The Indomitable Martial King

Repenhardt was sitting at the table, poring over documents. Suddenly, he smiled.

‘The alchemists must be quite anxious by now.’

It had been a little over two months since he had returned to the Duchy of Antares. Yet, the alchemists had not been able to lodge any complaints so far.

It was all part of his plan.

He had deliberately revealed his identity ambiguously. The rumors of his actions spread, but he left no decisive evidence, ensuring that the parties involved couldn’t say anything for certain.

As expected, the rumors that Fist King Repenhardt was protecting the non-human races were spreading more and more. Soon, even the orcs and elves living as human slaves would become aware of his existence. It was a necessary perception for him, who needed to continue gaining the cooperation of non-human races.

Meanwhile, the alchemists, though they surely had their suspicions, could not openly oppose him.

‘As long as they don’t know about the existence of the spatial portal, no matter how suspicious they are, I have a solid alibi.’

That’s why he had made a show of proving himself to the outside merchants as soon as he returned to the Duchy’s castle. Pretending to be in martial arts training, he would pierce the sky with his golden aura or deflect swords with his bare skin during sparring with knights. This would dispel any accusations of having set up a double.

Of course, they wouldn’t just sit around with mere suspicions forever. Eventually, they would take action in some manner. But for now, this was enough.

“Just avoiding a coalition attack from the humans while building up strength in the beginning is a major gain.”

With a smile on his face, Repenhardt stood up from the table and approached the window.

It was clearly autumn now, with the sky high and blue. Below, he could see the training ground reserved for Russ and Tassid. They were immersed in their training, exuding aura as usual.

The difference today was the presence of a troll with long, braided hair hanging down to its waist and blue skin.

Having finished a bout with Russ, Tassid looked at the troll and spoke.

“Whew, alright. Attila! How about you give it a go?”

“Very well, Tassid. Prepare yourself.”

Attila’s tusks, his most prominent feature, resembling ivory, were not visible as he answered. Repenhardt had used magic to hide them due to Attila’s infamous reputation as “Ivory Tusk.” The humans of the Duchy of Antares merely thought of Attila as an ordinary troll.

Tassid raised his sword and aimed it at Attila. Attila also drew his short staff and assumed a stance.

“Hup!”

“Haah!”

Tassid and Attila lunged at each other. Two servants passing by the training ground’s corridor were startled at the sight of Attila but quickly dismissed it and continued on their way.

“It seems others are finally getting used to the troll,” Repenhardt thought to himself.

Attila, having aligned himself with Repenhardt’s cause, had ultimately decided to join him. He, along with the rescued trolls, pledged their allegiance to the Duchy of Antares. While the nine rescued trolls had set up their new home in a pre-arranged forest, Attila chose to stay with Repenhardt at the Duchy’s castle.

Initially, Attila’s sudden appearance had caused quite a stir among the humans in the castle, including Karl and Azrael. After all, trolls were predominantly seen as monsters. However, over time, people began to accept his presence.

Orcs in the wild were treated as monsters by humans as well. Having already encountered various non-human races, the addition of a single troll was not particularly surprising anymore.

Repenhardt shifted his gaze. On the opposite side of the training ground, Russ and Siris were sparring intensely. Nearby, Makelin and Sillan were engaged in a heated discussion, sitting face-to-face. Since the activation of the Chloe Daiman Portal in the Gloten Mountains, Makelin had been frequently traveling between the Grand Forge and the Duchy of Antares, looking after the dwarves.

“Siris, Tassid, Attila, Makelin…”

Seeing them all gathered together again, a sense of warmth filled his heart.

“All the preparations are complete…”

Leaving the window, Repenhardt picked up the documents on the table again. The administration of the Duchy of Antares was handled perfectly by the chancellor, Karl, so there was no need for Repenhardt to involve himself. These documents were not related to the Duchy’s administration.

The papers were filled with detailed lists of large-scale orc farms, arenas, dwarf mining villages, alchemist guild branches breeding trolls, and nobles owning elf slaves across the continent.

As he reviewed the documents, Repenhardt smirked.

“Well then, it’s time to take action.”

* * *

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The sound of pickaxes echoed noisily through the dark tunnel. Wielding the pickaxes were dozens of dwarves, short in stature, with robust builds and thick beards. They were all shirtless and sweating profusely, but unlike the dwarves known for their stamina, they all looked visibly exhausted.

Behind them, a human in leather armor was shouting.

“Stop slacking off, you little ground rats!”

Crack!

A sharp whip struck the back of a staggering dwarf. Blood welled up as a welt formed.

“Ugh!”

The dwarf who was whipped let out a groan and collapsed to the ground. Other dwarves tried to help him up, but when the overseer cracked the whip again, they flinched and returned to their places.

This tunnel was an iron mine located southwest of the Setellad Mountain Range. It was managed by Viscount Kelberen, a noble of the Graim Kingdom. These dwarves were slaves of the Steelhammer clan, owned by the Viscount.

