The Rise Of The Mythical Warlords: Conquering the New World With SSR Castles.

CH-64

In the pitch-black basement, the silence was broken by a foul smell that crept into every corner. The soldiers with silver armor stood guard at the iron gate, their faces reflecting dissatisfaction and fatigue. Each of their steps produced heavy twangs that echoed throughout the basement that felt constrained.

This dungeon was filled with miserable prison cells. The tiny cells, only 4x4 meters tall, were filled with six to seven male dwarves. Their short posture is increasingly uncomfortable in a space that feels cramped and stuffy. Poor air circulation makes their breath feel heavy, and they are forced to live in these miserable conditions.

But behind the grief and limitations they faced, the flames of courage still raged in the hearts of the dwarves. Despite being confined in a cell, their spirit was unquenchable. They strengthen each other, finding hope in the darkness that surrounds them. Although this dungeon was gripping, yet there was a life that could not be extinguished by cruelty and oppression.

Between the darkness and the smell that filled the basement, there was a dwarf who was different from the others. The dwarf's legs and hands were pressed against the wall, and fresh blood still flowed from his wounds, mixed with dried blood that stained his silver beard. Despite being in a terrible state, he still exuded an aura of bravery.

"Listen to me," the voice of the dwarf with the silver beard rang out loud.

"You don't have to worry too much. I assure you that you will be able to get out of here."

Their eyes fixed on the dwarf that was being supplied were filled with hope and fear.

"Their goal is just me. After my execution, you go to the place where my sister was exiled and give her my apology."

"There's one more warning, don't bring our tribe Artifacts. That's what they're looking for." After saying that, the dwarf with the silver beard fell silent, and before long there was a rumbling sound from the open gate and iron rubbing against it.

At the end of the gate, a group of men with silver armor approached the dwarf that was being supplied. When they reached the dwarf, they removed the iron spikes attached to his hands and feet, then dragged him out of the cell.

The remaining dwarves could only clench their hands and stare at the group of men in armor with hateful gazes. Within his eyes emanated flames of indestructible anger, as well as unwavering determination even though they were in a pinch situation.

The silver-armored men felt the pressure from those hateful gazes, but they stood firm. They knew that this battle was not over, and the bravery of the dwarves should not be taken lightly. There were whispers of resistance filling the air, hinting that the remaining dwarves would not just give up.

In the end, the dwarf with the silver beard was dragged out towards somewhere unknown. In his hazy gaze, there appeared a wooden stage with two silver-armored men holding swords. The dwarf's heart was pounding, staring at his future filled with uncertainty.

With a tumbled step, he was pulled slowly by a group of silver-armored men escorting him from behind. Just feel as his steps are heavy, every sway of his body is filled with piercing pain.

After they arrived at the execution platform, his gaze swept across the bustling sea of humans. People gathered around him, watching with faces full of enthusiasm, excitement, and also sadism. The dwarf felt as if he were in the midst of a bright spotlight that struck him, revealing weakness and despair in the most vulnerable circumstances.