the crackling of the campfire and Carion's rhythmic, somber hammering echoed throughout the ruins.
After a long while, Carion finally ceased his work. He distributed several makeshift pieces of equipment he had crafted to Lain and Selya, then walked to the edge of the ruins, gazing out at the pitch-black, perilous forest, and remained silent for a long time.
Just as Lain thought that Carion would remain silent indefinitely, the dwarf suddenly turned around, his face bearing an unprecedented determination and solemnity.
"Kid, and you, witch," he said as he looked at them, his voice low and forceful like a vow hammered on an anvil, "do you know why I am here? Why I've followed you into this mess?"
Lain and Selya said nothing, simply watching him in silence.
"After Stoneheart Stronghold was devoured, I managed to escape. I am one of the few survivors." Carion's voice carried repressed pain, but even more so a tempered hardness, "I watched my homeland—my kin—become that ghastly sight… and I made a vow."
He raised his right hand, rough and scarred with calluses, clenching it into a fist as if holding an invisible hammer of iron.
"Before the war hammers of my ancestors and the shattered mountains, I swore: I, Carion Iron-Forge, one of the last rune smiths of Stoneheart City, shall find a way to completely eradicate the corruption! With my own hands, I will forge a divine weapon capable of severing the cursed tendrils of that 'Void's Throat'!"
His voice resonated throughout the open ruins, marked by the distinctive stubbornness and resilience of a dwarf. The firelight reflected the burning flames in his eyes—flames of vengeance and sorrow over a lost homeland, but above all, a weighty sense of responsibility.
"This is not only for revenge," he said as he looked at Lain, his gaze sharp as a knife, "but for protection! To protect those who, like you, might still carry a spark of hope! To protect this world that has not yet been utterly devoured!"
Carion's words hammered into Lain's heart like his own iron mallet. Lain felt a surge of warmth swell in his chest, dispelling the earlier chill and panic. He saw the resolute heart behind the dwarf's rugged exterior—a heart as steadfast as a mountain. This determination, this will to fight the darkness at all costs, deeply moved him.
Yes, he was not only searching for his sister, nor solely unraveling the mysteries of his bloodline. In this world where the stars had dimmed and corruption spread, no one could stand alone. Selya struggled, Carion fought on, and he—bearing the blood of the Starborne—might indeed be that faint spark capable of igniting a wildfire.
"I understand, Carion," Lain said as he rose and walked over to the dwarf with solemnity, "I don't know what the future holds, nor what my bloodline truly signifies. But like you, I will never yield to the darkness."
Carion looked into Lain's eyes, now alight with renewed determination, and grinned, revealing a set of teeth that, though not perfectly aligned, were impressively sturdy. He clapped Lain heavily on the shoulder, the force of which nearly caused him to stagger.
"Good kid! That's more like it!" he burst out laughing, the previous gloom dissipating as his rough nature reasserted itself, "But truth be told, forging a divine weapon is a technical art—the materials, the energy, and luck must all align. And especially that 'Starborne Blood'… tsk, if it comes to that, you'd better be prepared to bleed profusely! Don't come crying later!"
Lain's mouth twitched in a brief grimace; indeed, this dwarf could not go a few sentences without a touch of irreverence. Yet this time, he did not retort, simply nodding vigorously in agreement.
Selya watched them quietly from the side, a subtle, almost undetectable curve playing at the corners of her lips beneath her hood.
As night deepened, the light of the campfire flickered among the ancient ruins. The whispers of the Corrupted Forest still lingered in the dark, but here, in this small corner jointly guarded by dwarf runes and the determination of the three, it seemed that something greater was quietly coalescing—something forged by a shared enemy and the faint hope that bound them together… an oath.
The Oath of the Iron Forge had been cast. Though the road ahead may be dark, they would walk it side by side.