Clop Clop, Neigh -
A weary horse, foaming at the mouth, and its three riders approached the explorers' campsite. The exhausted beast slowed its pace. Spotting the camped explorers, the three riders panicked and halted, whispering among themselves before jolting in shock.
Dorne! Spotting the iron giant who had suddenly stepped forward alone, they shouted his name and rushed over.
Clop clop.
"Dorne! Don't mind our impudence—we need your help!"
He was Roden, whom Dorne had explored the Northern Labyrinth with. Hardel, in her grubby attire, and Elisia Bellone were with him.
Dorne first separated them from the other explorers, who watched with curious eyes, to hear their story.
"Bron Mordyn tricked you into a trap?"
Bron Mordyn was the name of the dwarf employee running a guild in the Northern Labyrinth. Back then, Dorne had only known him as Bron.
"Yeah. We got hit before we knew his family name was Mordyn."
"What's a Mordyn?"
"Mordyn is the name of a family at odds with ours. They're dwarves too. They've been fighting us Bellones over a mine discovered between our territories."
It was a straightforward tale. A mine found between two territories. Two noble houses clashing over mining rights.
"Are the Mordyns that powerful? How come I've never heard of them?"
If they were such a mighty house—running a city and guild inside the Northern Labyrinth, beyond human lands—Dorne, who knew little of nobility, should have at least heard the name. But Mordyn rang no bells.
"If they were that big, they wouldn't be squabbling with us over a mine. This was pure coincidence."
The Mordyns hadn't even known Elisia Bellone had run away. They barely operated one city guild in the Northern Labyrinth, driven by dwarven greed for ore. And by some camel-through-the-needle's-eye chance, Elisia had wandered into their guild city.
"If it was just coincidence, why are you rushing around now that you've safely exited the labyrinth?"
Roden swallowed hard, recalling the hellish scene they'd left behind, and answered Dorne's question.
"They've got real resources. Bron Mordyn strategically let your party go, then sent word outside while we were stuck. By the time we fell into the trap and barely escaped to the labyrinth city at midnight, their people were waiting. They've chased us here. They plan to capture us—or kill us if needed."
Dorne sighed after hearing the situation. Invisible to the eye, but if scout explorer Sion were here, he'd detect the encirclement closing in.
"Whew... Lady Elisia, what made you run off to the labyrinth? Your family's in the middle of a fight..."
Elisia Bellone, her hair a matted mess, protested with a sullen expression.
"The mine feud started generations ago... How was I supposed to know a Mordyn would be running that guild out of nowhere? I'm the one who's pissed!"
Dorne took in the trio's exhaustion at a glance. Elisia, the tomboyish lady he'd grown fond of over a month together... Roden and Hardel, who had freely taught him Fighting Spirit techniques unavailable to commoners... He wanted to help. Separate from his cool-headed nature.
Calculating strict pros and cons with close friends? No one worthy of friendship acts like that.
Dorne decided to forcibly justify helping them, padding it out.
Yeah. My party's levels are lagging anyway, and I've gotten way stronger in the West... Give Raon and Lilia time to catch up. Plus, helping the Bellones will ease my mind and come with rewards.
Mind made up, Dorne spoke to the anxious Bellone party.
"What's the situation now? Are they closing in?"
"They're herding us away from villages. At least a hundred, minimum. Will you help us, Dorne?"
"Yeah. But I'll take command until we reach your territory. Follow my lead."
"Thanks, Dorne."
"Thank you, Dorne."
He'd buy time helping the Bellones, let his well-grown comrades develop, then head to the East Labyrinth city. To break the encirclement, Dorne planned to fly.
Flying would throw the Mordyns into chaos. Their scout dwarves with detection abilities would report: "They're moving horse-speed through horse-impassable skies!"
They'd ditch horses to run after, or circle wide on horseback.
"Let's move first. Too many eyes here."
The horses were too spent to carry Dorne. Even fresh ones would struggle with his weight.
"Coachman, it's Dorne. I'll move separately from now on. Good luck."
"Y-yes... Got it."
"Armed guys might come this way, so keep good watch. No need to hide where I went. Handle it yourselves."
After greeting the caravan coachman, Dorne dashed off with the three horses.
Thud— thud— thud— thud—
The mobility boost from Ironclad Giant and Obholder's Telekinesis aided Dorne's run. Linked by summon imagery, Obholder used Telekinesis as naturally as a second brain.
