"Voss?"

The lead Dwarf, whose helmet was cracked from the worm attack, frowned. He looked at Damien, then at his subordinates, then back at Damien.

"Never heard of it."

Damien blinked.

In the Dragon Empire, the name Voss was enough to make babies stop crying and nobles wet themselves. It was synonymous with darkness, power, and fear. To hear someone say "Never heard of it" was… refreshing, but also problematic.

"It's a human noble house," Damien explained smoothly, wiping worm blood from his sleeve. "My father is Theron Voss. He is an old friend of King Durin."

"Friend of the King?" The Dwarf scoffed, spitting on the sand. "Every human who comes to the border claims to be the King's long-lost cousin. Listen, lad. You saved our lives, and for that, the Ironclan owes you a debt. But debt or no debt, the law is the law."

He gestured to his men. The surviving dwarves levelled their rifles, not at the worms, but at Damien.

"The border is sealed. No humans allowed. Especially not armed ones with… whatever that was," he eyed Leona and Isabelle warily.

"If you want to enter the Dwarf Empire, you do it as prisoners. We'll take you in for questioning. If your story checks out, you drink ale with us. If it doesn't, you rot."

He pulled out a pair of heavy, rune-inscribed iron shackles.

"Hands."

"You dare!"

Leona stepped forward, a low growl rumbling in her chest. Her Berserk Aura flared, red mist leaking from her gauntlets.

"You point weapons at the one who saved you? I should snap your—"

"Leona. Down."

Damien's voice was calm, but it carried the weight of a command.

"But Young Lord! They are insulting you! These shackles… they don't seem normal!"

"I know," Damien smiled, but his eyes were cold. He looked at the nervous dwarves. He could kill them all in seconds. Lyra could snipe them before they pulled a trigger. Isabelle could crush them.

But that would defeat the purpose. He needed allies, not more enemies.

"It's just protocol, Leona," Damien said, stepping forward and offering his wrists. "Besides… I'd like to see if their iron is strong enough to hold me."

The lead Dwarf hesitated, intimidated by the boy's calmness, before snapping the shackles onto Damien's wrists.

Click.

The runes glowed. Damien felt his mana connection dampen slightly.

'Suppressing cuffs. Crude, but effective against 3rd Orders. Useless Intent.'

Remembering their effects from the novel, Damien's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Smart choice," the Dwarf grunted, though he looked relieved he didn't have to fight. "Load them up. We head to the Wall."

….......….

[The Iron Wall - Dwarven Border]

An hour later, the convoy crested the final dune.

Damien had read about it in the novel, but seeing it in person was different.

The Iron Wall wasn't just a wall. It was a mechanical mountain range. Standing three hundred feet tall, it was a seamless barrier of black steel and stone, stretching as far as the eye could see.

Massive smokestacks belched grey clouds into the sky. Gears the size of houses turned slowly in the walls, powering unseen mechanisms.

And on top of the battlements, massive cannons, Mana Artillery, were aimed down at the desert.

"Impressive," Damien muttered. "It makes me feel like I'm in more of a steampunk world than fantasy, truly a race built to create."

The convoy stopped at the massive main gate. A squad of Border Guards, wearing heavier, cleaner armor than the convoy, marched out.

Their captain, a dwarf with a beard braided with gold rings, looked at Damien with undisguised disgust.

"Humans?" The Captain spat. "Why did you bring them here, Borg? You know the order. Shoot on sight."

"They saved the shipment, Captain," Borg (the convoy leader) argued. "And he claims to know the King."

"The King is… indisposed," the Captain snapped. "And the Regent has ordered a total lockdown. No exceptions."

The Captain walked up to Damien. He looked at the shackles, then at Damien's waist.

"Strip him."

The command hung in the air.

"Excuse me?" Damien asked, his smile fading.

"You heard me," the Captain sneered. "Standard procedure for spies. Hand over all magical artifacts. The spatial bag. The communication stones. The weapons. And…"

He pointed at the Void Gem on Damien's neck.

"That necklace. Hand it over. It will be confiscated as evidence."

The air dropped twenty degrees.

The Void Gem contained everything; his parents left him before disappearing.

It was Damien's entire life; it was his last memories.

Yet someone wanted to take it from him? How could that be possible?.

"No," Isabelle stepped forward, her hands igniting with Flames. "You will not touch the young master!"

As Damiens' maid, she knew what the void gem represented; how dare someone try and take it?

Unknowingly, she got so angry that her horns became exposed

"Demon!" a dwarf yelled, stepping backwards in shock, as the for captain, he just glanced at her in disdain.

"Step back, demon bitch!" The Captain drew his hammer. Behind him, fifty guards raised their rifles. The mana cannons on the wall swivelled down, locking onto them.

"I said, hand it over!" The Captain roared. "Or we'll turn you into paste right here!"

Damien looked at the Captain. The amusement was gone from his face.

Ever since he had come to this world as a villain, he had always imagined that he was the one who took things; He did not give things.

'I tried to be polite. I tried to play by your rules. But you want my money? You want my secrets?'

Damien's eyes shifted. The blue was swallowed by Gold and Black.

The shackles on his wrists began to vibrate.

'Should I kill them? I can break these cuffs in a second. Lyra can take the cannons. Leona can break the gate. We can force our way in.'

'Or… do I use the letter?'

He hesitated. Using Aelinor's letter now might work, but it would reveal his hand to the Regent before he even met the King.

"I advise you to reconsider," Damien said softly, his voice amplified by a trace of mana Will. "If you touch the gem, you'll lose your hand."

"Is that a threat?" The Captain laughed. "You are in chains, boy! How dare you be arrogant!"

He reached for the necklace.

"Stop!"

A voice, hoarse and exhausted, echoed from the top of the gate.

CLANK. WHIR. HISS.

The sound of heavy machinery moving drew everyone's attention.

A platform lowered from the wall. Standing on it was a Dwarf, but not a soldier.

He was young for a dwarf, his beard only just starting to thicken. He wore a leather apron covered in grease, oil stains, and soot.

He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. Goggles were strapped to his forehead, and he held a strange, half-finished mechanical device in his hand.

Dwarf Prince Hephaestus.

"What is the meaning of this delay?" Hephaestus shouted, his voice cracking with fatigue. "I need that shipment of Mithril! The prototype is failing because the alloy is trash!"

"Prince!" The Captain bowed hastily. "We—we caught some human spies. They were trying to smuggle—"

"Spies?" Hephaestus rubbed his eyes, looking down at the group. He looked at the dead worms being hauled by the convoy.

He looked at the shattered head of one worm, crushed by a fist. He looked at the clean hole in another, sniped by wind.

Then, his eyes landed on Damien.

Not on his face. On the shackles.

Specifically, the way the runes on the shackles were flickering, destabilized by Damien's aura.

Hephaestus froze. He adjusted his goggles, leaning over the railing.

"That interference pattern..." Hephaestus muttered. "That's not normal mana."

He looked at the Captain.

"Bring them in. Now."

"But, Sir! The Regent said—"

"I don't care what my uncle said!" Hephaestus roared, throwing a wrench at the Captain.

"I need engineers who understand mana density! And that human... he's overwriting the suppression cuffs just by standing there!"

The Prince pointed a greasy finger at Damien.

"You. Human. Can you hold a wrench?"

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