In a settlement on the northern bluffs of the Azerlisia Mountains…..

"What story would you like to hear today, Wortig?" asked Esruna as she gazed warmly at the young child tucked away in a large pelt of mammoth fur.

Wortig was around the size of a bear, with blu-ish white skin and messy albino hair. He gazed back up eagerly at the towering figure of his mother, whose head almost brushed against the roof of the massive hut in which they resided.

"The Tale of the Lizard, the Dwarf and the Fire Dragon!" the boy immediately exclaimed.

Esruna pursed her lips. "I've told you this story many times. Are you-"

"The Tale of the Lizard, the Dwarf and the Fire Dragon!" Wortig insisted again.

His mother sighed. "Very well."

"Once upon a time, a great wizard cast an enchantment over a city covered in fire. As long as the wizard was alive, the people of the city would be able to live amidst the heat in peace."

"But one day, the wizard died, and the people began to feel the heat of the flames once again. It was only a matter of time before the enchantment fully broke. However, a brave dwarf decided to journey into the land of fire and retrieve the core of an ancient flame dragon. He believed that this core would bring the enchantment back to life."

"The brave dwarf was laughed at as a fool by the other dwarves. They called him weak and soft. But the dwarf refused to give up, and asked for the help of a dear friend-the lizard. Together, they journeyed into the deep hot places, carrying nothing but two black cubes and their weapons. For months they disappeared..."

"The people thought they had failed. They began to lose hope and started to leave the city of fire, but at last the dwarf returned. However, he was different now; the quest had changed him. They say fire flickered from his big black beard and his eyes shone like-"

"Esruna!" interrupted a sudden booming voice from outside the large hut. "Stop wasting time with those stupid stories and get our boy to sleep! We need every fighter we can muster!"

An expression of mixed anger and annoyance flickered across Esruna's face. "How do you expect me to get him to sleep if I don't tell the stories?!" she yelled back.

She quickly ruffled the hair of her son, who now had a disgruntled expression on his face, before heading out of the hut where her husband, Klytius, the chieftain of the Kra-kuth tribe, was waiting.

Esruna angrily approached the male Frost Giant. "Surely we don't need everyone?"

Klytius grimaced, shaking his head. "Based on the reports of the survivors from the other tribes, it's not looking good. The Dominion has left us alone for decades, but now they've finally come for us. I came back here to check on you briefly, but now I must go back to the frontline."

Esruna watched, her brows furrowed with concern, as Klytius turned and made his way back to the gate of the settlement. With her glacial eyes, she scanned her surroundings. Every capable Frost Giant had come out from their huts in preparation for the impending attack.

Wary ice-blue eyes scanned the skies as the giants tightened their massive grips upon the great hunting spears that had struck terror throughout the Azerlisia Mountains for many years.

But this time, it was the giants' turn to feel the tingling sensation of fear as a faint silvery dot emerged in the distant sky.

"INCOMING!" bellowed Klytius over at the gate. The massive demi-human's long, unkempt snow-white hair rippled under the icy mountain gales as he yelled to his brethren, aiming his giant spear at the distant silver speck as he did so.

The rest of the Frost Giants followed, their giant blue frames moving in unison like great ice statues coming alive. A dozen or so giant spear tips were now pointed in the direction of the sky; several of the giants in the back even wielded massive greatbows that were now drawn in preparation to fire at a moment's notice.

It was a formidable scene. Over a dozen giants wielding weapons as tall as castle walls stood ready for battle, but for some reason not a single one of the massive demi-humans wore anything but deep worry on their faces.

Suddenly, another silver dot emerged in the distant sky. And then another….and another. Several seconds later, the giants could see a total of five such silver shapes flying towards them.

Klytius grimaced. There had been a time when the sighting of Frost Dragons ignited their battle spirit and excitement, but now…

The silver silhouettes finally drew close enough for the giants to properly behold. Dragons that rivalled even the giants in size flapped their great wings as they soared towards the settlement. The worry on the giants' faces deepened as they observed the plates of white metal fastened atop the sky-blue scales of the dragons. The scales and metal blended together almost seamlessly as they shone with a dazzling gleam in the icy light of the snowy skies.

