Pain.

That was the first thing Damien felt. It wasn't the sharp, stabbing pain of a wound, nor the dull ache of a bruise.

It was the feeling of being cooked from the inside out.

His veins felt like they were filled with liquid lead.

His heart hammered against his ribs with a rhythm that was too slow, too heavy, like a war drum beaten by a giant.

"Young Master!"

A frantic voice cut through the haze. A cool, soft hand touched his forehead.

Damien gasped, his eyes snapping open.

He wasn't dead. He was lying on a bed of gold coins that had been partially melted into a solid, lumpy sheet.

Isabelle was hovering over him, her face streaked with soot and tears.

Her demon horns were retracted, but her eyes were still glowing with worry.

"He's awake!" Isabelle shouted, looking over her shoulder.

"Leona! Lyra! He's awake!"

Damien tried to sit up. His body protested, his muscles screaming. He looked down at his hands.

The golden scales were gone. His skin was back to its normal pale complexion, but there was a faint, shimmering iridescence to it now, like oil on water.

[System Alert!]

[Assimilation Complete.]

[Golden Dragon Aura: Stabilized at Peak 4th Order.]

[Note: The 'Draconic Form' is currently locked due to insufficient vessel durability. Do not attempt again without 5th Order physique.]

Looking at this message, Damien was somewhat satisfied, now all he had to do was break through with the midnight Tome and he found officially enter fifth order

However even that would take some time

"I'm alive," Damien croaked, his voice raspy.

"Barely," a deep, tectonic rumble answered him.

Damien looked up.

Ignis was sitting on his haunches a few meters away.

The massive Red Dragon was currently using a single, razor-sharp claw to pick his teeth.

The carcass of Commander Valerius was gone.

There was only a dark, greasy stain on the gold where the 5th Order Knight had been crushed.

"You slept for three hours," Ignis grumbled, flicking a piece of Templar armor out of his teeth.

"I was getting bored again. I almost started playing chess again without you."

Damien groaned, accepting the water skin Lyra handed him. He drained it in one go.

"Did I..." Damien wiped his mouth. "Did I win?"

Ignis paused. He lowered his massive head until his snout was inches from Damien.

The heat radiating from the dragon was comforting now, familiar.

"You drank Heart Essence," Ignis said, his golden eyes narrowing. "A human drinking that should have turned into a bomb. At least without proper preparation that is"

The Dragon snorted, a puff of smoke ruffling Damien's hair.

"You're good kid, you kind of remind me of myself in my younger days."

Ignis sat back, the ground shaking slightly.

"Yes. You won. You entertained me. Plus, you broke that bastard who tried to chain me and survived the power of my blood."

He pointed a claw at the scattered pile of chess pieces.

"But you still owe me a rematch."

Damien chuckled, though it hurt his chest. "Next time. When I'm not dying."

He forced himself to stand, leaning heavily on Isabelle.

"We need to go," Damien said, looking at his team.

Leona was sitting on a chest, nursing her ruined hand. It was wrapped in bandages, but the Void decay had done deep damage. Lyra was checking her bow, her face grim.

"The King," Damien reminded them. "Durin is still dying."

"Right," Ignis rumbled. "The Dwarf. The loud one."

The Dragon reached into the pile of gold beneath him.

He rummaged around for a second, the sound of shifting coins deafening in the enclosed space.

"Here."

Ignis tossed something at Damien.

Unlike gold or some artefact that he had expected, Ignis had handed him a scale.

It was the size of a shield, deep crimson in color, and warm to the touch. It pulsed with a faint, rhythmic light.

"My scale," Ignis explained lazily.

"It has my mana signature."

"If you ever find a game better than Chess... or find out that old lady is not dead, then give me a call by injecting mana into it"

Ignis grinned, revealing rows of teeth that could shear through castle walls.

"I will come."

Damien caught the scale. It weighed heavily in his arms.

[Item Acquired: Scale of the Red Disaster.]

[Effect: Summons a projected avatar of Ignis for 5 minutes. Or summons the real body if he is bored enough.]

"A summoning charm," Damien smirked, storing it in his Void Gem.

"I'll keep it in mind."

"Now, get out," Ignis waved a claw dismissively.

"Since you broke my roof. I have to fix it before it rains.

"You might not know it, but I hate rain."

The Dragon turned away, already losing interest, and began stacking gold bars into a new tower.

Damien looked at the pile of Red Templar gear left behind. The anti-magic armor, the broken crystal swords.

"Isabelle," Damien whispered.

