The robed leader was clearly no pushover—Aldric couldn't even gauge his martial rank from up in the tree. All he could do was watch and worry for the dwarves.
With the leader jumping in, the dwarf chief started losing ground, his massive axe swings growing sluggish.
Just as the robes thought victory was theirs, the dwarf chief bellowed, "Battle fury!"
His muscles bulged, a faint red flame igniting around him, loosening the crimson chains a bit.
He unleashed a powerful technique, blasting the five encircling robes away!
All five hit the dirt injured, even the leader coughing up blood, clearly hurt bad.
Aldric watched in awe—this was his first real taste of intense combat.
The dwarf chief must've tapped into some innate ability, spiking his power level.
Seeing the dwarves gain the upper hand eased Aldric's nerves, but it only fueled his hunger to get stronger.
After knocking back the five, the chief turned to help his kin take down the other robes!
Seeing most of his warriors bloodied and battered ignited his rage. He spun toward the wounded robed leader.
With a furious roar, he charged, hefting his axe high to cleave the guy in two.
The leader seethed in shock and fury—he hadn't expected the dwarf to be this tough!
He'd underestimated the race. A vicious glint in his eyes, he grabbed two injured underlings by the chest, crushing their hearts in a claw grip while yelling, "Blood sacrifice to the ghosts!"
The array flared with bloody light. The chains around the dwarf chief tightened, and new ones snaked up to bind his raised axe, freezing it mid-air.
The chief strained with all his might but couldn't break free. His short frame was wrapped head to toe in red chains.
Other dwarves tried to rush to his aid, but the remaining robes held them off desperately.
The robed leader cackled as he stood.
Brushing off his robes, he sauntered over to the chief. "You dare fight back, stub? Think I can't handle you?"
"Once I slap a seal on you, you'll be my sturdiest slave!"
"Heh... don't worry, I'll snag more of your kind for company. Serving our glorious Crimson Worship Cult as slaves is an honor for dwarves like you!"
Aldric's heart raced from his perch!
What did these robes want with so many dwarves? And this "Crimson Worship Cult"—he'd never heard of it.
Their vibe screamed evil, especially sacrificing their own to power the array. Pure madness!
The dwarf chief thrashed in humiliated rage, trying to swing his axe, but the chains held it firm.
The leader burst out laughing, stepping right up. The axe hovered inches from his face.
"Chop away, shorty! Come on, swing if you can! Just be a good slave."
He reached out mockingly to pat the chief's furious face...
But suddenly, the red chains flickered and vanished.
The axe, driven by the chief's built-up force, slammed down, splitting the unprepared leader from left shoulder to hip!
Everyone froze, staring at the scene.
The chief stumbled forward from the sudden release, just as baffled...
Only the dying leader twisted his head back.
There, not far behind, stood a figure under a tree—one arm shielding his face, the other clutching a small black flag. The very flag he'd planted as the array's eye last night...
The leader tried to speak, but blood gushed from his mouth.
Eyes wide, he refused to close them, desperate to see who had doomed him...
Snapping out of it, the dwarves exploded with ferocity now free of the chains.
The leaderless robes panicked, no fight left, as dwarves chased and hacked them down in a one-sided massacre...
Aldric peeked from behind the tree, arm still hiding his face, flag in hand, scanning the battlefield nervously.
Terrified some robe might break off for revenge!
But soon, it ended. Every robe dead, only the dwarves' heavy breaths filling the air...
Aldric relaxed—no escapes. He didn't want more drama. Facing the field, he backed away slowly.
"Hold it!" the dwarf chief shouted, charging toward him.
Aldric had seen that charge's terror before—the only difference was no raised axe this time.
Still, the intensity chilled him to the bone.
The chief reached him, eyeing the teen with his arm up, then the flag, piecing it together...
Aldric glanced down at the approaching dwarf, fearing a misunderstanding from the seemingly straightforward guy.
"I mean no harm—I just helped you!" he blurted.
He spilled everything: how he'd ended up there last night, got stuck in the tree, and witnessed it all. Dwarves gathered around...
After his story, the chief doused his red flames first.
Without them, his aura weakened sharply.
He pulled a huge barrel from his storage space, popped the lid, and chugged...
Dark red liquor dribbled through his beard—Aldric caught the potent scent.
He marveled at the guzzling. Grandpa Cedric was right—dwarves lived for their drink!
Aldric wasn't sure why he'd jumped in—maybe his good heart won out.
All he could do was yank the array's eye. Hiding his face was to avoid payback if the robes spotted him...
After downing half the barrel, the chief perked up noticeably.
Spotting Aldric still shielding his face, he boomed a laugh!
He yanked Aldric close for a bear hug, thumping his back heartily. "Thanks, my friend!"
The pull exposed Aldric's young face.
But the hug nearly squeezed the life out of him!
Those back slaps stung like hell, leaving him speechless and wincing.
The surrounding dwarves roared with laughter at his reaction...
The chief noticed the kid's frailty, scratching his head sheepishly. "Friend, I'm Sabaka. What's your name?"
He offered the barrel.
Aldric leaned on the tree, gasping, a weird thought popping up—Dad really does love me; all those beatings growing up, none hit as hard as this dwarf's pats...
He shook it off, meeting the dwarves' warm stares.
Mood lifting, he smiled. "Aldric, from Rivermark Kingdom!"
He grabbed the barrel—it was heavy—and mimicked the chief, taking a big swig...
What Aldric didn't know: for booze-loving dwarves, sharing their drink meant you'd earned true friendship!
Even less: Sabaka's brew was dwarven war-god ale!
Fiery as magma going down, with some magical kick...