The cold wind blew harshly, and the north wind howled. On the frozen lake, Belegar held the Sacred Hammer and the Shield of Defiance. The King of Eight Peaks carefully observed his old foe, his lifelong enemy, Skarsnik, the warlord of Eight Peaks.
After failing but successfully ambushing Skarsnik in the Deep Vein tunnels, Belegar hurried to the frozen lake. It was well known that Eight Peaks was composed of eight mountains, encircling an entire plateau. The heights of these peaks were so daunting that neither the greenskins nor the Skaven could traverse them, and even Chaos warriors found it nearly impossible. During the first Chaos invasion, the natural defenses of the Eight Peaks allowed the dwarfs to defend their stronghold by holding just two gates.
However, Belegar had learned from his ancestral spirits that there was indeed a small path on the surface that led outside Eight Peaks.
That path was located here, at the frozen lake on Silverhorn Peak. The terrain wasn't as steep or perilous. Long ago, before Eight Peaks had fallen, dwarfs had used this route to escape, wrapping themselves in blankets, hanging from ropes, and sliding down wooden planks for over two kilometers to seek reinforcements. The path allowed for escape but not entry.
Could Skarsnik, who had roamed Eight Peaks for decades, possibly be unaware of this secret route? Belegar didn't believe so. That's why, after emerging from the Deep Vein tunnels, he rushed to the frozen lake.
It was all for this moment!
He wanted to end things with Skarsnik personally.
The cold wind swept over Belegar's cloak, and it also brushed against Skarsnik's armor. The warlord of Eight Peaks had discarded his cape, now only clad in mismatched dwarf armor with his chest adorned with the Mork Totem, and five or six dwarf beards hung from his chest, braided into white, twisted strands that swayed with the movement.
Those were dwarf beards—trophies from the warriors who had either been killed or captured by Skarsnik.
Belegar had refused all offers of assistance. He insisted on facing his nemesis alone, vowing that this long-standing grudge would be settled today.
At the same time, Skarsnik, too, was sizing up his old foe. Deep down, Skarsnik knew that in a one-on-one fight, he was no match for Belegar. Even against Kazador, a legendary king, Skarsnik could only manage an even battle. Against Belegar, now newly ascended to a sacred realm, Skarsnik stood no chance.
Moreover, Skarsnik was in poor condition. Old injuries from the battle at the Titan's Gate had not yet healed, and his recent narrow escapes had only added new wounds. Exhausted from fleeing and climbing, Skarsnik doubted his ability to defeat Belegar here.
"Roar! Roar!" Just as Skarsnik hesitated, his beloved pet, Gobbla, let out a terrifying roar. The two-meter-tall giant squig sensed its master's emotions and charged toward Belegar with a deafening cry.
Gobbla's heavy frame and powerful legs struck the ice with loud cracks.
Belegar, too, charged forward, clad in heavy armor, wielding his hammer, and holding his shield aloft, advancing toward Gobbla.
A metal force versus a fleshy mass, both racing toward each other on the frozen lake!
Gobbla opened its massive jaws, its rows of sharp teeth dripping with saliva. Belegar timed his approach perfectly. Just as they were about to collide, he suddenly stopped, pivoted, and sidestepped on the ice, avoiding the attack.
Gobbla's massive jaws snapped shut in the air, missing their mark. The grinding of its teeth produced a sharp, grating sound, but Belegar was already behind the beast. He raised the Hammer of Angrund and, fueled by righteous fury and vengeance, brought it down.
"Thud!" The Sacred Hammer struck Gobbla's head, and the giant squig roared in pain. It swung its tail in a violent attempt to strike Belegar. The massive beast's momentum knocked Belegar several meters away, causing him to slide across the ice.
"Yes! That's the way! Gobbla, let's crush that bearded fool together!" Skarsnik laughed wildly as he charged forward through the ice and snow, screaming, "Come on, Belegar! Our feud ends today!"
"That's right, it ends today!" Belegar had already regained his balance as he slid. The King of Eight Peaks stood tall again. "Ancestors, guide me!"
