Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God Chapter 2014 Solemn

Chapter 2014 Solemn

?2014 Solemn
If Dyon was a less observant person, maybe he wouldn't consider Calen's actions very much. After all, wrapping a precious weapon like this after use was a bit eccentric, but not too overboard.
However, Dyon had inherited his mother's EQ. He was very good at reading people and was very sensitive to their changes in emotions. The only person he had ever failed to read perfectly was Aritzia, but he had never repeated that mistake again since then.
He could tell not only by Calen's solemn expression, but also by the silent attitudes of the dwarven geniuses who had descended from the skies that this was no normal ritual.
"I'm sorry, did I take things too far?"
Calen looked up to see Dyon's concerned expression. It surprised him a bit, honestly. On the Ancient Battlefield, it was kill or be killed. Emotions like love, happiness, or even this concern, were incredibly rare. Even fathers and mothers didn't spare such thoughts toward their own children for the sake helping them grow stronger.
So, Dyon's thoughtfulness was completely foreign to him. It caused him to feel an emotion that was terribly hard to explain.
"No, it's nothing like that." Calen shook his head with a small, pained smile. "It's a great shame to lose one's weapon in battle. This spear isn't just a piece of metal, it's my brother. Letting it go due to a temporary moment of pain is unacceptable. Until I'm worthy of fighting alongside him again, I won't unsheathe him."
Hearing these words, Dyon gained a deeper understanding of dwarven culture. Maybe they treated their weapons the same way elves treated their beast companions.
It could be said to be Dyon's fault for being unaware of such a thing. He had only meant to defeat Calen while both maintaining the latter's dignity and showing his off his combat prowess. Unfortunately, it seemed he completely failed in his first goal.
After putting his brother away, Calen smiled brightly as though nothing had happened.
"Thank you. If not for you, I'd be unaware of this weakness of mine." He scratched the back of his head. "I'm a bit embarrassed now. I challenged you to prove yourself, but it seems I wasn't worthy of such a thing."
Dyon felt a bit embarrassed too. In fact, it couldn't be said to be Calen's fault that he dropped his spear. Dyon had precisely targeted a nerve that elicited its release no differently from a reflex. Why else would he feel such a sharp pain but be completely unwounded?
However, Dyon knew that trying to help Calen by trying to explain away his failure would only be seen as an insult to him. The best course of action would be to accept Calen's decision.
Dyon waved a hand, putting on an embarrassed expression as though he couldn't take compliments very well. This lightened the load on Calen's chest and helped him to laugh heartily.
"I can't promise that my dwarf race's elders will accept you, but what I can do is bring you along. Since you don't fear having a target on your back, I will help you. Plus, it doesn't seem that you'll have much trouble considering your strength."
Dyon nodded, allowing Calen to lead him away while leaving the once bustling bazaar in complete silence.
Though Dyon didn't know the significance of defeating Calen, how could these few not? For this youth to be able to speak for the dwarven youths, and for not a single other dwarf to step forward after his defeat, it was obvious the kind of status he possessed… The kind of strength he possessed.
Of the dwarven race's younger generation, he was ranked no less than top 3. There were even youths from those Overlord Clans that held serious expressions whenever he entered a battlefield to fight for resources. His mighty spear was known by all.
Yet, with a single sidestep and swipe of his sword, this mysterious elven youth defeated this undefeatable entity with a casual ease.
The news spread through the Ancient Battlefield like wildfire. Suddenly, Dyon became the target for death by every Clan. Ironically, his actions took the load off of all the others who had entered, allowing them to hide and slowly mature…
**
The meeting hall was filled with a solemn atmosphere.
Usually, for a place of such importance, there would be grand pillars and elegant embroidery. However, this so-called elders' gathering hall wasn't very grandiose at all.
In the background, a raging river that could swallow up even a whale rushed on. Its waters were so dark that one would think it was flowing with oil instead of water.
Before this lake, there were several dozen elders. Some were aged, some were youth, but each of them had the signature drooping ears and elegance appearance of dwarves.
There were no seats or thrones. In fact, each one of them stood tall. It should have been an odd atmosphere, but it was actually awe inspiring. There was an aura that could make one's bones quack in the air.
Dyon stood amidst all of this with a calm expression. To his side, Calen explained the situation with a bowed head. When he finished, he didn't dare to raise his gaze and instead continued to stare at the moist dirt beneath his feet.
Dyon, however, met the gaze of each and every elder. It seemed he was keen on seeing through each and every one of them.
"Are you aware of the history between the dwarves and elves, young man?"
The dwarven elder who spoke didn't seem to be in charge. Or, more accurately, it was hard to tell whether or not he was. Dyon could easily tell that they were all Half-Step Transcendents, but there didn't seem to be different rankings among them.
From this, Dyon concluded that the true powerhouses of the clan were not here, but this was to be expected. After all, to them, he was a youth of not even 1000 years old. And, even if he was older, it wasn't as though Calen had the power to invite individuals of that level out. Dyon would have to rely on himself for that.
"I am not…" Dyon responded frankly. He could have probably asked the World Tree for the details, but he had neglected to. To Dyon, the truth wasn't truly all that important. Whether or not the dwarves were hostile to him didn't make one difference. With his strength, he could come and go as he pleased.