Before, the giants had laughed at the idea of armored dragons. Dragon scales were extremely tough, and the Frost Giants were one of the handful of races capable of breaking through their defense using sheer strength and tenacity. The idea that pieces of metal could do a superior job was laughable.

But lately, more and more rumors about the armor's true purpose had reached the settlement…..too many to be simple hearsay.

"Now!" yelled Klytius, his thunderous voice shaking the very earth as it echoed throughout the settlement.

A volley of huge spears and arrows flew into the air towards the Frost Dragons. The sharp tips of the massive projectiles glinted ominously in the sunlight like an unstoppable barrage, yet not a single look of relief or triumph could be found on the faces of the giants.

Klytius gazed unblinkingly at the incoming Frost Dragons.

Please let the rumors be false….

A brief glimmer of hope dawned on his face as the first of the projectiles reached the closest Dragon, who did nothing to swerve away or avoid the attack.

But his hope soon disappeared as he heard a powerful voice echoing from atop the dragon just before the incoming spears and arrows could connect.

[Ascu]

Klytius's heart sank as he saw a red sigil begin to glow upon the white metal plates on the Dragon's body.

The air around the glowing rune on the Dragon's armor shimmered with an ethereal power. An invisible force knocked back the barrage of spears and arrows, sending them scattering harmlessly in all directions.

The flock of Frost Dragons continued their flight as if nothing happened. Klytius could hear the terrified whispers of his brethren behind him:

"It's really them...the Runic Dragonrider Corps….."

"We should have never defected from the Dominion. Now they're going to wipe us out…"

"I hear even the monster trio has been subjugated….what chance do we have…"

Klytius whirled around urgently to rally the others: "We must not panic! They are few in number, as long as we-"

But before he could finish his sentence, the first of the Dragonriders had already begun to encircle the settlement overhead.

The Giants recoiled in terror as they got a clear glimpse of the individuals riding atop the Frost Dragons. Their short, barrel-shaped bodies were fully encased in suits of ominous jet-black plate armor. Their heads were almost entirely concealed beneath a full helm of utter black as well, save for the huge beards that extended all the way down to their stomachs. Cold, indifferent eyes stared out through the slits of their visors, gazing down upon the Giants as if the latter were hapless insects to be exterminated.

The Dragonrider in the lead raised a blood-hued sword and pointed it towards the Frost Giants. This time, an orange sigil glowed on the blade upon activation.

[Byrne]

A great jet of white-hot flame shot out of the sword, quickly lighting one of the Frost Giants near Klytius ablaze. Klytius watched in horror as his comrade was engulfed in a great conflagration. The burning Giant screamed in a voice of raw agony and terror as he was slowly incinerated to a crisp.

Klytius gulped down a sob. The Frost Giant who had just been killed, Thundomir, was an old friend of his. They had worked together decades ago to conquer the coming of age ritual of the Frost Giants-the Trial of the Phoenix.

In Klytius's youth, the Phoenix Lord would roost in a crag near the top of Mount Rappaslea every five years and underwent a sacred fire-bathing ritual that lasted a month. During this time, the young warriors of the Frost Giant tribes were tasked to obtain a shed feather from the great monster.

However, this was a long time ago. The Trial hadn't been carried out for over fifty years, as the Phoenix Lord was now shackled far beneath the earth, reduced to a mere pet.

Such disrespect for their traditions was one of the many reasons the giants had decided to defect from the Sorcerer King's forces after the Great Vanquishing. But now, as Klytius watched the Dragonriders scorch his people alive one at a time, he knew that that had been a fatal mistake.

He frantically whipped his head back in the direction of his wife and child. Esruna stood frozen in shock as she witnessed the carnage going on around her. Klytius sprang into action, his massive footsteps leaving craters in the very ground as he ran towards his family.

But his flagrant motions only served to draw the attention of one of the Dragonriders. A monstrous shadow descended upon him, soon followed by the same white-hot flames that had claimed the life of his comrade.

Just before the fire could reach and engulf him, an icy tear slid from Klytius's eyes as they reflected the burning light of a settlement soon to be lost forever. The reflection shattered forever as the flames washed over him and Klytius burned to his death.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

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Gazim Terrafist-the Commander-In-Chief of the Dwarven Kingdom-stared out from atop the terrace of his palace. From his vantage point, he gazed down upon the massive underground complex that was the Molten Capital of Feo Magna.