The warlord and the king clashed, exchanging dozens of blows.
However, as the initial fury and excitement began to fade, Skarsnik's condition worsened. His strength was failing, his old wounds flaring up, and he was on the verge of collapse.
Belegar struck Gobbla once more, sending the giant squig flying. The ancient echoes reverberated through the peaks, and the ancestral spirits of Clan Angrund responded to Belegar's call. The King of Eight Peaks was imbued with endless strength—he was now the embodiment of vengeance.
With iron boots grinding against the ice, Belegar leaped high into the air. "For Eight Peaks!!!"
The ice shattered beneath him as Belegar, like a cannonball, launched himself over a meter high. The King of Eight Peaks, carried by the power of revenge, descended upon Skarsnik with deadly force.
In a desperate attempt to defend himself, Skarsnik raised his sword to block. But Belegar's strength was overwhelming, his resolve unshakeable. The Sacred Hammer bent Skarsnik's sword on impact, and the ice beneath the warlord cracked.
Skarsnik bent under the blow. Belegar seized the moment, cold and merciless, delivering a savage kick to Skarsnik's chest, forcing him to look up. The hammer fell once more. "This duel isn't over!"
Skarsnik desperately blocked with his sword again. "No! You'll never win!!!"
"It's over!"
In the next moment, the edge of Belegar's Shield of Defiance smashed into Skarsnik's face.
"Thud!!!" Skarsnik's face turned into a bloody pulp. His nose shattered, three teeth were knocked out, and blood gushed from his nose and mouth. The warlord was sent flying several meters, crashing to the ground as his sword clattered nearby.
Skarsnik's vision blurred, and his breathing became labored as he inhaled the freezing air. He was on the verge of losing consciousness.
"Roar! Roar!" Gobbla, despite its injuries, rushed to defend its master. The squig's head was battered, one eye blinded, and several teeth broken. Bleeding from its mouth, with one leg fractured, Gobbla still charged at Belegar, determined to save its master.
"Damn beast!" Belegar raised the Shield of Defiance, deflecting Gobbla's head, sending blood spraying in all directions. But the squig didn't give up. With no arms, it pressed its body against Belegar, attempting to push him off the cliff's edge.
It wanted to protect its master, even if it meant dying together with the dwarf.
"Argh!" Belegar gritted his teeth, holding firm with his shield. But the ice provided little traction, and Gobbla, giving everything it had, pushed Belegar several meters across the ice.
Belegar struck the squig repeatedly with the Hammer of Angrund. Each blow made Gobbla bleed, blinding its remaining eye, breaking its nose, and shattering its teeth. But the squig fought on, forcing Belegar farther from Skarsnik.
"Die! Die, you damned beast! Die for the clansmen you've slaughtered and the atrocities you've committed!" Belegar, worried that Skarsnik might escape, unleashed his full strength. "Die!!!"
Hammer blow after hammer blow, Gobbla's skull split open, and its brain matter spilled out.
Gradually, Gobbla's strength waned. Its roars and cries faded. Just as Belegar neared the cliff's edge, the squig finally went still. Belegar shoved its lifeless body aside and kicked it off the cliff, ensuring its death with two more hammer strikes.
"No, no! Gobbla! No!!!" Skarsnik, lying nearby, watched in disbelief as his beloved pet fell. "No..."
Scenes flashed before Skarsnik's eyes.
Born into the Evil Moon Clan of Eight Peaks, Skarsnik was always small, so much so that other greenskins thought he was a runt rather than a goblin. He spent his early life picking mushrooms to avoid being eaten, until, after years of slavery, he finally clawed his way into a small leadership position through cunning and strategy. He began trading warpstone with Skaven, enriching and empowering his army.
However, this betrayal was soon revealed to his tribe's warlord, and Skarsnik was nearly killed. Thrown into an underground river, he survived by sheer luck, saved by a pack of goblin wolf riders. Over the next few years, he earned their trust through cruelty and deception, eventually killing their leader and taking his place.
