"It's time for the world to remember why I was called one of the 5 kings in my prime!"

The holographic map hummed, casting a red glow over the anxious faces gathered around the obsidian table.

Filled with anger, Durin slammed a gauntleted fist onto the table.

"In fact, let's strike now!" the Dwarf King roared.

"We'll take the Ironclad Legion and meet them in the pass. We'll crush them before they set foot on the sacred mountain!"

"Let the world see the power guardian and project Ironclad after sixteen years of development!"

However, despite his excitement, not everyone in the room agreed with him

"And walk into a trap?" Lyra countered, her voice calm but sharp.

She stepped forward, pointing at the sea of red dots on the map.

"We know they are coming, Your Majesty. But we don't know what they are bringing. Is it just the Dragon Legion? Or have they brought the Twilight Cultists? Do they have Void Beasts?"

Alfred adjusted his glasses, nodding in agreement.

"Miss Lyra is right. The Second Prince is many things: cruel, arrogant, and ambitious, but he is not stupid. If he is marching towards the Dwarves, knowing the reputation of the Iron Wall, he likely has a countermeasure."

Alfred looked at the King.

"If we send the Legion out blind, we risk losing our heavy hitters in the first engagement. We need eyes on the ground."

King Durin grumbled, stroking his braided beard. He looked at Leona, who nodded silently.

"Fine," Durin spat. "But I won't send an army to sneak around in the dirt."

"A small strike team," Lyra proposed. "High mobility. High stealth. We scout the border at the Sands of Drulgar and confirm their loadout, then we return."

"I'll go," Alaric stepped forward, hefting the massive slab of iron on his back.

"I'm in," Elena added, seeing Alaric so quick to step up.

"And me," a quiet voice spoke from the shadows.

They turned to see Lukas. His hands were heavily bandaged, but his eyes burned with a desperate need to be useful.

Durin sighed. "Go. But if you die out there, don't expect me to pay for your funerals."

Although he said this, as a father seeing children like these being involved in such chaos, his heart ached a bit

"Gods in Elias, just what the hell is going to happen!"

…..........…

[Location: The Royal Workshop]

Time soon passed, and before the mission, Hephaestus pulled Lukas aside, dragging him into the steam-filled chaos of the Royal Workshop.

"Sit," the Master Smith ordered, pointing to a metal stool.

Lukas sat, looking at his bandaged hands. Under the gauze, the flesh was blackened, and the nerves were dead. Nero's magma had done its work well.

"I can't help you cast, man," Lukas whispered bitterly. "I can't even fire spells from my hands. My mana channels are fried. I'm just going to slow them down."

"Stop whining," Hephaestus grunted.

He pulled a tarp off a workbench, revealing a pair of gauntlets.

They were unlike anything Lukas had seen. Sleek, matte-black metal with intricate mithril filigree running along the forearms.

They didn't have fingers in the traditional sense; the fingertips were capped with focusing lenses.

"Magitech," Hephaestus explained.

"Based on the Guardian Project's Neural Link technology. I dug these out of the archives."

"An upgrade from the exoskeletons we used during Project Ironclad to take over the city from the reagent my uncle"

He grabbed Lukas's arm and began unwrapping the bandages.

"Your nerves are dead, kid. You can't tell your fingers to move, and you can't tell your mana where to go. So, we have to bypass them."

He slid the heavy gauntlet onto Lukas's right arm.

CLICK-HISSS.

needles extended from the inner lining, digging into Lukas's arm.

"GAAH!" Lukas screamed, gritting his teeth.

"It connects directly to your Mana Core," Hephaestus shouted over the noise.

"With it, you don't need to shape the magic. You just need to pull the trigger."

"it reminds me of Leona's void gauntlet, to be honest"

As he said this, the pain in the lukas arm subsided, replaced by a cold, humming sensation.

"Try it," Hephaestus challenged.

Lukas raised his hand.

VW OOM.

Under his control, a jet of concentrated blue flame shot out of the palm emitter, melting a steel wrench on the table instantly.

It wasn't the wild, chaotic fire of a mage; instead was the focused, superheated plasma of a machine.

Lukas stared at the blue flame, mesmerised.

"Haha, this is awesome!" Lukas laughed.

"Indeed", Hephaestus grinned. "After all, I am Hephestus after all"

Laughing together, both of them continued to run a few more tests before departure

….........

[Location: The Hangar Prep Room]

In another part of the royal palace, Alaric was tightening the straps on The Anvil, his massive iron greatsword. Elena was sharpening daggers she had gotten from Lyra nearby.

"You're staring at the map again," Elena noted.

Alaric looked up. He was looking past the Dwarven borders, far to the South-West. Toward a golden land marked The Kingdom of Light.

"I have to go there, Elena," Alaric admitted softly. "Once we save Ironforge... I'm heading South."

"Why?"

Alaric sighed. "Because this," he tapped the massive slab of iron on his back,

"is just a weight. It's blunt force. It's good for crushing bugs, but against the coming chaos, it's not enough"

"Although I don't know why, I sense things are going to be more chaotic from now on"

He shook his head.

"I need a real weapon."

He looked at her, his expression serious.

"You know, my last name isn't just a commoner's name. I am Alaric Ironheart. My ancestor was the Hero who wielded the Sword of Heroes in the First War."

Elena's eyes widened. "The blade locked in the Light Cathedral?"

"Yes. It's the only thing sharp enough to cut through Divine Armour. The Church locked it away centuries ago."

He clenched his fist.

"I joined the Academy to get a permit to enter their Vaults. But now that I'm a 'traitor,' they won't open the door for me. I have to earn it. I have to create a legend so big they can't refuse me."

He hoisted The Anvil.

"So let's go save some Dwarves, I can't afford to slack off!"

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