From here, he could observe an intricate network of towering black spires and walls, illuminated by the bright red glow of the sea of lava upon which Feo Magna was built. He gazed directly forward, where the largest edifice in the entire Capital-one that dwarved even his own palace-stood erected in all its unfathomable glory.

The great statue of Lord Ainz Ooal Gown was carved directly into the massive wall space of the lava filled cavern, towering over the city of Feo Magna like a watchful god of fire and death. Two massive enchanted rubies were set into the eye sockets to capture the signature crimson glint of the undead king's eyes, glowing perpetually as a reminder of the Lord's undying prominence.

In his free time, Gazim enjoyed standing here as he contemplated the incredible history that led to the construction of the great city he presided over. It gave him some brief solace from the exhausting political maneuvering he had to deal with on a daily basis.

Over a century ago, the Sorcerer King rediscovered the secret of Runecraft with the help of a dwarf.

It began with a theory proposed by His Majesty, one that many Runesmiths today still could not quite fully grasp.

According to him, Runes were a hidden mechanism that originated from the same realm as he, but were hidden beneath obscure rules that remained untapped even centuries after arriving upon this world.

Only one dwarf managed to come close at all to grasping the Lord's words to this day. The two of them worked tirelessly towards the unravelling of the mysterious art, and after almost a decade, their research and investigation finally bore fruit.

The original "flaw" of Runecraft was its glaring inefficiency and inaccessibility. Despite the lack of raw material cost, runes were time-consuming to produce, whereas tier magic enchantments could be immediately applied to an item. In addition, only those with the talent to become Runesmiths could create and inscribe runes, yet the talent proved to be exceedingly rare, and dwarves with potential often preferred to develop skills in tier-magic instead.

Last but not least, runes had to be imbued with hefty amounts of mana in order to function. As there was always a shortage of individuals with high mana capacity, mass production of working runes was nigh impossible.

But one day, deep in the Land of Molten Magma, the Sorcerer King and his faithful dwarven follower found the key to solving the issue of Runecraft's most glaring flaws.

Heat.

The idea of using fire had been explored earlier before during the research process, but the Dwarven researchers had only thought to use fire produced through magical means, or through heat stone application.

However, as the Sorcerer King ventured deeper into the Lava Caverns to explore the nature of the Lava Portals, his dwarven companion accidentally made a monumental discovery:

The runes were never meant to be plainly inscribed onto items like a regular engraving; they had to be brought to life with natural fire from the deepest bowels of the earth. The magma found in the Azerlisia Mountains' molten depths had a special property that, if harnessed, could carve the runes directly onto equipment. Only a sliver of mana would then be sufficient in bringing the rune to life.

The discovery of Runecraft's affinity for magma solved the issues of slow production and high mana-consumption, and paved the way for the rediscovery of many lost and unknown runes in the many years to come.

With the revival of this technology, The Sorcerer King theorised that it would be a matter of time before newfound interest poured back into Runecraft amongst the Dwarves. Runesmith talent would emerge again to reach the heights that it once had in the ancient past, solving the frustrating bottleneck of Runesmith deficiency that had plagued the profession for years. And so His Majesty set his sights on the Dwarven Kingdom once again.

At the time, the Dwarven Kingdom was relatively disconnected from the Sorcerer Kingdom's development of Runecraft. After ceding out their team of Runesmiths, the Dwarven Kingdom engaged with the Sorcerer Kingdom primarily through regular trade relations. But that all changed when the great discovery was made.

According to the official historical accounts, the Frost Dragons and Quagoa grew restless and attacked the dwarves once again while the dwarves were relocating to the ancient capital of Feo Berkhana. The Sorcerer King, as an ally of the Dwarves, refused to stand idly by and decided to lend a hand. He invited the Dwarven refugees deeper underground and set up a great enchantment that protected the dwarves from the heat of lava. There, he assisted the dwarves in the creation of a new Molten Capital, under the condition that they aided him in his resurrection of Runecraft.

