Had it been anyone else referring to the "Protector God" as "kid," Grimdar would have surely gone into a rage. Yet, with Jack addressing him so, all he could do was smile bitterly. He understood well that Jack still did not believe in his own identity and could only respond in a soft voice, "Indeed, it was the divine power of the Protector God that struck fear into the other three great races, preventing them from continuing their massacre of our dwarven kin. Even now, on the Oksas continent, every human nation outwardly claims equality among the Dwarves, Humans, Elves, and Orcs. Of course, privately, they pay no heed to us Dwarves or any of the other races. But compared to fourteen hundred years ago, the situation has certainly improved. According to historical records, back then, human hunters would daily capture our kin, openly slaughtering us Dwarves without hesitation."
Jack's understanding dawned, but he remained dissatisfied. "So, because of that god's divine power, your pitiful fate as Dwarves simply shifted from being openly hunted to being secretly captured? That doesn't seem like much of an improvement. If they're taking you secretly, aren't you still powerless?"
Grimdar shook his head slightly, a bitter smile on his lips. "Revered Protector God, things are never so easily solved. The fact that our Sam Dwarves are able to maintain the lives we live now is already something we're content with. Moreover, the Oksas continent now has four powerful human nations: the Michele Empire, the Blue Moon Empire, the Starfish Federation, and the Esli Empire, not to mention eight or nine smaller states. You could say that war is an everyday occurrence, and countless slaves are created each day. Even the humans themselves struggle to protect their own status, let alone our weak Dwarven race."
Jack sighed deeply at his words. He had already heard from Bruno that this land was fraught with instability and constant warfare. Now, hearing Grimdar's account, it became clearer that this so-called Oksas continent resembled medieval Europe: dark, tumultuous, full of fires and ruin, where human lives were as cheap as grass, with no guarantee of safety. He shook his head and asked, "So, in situations like the one earlier, with those people selling your kin, does it really not matter? The state wouldn't intervene?"
Grimdar's face shifted slightly, and the memory of the Bloodshed Mercenary Corps' cruelty made him respond coldly, "The Bloodshed Mercenary Corps has a notorious reputation even in the Michele Empire. Had it not been for the support of some noble families behind them, they wouldn't have dared to lay hands on our Sam Dwarves. It's all because of those despicable human nobles." His expression grew resigned as he continued, "We could protest to Orlando, the lord of the nearby Dark City. That might have some effect."
"Dark City?" Jack asked in confusion.
"Oh, he is one of the four great lords of the Michele Empire. The nearest town, Woodleaf, falls under the jurisdiction of Orlando, the lord of Dark City. He is a hereditary duke, a man of integrity, and he has been kind to our Dwarven kin, issuing several decrees forbidding the slave trade of Dwarves."
"I see," Jack nodded faintly, but then his thoughts shifted, and he asked in puzzlement, "But what does this have to do with me? It was that Protector God who sheltered your people, not me. I didn't save you, so what's the connection?"
Grimdar smiled and shook his head. "If there were no connection, we wouldn't be honoring you as 'Protector God.' After all, since that disaster, our belief in other deities has waned greatly. Now, every Dwarf only has one god in their heart: the 'Protector God.' Revered Protector God, please follow me to a place. Once there, you will understand everything." He walked to the deepest part of the temple and lightly placed his right hand on the wall, tapping it five times. Suddenly, the entire temple began to shake violently, as if struck by a magnitude four or five earthquake.
"Is it a mechanism?" Jack blinked in surprise.
Grimdar turned to him with an appreciative smile. "Revered Protector God, you truly are impressive, seeing through the mechanism so quickly. It is indeed a mechanism, designed by a goblin friend of my father. No one in our Sam Dwarven clan, except for me, knows of its existence. If someone were to tamper with it without understanding how to activate it, the entire temple would collapse in an instant."
As he spoke, a small door over two meters high opened in the innermost wall, revealing what seemed to be a small chamber.
Jack, still confused, followed Grimdar's gesture. "Revered Protector God, please."
"Ah? Oh, you go ahead," Jack responded, utterly dumbfounded.
Led by Grimdar, Jack entered the secret chamber. The room was about thirty square meters, arranged like a bedroom, with a stone bed and two bookshelves, impeccably clean and spotless. On the stone bed, there was a statue—its face identical to Jack's.
Grimdar knelt deeply before the bed, respectfully bowing three times to the statue, before choking with emotion, "Revered Protector God, our Dwarven kin has waited for fourteen hundred years. At last, you have returned to us." His dry eyes filled with a few tears, murky with age.
Jack stood before the statue, his heart struck with overwhelming shock. The statue outside had been crudely made, but this one seemed as though it had come from the same mold. His soul seemed to be struck heavily, a sense of inexplicable emotion washing over him. What was going on here?
"What is the meaning of all this? Tell me, speak quickly!" The overwhelming fear seized him, and he grabbed Grimdar by the shoulders, shaking him violently, his voice filled with panic.
"To protect us Dwarves, the Protector God gave his life. In his final moments, he left us a message, saying that he would be reborn in fourteen hundred years, and we were to wait in quiet anticipation," Grimdar choked, his voice breaking.
"What? He... he died?"
Jack froze completely. Just moments ago, the fate of this "Protector God" had felt distant, unimportant. But now, an intense pain gripped his chest, as though he had lost something precious. He swallowed hard, his gaze dazed, muttering to himself, "What is going on?"
What happened fourteen hundred years ago? Why was he here then?
He felt trapped in a massive riddle, unable to make sense of anything. Finally, he threw Grimdar to the ground, coldly demanding, "Explain this clearly! What happened? Why is this happening? Isn't he a god? How could a god die? Are you lying to me?" His voice rose sharply, and he screamed at the top of his lungs.