Card Apprentice Daily Log

Chapter 2373  Ironhold Crafterʼs Guild

Date: Unspecified Time: Unspecified Location: Myriad Realms, Lil. Red Storm, Seed World, Trophy Section, Duel Realm, Crafting Sector, Venue: Chaos Dwarven Forge.

”Uncle!”

”Granduncle!”

Both Biore and Dulas exclaimed in unison, their surprise evident as they turned to face the source of the voice. Standing before them was a gray-haired, bearded old dwarf radiating authority—a Elder Chaos Dwarf.

”You two lost the privilege to call me that when you decided to stand against your own family,” the Elder Chaos Dwarf said coldly, his voice indifferent. He ignored the murmurs bubbling up from the crowd around them, unbothered by their growing interest in his unexpected appearance at his opponentʼs stand.

”Oh, yeah, old fart? I donʼt want to call you uncle either! Old fart!” Biore suddenly exploded, his voice filled with defiance as he hurled the insult. His outburst shocked both Wyatt and Moon, who exchanged startled glances. This was not the scheming and calculative young dwarf they knew. Then it dawned on them that no matter how mature Biore acted for his age he was still a child hitting puberty in termʼs chaos dwarf lifespan. Dulas, however, stood frozen in place, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief. She couldnʼt understand how participating in this duel against her uncle Bigold had equated to standing against her family. Since when did her uncle Bigold represent the entire Ironhold clan? And why hadnʼt anyone informed her about this change?

The Elder Chaos Dwarf narrowed his eyes at Bioreʼs outburst. His voice was low and dangerous as he said, ”If I were you, Iʼd watch my mouth. Youʼre no longer an Ironhold, so I have no reason to hold back.”

With that, a crushing pressure filled the air as the Elder Chaos Dwarfʼs majestic intent sense bore down on Biore. The sheer force was enough to make most men kneel, but Biore clenched his fists and stood his ground, his teeth gritted against the overwhelming power. ”Arghhh!” he roared, refusing to yield.

”Good riddance!” Biore yelled back, his defiance unwavering. ”Iʼve been wanting to leave the family anyway but didnʼt know how. You just did me a favour. And if you so much as harm a single hair on me, youʼll have my mother to answer to. Go ahead—try it. I dare you!”

The Elder Chaos Dwarf scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. ”Funny that you think my sister would fight me—her own brother—over you, a drunken nightʼs mistake,” he said with an icy sneer.

Despite his harsh words, the Elder Chaos Dwarf didnʼt physically harm Biore. Even his oppressive intent sense, though suffocating, was carefully controlled, ensuring it didnʼt actually harm him. It was a show of dominance—a warning.

”Donʼt overestimate yourself, old fart. Youʼre the brother she cares the least for, and Iʼm her favorite son,” Biore shouted defiantly, ignoring the murmurs of the growing crowd of chaos dwarves gathering around them. Most of them were from the Ironhold family, their expressions shifting between surprise and disbelief.

Bioreʼs words left nearly everyone stunned. The scene was beginning to feel absurdly comical, and many in the crowd couldnʼt help but wonder: Does Biore even know what being disowned means—or what it implies?

”Who told you that?” the Elder Chaos Dwarf asked, his mocking smirk widening. ”Was it your mother?”

To his astonishment, Biore nodded earnestly. ”Yes, she did! She said Iʼm her favorite and that she cares for me so much sheʼll even paused her crafting just to check up on me.”

Wyatt, standing to the side, shook his head slightly. He was beginning to understand Biore more deeply. To those unaware of chaos dwarvesʼ lifespans and cultural nuances, Biore might come across as a crafty and manipulative schemer. But Wyatt saw him for what he truly was—a bullied and neglected kid who had learned to survive by being resourceful.

Born centuries after his older siblings, Biore had grown up in a household where his parents were too preoccupied with their own priorities to give him any attention. From a young age, heʼd been left to fend for himself, developing habits born of necessity rather than malice. His outward confidence and defiance masked years of loneliness and a desperate need for validation.

