Chapter Forty-Eight: Entering the Seat of Kazgros

Patrick and his companions followed the map provided by the three dwarf brothers, advancing along a rugged path until Olaf halted the group.

Olaf said, “Master Mage, if we proceed any further, we will reach the entrance to the Hall of Artisans. There, a large number of cave-dwellers gather—those of a higher rank, the Cavern Flameweavers and Cavern Tormentors. We should reconsider our strategy before heading to the Hall of Artisans.”

Aurelia unconsciously raised her slender eyebrow. “Are they much stronger than the cave-dwellers outside?” Since entering Uldaman, Aurelia had taken little action, quietly staying by Patrick’s side. To her, aside from Patrick, the five dwarves were barely worthy of notice.

Redur laughed heartily and tugged at Olaf. “Brother, the one before us is a high-ranking arcane mage from Silvermoon City. With him here, those cave-dwellers are no threat.” After all, Erik, Olaf, and Balrog had not participated in the earlier battles and were unaware of the strength of this group.

Redur the Surveyor and Selduin the Lost had absolute faith in Patrick’s magic, strolling through Uldaman as though it were a marketplace.

Seeing that his compatriots had no objections, Olaf rejoined the group, and they continued toward the Hall of Artisans according to the map.

The Cavern Flameweavers and Cavern Tormentors appearing nearby were clearly more advanced than the earlier cave-dwellers, their forms larger and more imposing. Yet, they met the same fate: as they approached, arcane rose vines ensnared them.

However, the cave-dwellers here were far more aggressive than those outside. Even when bound tightly by Patrick’s arcane roses, they staggered determinedly toward the group.

In response, Patrick simply detonated his Super Arcane Technique—Blazing Flame Veil. The surrounding Cavern Flameweavers and Tormentors were instantly engulfed in roaring fire. Seeing this, the cave-dwellers outside fled in all directions, terrified of being consumed by the flames.

The three dwarves were dumbfounded. Never had they imagined that those cave-dwellers, who had caused them so much trouble, could be dealt with so swiftly—and in an instant, no less. The dwarves had no mages among their kind; the titan power in their higher bloodlines granted them magical immunity, so their ignorance of magic was understandable.

In War3, one often witnessed dwarves’ small frames swelling, enveloped in a radiant titan aura—the gift of the ancient creators, the descent of the gods. When activated, dwarves gained temporary immunity to magic.

(In earlier times, the dwarves’ selectable classes were limited to Hunter, Paladin, Priest, Rogue, Warrior, and Death Knight. Only with the Cataclysm expansion in World of Warcraft did Shaman and Mage become available. Later, with the release of Mists of Pandaria, Monk was added as a playable class.)

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At last, they arrived before the Hall of Artisans. The front of the hall was flanked by towering stone gates, solemnly adorned with titan reliefs. Exquisitely carved motifs leapt from the stone doors—delicate, refined patterns, graceful lines, superb craftsmanship, and splendid decorations. Beneath the elegance lay the sediment of ages, profound and far-reaching.

Titan stone architecture radiated an immeasurable aura; to call it a “masterpiece” would be woefully inadequate for such grandeur and majesty.

The Hall of Artisans surpassed even the Guardian Hall in its magnificence. Its carvings and decorations were simply miraculous, awe-inspiring in their grandeur.

Entering the vestibule, four stone sentinels came into view, surrounded by eight massive pillars. At the hall’s center stood the Guardian’s Altar, directly opposite Patrick, and a tightly sealed stone door. Several dwarves rushed to the door, attempting to push it open from within, but the door was securely locked by an energy hidden within its carvings.

Redur and Selduin shouted, exerting all their strength to strike the stone door with their hammers…

Only to be sent flying by the force of the rebound. The two dwarves sat on the ground, faces crestfallen, staring helplessly at the stone door.

Patrick recalled that the Guardian’s Altar at the center must be activated for the four stone sentinels to awaken. Only after defeating them could they proceed deeper into the Seat of Khaz’goroth.

Yet how to activate the Guardian’s Altar was now the pressing issue—for this was reality, not a game where a simple click sufficed.

“Do you think the mechanism to open the door might be this?” Patrick pointed to the stone platform before him—the Guardian’s Altar.

Upon the platform lay a hexagonal stone tablet, which Patrick could sense pulsed with astonishing energy.

Everyone crowded around, carefully examining the central stone platform.

Redur’s eyes widened. “Let me test the quality of this thing.” With that, Redur raised his hammer and struck the stone platform. Yet history repeated itself: he was bounced back by the recoil.

Aurelia’s lips twitched, thinking: These two dwarves are real characters. How they managed to survive after discovering the ruins, caught between cave-dwellers and Dark Iron dwarves, is nothing short of miraculous.

Compared to Redur, Olaf was noticeably steadier. He carefully inspected the patterns on the stone platform and tablet, then slowly rotated the tablet to align the markings.

Instantly, a purple light burst forth from the Guardian’s Altar. The stone sentinels surrounding them began to shake off the dust on their bodies and marched toward Patrick’s group, the giant statues making the ground tremble with each step.

Patrick promptly used arcane magic to conjure several vines, binding the sentinels in place. Then, deploying his Super Arcane Technique—Blazing Flame Veil, fissures appeared across the statues’ bodies, a chunk blown from the left shoulder. Yet as the vines faded, the sentinels once again advanced on Patrick’s group; his fire magic had inflicted little harm.

“Fire does limited damage against stone. Patrick, restrain their movements. Redur, find their joints and destroy them with physical force,” Aurelia, ever the Ranger Marshal, quickly devised a strategy.

Patrick nodded, unleashing his mental power and arcane energy once more. The stone sentinels were instantly bound by pale blue arcane rose vines. The five burly dwarves, eager to redeem themselves after being twice rebuffed, took up their axes and hammers, fiercely attacking the sentinels’ joints, venting the embarrassment of their earlier failures.

From here, matters became much simpler. The four stone sentinels awoke one by one; each time, Patrick immobilized them with arcane magic, and the five dwarves dispatched each with brute force.

With the four stone sentinels slain, the door leading to the lower Seat of Khaz’goroth slowly opened.