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In the Angband Mountains, three towering volcanoes—each soaring ten thousand meters high—stood like colossal gates before the fortress. Thick smoke and toxic mists filled the air, and deep within the caverns behind the volcanoes, whose depth remained unknown, countless orcs of various kinds labored tirelessly.
At the very depths of these caverns, a magnificent palace loomed in the darkness.
The palace doors, reaching a thousand meters in height, were guarded by a massive demonic wolf sprawled across the entrance.
This beast, named Carcharoth, had been personally chosen as a pup by Morgoth from among the demonic wolves. He had nurtured it with care, infusing it with his own dark power and the spirit of devouring.
Carcharoth could stand eternal vigil without blinking, capable of perceiving through any disguise. Its power was both immense and terrifying.
Inside the palace, seated atop a grand throne, the source of all darkness—the once mightiest of the Valar, Morgoth—suddenly rose with a thunderous motion.
"Such a powerful force of light… Could it be that the gods have left Valinor and struck here?"
Just moments ago, he had sensed a sudden eruption of light energy at a Maiar level from the direction of the Valley of Death. Alarmed, a chill surged through his heart.
For a second, he believed that Varda, the Goddess of Light, had descended upon Middle-earth.
But Varda rarely left Valinor. If she had, it would have only been alongside her husband, Manwë. And if Manwë had come to Middle-earth, there could only be one reason:
To lead the gods in a second campaign against him.
Much of Morgoth's power was now being used to corrupt Middle-earth. Even though he had gained possession of the three Silmarils, he still stood no chance against the combined might of the gods.
"No… this isn't right. Varda's power should be far stronger than this. And it's impossible for them to arrive at such a time."
Closing his eyes, Morgoth concentrated, sensing again. A look of confusion slowly appeared on his face.
The Noldor elves, incited by his schemes, had slaughtered the sea elves and abandoned Valinor. Based on his understanding of the gods' personalities, they were unlikely to interfere in the fate of the Noldor anymore.
Moreover, he had only just begun his war and had yet to gain the upper hand. Even if the gods intended to intervene, now would not be the time they would choose to act.
In truth, he was racing against time against the gods.
If he could annihilate all the elves, humans, and dwarves before the gods reacted—using his power to fully corrupt and fuse with Middle-earth—then he would become the supreme deity of this land. Not even Eru Ilúvatar could do anything about it.
But if the gods struck before that, his entire plan would collapse.
That was why he had launched the war so hastily—hoping to crush all resistance as quickly as possible.
"Sauron, come here. I have something to ask you!"
With a single thought, Morgoth sent a telepathic message across great distances to summon his general, Sauron, who was recuperating on his island.
Before long, Sauron—currently in the form of a vampire—flew swiftly to the palace gates. Upon arrival, he resumed his true form and prostrated himself at Morgoth's feet.
"My lord, what is it you have summoned me for?"
"How is your recovery going?"
Morgoth looked down at Sauron.
Sauron raised his head slightly and replied respectfully,
"My lord, I've recovered for the most part. I am ashamed, however—I was defeated by the elves and humans."
Recalling that strange human who wielded bizarre forms of magic, Sauron's eyes burned with murderous intent.
While the Balrog King Gothmog led his army of flame demons to successfully breach the strongest Maedhros defense line, Sauron's own orc army had been routed in chaos, forced into a retreat. He himself had sustained severe injuries.
It was the greatest humiliation he had ever suffered.
In his heart, he had already sworn: one day, he would personally sever that human's head and feed it to the demonic wolves on his island.
"It wasn't your fault. No one could have expected that among the frail humans, there would be such a formidable mage."
Rather than reprimanding Sauron, Morgoth offered a rare word of comfort.
After all, his ability to entice so many Maiar into serving him with unwavering loyalty stemmed not just from power, but also from his compelling charisma.
It should be remembered that during the Ainulindalë—the Great Music of the Ainur—Morgoth alone dared to introduce disharmony, openly defying the will of Ilúvatar.
"Do not worry, my lord. I will not fail again!"
Sauron assured Morgoth with conviction.
"Moreover, being seriously wounded this time has inspired a new idea. If it succeeds, my power will increase significantly."
"Let me hear it. Perhaps I can help you refine it."
Morgoth's expression turned intrigued.
In terms of raw strength, Sauron and the Balrog King were his most powerful lieutenants.
The Balrog King commanded the ultimate flames, and in destructive power, he even surpassed Sauron. But Sauron was one of the most knowledgeable among the Maiar.
Before falling under Morgoth's sway, he had studied under several of the Valar, acquiring a vast and well-rounded knowledge.
"I plan to forge a Ring of Power—one that will contain all my accumulated knowledge. By channeling energy through it, I'll be able to amplify my power twofold."
Sauron laid out his plan in detail.
His master had once been the mightiest of the Valar—even stronger than Manwë—and had nearly mastered all the knowledge of the Valar, save that of Varda.
If Morgoth agreed to help, it would greatly reduce the time required to create the ring.
"Not a bad idea. But there are several flaws in your concept. Allow me to help you perfect the crafting of this Ring of Power."
Morgoth approved of the idea. With a wave of his hand, a chunk of top-tier magical metal instantly flew in from outside the palace. He opened his mouth, and black flame engulfed the metal.
Then, as if summoned without limit, countless magical runes began flooding into the metal.
Over time, the enchanted metal gradually transformed into a ring inscribed with strange and intricate runes.
At last, Morgoth injected a surge of his own power into the ring.
"It's done. I've also infused this ring with a portion of my strength. With it, your power will be tripled."
"Thank you, my lord!"
Sauron extended both hands to accept the ring, his eyes filled with awe and reverence for Morgoth.
As Sauron put the ring on and felt his power surge dramatically, Morgoth immediately gave him a command:
"Sauron, something unexpected has occurred in the Valley of Death. Take your men and covertly investigate the area.
I want to know who has eradicated my forces there."
Morgoth had not given his power to Sauron out of generosity.
Creating the ring was a calculated move—to send Sauron to investigate the Valley of Death. Since the ring contained his power, Morgoth could observe everything happening through it in real time.
If it turned out the gods had not descended, then all was well. But if the gods had indeed arrived and were preparing another crusade against him, then sacrificing Sauron would be a small price to pay. Morgoth could escape in advance and hide, making himself impossible for the gods to find.
"Rest assured, my lord. I will fulfill the mission without fail!"
Unaware of Morgoth's true intentions, Sauron left joyfully, thrilled by his newfound strength. He returned to his island to gather his most trusted subordinates and set out for the Valley of Death.
(End of Chapter)