He returned to Eight Peaks, seeking to reclaim his place in the tribe. But the warlord rejected him and cast him into the squig caves to die. There, he met Gobbla.
"Hey, stinky, all alone, huh? Looks like you're just as much of an outcast as me!"
"Roar~ Roar~"
"You're alone, and so am I. We're both outcasts, hated and abandoned. Nobody likes us, and nobody cares about us, right?"
"Roar~"
"Fine, you'll stick with me then! I'll make sure you're well-fed, eating plenty of bearded foes, rats, and those stinking orcs. One day, I'll get out of this cursed cave. I'll become the greatest greenskin warlord, the leader of the Evil Moon tribe, and Eight Peaks will belong to me!"
And so, Skarsnik and Gobbla roamed the World's Edge Mountains together for many years, their bond growing stronger as they survived by relying on each other. Skarsnik eventually built up an army and returned to Eight Peaks, feeding the warlord who had exiled him to Gobbla as a snack. He became the leader of the Evil Moon tribe, drove the Skaven underground, and declared himself the Warlord of Eight Peaks.
But now, Gobbla was dead.
Grief consumed the heart of the Warlord of Eight Peaks. No matter how dire things had been in the past, Skarsnik had always known that Gobbla was with him. Whenever he saw his pet feasting happily, Skarsnik would smile and feel a surge of confidence, convinced that no matter what challenges they faced, Gobbla would always be by his side, just like during their decades of wandering. Together, they would always find a way to rise again.
But now, Gobbla was dead.
It was gone. What meaning did being the Warlord of Eight Peaks hold now? Without Gobbla, what was the point of all his victories and schemes?
Skarsnik knew that Gobbla had sacrificed its life to give him a chance to escape. Belegar wasn't as fast as he was; if he fled now, he might still survive.
But what was the point? Even if he slid down the mountain without dying, even if he escaped his pursuers, even if he managed to gather another Waaagh! to reclaim Eight Peaks and kill Belegar, Gobbla would still be gone.
Even if he conquered the whole world, what meaning would it have?
"I… I'll fight you to the end, Belegar!!!" Skarsnik, summoning strength from some unknown source, stood up with surprising speed, ignoring the pain and wounds on his body. He charged at Belegar, crashing into him with such force that the dwarf king lost his balance. Skarsnik screamed as he punched Belegar's helmet, then kicked at his wrist, knocking the Hammer of Angrund from his grip.
Now disarmed, Belegar and Skarsnik wrestled, struggling closer to the edge of the cliff. Skarsnik's face was filled with venom and hatred, while Belegar remained cold and silent.
The King of Eight Peaks and the Warlord of Eight Peaks grappled, rolling across the ice. Belegar discarded his shield, pummeling Skarsnik's face with his fists, while Skarsnik stubbornly clung to Belegar's throat, refusing to let go. The two enemies rolled several times on the frozen surface.
Then, they fell over the cliff.
"Belegar, I'll kill you! I'll kill you!!!" As they plunged through the air, Skarsnik frantically clawed at Belegar's face. "This is how it ends! Even if I die, I'll take you with me!"
Belegar's expression remained cold. As they fell, something flashed in his mind, and he spoke, "If anyone dies first, it'll be you."
"Huh?"
"It's over." A glowing elven blade sliced through Skarsnik's chest, splitting him in two mid-air.
The Warlord of Eight Peaks, Skarsnik, met his end on Silverhorn Peak.
After killing Skarsnik, Belegar let go of the elven sword. As the dwarf king plummeted through the air, he glanced back one last time at the snow-covered New Moon and Silverhorn Peaks, then closed his eyes.
The greenskins and Skaven had been utterly defeated.
He had succeeded. Eight Peaks was reclaimed, Skarsnik was dead, and Queek would face judgment.
He, Belegar Ironhammer, King of Eight Peaks, had fulfilled his duty to his ancestors, to his clan, and to his oaths. He had done it. The Eight Peaks had been restored, and his mission was complete. He had no regrets.
It was… enough. It was time to end it, to let it all rest.
The tale of Belegar Ironhammer ends here.
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