Ti slowly ticked away, and although they couldn’t see the transition from day to night in the dimly lit room, the three of them could still discern through their physical senses that a full day had passed.
The murky lake water was full of mud, riddled with mire pits, and the water grass in the lake was motionless, no different from insects trapped in amber.
Ever since Laren had scolded him, Hiris had fallen silent, often painfully kneeling on the ground, clutching his head and repeatedly chanting the Scripture about the Logos people killing the Angel, as if seeking consolation from it, but the more he chanted, the more frantic he beca.
Xilan’s ti of death was one day closer than it had been yesterday.
Laren and Utus scorned Hiris’s behavior, seeing him at that mont as even more mortal than the mortals themselves.
After Hiris had chanted many Scriptures, he slowly rose from the ground.
Laren mocked,
"What do you think you are,
a Prophet?
Hiris, you are a Divine!"
Hiris did not respond. The artisan glared at Laren for a mont then quickly looked away, clasping his hands together as if a helpless believer in prayer.
After this, there was a mont of silence among the three, with none knowing what to say to the others. Although the room was not large, it felt empty and vast, enclosing the three individuals who each held to their own stubborn views.
"The world is too vast; it can accommodate both the righteous and the wicked," Hiris murmured.
Upon hearing this, rage ignited in Laren. He turned and glared at Hiris, wanting to curse out loud, but just then, they felt another round of vertigo as if they were being teleported into a different space.
When they opened their eyes, they found themselves inside a Temple.
"Is this... the Craftsn Temple?" Laren said, full of astonishnt.
Laren, who had made many plans in Kaelonde, recognized where they were.
"How did we end up here?" Utus exclaid, equally astonished.
Hiris looked up, and his gaze fell exactly on the Divine Statue in the center.
His Priests were kneeling on the ground, offering prayers and praises to Hiris with devotion, and the altar was piled high with all kinds of offerings.
This ti the situation seed much more peaceful than before when they had been thrown into the fire as a sacrifice by the tribal people.
"The ’chanical Book,’ Hiris’s Holy Artifact, the greatest of all Holy Artifacts!
Before the ’chanical Book,’ the Dwarves were but a blind race!" a Dwarf Craftsman exclaid with hands held high and great enthusiasm, and other Dwarves around him followed suit.
These Dwarves were part of a circle, all artisans studying steam technology.
However, their voices seed to provoke dissatisfaction among the other Dwarves.
"Ignorant, benighted! You’ve already forgotten the gifts bestowed by Hiris!" the Dwarves of the Gold Silver Clan rebuked the artisans for their shortsightedness; their disdain for the artisans was clear and undisguised scorn for their words.
"What are they going to do?" Laren said, sowhat panicked.
His previous death had been so painful; he did not want to die again.
Utus frowned and said, "This looks like... an argunt between the Gold Silver Clan and the steam technology artisans."
Hearing this, sothing seed to trigger Hiris’s mory.
Before he could react, the Dwarves of the Gold Silver Clan and the artisans began punching and kicking each other, unleashing their anger.
"A riot, that riot!" Laren said in panic.
As he spoke, he thought about running for the door, but more and more Dwarves surged in, trapping them all inside the Temple. As expected, they too suffered various misjudgnts or harsh beatings; although they were Divines, at that mont they were even more pitiful than mortals.
Not long after, Dwarf soldiers, alerted by the commotion, sealed off the whole Temple, and all the rioting Dwarves were seized. Hiris and the others could not escape; they too were dragged into prison.
"Hiris, the race you created deserves to die!" Laren yelled furiously, hands and feet bound.
He could not bear such humiliation.
Hiris, however, remained silent, looking down as if deep in thought.
After a while, he spoke in a murmur with the voice he had just heard,
"Am I really... that weak?"
The three of them were confined together with the other Dwarves, and before long, an order from King Kafu the Sixth ca, decreeing that the chief criminals be executed by hanging.
Upon learning this, Laren was the most panicked of the trio.
He knew well what had happened at the end of such riots.
King Kafu the Sixth had sent his Dwarf legions to cruelly and bloodily suppress the riot.
And the mastermind behind the riot was none other than the circle of Divines, with himself at the forefront.
"My father, are you humiliating by with this!?" Laren shouted, clawing at the earthen wall.
Utus was nearly ashen, experiencing for the first ti the tornt of awaiting death.
Soon, the three of them were pressed onto the execution ground, encircled by crowds of people, all staring at the gallows with ceaseless noise.
Hiris watched the throng with sorrow.
Among them, how many would die that night, fall victim to the King’s repression?
Yet now, these Dwarves were ignorant of their own fate.
"Hiris, praise your glory!"
"For Hiris, save them!"
"Those Gold Silver Clan, the damned Gold Silver Clan, they’ve started it; Hiris, curse them!"
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