Back in his mischievous days, Aldric had sneaked sips from his grandpa and dad's stashes, building up a decent tolerance over time. But nothing prepared him for the dwarves' brew—one gulp, and his face flushed beet red, heat spreading through his body.
The alcohol hit hard, stirring his vitality into a frenzy he couldn't contain. It shattered the barrier to Warrior third stage.
Aldric was thrilled and stunned!
One swig had pushed him through a breakthrough, meeting Sanctara Academy's entry requirement just like that!
He'd been fretting over how travel would cut into his training time, risking failure at the exams. Problem solved in an instant!
Grinning inside, he lifted the barrel for another big pull. The kick made him wobble, nearly toppling over.
His energy surged again, full of life, but without that breakthrough rush from the first sip...
The dwarves burst into hearty laughter at his wobbly state!
Sabaka, catching the boy's embarrassment, guessed his thoughts. "Friend, this is our dwarven war-god ale—the finest in the world!"
"It invigorates your blood, heals wounds, dulls pain, restores stamina, clears debuffs, boosts your fighting spirit, enhances virility... and more!"
"The first sip packs the biggest punch. Did it bump you up a rank?"
"Later sips aren't as intense, but they still deliver all those perks!"
"Once you're married, a nightly nip will keep you fired up every time..."
Aldric waved him off, cutting short the escalating ramble. Dwarves might not talk much, but get them on booze, and they wouldn't shut up.
At thirteen, he was still naive about romance, full of curiosity and longing, but not ready to chat about it openly.
Handing back the barrel, Aldric bowed deeply in thanks. "Appreciate you sharing this amazing stuff. I love it—it even gave me a level up! Never tasted anything like it!"
The dwarves beamed at the praise for their war-god ale, happier than if he'd called them unbeatable warriors.
Sabaka grinned widest, grabbing Aldric's arm. "Come on, back to our hold with us. You're a friend—I'll introduce you to the whole clan. Ale and roasted meat, all you can handle!"
He tugged Aldric toward the wagons.
Aldric gripped the iron-like hand, flustered. "Can't this time, Sabaka. I'd love to visit, but I've got urgent business!"
"I need to enroll at Sanctara Academy. It's a long haul, less than three months left—don't know if I'll make it. Can't afford detours for fun!"
Sabaka paused, eyeing the boy's anxious face, and nodded reluctantly. "Fair enough. Sanctara City's far off. War's raging between two nations ahead—roads blocked, you'll have to detour. Time's tight!"
Aldric's eyes widened in shock. Good thing he'd run into the dwarves and got the heads-up!
Charging into a war zone would've been a nightmare to escape. Maybe good deeds really did pay off!
Steadying himself, he asked, "Sabaka, any idea who these robed creeps are? Why target you?"
Sabaka went quiet, striding to the bisected leader's body and flipping back the hood. Underneath: a pale, bald man!
He rummaged, finding a storage belt. With the owner dead, the seal vanished.
Inside: coins, pills, spare clothes.
The only clue: a hide map. Unrolling it, Sabaka's face twisted in rage.
In a low voice: "No clue who they are. Our hold got hit a while back!"
"They couldn't take us head-on, so they besieged us. Outbound supply runs keep getting ambushed—lots of kin gone missing!"
"This trip was mine to lead. Without your help, we'd be goners too!"
"The map marks several dwarf holds. Looks like others got hit!"
"A goblin tribe nearby was attacked too. Gotta report this to the chief!"
Aldric was taken aback. Who'd poke the dwarves' infamous temper?
He spotted a tattoo on the leader: a black sun and moon.
It gave him the creeps!
Aldric said, "During the fight, he mentioned hauling you off to forge for some Crimson Worship Cult. Ring any bells?"
Sabaka shook his bearded head. "Nah, we dwarves stick to trading basics with outsiders—don't mingle much!"
"We've never messed with any group. But if they're gunning for us, are they ready for our axes?" Sabaka swung his massive weapon, taller than him.
Aldric swallowed hard, eyeing the axe warily.
The last guy it grazed lay in halves on the ground.
Meanwhile, other dwarves piled loot from the dead robes in front of them!
Aldric scanned the heap—nothing too fancy. He asked Sabaka, "What about this stuff?"
Sabaka shrugged. "Take what you want. I just need the map for the report!"
Aldric didn't hold back, pocketing some healing pills into his belt. He left the coins and rest—dwarves needed supplies for trading, so the money mattered more to them.
Sabaka noted the gesture, respecting the kid more. Solid friend!
After a thoughtful pause, face pained, he pulled two barrels from his belt. "Friend, since you're rushing off, no hard feelings. Take these war-god ales for the road!"
"Next time you're near, drop by our hold. We'll drink proper—whole clan's in the caves of Falang Mountains ahead!"
Aldric's eyes lit up, stashing them happily!
Rare finds like this magical brew were gold. As he packed, "Absolutely! Once school's out, I'll swing by!"
"Watch out for that Crimson Worship Cult. If it's bad, band your holds together—fight as one!"
Sabaka's eyes brightened. Smart idea—humans had clever heads!
Aldric hugged each dwarf goodbye. Their bonds were straightforward and real!
With a wave, he jogged back to camp...
On the way, Aldric fished the small flag from his chest—the array eye from last night.
It creeped him out no matter what. He tossed it into the river ahead.
The black flag bobbed and drifted away...
Back at camp, Aldric found his black horse grazing leisurely, chill as ever.
Irritated, he smirked coldly and approached.
Onyx was in bliss. The kid hadn't shown for nearly a day—maybe forgotten? A few more, and freedom to gallop off...
Dream shattered as the smirking boy appeared.
That grin made all five horse legs quiver. Onyx trotted over fawningly, nuzzling his master's arm.
Aldric considered disciplining the rebellious mount but thought better—already lost a day, better hustle.
With a snort, he mounted up and spurred toward Sanctara at a gallop...
What Aldric didn't know: three days later, by a nearby river, two robed figures stood on a rock.
One held a soggy flag, rasping, "This is the array banner I lent Nile emissary. Finding it here means he failed!"
A pause: "Whoever wrecked our plans... with my soul mark on it, I'd track them eventually!"
"But he ditched it. So either a powerhouse or array master!"
The other: "A strong one's onto us. Halt ops in this zone—go dark, await cult orders!" Then vanished atop the stone...
The "powerhouse" they feared was currently racing horseback into the distance!
One simple toss had dodged a massive threat.
But he'd unwittingly stepped into a vast conspiracy...