The Dwarves, of course, were eager to accept the conditions from their new Savior. With the support of His Majesty's Champions, they erected a great statue in worship of Lord Ainz Ooal Gown. The city was then connected to a vast pipe network constructed under the oversight of the Calamity Twins, which facilitated the transportation of molten magma to the newly designed runeforges for the purpose of Runecrafting. The La-Angler Lava Lord was tamed and used as a guardian for the Molten Capital.

The Sorcerer King then proceeded to punish and subjugate the Frost Dragons and Quagoa once again, bringing them to heel once more and forcing them, along with the Frost Giants and Myconids, to work alongside the dwarves to form one great coalition: the Dominion of the Deep.

Gazim bore an inscrutable expression on his face as he gazed wordlessly out into the city. As Commander-In-Chief, he was one of the few individuals who had been confided the truth of what had happened.

The entire story was an act; a massive ploy orchestrated by a being of supreme intellect to form an unbreakable coalition to further his own ends.

But he did not feel a shred of resentment.

The expression in his eyes turned into one of admiration as his gaze lingered upon the great statue in the distance. Without the Sorcerer King's machinations, the Dwarves would still be a weak and lowly race, valued only for their meager edge in regular craftsmanship. But now….

Gazim's thoughts were interrupted as he heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind him. He turned around to see a red-furred Quagoa approaching him.

"What is it?" he quietly asked.

"My lor-" the Quagoa began, but quickly stopped himself as he saw the great statue behind Gazim's figure. "Sir, the Runic Dragonriders have returned. The Frost Giant Settlement of Ka-kruth has been annihilated."

The Commander-in-Chief's eyes narrowed. He could tell the Quagoa's self-correction was an intentional gesture. "A routine report like this should be reported to the Dragonrider Overseer, not me. What did you truly come here for, Jireo?"

Gazim could see the glittering slyness within the Quagoa's bulbous white eyes as the demi-human spoke: "Ah, I suppose there is something else. Master Riyuro has sent me to inform you of his….doubts regarding the wisdom of massacring the Frost Giants. He believes that those oafs still have some value, and should be re-subjugated rather than exterminated."

Gazim grimaced. No wonder a mere Quagoa minister was acting with such impertinence before him. Pe Riyuro was one of the oldest and deadliest leaders of the Dominion, tied in authority with the White Librarian himself. Even with his own position of Commander In Chief-the second highest authority in the Dwarven Kingdom-Gazim had to show respect before the Elder Regent of the Quagoa.

Even so….

"Oh?" the dwarf smirked. "Your Master knows perfectly well who passed the mandate to exterminate the Frost Giants in the first place. I'm not sure he has quite the authority to overturn that decision."

Gazim thought he had the better of the demihuman minister for a brief moment, but the Quagoa soon revealed that he had been expecting such an answer all along:

"Ah, Master Riyuro knows his boundaries very well. However, he would very much appreciate it if you could, on his behalf, attempt to persuade the Forgemaster out of this current course of action."

Gazim swore inwardly at Ze Jireo's words.

Pe Riyuro was essentially pushing the risk of questioning the Frost Giant extermination all onto him, and Gazim couldn't refuse without directly offending the Elder Regent of the Quagoa.

He gritted his teeth as he replied: "I will see what I can do….."

The Quagoa Minister gave a polite smile in return, bowing before walking away from the fuming Commander-In-Chief.

After seeing the Quagoa disappear back into the palace, Gazim sighed and walked to a corner of the terrace. From his belt, he grabbed a leather horn and put it to his mouth, the tip of the horn disappearing inside his massive black beard as he blew.

A fierce sound echoed from the horn like the bellowing of a great beast.

Gazim stared up at the rocky ceiling, where dozens of giant holes had been drilled into the rock, forming what looked like great tunnels that lead up to the surface.

Several moments later, a Frost Dragon emerged from one of the tunnels and soared down to Gazim's position.

"Could you not simply walk, Commander? You know how much I despise this place." Xe'sanesh complained.

Gazim rolled his eyes. The stone cold Dragonriders were the only ones who could truly command the obedience of the arrogant Frost Dragons. Even years of subjugation under the Sorcerer King couldn't quell the inborn pride of the great monsters. It was a quality Gazim frankly admired, but that didn't make it any less annoying.