"Alright, we're far enough. Everyone dismount."
The Bellone party, puzzled but obedient, got off the horses.
Slash!
Dorne's conjured longsword slew the three horses in one stroke.
Gush gush.
Dorne gathered their hocks and drained the blood.
"Gasp! Dorne! How could you?! Are you on the Mordyns' payroll too?!"
Elisia mistook him for a Mordyn agent, seeing their vital "legs" butchered. Roden and Hardel shielded her, hands on hilts—though not yet drawn, showing their thick trust.
Dorne waved frantically.
"Wait, wait! There's a reason. Let me explain. If I were bought off, why kill the horses? They're pricey. I'd just kill you."
His matter-of-fact tone implied he'd win any fight, making Hardel frown, pride stung.
"You taught us Fighting Spirit, remember?"
"...Yeah. Though you couldn't use it."
Roden at least replied.
"Instead of Fighting Spirit, I learned something else. Watch."
Whoosh—
Mana jetted from his soles and palms, lifting Dorne briefly into the air.
"Gasp..."
"What in the..."
Whoosh— thud.
Landing proudly, Dorne declared:
"Get it now? We'll ditch the tired horses and fly with my power."
Before the stunned trio could speak, he stored the dead horses and gear in Inventory.
"Gasp!"
Dorne, wrapped in blankets like a cape, hoisted them onto his back and took flight.
Whoosh—
Flap flap.
Obholder, naturally flight-capable, flapped tiny wings to help eagerly.
"Just guide the direction. Flying's fast, so we'll rest along the way."
Spewing mana haphazardly from all over like a fist fighter in the sky, Dorne repeated two-hour flights and thirty-minute rests a few times before switching methods. Fine for short hops or combat, but inefficient for long hauls.
"How're you changing it? Got another way?"
Elisia, adapted to flight, eyed him sparklingly. The tomboy lady had forgotten their fugitive status, hooked on aerial travel.
"Got one."
If Dorne weren't an Earthling, he might not have thought of it. Basket for three passengers? Winged knight Ironclad Giant? But he'd lived on Earth, building supersonic jets and spaceships. Raised here, gaining abilities, climbing medieval fantasy hierarchies—his Earth identity and knowledge endured.
Thus, Dorne reshaped Ironclad Giant armor into a streamlined vehicle minimizing drag, jetting mana only from the rear—Bernoulli's principle, lift from shape, drag, and Obholder's Telekinesis.
Clank clank clank.
A pointed-front, steel-winged aerodynamic craft appeared before the Bellones, who gasped despite flight familiarity. (Not perfectly flat, to carry Obholder.)
This wasn't mere flight—it was a vehicle.
The side hatch opened like a door. Inside sat a muscular giant, armor shed, reclined.
"Hop in!"
Dorne took left seat; the three crammed right for balance. The craft vertically lifted and rocketed off.
"No seatbelts, so grab handles tight."
To secure vision, Dorne eyed the visor-like nose, joking to the novice Bellones.
"Oh, should've removed shoes first. I'll let it slide once."
The custom craft's rear spewed mana for thrust. Forward propulsion from jets; lift from Bernoulli via shape, drag, and Obholder's aid.
Thus, fantasy's Wright brothers—four explorers—flew four hours, rested thirty minutes, hurtling toward Bellone territory at insane speeds.
Dorne and the three Bellones camped two hours from Bellone territory.
Firewood, stew, blankets, robes from Inventory... Dorne solo-carried the journey.
"Lady Elisia. We reach the territory tomorrow. Any plans?"
Dorne, trusting Obholder on watch, lay flat and asked the blanket-wrapped Elisia.
Her furry beastkin ears perked.
"Plans...? Well, pay you handsomely first, then probably territory war...?"
"Makes sense. Can't touch a rival lady and walk free."
Elisia wriggled to face him.
"Way past the line. Last real clash was generations ago. Now it's mine development, profit splits. If Mordyns weren't dwarves—human, beastkin, elf—it wouldn't drag. Dwarven mine obsession is..."
Crackling campfire, dense chill night air. Elisia, who fled home for wild adventures, pondered as the journey neared end.
"Dorne."
"Yeah."
Veteran pilot Dorne, eyes closed after today's flights, replied.
"What if you helped in our territory war? I'd reward you big."
"Sleep."
"Yeah... Night."
The four travelers slept...