A wooden trapdoor groaned as it opened near the remains of a house.
Another stone slab shifted, revealing a hidden crawlspace underground.
Boards were lifted from under floor panels, and cracked walls gave way to small, narrow openings.
From every direction—
they appeared.
Dwarves.
Tired.
Thin.
Their eyes sunken from hunger and fear.
Some limped along.
Others helped each other walk.
Mothers carried quiet children.
Fathers gripped rusty tools—not as weapons, but as what little they had left.
They didn't speak.
They simply moved forward into the sunlight of the morning.
One man knelt.
Then another.
Then more.
Until the whole group of survivors was kneeling—on the broken streets—
All of them—
before Javier.
No one looked up.
No one asked questions.
He had ended their nightmare.
And now,
they waited for his judgment.
Javier opened his magic storage.
Twenty puppet knights stepped forward.
Their armor shone silver—silent and disciplined.