"Pack it up. All of it. Brokk can use the scrap."

"Yes, Young Master."

They looted the room efficiently. Damien even scooped up the remains of Valerius's Void Core, it was crushed, but the fragments still hummed with 5th Order power.

"Let's go," Damien ordered.

They climbed out of the ventilation shaft, leaving the buried dome behind.

....

[The Canyon Surface]

The sun was setting again, casting long shadows across the red rocks.

The Iron-Horse Mark II was waiting where they left it. Kaelen and the Silver Lance were gone, Valerius had been thorough.

Their corpses were already buried under the shifting sands.

"We need to move fast," Damien said as they climbed into the carriage.

"Durin doesn't have much time."

Leona took the reins with her one good hand. "I can drive one-handed. Just keep the mana engine running."

"I'll drive," Lyra interjected, gently pushing Leona into the back seat. "You need to rest that hand, or you'll lose it."

Leona grumbled but obeyed, sinking into the plush leather next to Damien.

The carriage roared to life. The runic wheels spun, tearing up the dirt as they sped back toward the East.

Inside, the mood was heavy.

Damien looked at Leona. The Beast-kin girl was staring at her bandaged hand. The Void decay had stopped, burned away by Damien's aura earlier, but the flesh was scarred, the nerves damaged.

"It won't heal normally," Damien said softly.

Leona looked up, forcing a grin. "It's fine, Young Lord. I have another hand. I can still swing a sword."

"You won't have to," Damien said. He reached into his Void Gem and pulled out a small, glowing shard.

It was a fragment of Valerius's Void Core.

"Brokk said he could build anything," Damien mused, turning the shard in his fingers. "When we get back... we're going to get you an upgrade."

Leona's ears twitched. "An upgrade?"

"A hand that can punch through a ghost," Damien promised.

Thinking about the properties of the void, Damien had an idea; however, that was still just an idea

Only Brokk could make it become a reality.

He leaned back, closing his eyes. The adrenaline was fading, leaving him exhausted.

He thought about Valerius. About the Red Templars. About the Second Prince.

The enemy this time wasn't just a political faction. They were zealots.

They had 5th Order knights who could erase magic. They had that damn Void Demon God behind them.

"We are too weak," Damien whispered to the ceiling of the carriage.

"What?" Isabelle asked, blinking.

"Young Master, you just beat a 5th Order! You even turned into a dragon!"

"I survived a 5th Order," Damien corrected.

"I used the Dragon Blood to cheat. I can't do that again. If Valerius had brought two knights... or if he hadn't been arrogant... we would be dead."

He opened his eyes. The blue iris was back, but it seemed deeper, darker.

"The Black Thread needs to grow. We need money. We need influence. And we need an army."

He looked at his team.

"When we get back to Ironforge... everything changes. We won't just be adventurers anymore."

The carriage sped into the night, leaving the Dragon Lands behind.

.....:::::

[Ironforge - The Next Day]

The city of gears was in chaos. But it wasn't the chaos of war; it was the chaos of reconstruction.

Smoke billowed from the factories, but it was the clean white smoke of industry, not the black smog of the Void.

Airships patrolled the sky. The Iron Legion, now repainted with the Royal Crest, marched through the streets, clearing debris.

The Iron-Horse rolled through the gates. The guards didn't stop them; they saluted.

"They know," Lyra noted. "News travels fast."

They drove straight to the Palace.

Hephaestus was waiting for them on the steps. The Prince looked older.

He wore a regal coat over his grease-stained apron, and a golden circlet rested on his brow.

But his face was grave.

"Damien," Hephaestus ran down the steps as the carriage stopped. He didn't smile.

"Prince," Damien stepped out, still wearing his travel-stained combat coat.

"We have the blood."

He held up the crystal vial Ignis had given him. The Heart Essence swirled inside, glowing like molten lava.

Hephaestus stared at the vial. He looked like he wanted to cry.

"Thank the Ancestors," Hephaestus breathed.

"Hurry. Please."

"What's wrong?" Damien asked, sensing the urgency.

"It's the King," Hephaestus whispered, leading them quickly into the palace.

"He collapsed an hour ago. The physicians say the Abyss Poison has crystallized. It's reached his heart."

They ran through the marble corridors.

"They say..." Hephaestus's voice broke.

"They say even if we have the cure... his body might be too weak to survive it."

"He'll survive," Damien said, his voice hard.

"He's a Dwarf King. He's too stubborn to die in bed."

They burst into the Royal Medical Ward.

