Silence descended upon the forge, a silence broken only by the hum of the eternal furnace. Arda's massive body lay motionless, just a volcanic rock whose fires had gone out. Hong Min looked at the corpse and felt a vast emptiness replace the adrenaline.
"We killed our only chance of getting out," he whispered to himself, the words as bitter as gall in his mouth.
He remembered Arda's final words: "He... will not let you leave... except as a corpse..." Was he referring to the third threat? That thing that was still stalking them like a shadow? He turned to 404, who stood in silence.
"That threat... is it still here?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't it interfere in the fight?"
No answer came. Hong Min looked at 404's body. The deep wounds left by Arda were already beginning to heal, the dark grey fluid slowly solidifying to seal the cracks like wax. He felt a sense of awe. This creature beside him was a true monster, a monster among monsters. But he also felt sadness, because Arda, in his final moments, had not seemed like a monster at all.
To escape his thoughts, Hong Min began to wander around the place that had been Arda's "home." In a corner near the furnace, where the warmth was constant, he found what looked like a bed made of stones and old fur. Beside it was a large, cracked metal dish, still containing the remnants of burnt coal.
"Was he cooking for himself?" Hong Min thought. This simple, domestic image made the feeling of guilt even heavier. He began to justify his actions to himself in a low voice. "This was the right thing... yes. This was the right thing. He was alone here... all his friends were dead. Maybe... maybe this was a relief for him."
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But his words sounded hollow even to his own ears.
His curiosity led him to another corner of the room, where there was a stone workbench. On it was a pile of thin metal plates covered in soot. Driven by an impulse he didn't understand, he picked up the top plate and wiped it with the back of his hand.
Underneath the layer of dust, an image etched with stunning precision appeared. A picture of a group of dwarves wearing what looked like white coats, smiling with pride as they held a very small lizard, barely the size of a cat. It was Arda.
With trembling hands, he moved the first plate to reveal the one beneath it. A picture of Arda, now a little larger, playing with a small dwarf child. The child had his arm wrapped around the lizard's neck and was laughing. The next plate showed Arda at nearly his full size, and the same dwarf, now a young man dressed in work clothes, leaning against Arda's side with trust and friendship. It was a life story etched in metal.
He reached the last plate at the bottom. It was the clearest, as if it were the most precious.
It was a formal group portrait. A group of dwarves stood with stern and solemn expressions, their features tense. But in the center of the picture, there was a man who broke this formality. He was taller than the rest, about Hong Min's height, wearing a simple crown that he tilted on his head playfully. He was laughing, a pure and genuine laugh, as he hugged Arda tightly, who was coiled protectively around him. It was the happy king.
Under the picture, there was a small plaque with sharp, angular inscriptions... the dwarven language he couldn't understand.
Hong Min felt a real tightness in his chest, a suffocating sense of loss for something he had never possessed.
In the background, he heard a cold, sharp "click." He turned to see 404, who had pulled the "Ash Blade" from Arda's body and had just finished wiping the last drop of his black blood from the blade. He slid it back into its pure white scabbard with a sound as final as a death sentence.
Hong Min returned his gaze to the picture, to the face of the happy king, and realized the painful truth. He hadn't just killed an angry guardian.
He had extinguished the last ember of an entire era of happiness and friendship.
