Chapter 23: The Tale of the Curse

Nibelungen, in Norse mythology, means “Land of the Dead” or “Land of Mist.”

In medieval German, the people who lived there were called “Nibelung” (plural “Nibelungen”), meaning “those who live in the Land of Mist.”

“Trees, trees, trees, nothing but trees!”

The muscular magician, Hank, and the “Musketeer,” Demos, returned to the pre-arranged meeting spot.

Their expressions clearly conveyed their frustration.

“Same here. The mist is too thick; I didn’t dare explore recklessly,” Zigris said, leaping down from a thick tree trunk.

Li Ruoyi lay back on a large boulder in a clearing.

Though he had arrived earlier than anyone else, he had also found nothing.

“What about you, Lord Ruoyi?”

Hank still held a sliver of hope for the Human King before him.

“Nothing but an endless black forest, and still more endless black forest,” Li Ruoyi sat up, scratching his black hair.

“Good work, everyone!”

Li Ruoyi felt extremely frustrated but could only accept reality.

“To find Fafnir, we still have to rely on that dwarf.”

“Hey! Brother Demos, your flintlock has been forged for you.”

Alberich handed a brand-new flintlock, shimmering with a dim yellow glow, into the magician’s hands.

“Ooh, ooh!”

Just touching it allowed Demos to feel the magic power that seemed to have come to life.

The gunstock, made from the dark wood of the region, felt excellent in his hands.

For a moment, the magician found it hard to tear his eyes away from his new weapon.

“Now then, let’s talk business.”

The dwarf rubbed his small hands together.

“Rhein, Sigurd!”

At the dwarf’s call, they emerged from their respective rooms and came to the forging platform downstairs.

“It has been some days since you all arrived at my humble abode. It’s time for you warriors to set out and slay the evil dragon,” the dwarf said with a smile, pushing a yellowed map onto the large table of the forging platform.

He took two oil lamps from a servant and placed them on the table for illumination.

“This is the internal map of Nibelungen, recording its complex passages and all its entrances and exits.”

“You won’t be able to do without it. I can have it deeply engraved in your minds,” the dwarf said.

“Wait! After my observations these past few days, there’s nothing around here but an endless black forest. Where are these so-called entrances and exits?”

Li Ruoyi crossed his arms and stared at the lewdly smiling Alberich.

Even with his powerful insight, he couldn’t determine the authenticity of this yellowed map by observation alone.

“Of course you outsiders can’t find it! That… that is a barrier left by Odin.”

The dwarf expressed disdain for Li Ruoyi’s doubt.

“Besides the dwarves and the evil dragon Fafnir, no one can find the entrance.”

“I have been there before. I can confirm the authenticity of this map.”

Sigurd, who had been silent until now, spoke.

He was the kind of man who, when silent, was just that, but when he spoke, he shocked everyone.

“You mean you’ve been there? But that was thousands of years ago?”

Zigris found it incredible; that was an era so ancient that humans had not yet fully understood the planet, a divine history with only vague records.

“Swordsman of my same origin, you did not mishear,” the man replied calmly.

“My God! You are not a descendant of Sigurd, but Sigurd himself!”

Hank seemed to understand something; his excessive surprise nearly made him fall off the forging platform.

“It is truly shameful to say, but although Brynhildr and I loved each other, we did not have a good ending and did not have any offspring.”

Even when recounting his own tragic fate, the man’s expression did not change much.

“Of course, sharing the map comes at a certain price!” the dwarf interjected, continuing the previous conversation.

“I risked my life to draw this. The flintlock from earlier can be considered a little bonus.”

“But, Mr. Dwarf, we don’t have…”

Rhein also understood that they had no bargaining chips to trade with this dwarf.

“As you can see, we have nothing right now! And nothing we can give you!”

Li Ruoyi stepped in front of Rhein.

From the moment he learned this dwarf was named Alberich, he was unwilling to let Rhein speak with him any further.

“How can you say you have nothing?”

The dwarf tapped a large red X at the center of the map.

“The dragon’s treasure—the Rhinegold—I will take half of it.”

