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Chapter 27

At another corner of the forest, far from the elven skirmish with Tores, a band of dwarves trudged steadily through the greenery.

Short in stature, with stout builds and long, braided beards, they moved with determination, their short legs carrying them at a steady pace.

Each dwarf bore a heavy pack over their shoulders, filled with supplies and equipment crafted in their renowned forges.

There were only ten of them—fewer than they had hoped for—but just like elves, the limitations of the warp gates had forced their numbers to dwindle.

Though others wished to join the battle, the dwarves understood the constraints of magic and logistics.

Dwarves rarely ventured far from their mountain strongholds.

Their lives were spent in the depths of mines, unearthing precious metals, or in their workshops, forging tools and weapons of unmatched craftsmanship.

The outside world was distant to them, its affairs often deemed irrelevant to their proud, self-sufficient way of life.

Yet, today was different.

Today, they had come to assist the humans in their fight against the Demon King’s forces.

Their path was slow but purposeful, their endurance and strength born of years spent toiling in harsh conditions.

Though they were few in number, they were far from weak.

Their arms, thick with muscle, carried the weight of their hammers and axes with ease.

The forest was quiet, save for the steady crunch of leaves and twigs beneath their boots.

Then, without warning, a figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into their path with an unnerving grace.

“Ah, finally,” the figure said, his voice smooth yet laced with menace. “I’ve been looking for you.”

The dwarves halted, their eyes narrowing as they studied the intruder.

He was unlike anything they had encountered before.

His body was covered in orange and black stripes, his feline features strikingly predatory.

Sharp claws extended from his hands, and his teeth glinted as he spoke, sharp and pointed like a predator’s.

A long, swishing tail moved behind him, and his ears twitched ever so slightly.

The dwarves tensed, their hands instinctively moving to the weapons at their belts.

One of them, a grizzled elder with a beard streaked with silver, stepped forward.

His voice was gruff, yet steady as he demanded, “Who are you?”

The figure tilted his head, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“My name is Korran,” he said calmly, his tone polite yet unsettling. “I am one of the Demon King’s generals.”

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The dwarves exchanged wary glances.

Korran’s calm demeanor did little to mask the dangerous aura he exuded.

The elder dwarf narrowed his eyes.

“What do you want, Korran?”

Korran smiled faintly, his sharp teeth flashing.

“Our fight is with the humans,” he said, his tone almost conversational. “I’m here to request that you withdraw. You have no stake in this war. Return to your mountains, and we’ll leave you in peace.”

The elder dwarf’s eyes burned with anger.

“Don’t take us for fools,” he growled. “After you’re done with the humans, it’ll be us next. That’s always the way with your kind.”

Korran shrugged, his striped tail flicking lazily behind him.

“Perhaps,” he said, his voice as smooth as silk. “But who’s to say? Today, I simply wish to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. So, I humbly ask you to retreat.”

The words were polite, but the tone felt like mockery, dripping with disdain.

The elder dwarf’s fists clenched, his face red with fury.

“Enough of your games!” he bellowed. “We dwarves don’t cower from threats, no matter how politely they’re delivered.”

The other dwarves grunted in agreement, their weapons now in hand.

The air grew tense, crackling with the unspoken promise of violence.

Korran’s golden eyes scanned the group, his expression unreadable.

He sighed softly, almost disappointed.

“I see,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous low.

“I had hoped to avoid this. But if you insist on staying in my way…”

Before Korran could finish his sentence, the dwarves acted.

Without hesitation, they raised their crossbows, their bolts glinting as they took aim.

“Fire!” the elder dwarf barked, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

Bolts whistled through the air, a storm of deadly precision.

Korran sighed, feigning exasperation.

“Oh, come on! At least let me finish my sentence!” he said, though his tone carried no fear.

With an effortless grace that belied his feline nature, Korran twisted and leaped, dodging the initial volley.

His movements were a blur, his striped form darting between the trees.

Each leap was calculated, his claws digging into bark as he climbed and bounded.

