Chereads / Abandoned in fantasy world, I will change destiny / Chapter 26 - A new Reactor Chapter 26

Chapter 26 - A new Reactor Chapter 26

The four Seraphs moved in synchronized precision, their limbs whirring quietly as they lifted the unfinished reactor, the heart of the Boar King now encased in a strange amalgamation of nature and stone. It still pulsed with that eerie glow—half alive, half machine—as they carried it toward the entrance of the sewer beneath the floating village. Kael watched from above, his mind racing with thoughts about Gwenbelle's betrayal, yet unable to pull his eyes away from the raw power being manipulated before him.

As the Seraphs descended into the sewer, the air seemed to hum with energy. They placed the reactor in a central chamber deep beneath the village, a space normally reserved for waste and forgotten mechanisms, but now repurposed for something far more significant. Slowly, they began to weave glowing threads of metallic liquid—drawn from the material they had harvested from the depths of the Boar King's nest—around the reactor. The liquid shimmered in the dim light, flowing like molten silver as it formed intricate patterns across the floor, walls, and ceiling, connecting the reactor to the floating village's infrastructure.

Kael, standing at the sewer's entrance, observed as the Seraphs' work began to transform the chamber. The metallic threads, like veins in some mechanical creature, pulsed with energy. Suddenly, the flow of glowing fire and water emerged from the reactor, an unnatural combination of elements that twisted and spiraled together, encapsulating the core in a dance of power. Fire burned cold and water ran hot, each feeding the other in a perpetual loop. The chamber was filled with an otherworldly light, casting strange shadows across the walls.

The Seraphs continued their work, manipulating the elements with careful precision, but Kael could see that the process would take time. The reactor, though powerful, was incomplete. It was alive in a way that defied reason, but unstable. Kael felt a knot of frustration tighten in his chest. Gwenbelle's actions had crippled the village, and even with this strange new power source, it was clear that the village wouldn't be fully operational for days, perhaps longer.

Realizing that he could do little but wait for the Seraphs to complete their work, Kael turned his attention to the ground below. The Boar King's nest, now abandoned and torn apart by the aftermath of the battle, might still hold secrets. He gave a sharp nod, issuing a command to the Seraphs and Valks still able to function.

"Begin the excavation," he ordered. "Salvage whatever you can from beneath the nest."

As the Seraphs moved to obey, Kael descended from the floating village, his boots touching the ground with a quiet thud. The jungle around them was still, a stark contrast to the chaos of the battle the day before. Thorny bushes and shattered trees littered the area, but Kael's focus was on the earth itself. The Boar King's nest had been more than just a lair for the beast—it was a place of significance, perhaps tied to the dwarven outpost Buinn had mentioned.

The Seraphs quickly began to dig, their metallic hands cutting through the dirt and stone with ease. Kael watched as they unearthed stone slabs marked with faded runes, remnants of an ancient structure buried deep beneath the surface. This was no mere animal's den—it was something far older, a relic of a forgotten time. As more earth was cleared away, pieces of dwarven craftsmanship began to emerge: broken columns, shattered statues, and fragments of ornate carvings. The air was thick with the sense of history, of something long buried beneath the jungle's wild growth.

Kael knelt beside one of the uncovered stones, running his hand across its surface. The runes were worn, barely legible, but they pulsed faintly with a familiar energy. The same kind of energy that now flowed through the reactor beneath his village. 

There was more to this place, Kael realized. The Boar King had not just been a mindless beast—it had been a guardian, a remnant of something long forgotten by the dwarves. And now, whatever power had sustained it was being funneled into the floating village.

"Keep digging," Kael said quietly, rising to his feet. He glanced toward the Seraphs, who worked tirelessly, pulling stone and metal from the ground. "There's more to be found here." 

As the excavation continued, Kael couldn't shake the feeling that this discovery—like the reactor, like the Boar King itself—was just the beginning of something far greater. Something that even Gwenbelle, in her haste to protect her clan's secrets, had not fully understood.

Hours into the excavation, Kael stood on the ridge overlooking the work, his mind distant, still circling the problem of Gwenbelle's betrayal. The Seraphs had been digging tirelessly through the remnants of the Boar King's nest, clawing away centuries of soil and overgrowth. Then came the report: a voice, clear but metallic, from one of the upgraded Seraphs.

"A dark hall. Carved from stone, dwarven-made."

The message jolted Kael from his reverie. He descended swiftly to the site, where the Seraph led him toward a yawning chasm in the earth. Around the entrance, the ground was littered with evidence of ancient violence—blade marks gouged into the stone, splintered remains of equipment scattered like bones. It was a grim sight, unmistakably dwarven in origin. The dust of old struggle hung thick in the air, the echoes of whatever battle had taken place long since buried by time.

"Scout ahead," Kael commanded, his voice low but firm. "Ensure it's clear."

The Seraph, agile and precise, slipped into the darkness with the quiet whir of machinery. The minutes stretched on, and Kael's patience waned, though he masked it well. He knew the Valks and the Seraphs were relentless in their tasks, but his thoughts drifted to what lay beyond. The Boar King's nest had been but the surface of this mystery—what secrets still lay in the stone heart of this long-forgotten ruin?

When the all-clear was given, Kael entered the hall, flanked by four Valks and two Seraphs, their presence a silent reminder of the dangers that could still linger here. The air inside was stale, the dampness of centuries thick in every breath. Torchlight flickered against the walls, illuminating the masterful cuts of stonework that bore the unmistakable craftsmanship of the dwarves.

