The Paladin in the Abyss

As Tijana's voice faded away, a loud boom emanated from within the temple, sounding as if a Dwarf blacksmith were striking an anvil with all his might. Along with that thunderous noise, the stone that had been blocking the entrance now bore the symbols of a hammer and an anvil. Then, they slowly began to move aside, revealing the entrance to the temple. "The Father God has manifested, the Father God has manifested!" Every Dwarf present was utterly astonished, half because Moradin had actually heeded Tijana's call, and the other half because the Father God had seemingly agreed to let a Demon Lord enter His holy place. Lancelot looked at Tijana with some surprise, suspecting that this might be the work of the Succubus Lord behind the scenes. "Of course it wasn't me." Her voice immediately echoed in his mind, clearly reading the meaning behind his gaze, "And what's there to be surprised about? Haven't I been telling you the same all along?" "I suddenly feel that Moradin seems to have a particular fondness for you," Lancelot responded telepathically. "When you were working on that whip, His miracles descended just like that too." "It seems that the Soul Forger is indeed a stern but just deity," Tijana shrugged and stepped toward the interior of the temple. The guards hesitated for a moment, but still blocked her way. "What now?" Tijana said impatiently, "Are you going to stop me again?" "Dare not, My Lord, we are already aware of the Father God's will," the head of the Dwarf guards was much more respectful than before, but still firmly stood his ground, "But it is a rule that, during peacetime, any visitors to the temple must surrender all their weapons." Tijana glared threateningly at the Dwarf before her. Unafraid, the latter met her gaze squarely, despite the gap in strength between them being greater than that between a lion and a lamb. In the end, it was Lancelot who stepped in to mediate. "This is a weapon forged for me by Barrend Frostforge. Though it has not been with me long, it has become an irreplaceable companion," Lancelot handed over Frostslash. "Even this brief separation torments me so intensely that the pain is almost unbearable..." "That's enough," Bruto slapped him heavily on the back, handing over his own hammer, "This too was crafted by my old man, and it's really handy!" "A master's piece," the head of the Dwarf guards accepted the weapons from both of them, passing them to his companions. The three Craftsmen Committee commissioners who had arrived together also surrendered their hand axes and warhammers. Only Tijana still remained motionless; the gaze of the Dwarf guard on her was almost pleading by then. "How about you show some respect for Dwarf tradition?" Lancelot urged softly, "It's mutual respect, you respect them, and they'll respect you." Tijana gave Lancelot a deep look, reluctance written all over her face, as she reluctantly pulled out a Mithril one-handed sword from her Dimensional Bag and handed it over. The Dwarf guard gratefully received it with both hands. Even though he knew that wasn't Tijana's only weapon, at least she had formally respected the Dwarf tradition. "Please enter," the guards finally stepped aside, and the Succubus Lord said no more, striding into the Dwarf Temple hidden within the mountain peak. The others followed suit. Lancelot was visiting such a place for the first time, and everything around him piqued his curiosity. After crossing the entrance, which was carved from a massive rock, he found himself in a spacious corridor, flanked by twelve robust stone pillars, with a gigantic stone hall embedded in the mountain at the end. The hall resembled the head of a warhammer, so by that logic, the hallway they were in would be the handle, and the massive rock they had just passed through would be the counterweight at the end of the handle. Lancelot knew that Moradin's holy emblem featured a hammer, but he hadn't expected the dwarves to be so fond of such items, which could serve as both tools and weapons, that they even designed the temple of their creator god in the shape of a hammer. Each column was adorned with a blazing torch, casting a brilliant light all around, yet the air wasn't stuffy at all. The dwarves who constructed this place had clearly dug ventilation shafts. The columns were etched with exquisite reliefs, depicting a tall Dwarf battling giants, orcs, and goblins—undoubtedly, these were the great deeds of Moradin, father of the Dwarves. Passing through the corridor held aloft by the stone pillars, the group entered the stone hall at the end. In the center of this hall stood an anvil emanating a holy aura. This was none other than the shrine that Lancelot and Barrend had unintentionally created while forging the whip for Tijana. Even in retrospect, the old dwarf's actions were still... wholly inexplicable. Next to the anvil burned a forge, its red glow illuminating the entire interior of the temple. Around it were display shelves adorned with exquisite dwarven crafts, and the Cross Pickaxe they sought was placed in the most prominent position. In addition to that, there were leather racks, workbenches, grinding wheels, and a full set of blacksmithing tools. Apart from a set of stone tables and chairs that appeared meant for meetings, the place resembled more a blacksmith's shop than a temple. On either side of the main hall were smaller rooms—some served as quarters for the guards, some as storerooms and exhibition spaces, and at the entrance of other rooms were different styles of holy emblems, seemingly dedicated to other dwarven deities. Lancelot recognized one emblem consisting of two crossed battle axes—he knew it to be the symbol of the god of war within the dwarven pantheon. However, as for the other emblems representing different deities, he was clueless. He saw a pair of silver rings, a bronze mask, a burning long pin, and gemstones embedded within the stone—it was difficult to discern their corresponding divine offices from their appearances. "Honorable Lady Tijana, here is... your Cross Pickaxe," a Dwarf Temple Guard said, reluctantly presenting the artifact with both hands to the Succubus Lord. Tijana took a deep breath and took the Cross Pickaxe, and only then did her tense face finally relax. Lancelot felt a peculiar sensation, as if this dwarven holy relic held a special significance for her. "Respected Lady Tijana, now that you have reclaimed this Cross Pickaxe, may I ask you a question..." Adrick, who had been silent since entering the temple, spoke up, "Why did you suddenly decide to retrieve this Cross Pickaxe? Does it serve a special purpose for you?" "Of course," Tijana glanced disdainfully at the Chief Commissioner, pulling a thick leather scroll from her Dimensional Bag, "I need it to find more relics of Dain Frostbeard."