"Can't be helped." Gazim gruffly replied. "My destination today is the Workshop. I can't reach there by foot."

The Frost Dragon's icy blue eyes gleamed mysteriously as he heard the name of their destination. "The Workshop….I see…"

Without another word, the dragon lowered itself for Gazim to climb on before taking off in the direction of the giant statue.

After a few minutes of flight, Xe'sanesh descended towards the small stretch of land right beneath the foot of the statue, which was surrounded on all sides by boiling magma.

Gazim disembarked, nodding at the Dragon in a brief gesture of thanks. The Frost Dragon made a small shrugging motion with its massive reptilian shoulders. "I will not stay here any longer than necessary. Use the Horn again when you must depart."

With that, Xe'sanesh flapped its sky blue wings and rose back into the air, his crystalline scales glittering with a fiery red hue as they reflected the sea of lava below. Leaving a mighty gust of wind in its wake, the Frost Dragon soared back in the direction of the huge tunnels on the ceiling.

The Frost Dragons were beings that thrived in the cold, and thus hated the molten depths in which the dwarves now resided. It did not matter that an enchantment had been placed over the city; the dragons could not stand the simple sight of smoke and fire. As a result, the Dragons mostly resided in the area around the Ancient Dwarven Capital of Feo Berkhana, where the Runic Dragonrider Corps held their base of operations.

Gazim grimaced. Despite having worked with the Frost Dragons for decades, he still remained in awe of their strength and power. As a matter of fact, the more time he spent with them, the more he grew to appreciate their worth as an ally.

He was very pleasantly surprised that the Frost Dragons did not join the Frost Giants when the latter defected from the dominion a few decades ago. While the United Clans of the Quagoa and the Dwarven Kingdom had developed immensely within the past century, all out war with both the traditional apex predators of the Azerlisia Mountains would still have ended in catastrophic losses on all sides.

He lifted his head all the way up to gaze at a sight far above him. From his current position, he could just barely see the crimson light of the Statue's bejeweled gaze.

In a way, the intrinsic nature of the dragons was a key factor behind their continued loyalty. Unlike the Dwarves, Quagoa or Myconids, or indeed even the Frost Giants, the Dragons saw life through a perspective that easily spanned centuries. As such, they had an impeccable memory and a very long-term mindset.

Evidently, their memory of Lord Ainz Ooal Gown continued to shackle the icy behemoths to this day.

How powerful would he have to be...to strike fear so great that it could turn into such undying loyalty?

And was that fear truly enough to ensure the servitude of those magnificent creatures?

Gazim shook his head in an effort to clear his mind. Now was not the time to be brooding about such things. He gazed forward across the small stretch of land, where a pair of massive iron double doors sat underneath the gigantic stone hem of Ainz Ooal Gown''s robes.

He made his way over to the double doors and began pushing them open. With some effort, the dwarf opened a crack just large enough to squeeze in and hastily entered.

Gazim now found himself in a long hallway, illuminated with a dim orange glow by two rows of torches set on the stone walls to his left and right.

He took a deep breath as the doors creaked shut behind him, and walked forward towards the glowing light at the end of the hallway.

As he passed through, he entered into a giant cavern space illuminated by the familiar red glow of lava. A massive runeforge sat at the far end of the cavern, set beneath a cascade of lava descending from a hole in the wall. Huge piles of gleaming equipment were scattered all over the cave floor, like a peculiar cross between a junk pile and a dragon's hoard.

But Gazim's gaze was drawn immediately to the anvil a little distance away from the forge, where a dark figure hammered away at an object.

Gazim was a scholar of history, and naturally, he had heard countless stories about the legend that walked this strange lair. Toiling away eternally at this forge and anvil was a dwarf who stood at the pinnacle of the Dominion of the Deep's hierarchy.

The dark figure's hammering stopped momentarily as it sensed the Commander-in-Chief's arrival. It looked up, revealing the face of a monstrous-looking dwarf. The dwarf had eyes that resembled burning coals, and smoldering embers flickered from a great beard that was the color of burnt wood.

The Commander-In-Chief steeled his nerves as he approached the Forgemaster of the Dwarven Kingdom, the one they called….

The Fireborn.