Logout Error: My NPCs Now Worship Me

The journey to the Dragon's Tooth Mountains was a stark and silent affair. The royal carriage had been traded for sturdy mountain horses, and the entourage was stripped to its bare essentials: Queen Lilliana, Sir Kaelan, and Force.

The presence of the Guardian Monk was an oppressive, awe-inspiring thing. He wore no armor, only simple, loose-fitting pants and bracers covered in glowing runic tattoos. Yet, he radiated a sense of invulnerability that no suit of plate could ever match. He did not speak unless spoken to, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon, his posture a perfect embodiment of disciplined readiness. He was not a bodyguard; he was a walking, breathing fortress wall.

Lilliana found his silence… useful. Unlike the other Guardians she had met, Force had no overt personality to manage. He was not a seething cauldron of jealousy like Gravity, nor a seductive predator like Spidy. He was an instrument. A perfect, deadly instrument of his master's will.

"He does not require food, does he?" Lilliana asked Sir Kaelan quietly as they made camp on the first night. They were huddled around a small fire, while Force stood motionless on a nearby rocky outcrop, a silhouette against the starry sky, seemingly immune to the biting mountain wind.

"I do not believe so, Your Highness," Sir Kaelan whispered back, his gaze fixed on the Guardian. "In the three weeks you have been in Oakhaven, I have never seen any of them eat or sleep. It is... unsettling."

"It is efficient," Lilliana corrected, her gaze analytical. "They are beings of pure function, created for a purpose. Emotion is a secondary trait. For him," she nodded towards Force, "his purpose is loyalty and power. Nothing else is necessary."

She understood him, in a way. He was as much a tool of his master as she was, albeit a far more powerful and trusted one. This shared purpose, this shared servitude to Kaelus, was the only thing they had in common.

On the third day, as they entered the treacherous mountain passes, they encountered their first problem. A rockslide, triggered by recent rains, had completely blocked the path. A wall of massive boulders, some the size of carriages, made the road impassable.

"We've lost a day, at least," Sir Kaelan said with a grimace, surveying the blockage. "We'll have to backtrack and find another pass."

"Unacceptable," Lilliana stated flatly. Delay was not an option.

She turned to her silent protector. "Force," she said, her tone not a request, but a polite instruction. "Clear the path."

Force turned his head, his impassive gaze falling upon the wall of rock. He gave a single, sharp nod. He walked towards the largest boulder, a chunk of granite that must have weighed fifty tons. He did not rear back for a mighty blow. He simply placed his open palm flat against its surface.

He took a deep breath. The runic tattoos on his arms began to glow with a brilliant, white light.

[Monk Art: Resonating Palm of the Unbroken Mountain]

A low hum filled the air, a deep, vibrational frequency that seemed to shake the very soul. It was not a sound of impact. It was the sound of matter being taught a new lesson. The massive boulder shivered. Cracks, as fine as spiderwebs, appeared all over its surface.

Then, with a sound like a thousand panes of glass shattering at once, the boulder disintegrated. It didn't explode. It simply collapsed into a pile of fine gravel and dust.

Lilliana and Sir Kaelan stared, speechless.

Force did not pause. He moved to the next boulder, and the next, and the next. With a series of silent, precise palm-strikes, he reduced the entire rockslide to a neat pile of gravel by the side of the road, clearing the path in less than five minutes. He did not seem to have exerted himself in the slightest. He returned to his position, the light from his tattoos fading, his expression as stoic as ever.

Sir Kaelan swallowed hard. He was one of the finest swordsmen in the kingdom, but he knew with absolute certainty that his best sword would have shattered just trying to scratch one of those boulders. The power of a single Guardian, even when applied so casually, was on a scale he could barely comprehend.

Lilliana, however, just gave an approving nod. "Excellent work, Force. Your efficiency is appreciated."

She had not praised his strength. She had praised his utility. It was the correct language to use. A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of understanding passed through Force's eyes. He was beginning to understand why his master had chosen this human. She was strange, but she understood the principle of purpose.

They continued their journey, the atmosphere having subtly shifted. Lilliana was more certain than ever in her choice of escort. And Force was beginning to see the Queen not as a rival, but as a competent commander in their shared master's service.