The room was filled with steam and the smell of alchemical potions. Grandmaster Brokk was there, pacing back and forth, his mechanical eye whirring frantically.

On the central bed lay King Durin.

He looked like a corpse. His skin was entirely black now, covered in the vein-like patterns of the poison.

His breathing was a shallow rattle.

"You're late!" Brokk shouted, though relief flooded his face.

"Give it here!"

Brokk snatched the vial from Damien.

"Wait," Damien grabbed Brokk's wrist.

"This isn't an ordinary potion, Brokk. This is Dragon blood. If you just pour it down his throat, you'll incinerate him."

"We don't have time to distill it!" Brokk snapped.

"I know," Damien stepped up to the bed.

He placed his hand on the King's chest.

"Golden Dragon Aura."

A soft, golden light coated Damien's hand. He pushed his mana into the King's body, creating a thin, protective film around Durin's heart.

"I will shield his organs," Damien said, sweat already beading on his forehead. "Pour it. Now."

Brokk nodded. He uncorked the vial.

The smell of sulfur and raw power filled the room.

He tilted the vial. A single drop of the thick, glowing red liquid fell onto the King's lips.

HISSSSSS.

Steam erupted from the King's mouth.

Durin's eyes snapped open. They were pure black.

"ARGHHHHHHHHH!"

The King screamed. It was a sound of pure agony.

The Dragon Blood entered his system. It didn't mix with the poison; it went to war with it.

Under Durin's skin, a battle raged. The red fire chased the black veins. Where they met, the skin smoked.

"Hold him down!" Brokk roared.

Leona and Lyra rushed forward, pinning the thrashing King to the bed.

"It's burning him!" Hephaestus cried, watching smoke pour from his father's ears.

"It has to burn!" Damien shouted, increasing the output of his Golden Aura.

"The poison is deep! If we don't burn it all, it comes back!"

"More!" Damien ordered Brokk.

"Are you crazy?!"

"Do it!"

Brokk poured the rest of the vial.

ROAR.

A sound came from Durin's chest, unlike that of a dwarf, but a dragon's roar.

The King arched his back. A pulse of red light exploded from his body, knocking everyone back.

*Bang!*

The medical monitors shattered. The glass windows blew out.

Then, silence.

Durin slumped back onto the bed. Smoke drifted from his skin.

Hephaestus crawled forward. "Father?"

The King lay still. His skin was charred, red and raw. But the black veins… the black veins were gone.

Durin's chest rose. Then fell. A deep, steady breath.

He soon opened his eyes.

Unlike before, they weren't black nor were they weren't milky. They were a clear, piercing granite-grey.

Durin blinked, looking at the ceiling and then his son.

He then looked at Damien.

"Wine," Durin croaked. "I need a lot of it…"

Hephaestus sobbed, collapsing by the bedside.

"You did it," Brokk whispered, slumping against the wall.

"You crazy bastards actually did it."

Damien let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He sat down on the floor, exhausted.

"Phase Two," Damien whispered to himself. "Complete."

.....

...…

The wine in the goblet was cold, condensation dripping down the gold rim.

King Durin drank it slowly, savoring every drop as if it were the finest vintage wine.

When he finished, he slammed the goblet down on the bedside table with a satisfying clang.

"Alive," Durin rumbled, his voice still raspy but gaining strength with every breath.

"I am actually alive."

He looked at his hands. The grey pallor of death was gone, replaced by the ruddy, healthy complexion of a dwarf.

The black veins of the Abyss Poison had been burned away completely.

Around the bed, the tension broke.

Hephaestus slumped into a chair, burying his face in his hands, finally allowing himself to weep.

Grandmaster Brokk let out a long, shaky breath, lighting a cigar with trembling fingers.

Damien sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. He was exhausted, his mana cores drained dry, but he was smiling.

"You cut it close, Your Majesty," Damien said.

"Another hour, and we would have been planning a funeral."

"A Dwarf is never late, boy,"

Durin grunted, sitting up. He winced as his muscles protested, but he waved away the physicians trying to help him.

"Nor is he early. He arrives exactly when he intends to."

The King swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He stood up. He wobbled for a second, then planted his feet like roots in the earth.

He looked at Damien. The gratitude in his granite-grey eyes was profound, but there was something else there too. Calculation.

"Leave us," Durin ordered.

The physicians and guards hesitated.

"OUT!" Durin bellowed. The windows shook.

The room cleared instantly, leaving only the inner circle: Damien, his team, Hephaestus, and Brokk.

Durin walked over to Damien. He didn't bow. He didn't hug him.

