At this moment, Krug, the dwarven leader standing at the center of the magic circle, stared down the armored Earth Dragon, which thrashed against the restraints of several armed dwarves. The beast's body was encased in tough, mineral-like scales, and its crimson eyes glowed with primal fury—but even that power could not hide the dullness in the dwarves' gazes, as if they'd already accepted death.
The interlinked auxiliary magic circles flared to life, activating the larger, more intricate formation beneath Krug's feet. As the array began its operation, surging waves of mana rushed like a torrential flood into Krug's body. The dwarves on the outer circles fed their own magic reserves into the array, each acting as a node in a living circuit funneling energy toward a single core.
Granstar, watching silently from the edge of the battlefield, narrowed his eyes as he analyzed the structure. This was no standard amplification array—it was a desperate war spell, designed to create a temporary Magic Amplification Vessel by channeling communal mana into a single combatant. It was primitive, inefficient, and extremely dangerous.
"So they're force-feeding magic into one dwarf to match a calamity-class beast?" Granstar muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "Crude… borderline suicidal."
At the heart of the circle, Krug's body trembled violently, veins bulging as if threatening to burst. A distorted roar of pain escaped his throat.
"Gah…! For our king's will… for the pride of Dwargon! Even if this vessel breaks—we will fell this monster!"
The spell activated in full, and Krug's body began to transform. Reinforced by the dwarves' mana, his muscles swelled, bones cracked and reformed, and in mere seconds, his height doubled. Standing over two meters tall, his physical presence radiated pure, brute strength. His magicules surged, stabilizing at B+ rank—matching the Earth Dragon's aura.
With a shout, Krug raised a dwarven warhammer enchanted with Earth-Attribute runes and brought it down with a deafening crack on the beast's skull. The Earth Dragon reeled, its armored head dented by the force of the strike, and stumbled backward with a groan of disoriented pain.
"Rrrrrraaaaghh—!"
The dragon bellowed, not out of rage, but confusion. In its primal mind, it could not comprehend how a once-small dwarf could now match its strength.
Granstar shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching with disdain. "Dwarves aren't known for their magic. What they rely on is enchanted gear and that ridiculous constitution of theirs."
His gaze sharpened as he noticed the creature's claws digging into the ground, preparing to counterattack.
"They're reckless. Starting a melee against an Earth Dragon? Bold… but foolish."
But as he looked closer, something else caught his attention—the armored beast, though still dangerous, had been battered and worn down. Its once-impervious scales were cracked, ichor spilling freely from multiple wounds.
If this went on, the dragon would be slain… and Granstar would have nothing to gain from the encounter.
He exhaled sharply. "Tch. I didn't come here to spectate a suicide."
Without hesitation, he raised a hand and chanted softly. The air grew cold as a foreign magic circle—one not of dwarven make—materialized beneath the battlefield.
[Ice Thorns]
Instantly, wicked ice vines erupted from the circle, spiraling upward like frozen serpents. In a heartbeat, they coiled around both Krug and the Earth Dragon, binding them with unrelenting force. The frost spread like a curse, locking their limbs and encasing them in thick sheets of translucent ice.
The surrounding dwarves gasped in horror. One moment, their leader had been battling valiantly—and the next, a dark blue circle had flared under his boots. Before anyone could react, Krug had been frozen solid.
"Leader Krug—!"
They screamed, their voices echoing across the chamber, but Krug remained silent, entombed in ice. No matter how they shouted, he did not stir.
At the same time, Granstar's figure materialized in the air like a ghostly wraith. Hovering silently above the battlefield, he looked down upon the two warriors encased in thick ice. His eyes were cold, unwavering—declaring, without words, that the armored dinosaur now belonged to him.
"Apologies," Granstar said, his voice calm like a still lake, yet heavy with an overwhelming presence. "I've taken a liking to this creature."
His words echoed with quiet authority, pressing into the ears of all who heard them. The assembled dwarves instinctively raised their heads, gazes drawn to the mysterious figure suspended in the sky.
"Th-That… is that an elf?" someone muttered in a trembling voice.
A ripple of unease spread through the gathered soldiers.
The dwarves exchanged tense glances. The mana radiating from Granstar was suffocating, as if an abyss had opened in the sky. It far exceeded the levels they were familiar with—possibly A-rank or higher. But elves of such strength? They were rarely seen even in the Jura Tempest Federation's diverse ranks.
"An A-rank elf? Why is he here? Is he a friend—or a threat?" Questions spiraled in their minds, sharpening the tension in the already brittle air.
Even though Leader Krug was frozen solid, his eyes locked onto Granstar's with unyielding intensity.
"I have no quarrel with the Dwarven Kingdom," Granstar said, drifting downward slightly. "This monster simply piqued my interest."
His gaze shifted to the mutated armored dinosaur—its body still convulsing with residual battle instinct. With a slight motion of his hand, an enormous ice lance materialized, spiraling toward the beast's chest.
With a sharp shlrrrk!, the ice lance struck true. The monster shuddered but did not fall—its life force still pulsing.
[Ice Blade]
In response, Granstar summoned a blade of pure glacial energy and in a single motion, cleaved through the creature's neck. Its head dropped with a heavy thud, eyes wide with frozen fear.
A system prompt echoed in Granstar's mind:
"Target eliminated: B-Rank Mutated Armored Dinosaur. Skill plunder successful—acquired: [Armored Body], [Metal Control], [Scorching Breath]."
"Obtained: B-Rank monster materials."
Without hesitation, Granstar stored the dinosaur's carcass into his personal Material Storage—a spatial tool of his own invention, which he planned to present as a gift—or perhaps a meal enhancement—to Rimuru Tempest himself.
Only then did he acknowledge the wary dwarves. With a snap of his fingers, the ice encasing Krug melted away.
The soldiers rushed to their commander.
"Leader! Are you alright?"
Krug shook off the frost, then looked up at the floating figure, still radiating mana like winter wind.
"Honored one," Krug began cautiously, "I am Krug, commander of the Second Legion under His Majesty the Hero King Gazel Dwargo. May I—"
Granstar raised a hand, cutting him off.
"No need for formality. I understand your concerns." He reached into his dimensional satchel and tossed several vials of shimmering blue liquid toward Krug. "These are high-grade magic potions—consider them compensation for the monster. I've no desire to disrespect your Hero King."
Before Krug could even respond, Granstar's body shimmered with blue light, and he vanished into the air like morning mist.
"…Stealing a monster?" Krug murmured, still staring at the spot where the elf had disappeared.
"Leader, look!" one of the younger dwarves exclaimed, holding up a vial. "The potion that elf left behind—this stuff is legendary! It's said only the top alchemists in Tempest can make it!"
Krug narrowed his eyes, thinking deeply.
"An elf… no, something more. And he's aligned with Tempest?" He grunted. "We'll have to report this to the capital."