Finally, after another day of travel, they saw it.

Hewn into the face of the largest mountain was the Great Gate of Khaz'Modan. It was a masterpiece of dwarven engineering, a hundred-foot-tall gate of solid granite and reinforced with bands of pure adamantine. Intricate carvings of dwarven kings and ancient battles covered its surface. It was said that it had never been breached, neither by dragon fire nor by the armies of men.

And, as Rose had reported, it was sealed shut. The massive locking mechanisms, each the size of a millstone, were firmly in place. The air was still and silent. There were no sentries on the battlements above the gate. No smoke rose from the chimneys carved into the mountain. The entire citadel felt… dead.

"This is wrong," Sir Kaelan said, his hand resting on his sword. "Even if they've sealed the gates, there should be lookouts. The silence is... unnatural."

Lilliana dismounted, her gaze sweeping over the gate and the surrounding area. She noticed something on the ground near the massive stone doors. Dark, purplish-black stains that looked like dried blood, but not of any animal she recognized. And there were deep gouges in the stone around the gate, not from pickaxes, but from what looked like immense, powerful claws.

"There was a fight here," she stated, her voice grim. "A desperate one."

She walked to the base of the gate, the sheer scale of it humbling. "Force, if you would."

Force stepped forward. He did not touch the gate. He placed his hands together, took a single, deep breath, and then bellowed, his voice amplified by his internal energy, his ki.

"IN THE NAME OF THE SILENT SOVEREIGN, LORD KAELUS, HIS ENVOY, QUEEN LILLIANA, SEEKS PARLEY WITH KING THRAIN IRONHAND!"

His voice did not just echo through the pass. It seemed to penetrate the very stone of the gate, a resonant boom that would have been heard in the deepest halls of the mountain citadel.

They waited. The silence that answered was absolute.

"Again," Lilliana commanded.

Force repeated the call, even louder this time. Still, nothing.

"It's no good, Your Highness," Sir Kaelan said. "They're either all dead or they're ignoring us."

"They are not ignoring us," Lilliana said, her eyes narrowed in thought. "They are afraid. Not of us. Of something else. Something that is preventing them from even showing their faces." She looked back at the claw marks.

She made a decision. "Force. I need to get their attention. I need to prove we are not the enemy they fear. I need you to knock."

Force looked at her, then at the adamantine-reinforced gate that had withstood armies for a thousand years. A flicker of something—the dwarven equivalent of a challenge—appeared in his eyes.

"As the Queen commands," he said.

He walked to the center of the Great Gate. He didn't draw back his fist for a mighty punch. That would be crude. It might break the gate, and his master's new envoy wanted to talk, not to smash.

He placed his right fist gently against the adamantine band in the center of the door. The runes on his arm began to glow, this time with a deep, pulsing, golden light. He was not channeling destructive power. He was channeling pure, concentrated sonic vibration.

[Monk Art: Heartbeat of the Mountain]

He struck the gate with a single, sharp, precise punch.

There was no crash. No boom.

DONG.

A single, pure, resonant note, like the striking of a colossal temple bell, rang out. The sound was so deep and powerful that the ground beneath their feet vibrated. The adamantine bands on the gate glowed red-hot for a second from the sheer energy transferred into them. The sound wave traveled through the gate and into the mountain beyond, a percussive summons that would have shaken every dwarf in the citadel to his very bones.

It was not an attack. It was a statement of incredible, controlled power. We can break this door down whenever we wish. But we choose not to. We are knocking politely. Answer.

They waited in the ringing silence.

For a long moment, there was nothing. Then, high above, a tiny slit in the rock, a hidden viewing portal, slid open. A pair of terrified dwarven eyes peered out.

"Go away, surface-dwellers!" a gruff, panicked voice shouted from within. "We have no trade for you! The Deep Roads have awakened! The 'Crawlers' have returned! There is only death in Khaz'Modan now!"

Before Lilliana could reply, the viewing slit slammed shut.

But she had what she needed. A name. The 'Crawlers'. And a confirmation. The threat was internal.

She turned to Force, a new, determined glint in her eye. "It seems we will not be negotiating for trade contracts today," she said. "It seems we will be negotiating for the very survival of the dwarven race. This is a far greater opportunity."