A second volley followed, faster and more coordinated.

This time, Korran dropped to the forest floor, his body crouched low, claws sinking into the earth as his tail swished in annoyance.

But the dwarves were ready.

The elder dwarf, his hammer raised high, charged forward with surprising speed for his stocky frame.

His boots pounded the ground, leaves and dirt scattering with each step.

“Hold still, you damn beast!” he roared, bringing his hammer down in a crushing arc.

Korran dodged backward, the hammer smashing into the ground where he had been moments ago.

Dirt and debris exploded from the impact, but Korran barely flinched.

“Nice try, old man,” he taunted, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief.

But his smugness was short-lived.

A crossbow bolt, fired with deadly precision, struck his shoulder.

Korran hissed, his claws flexing as his blood dripped onto the forest floor.

“You’re testing my patience,” he growled, the playful tone in his voice replaced with a low, menacing edge.

In a flash, Korran lunged forward, his speed blinding.

Before the elder dwarf could react, Korran’s clawed hand wrapped around his neck.

“Come on, old man,” Korran snarled, lifting the dwarf effortlessly. “At least let me finish myself!”

With a savage roar, Korran slammed the dwarf into the nearest tree.

The trunk splintered under the force, leaves raining down from above.

“Now, let’s talk again, shall we?” Korran said mockingly.

But as he looked at the dwarf, his expression shifted to mild annoyance.

Blood dripped from his claws, which had pierced the elder’s neck.

The dwarf’s lifeless eyes stared back at him.

“Oh,” Korran said flatly, tilting his head. “He’s already dead. How disappointing.”

The remaining dwarves charged, their voices a chorus of rage and grief.

“You monster!” one bellowed, swinging his axe with all his might.

Another fired a bolt, aiming for Korran’s chest, while a third hurled a small, glowing device—a miniature bomb designed to catch even the swiftest foes.

Korran’s sharp reflexes saved him.

With a swift leap, he vanished into the shadows of the forest, his laughter echoing hauntingly.

“Catch me if you can!” he called out, his voice teasing and cold.

“Find him!” one dwarf shouted, his voice trembling with both anger and fear.

The dwarves regrouped and ventured deeper into the forest, their weapons drawn and eyes scanning every shadow.

But they had made a fatal mistake.

The forest was not their domain—it was the territory of the beastmen.

As the dwarves moved cautiously, the forest came alive with a deadly fury.

The first attack was swift and brutal.

From the underbrush, a massive bear-like beast lunged, its thick hide shimmering in the dappled sunlight.

Its claws tore through two dwarves before they could react.

Bolts fired at the creature bounced harmlessly off its dense fur, and the dwarves, desperate to repel the beast, hurled their bombs.

The explosions echoed through the trees, scaring the bear away, but the damage was already done.

“Stay together!” one dwarf shouted, his voice laced with panic.

But the forest had no mercy.

A sleek panther-like beast, its movements silent and deadly, struck next.

It darted through the shadows, slashing one dwarf’s throat before disappearing again.

“They’re picking us off one by one!” another dwarf cried, his hammer shaking in his hands.

One by one, the dwarves fell to the relentless assault.

The beasts struck from all directions, their attacks precise and coordinated.

The dwarves fought valiantly, their weapons flashing as they tried to fend off their unseen foes.

By the time the forest fell silent, only one dwarf remained.

His armor was dented, his face bloodied, but his grip on his axe was firm.

And then, Korran appeared once more, stepping out from the shadows as if he had been waiting for this moment.

“You should have retreated when I allowed it,” Korran said, his voice calm but dripping with malice.

The dwarf charged with a final, desperate cry, his axe raised high.

But Korran moved too quickly.

In one swift motion, his claws slashed through the dwarf’s neck.

As the dwarf’s body crumpled to the ground, Korran stood over him, blood dripping from his claws.

The forest grew silent once more, save for the faint rustle of leaves as the beastmen melted back into the shadows, their job complete.