He extended a hand. It was calloused, scarred, and heavy.

"You saved my life," Durin said.

"You saved my son. You saved my city."

Damien stood up and shook the King's hand. "I did what was necessary."

"Bullshit," Durin scoffed.

"You did what was profitable. You're Theron's son. You don't do charity."

The King walked to the window, looking out at the city of Ironforge. The smoke was clearing.

The sounds of industry were returning, but it was a hopeful sound now, not the sound of slavery.

"So," Durin turned back, his expression serious. "Name your price."

"I can give you a title," Durin offered.

"Duke of the Iron Mountains. It comes with land, a seat on the Council, and enough gold to buy a small country."

"I don't want a title," Damien said immediately.

"Titles are shackles. They come with taxes and meetings."

"Then gold?" Durin asked. "The Royal Vault is open to you."

"I have gold," Damien shrugged.

"I looted the Slaver Fortress and the Dragon's Tomb. I'm liquid."

"Then what?" Durin narrowed his eyes.

"Weapons? An army?"

"I want a partnership," Damien said.

He walked to the table in the center of the room and unrolled a blueprint he had kept in his Void Gem.

It wasn't a weapon. It was the schematic for the Mana-Engine Assembly Line.

"The world is changing, King Durin," Damien said, his voice taking on the tone of a visionary.

"The Humans are obsessed with magic. The Elves are obsessed with nature. But the future? The future is Industry."

Damien pointed at the blueprint.

"I have designs. Things that don't exist in this world yet. Vehicles that move without horses. Boxes that keep food cold in the summer. Lamps that never run out of oil."

He looked at Hephaestus and Brokk.

"Your people have the skill to build them. But you don't have the market. The Human Empire looks down on Dwarven tech. They think it's dirty. Clunky."

Damien smiled, the Greedy King intent flaring gently in his eyes.

"I can change that. I have a company. The Black Thread. We operate in the shadows, but soon, we will operate in the light."

"I want the Ironclan to be my exclusive manufacturer. You build the tech. I brand it. I sell it. We split the profits 50/50."

Durin looked at the blueprint. He looked at Brokk.

"What do you think, old man?"

Brokk puffed on his cigar, examining the drawing of the assembly line.

"It's genius," Brokk grunted.

"And it's insane. He wants to mass-produce runic artifacts like they were horseshoes. It would require retooling the entire Industrial District."

"But if it works..." Hephaestus stepped forward, his eyes shining.

"Father, if it works, Ironforge becomes the economic heart of the world. We won't just be the smiths of war. We'll be the architects of the new age."

Durin stroked his beard. He looked at Damien.

"You want to turn my kingdom into a factory for your empire."

"I want to make us both rich enough to buy the world," Damien corrected.

Durin laughed. A deep, belly-shaking laugh that banished the last shadows of the sickness.

"Aye. I like that."

The King walked back to the desk. He pulled out a heavy iron seal.

"Done. The Ironclan stands with the Voss Family. From this day forth, the Black Thread has the full backing of the Dwarven Crown."

He stamped the blueprint.

CLANG.

The pact was sealed.

"Now," Durin said, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous light.

"Since you refused the title and the gold... I have one more gift for you. Something off the books."

He nodded to Hephaestus.

"Show him, son. Show him what you boys built while I was sleeping."

Hephaestus grinned. It was the grin of a mad scientist who couldn't wait to show off his monster.

"Follow me, Damien," Hephaestus said, grabbing his wrench.

"We need to go to the Deep Workshop. The one even my Uncle didn't know about."

[The Deep Workshop - Sector 0]

They took a private lift down, past the mines, past the prison, to a sealed chamber near the magma core.

The air here was hot, dry, and smelled of ozone.

"When you asked for a carriage," Hephaestus said, walking toward a massive tarp covering a sleek shape in the center of the room.

"Brokk and I took it as a challenge."

"We used the scraps from the Dragon's Tomb," Brokk added, limping alongside them.

"Melted down the high-grade alloy. And we used the Void Core you harvested from Warden Krog as the power source."

"A Void Core engine?" Lyra raised an eyebrow.

"Is that safe?"

"Safe? No," Brokk chuckled.

"Fast? Yes."

Hephaestus grabbed the corner of the tarp.

"Damien Voss," the Prince announced.

"Meet the Phantom Type-0."

He pulled the tarp.

Damien's breath hitched.

It wasn't an ordinary carriage, rather It was a predator made of metal.

Low to the ground. Matte black armor that seemed to absorb the light.

