The dwarfs gradually formed ranks, moving down their so-called grand ladder — a two-wheeler — and left Gear No. 3333.
No matter how the dwarf king on the throne roared, even his guards would no longer relay messages for him. He was under the misconception that his absolute power, formed under high-pressure conditions, made him omnipotent. However, it was the power of the king, not him, that was strong.
The king of the dwarfs, like a clown with a multicolored face, shouted and raved, then, exhausted, sat panting on the iron throne.
It was the power of the king that was always strong.
It was never him that was strong.
The dwarf king looked at the retreating formations on Gear No. 3333 and fell into deep thought.
His family had ruled here for so long, far too long, until he began to perceive himself as belonging to a different class, even a different species, than the dwarf warriors.
He thought he could forever command these commoners.