“I have no objection,” Sigurd stated his position.

“I was originally asked by someone to revisit the land of the dead out of a sense of duty.”

“No way, great hero! That’s the Rhinegold!”

Hank and Demos shouted; after all, in the medieval era, being a magician was a very expensive profession.

Particularly, the European desire for treasure, etched into their very bones, made them refuse to yield.

“You alone taking half is not acceptable!”

“Fine, we accept your proposal.”

Li Ruoyi also readily accepted the dwarf’s condition.

After all, he had not made any outrageous demands; reaching a point where they could avoid conflict was the best possible outcome.

“One last question.”

Li Ruoyi raised a finger.

“What exactly is this ‘dirty and tiring work’ you are being forced to do?”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head. I can even assert that in another month, you will not be able to defeat that monster.”

“The dwarves are forging armor for this dragon, and every part of this armor has the hardness of a divine iron shield!”

Using the same method as before, holding onto that dim yellow thread of magic, the dwarf led the group through the dense black forest and to a massive hillside.

The hillside was not particularly treacherous or complex in terms of terrain data.

It combined distinctive road surfaces, steep slopes, and the surrounding environment.

Under the mist that veiled the sky, it still appeared tall and strange.

“This way,” the dwarf whispered.

This temple was built underground, with its entrance hidden behind a statue of Odin, a good hiding place to avoid detection.

Passing the statue and circling to the back of the hillside, a massive metal door stood before them.

Though it was said to be metal, its hardness seemed too strange; touching it, Li Ruoyi estimated that his own strike would only leave a normal dent.

Alberich placed a large disc into a depression on the ground in front of the door and opened the temple gates, simultaneously activating most of the equipment within.

The temple began to roar, and the outer metal door revealed a dark, narrow path with a massive rumbling sound.

It was like a black hole that swallowed light; not a single ray could penetrate it.

But a massive gate of light still blocked the far end of this dark passage.

“Go on. After passing through this passage, that gate will lead to the main hall of the dragon’s lair,” the dwarf added.

“Then allow me and the swordsman who shares my name to lead the way.”

Sigurd came to the entrance of the gate, his icy blue, wise eyes fixed on Zigris.

“You haven’t forgotten the route etched into your DNA, have you, sir?”

“I can’t say I remember it, but there’s a sense of familiarity.”

Zigris replied with a smile.

The group gathered at the door had naturally formed a line.

Sigurd and Zigris walked at the front, Rhein and Galena were protected in the middle, and Li Ruoyi, Hank, and Demos were at the back.

“Once we enter this passage, do not turn back, no matter what happens!”

Sigurd tugged at the magic thread, checking its strength, and handed it to Zigris behind him.

“Now, let’s go.”

The group had been walking in the dark passage for a quarter of an hour.

The gloomy environment and hard rock walls emitted an oppressive feeling that affected their minds.

This pressure tormented everyone in the passage, much like motion sickness makes one want to vomit.

“Galena, how long have we been walking?”

“Miss, we have been walking for a long time,” Galena replied evasively.

What Rhein didn’t know was that her personal maid had been here long before Nibelungen was even established, which was why Galena had avoided showing herself to the dwarves.

“We are almost there; hold on, everyone!”

Sigurd’s voice, like an icy spring, came from the front.

In the current stage, where everything was enveloped in darkness and mist, his wise and steady back was the most reassuring light.

Suddenly, the entire group felt as if they had been pulled, followed by Hank’s panicked shout.

“Lord Ruoyi is gone! The thread is broken!”

Feeling the end of the thread he was holding, the man groped forward until his hand touched Demos’s back, at which point he felt relieved.

“Do not turn back, Your Excellency Rhein!” Sigurd’s roar came from the front.

Almost simultaneously, Galena pressed down on Rhein’s head, which was desperately trying to turn back, a strange smile gracing her lips.

“Miss Rhein, he will be fine.”

“But!”

“He will be fine!” Galena emphasized with a smile, as if her words were infused with powerful magic or a curse.

A sense of trust inexplicably rose in Rhein’s heart—a sense of security she herself could not explain.