Chapter Fifty-One: The Ironblack Councilor

“So I’ve been talking with Norgannon for such a long time,” Patrick thought to himself.

He took a sip of water, sat upright to ease the soreness and numbness in his muscles, and let his mind dwell on the arcane Titan sigils Norgannon had left him. His thoughts drifted back to the sea of consciousness, surveying the crystallization of Titanic arcane wisdom.

Now, Patrick’s body began to radiate arcane power even more intensely than before, surpassing the energy that had filled him during his conversation with Norgannon.

Sensing the surge of arcane energy around her, Aurelia watched as Patrick’s expression grew “distant” once more, and she panicked, fumbling to steady him by the arm, determined not to let him fall into deep meditation again.

Only then did Patrick return to himself, noticing Aurelia’s anxious face and her bewildered grip on his arm. He gave the elven maiden a gentle hug, smiling, “Don’t worry, I just need to rest for a bit. Soon we can leave and return to the kingdom.”

“All right,” Aurelia replied, flustered by his embrace, her heart fluttering with a touch of confusion.

The five dwarves were still busy gathering gemstones from the vault. Renowned for their mining and jeweling skills, dwarves possessed an extraordinary passion for minerals and stones.

Patrick activated the Titan sigil, and arcane energy instantly surged through his body. The faint arcane light that had once trickled from his eyes now flowed in torrents. Behind him, four platinum discs began to shrink, contracting until they finally dissolved into a stream of pure arcane essence, which, guided by Patrick’s will, spiraled into his palm.

Gradually, the memory held within the platinum discs unfolded in Patrick’s mind—the Titans’ mastery of the arcane, their understanding, their applications, and their creativity—all inscribed within these four platinum discs.

His sea of consciousness brimmed with arcane power, and the energy that occasionally overflowed from his body left Aurelia and Lorne Songwalker both feeling invigorated and refreshed.

In truth, Uldaman itself was a grand Titan experiment. Here, the Titans created their servants, and the blueprints for the testing grounds, drafted by Khaz’goroth, were meant to ensure their experiments would run smoothly—to create more Earthen and stone guardians. Part of the platinum disc’s purpose was as a recording device left by the Titans, chronicling everything that happened in Uldaman from ancient times to the present—tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of years of history, and all the Earthen and giants’ research into the arcane, all gathered within these discs.

Patrick felt his spirit world become full and vibrant, the arcane energy within him increasingly restless; his thoughts could stir the arcane at will. The arcane around him, pale blue and condensed, seemed to cheer and dance, warping and bending the space itself with their energy.

Yet, Patrick did not break through to the seventh circle; he simply felt his spirit refining, his command of the arcane growing ever purer.

Seeing Patrick had recovered from his rest, Lorne Songwalker called to the dwarves to prepare for departure. The dwarves crammed their packs with gemstones and gold coins—some even hung small pouches from their beards, a comical sight.

Patrick and Aurelia also filled their magic satchels with gold and jewels, and the group, all well rewarded, set off to leave.

“When I get back to Ironforge, I’m going to build myself a grand house, lined with mithril and gemstones!” boomed Surveyor Redur, his eyes shining with dreams as he looked at the gold he carried.

It seemed that, no matter the world, housing was always the pressing concern for its residents.

“I’m going to make myself a bed of gems and sleep on it every night!” declared the burly Lost One, Seldurin, his deep voice quivering with excitement.

Patrick’s party made ready to depart Khaz’goroth’s Seat. Now possessing the Titans’ platinum disc, Patrick could open the massive stone doors with ease, granting them unhindered passage.

As they reached the entrance to the Hall of Craftsmen, they ran into a group of dwarves clad in regulation armor and weaponry. At their head was a dwarf with a fiery red beard, his armor and robe the same blazing hue, and in his hand, a great iron hammer etched with red runes.

“Damn, that’s Gagarn Firehammer, a Black Iron senator from Shadowforge City. What is he doing here?” Surveyor Redur’s voice trembled with anxiety as he edged closer to Patrick. “When the Explorers’ League first discovered these ruins, the Black Iron dwarves rushed here to seize them and took control of all of Uldaman.”

“So, it’s you—Bronzebeard clan, is it? Ignorant, foolish Bronzebeard dwarves, do you dare disturb Emperor Thaurissan’s treasury?” Gagarn Firehammer sneered, flames licking from his hammer.

“Bastard…” Surveyor Redur’s face turned crimson with rage, words failing him.

“Let’s do this: we’ll pretend we didn’t see each other. If you want to go in, be my guest. But let my team leave,” Patrick said to Gagarn Firehammer. As he spoke, Aurelia gripped her short sword tightly—Patrick’s words sounded, to her, like a declaration of war.

“Ahahaha… ha!” Gagarn Firehammer and the Dark Anvil archaeologists and geologists behind him burst into raucous laughter.

“You thieving scum, trying to sneak off with Emperor Thaurissan’s treasures—do you really think you can walk away from this unscathed? Isn’t that a little too much wishful thinking?” Flames burst from Gagarn’s hammer as he gave the battle command, just like in the old dungeons: “In the name of Thaurissan’s beard—kill them!”

“How utterly foolish,” Patrick sighed, shaking his head. The arcane barrier flickered into being. With the power of Norgannon’s platinum disc, Patrick’s mastery of the arcane had reached new heights—he was no longer the same mage who had entered Uldaman.

The Black Iron dwarves charged, weapons raised, but the moment they crossed the barrier, they were ensnared by arcane roses. The vines transformed into searing yellow-white flames, and in an instant, the Black Iron dwarves were consumed—so swiftly that not even a scream escaped them. Nothing remained.

“Oh? Fire magic? Interesting.” Gagarn Firehammer and the Dark Anvil geologists quickly cast fire protection spells. As a fire mage himself, Gagarn understood all too well the temperature of these yellow-white flames.

He and his geologists encircled Patrick’s party, forming a perimeter to prevent their escape.

“A waste of time. You may as well come at me together,” Patrick said with a weary shake of his head.

Such disdainful words nearly made Gagarn Firehammer lose control. He ordered all the dwarves to close in, encircling Patrick and his companions.