“If you want to rest, finish the job! Finish it!” the overseer bellowed, making the dwarves grit their teeth in frustration.

“Ugh…”

They had been digging without proper sleep or rest for two days straight. No matter how strong they were, they couldn’t endure it any longer.

Originally, Viscount Kelberen had not been so harsh on his slave dwarves. The trouble had started in early winter of this year when an incident occurred at Kelberen’s castle.

During a battle between Fist King Repenhardt and the Golden Knight of Graim, Repenhardt had nearly demolished Kelberen’s castle. One side of the castle wall had been completely destroyed, seven buildings had been smashed, and the garden and courtyard had been churned up like a barley field in spring. The damage was truly immense.

In order to make up for the losses, Viscount Kelberen had begun to drive the dwarves much harder than usual. It would have helped if he had accepted the relics from the Elucion ruins, but his pride had made him refuse. Normally, Eusus would have shared the relics despite the Viscount’s refusal, given the extent of the damage. But at the time, Eusus had been so shocked by his encounters with Repenhardt and Russ that he had absent-mindedly taken all the relics with him.

As a result, it was the Steelhammer clan who suffered the most.

“Damn humans…”

“Damn it…”

The dwarves, digging the earth, occasionally glanced at their human overseers with eyes full of hatred. In their hearts, they wanted to kill those bastards on the spot. Their pickaxes and other mining tools could serve as excellent weapons. If they made up their minds, there was nothing they couldn’t do.

Sensing the dwarves’ stares, the overseer’s eyes burned with rage.

“You little rats dare glare at me? Hah!”

They had no choice. The humans were holding their precious families hostage. The elders, women, and children of their clan were living under tight surveillance in an underground facility near Kelberen’s castle. If they attempted a rebellion, their loved ones’ lives would be in grave danger.

And that wasn’t the only problem.

“Still no sign of adamantium?”

A man in his mid-thirties, dressed in a robe, appeared at the entrance of the mine, berating the overseers. The overseers bowed repeatedly, wearing obsequious smiles.

“Apologies, Mage Pavel. We are urging them, but still…”

True gold, Eldril, true silver, Mithril, true copper, Orichalcum, and true iron, Adamantium.

These four types of magical metals were found only in minuscule quantities in gold, silver, copper, and iron mines, respectively. Consequently, their prices were astronomical.

Simply continuing to mine iron was not enough to cover the damages in a short period, so Viscount Kelberen relentlessly drove the dwarves, hoping to find Orichalcum or Adamantium in his mines. Although the dwarves, who could hear the voice of the earth, repeatedly explained that there was no more Adamantium in this mine, he refused to believe them.

Pavel shouted in a harsh voice.

“The Viscount is very angry. Speed up the work!”

The dwarves looked at the mage with gloomy eyes and touched their necks. Around their necks were metal collars.

The explosive magic embedded in these collars would activate with a simple trigger word from the mage.

‘We have no choice; our lives are in their hands…’

Resigned, the dwarves sighed. There was no room for rebellion. Panting, they began to swing their pickaxes again.

“Sigh, if only the savior had fought a bit more carefully…”

Suddenly, a scream echoed from outside.

“Aaagh!”

It was a human scream. Startled, the dwarves looked towards the mine entrance. One of Kelberen’s soldiers, who had been watching over them, had suddenly screamed.

“What?”

“What’s happening?”

* * *

“What the hell, who are these bastards!”

One soldier shouted, but his cry was cut off as a heavy battle hammer struck his abdomen.

Thud!

The soldier fainted instantly, overcome by extreme pain. The owner of the battle hammer, Sloytle, looked down at the soldier with a stern face and muttered.

“I want to kill you, but you are just a hired hand who knows nothing. I won’t take your life.”

Already, about six soldiers lay unconscious around Sloytle, kissing the ground. They were all soldiers of Viscount Kelberen’s household. The five warriors of the Grand Forge, who came with him, were also mercilessly driving about thirty human soldiers.

“I have to deal with those as well.”

Sloytle lightly leapt into action. The heavy battle hammer moved noisily among the soldiers. They were just the soldiers of a rural noble; there was no need to manifest aura to handle them.

Wherever the hammer passed, weapons shattered, bones broke, and screams erupted.

“Aaah!”

“Argh!”

It took only a few minutes for all the soldiers to collapse. They all lay on the ground, groaning faintly like zombies. Thanks to the restraint of Sloytle and the dwarf warriors, there were no fatalities. However, with such injuries, it would be tough for them to wield a sword again.

“What is going on here!”

Two overseers and the wizard Pavel, who had been inside the mine, came running out belatedly. Sloytle casually swung his hammer and threw it.

Whoosh~ Thud! Thud!

“Ugh!”

“Ugh!”

The overseers who had been in the lead were struck by the hammer and sprawled out on the ground. Pavel looked around with a frightened expression.

“Who are these dwarves? Where did they come from?”

Sloytle retrieved his battle hammer and stepped forward. His cold voice flowed out from his thick beard.

“We have come to free our kin from oppression, human wizard.”