Rhaegor cuts through the sky with such speed that Rotwood Forest becomes nothing more than a green blur beneath us within minutes. As we clear the trees, my eyes catch a heavy, dark haze rising in the distance over the jagged mountain peaks.
"Is it...?" I start, squinting through the wind.
"Yes. Karag-Thul," Rhaegor rumbles, his massive head tilting toward the horizon. "The land of the dwarfs, built deep into the heart of the mountain ranges. It's always smoking and smells like a mixture of hot metal and ash."
"The only race on good terms with everyone else, huh..." I murmur, watching the thick plumes of soot dance against the clouds.
"After all, they are the greatest forgers in the world," Rhaegor adds, his voice vibrating with a rare note of respect. "They give life to metal! Whether it's machinery or legendary weapons—like the hero's sword used to defeat the Demon King—their craftsmanship is both acknowledged and feared by all."