As they moved deeper into the passage, the ruin revealed itself in pieces. Barrack-style rooms appeared to either side, their furniture long decayed, crumbled into dust and wood splinters. A canteen, abandoned but recognizable, lay in disarray, empty mugs still on the tables as though the inhabitants had left in haste, fleeing something far greater than they could stand against. The pantry was bare, the kitchen cold—any supplies that might have once sustained this outpost had long since rotted away. Every corner held the ghosts of a time when dwarves lived here, fought here, and perhaps died here.

Kael paused at the armory, his gaze catching on the dull gleam of dwarven steel. Three sets of armor stood still on their racks, untouched by the passage of years. The weapons—axes, hammers, and swords—were in surprisingly good condition, though dust clung to their surfaces. 

He ran his fingers along the blade of an axe, feeling the familiar weight of power imbued in the metal. These were not mere tools of war, but relics, forged with the same skill and magic that powered the floating village. They were a reminder of the dwarves' prowess, of what Gwenbelle's clan had once been, before they retreated to the hold beneath the mountain.

The warehouse nearby was empty, save for rusted shelving and toppled crates. Whatever had been stored there had either decayed or been scavenged in the years since the dwarves' disappearance. But it was the next room that stilled Kael's breath—the planning room.

Here, the past came alive.

In the center of the room was a massive stone table, worn from use, but still intact. On it lay a map, stretched wide, depicting the surrounding area with intricate care. Runes marked key locations, but one symbol stood out: the mountain range to the west. Kael's eyes narrowed, recognizing the mark of a dwarven hold etched deep into the stone.

The hold. The one Gwenbelle had tried to keep him away from. 

He traced the map with his fingers, following the path that led from their current location into the heart of the mountain. The map outlined not only the mountain's geography but the tunnels and defenses that guarded the dwarven stronghold buried beneath its peak. It was clear that the hold was vast, and though this outpost had been forgotten, the hold remained the true prize.

"Is this what Gwenbelle was trying to hide?" Kael whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the silence of the room.

He stood for a moment, thinking of the reactor, the Boar King, and the betrayal. The heart of the floating village was still unstable, its new power source delicate and strange. The dwarves had clearly abandoned this place in a hurry, but why? What force could have driven them from their fortified outpost? The Boar King had been a protector of this land, perhaps even of the dwarves themselves.

A shuffling sound behind him pulled Kael from his thoughts. One of the Seraphs, glowing faintly in the dim light, stood at attention, awaiting orders.

Kael's voice, when he spoke, was calm but resolute. "Begin repairs. Reinforce the perimeter around this area, and make sure the rest of the village knows to stay clear until I say otherwise. And have the excavation continue. There may be more."

As the Seraphs moved to obey, Kael lingered in the planning room, his eyes drawn to the carvings on the stone walls. The flickering torchlight played over ancient scenes etched into the stone, worn with age but still potent with meaning. The first depicted dwarves, their bearded figures kneeling in reverence before a great flame. Above them, angels and demons descended from the sky—otherworldly beings, their wings and horns unmistakable, locked in battle or perhaps communion with one another. The artistry was crude yet profound, an ancient testament to something much larger than any one race or kingdom.

His gaze wandered to the next image, but here the carvings had faded, the once-clear symbols lost to time. Only fragments remained—broken halos, shadows of wings, claws, and flames. Kael squinted, trying to make sense of it, but the scene was too far gone. Whatever story had been told here, the world had forgotten it.

But then, at the end of the wall, a final image caught Kael's attention. A dwarf stood alone, holding a flame in his hand, his posture reverent yet purposeful. Before him was a boar—its form unmistakable. The flame, held aloft by the dwarf, was placed into the creature's body. Kael's breath caught in his throat. **The Boar King.**

He muttered under his breath, "Is that what was inside the Boar King? A piece of this ancient flame?"

It all made sense now—the strange, mechanical heart, the burning heat it emitted. The Boar King wasn't merely a beast; it was something far more dangerous, something tied to these ancient rituals. The flame wasn't just fire—it was power, perhaps the very essence of the dwarves' ancient knowledge.

Kael stepped back from the wall, his mind racing. The carvings, though eroded by time, painted a story that stretched far beyond this outpost, beyond the Boar King. Angels and demons descending from the sky—they weren't native to this world either. It was a collision of realms, one that had left its mark on the dwarves, their creations, and now, on him.

As he stood there, lost in thought, the sound of clattering metal stirred him. The Seraphs had finished their work, their mechanical forms standing at attention, awaiting his next command. They had stripped the ruins bare, salvaging anything of worth, leaving only the empty shell of what was once a proud outpost. Ancient stone had given way to modern technology, the silent passage of time marked by every piece they had unearthed.

Kael turned to face them, his expression unreadable. There was still so much he didn't know, so much left to uncover, but this place—this forgotten outpost—was a crucial piece of the puzzle. And the Boar King, with its strange heart of flame, had been part of it all along.

"Take everything back to the village," Kael ordered. His voice was low but firm, still resonating with the weight of his discovery. "We'll need to study this further."

The Seraphs moved without question, gathering the last remnants of the dwarven outpost, while Kael lingered in the dim light of the planning room. The map on the table still showed the path to the dwarven hold beneath the mountain, the one Gwenbelle had tried to keep him away from.

But now, Kael knew there was no turning back.

Whatever secrets the dwarves had buried under that mountain, he would uncover them—no matter the cost. The angels, the demons, the flame—they were all tied to this world's fate. And Kael had already set his course.