Four massive, treaded wheels with runic rims glowing a faint, menacing purple.

It had the sleek, aggressive curves of a hypercar from Blue Star, but built with the brutal durability of a tank. There was no cabin for horses.

The front was a long, armored hood housing the Void Engine.

"We call it..." Hephaestus patted the fender.

"The Fenrir."

"This bastard eats mana," Brokk explained, popping the hood to reveal the pulsing black crystal engine.

"You feed it mana, it converts it to kinetic torque. 0 to 60 in 2.5 seconds. Top speed? We don't know. The test track wasn't long enough."

"Armor?" Damien asked, running his hand over the cold, smooth metal.

"Dragon-Scale Alloy," Hephaestus said.

"It can tank a direct hit from a 4th Order spell without scratching the paint. And the glass is one-way reinforced diamond."

"We also installed a few... extras," Brokk pointed to a button on the dashboard.

"Stealth Mode. It dampens the engine noise and uses light-bending runes to turn nearly invisible at night."

"And this," Brokk pointed to a red switch.

"Mana Cannon. Mounted behind the headlights. It drains the core, so use it sparingly, but it packs the punch of a siege spell."

Damien opened the driver's door. The interior was dragon-leather, smelling of luxury.

The dashboard was a complex array of crystal gauges and mana dials.

He sat in the driver's seat. It fit him perfectly.

He placed his hands on the wheel, pushing a small amount of his Shadow Mana into the ignition crystal.

VROOOOM.

The Fenrir roared to life. different from the chug of a combustion engine.

It was a deep, predatory growl that vibrated in his chest. The purple runes on the wheels flared to life.

"It's beautiful," Damien whispered.

He looked at his team.

Leona was drooling over the reinforced bumper. "I can ram things with this."

Isabelle was touching the leather seats. "It's so soft... and it has cup holders?"

Lyra was inspecting the mana cannon. "Subtle. I like it."

"It's yours," Hephaestus said, leaning against the doorframe.

"Consider it a down payment on our partnership."

Damien gripped the wheel. He looked at the tunnel leading out of the workshop, a straight shot to the surface highway.

"Thank you, Prince," Damien said.

He checked his system map. The coordinates for the Human Empire were locked in.

"We have a long drive ahead of us," Damien said to his team. "Load up."

"Where are we going, Boss?" Leona asked, hopping into the back seat.

Damien smiled. The smile of a man who had just secured an army, a fortune, and the fastest car in the world.

"Home," Damien said.

"We have a business empire to build."

He shifted gears.

SCREEECH.

The Fenrir shot out of the tunnel like a black bullet, leaving the city of gears behind.

[Phase Two: Complete.]

[Initiating Phase Three: The Time Skip.]

...…

Subject: Regarding the Extra Chapter Glitch + A Special Announcement (Mass Release!)

To My Amazing Readers,

I am writing this update to address the confusion regarding the latest upload. As many of you have noticed, there was a technical glitch with the recent update that caused the initial chapter and nexct to be uploaded together.

I know how frustrating it is to see a notification for a new chapter, click on it with excitement, and realize it is superlong.

I realize this has resulted in a messy reading experience, with chapter numbering out of order and the flow of the story being disrupted.

For that, I offer my sincerest apologies.

I pour a lot of energy into making sure the story of Damien, the Black Thread, and the rise of "Zero" is an immersive experience.

I want you to be lost in the world of Elias, not getting pulled out of it by technical errors and formatting issues.

I am currently working hard on the backend to fix this. I am reorganizing the chapter list, ensuring the numbering is corrected.

Please bear with me for a little while longer as the platform updates; everything should be back to normal very soon.

However, I believe that an apology shouldn't just be words, it should be action.

I hate that this glitch interrupted the momentum of the story, especially right as we are wrapping up the Dwarf Arc and heading toward the highly anticipated Time Skip.

So, to make it up to you and to thank you for your patience and continued support, I am preparing a Mass Release.

A Mass release of no less than 5-10 chapters! Think of this as my token of apology,

I have been grinding away at the keyboard, and rather than releasing the next few chapters on a standard schedule, I will be dropping a large batch of chapters all at once very soon.

This mass release will power us through the aftermath of the Ironforge battle and launch us straight into the next major saga.

A Saga that I promise is going to be much better than what we just witnessed!

Thank you again, from your friendly neighbourhood author.

P.S. You guys are absolute legends! If you have any thoughts or comments, be sure to let me know. I'd love to get your feedback!

Be it on characters, plot, relationships, or questions, nothing is off the table!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.