The laughter didn't stop.
It rolled across the stone path like thunder, like avalanches breaking free from distant cliffs.
The two dwarven guards clutched their stomachs, armor clanking with every violent shake of their bodies.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—!"
"OH BY THE ANCESTORS—THE BRAT SAID IT—HAHAHAHA!"
Their mocking joy burst so loudly that dust trembled loose from the towering gate above them.
Behind Luca, the party stared—confused, breathless, still injured from the long climb yet frozen in shock at the dwarves' reaction.
Aurelia blinked hard.
"…Luca, what… exactly did you say?"
Lilliane leaned forward, whispering as if afraid of provoking another ear-shattering laugh.
"What is a… Forgeheart Crucible?"
Kyle, still holding his ribs from where he was launched earlier, stared at Luca as though he had revealed he was secretly the mountain king.
"When the hell did you learn dwarven death-sentence words?"