But while Wyatt could sympathize with Bioreʼs actions, he was struggling to wrap his head around the chaos dwarvesʼ cultural norms. How does a prestigious Elder Chaos Dwarf think itʼs acceptable to publicly humiliate someone of the younger generation? Even if Biore technically outranked Dulasʼs generation due to his familial connections, he was still a child in dwarven terms. From the way things looked, this wasnʼt the first time Biore had been harassed by this so-called uncle.

The Elder Chaos Dwarf narrowed his eyes at Biore, clearly unimpressed by his declaration. ”You truly donʼt get it, do you?” he said, his tone dripping with disdain. Yet, for all his bluster, the Elder made no move to escalate further—perhaps out of recognition, or perhaps out of some unspoken restraint.

Bioreʼs stance remained firm, though his clenched fists and slightly shaking frame betrayed the effort it took to stand his ground. The crowd murmured in hushed tones, watching intently as the family drama unfolded, their intrigue growing with every word. ”You really do live in a world of your own, donʼt you?” the Elder Chaos Dwarf teased, his voice dripping with mockery. ”How about I call her right now and let her know youʼve been disowned? Care to guess how sheʼll react?”

Bioreʼs face paled instantly. His bravado faltered as he raised a trembling hand, pleading, ”Please donʼt disturb her. She must be busy with her crafting.” His voice wavered, and though his words seemed practical, the truth lay deeper. Biore knew exactly how his mother would react—her indifference was predictable. He simply couldnʼt bear for his uncle to shatter the fragile image of her love he clung to in his mind.

”Hahaha! Donʼt worry,” the Elder Chaos Dwarf chuckled darkly, savoring the despair beginning to seep into Bioreʼs expression. ”My sister is a very talented crafter. She can handle her work and answer the call at the same time.”

Bioreʼs fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled to maintain his composure. His usual fiery retorts were replaced with a telling silence that didnʼt escape the crowdʼs notice.

”Enough!” Wyattʼs voice cut through the tension like a blade, commanding immediate attention. His calm demeanor carried an edge as he turned to face the Elder Chaos Dwarf directly. Locking eyes with the older dwarf, Wyatt said firmly, ”Iʼm sure you didnʼt come all this way just to torment these two with your words. What do you want?”

The Elder Chaos Dwarf raised a bushy brow, a flicker of amusement in his expression. ”Such insolence... and arrogance,” he remarked, his tone carrying both disapproval and begrudging respect. ”I suppose all the geniuses across the myriad realms think they have the right to be so until they find out that they donʼt the hard way. But,” he paused, leaning in slightly, ”with the talent youʼve demonstrated, I suppose you can afford it.”

Straightening, the Elder continued, his voice taking on a more formal tone as he delivered his proposal. ”Join the Ironhold Crafterʼs Guild. We will spare no expense to nurture your skills and provide you with shelter and resources. In return, you will serve us for two millennia.”

The crowd, composed largely of chaos dwarves and spectators from the colosseum, collectively tensed. Biore, Dulas, Moon, and even the nearby staff, their expressions a mix of astonishment, envy, and disbelief.

Biore glanced at Wyatt, his thoughts racing. He couldnʼt deny that this was the kind of opportunity most crafters would kill for, yet something in Wyattʼs demeanor suggested he wouldnʼt be so easily swayed. The young chaos dwarf bit his lip, a flicker of jealousy mingling with reluctant admiration.

Dulas, meanwhile, couldnʼt hide the awe in her eyes. ”Master Crafter...” she murmured under her breath, wondering what choice he would make.

Moon, standing just behind Wyatt, remained silent but observant. Her sharp gaze darted between the Elder Chaos Dwarf and Wyatt, her mind working to gauge what this offer might mean for her.

The audience held its breath, waiting for Wyattʼs response.

The Ironhold Crafterʼs Guild was renowned across the myriad realms, an elite organization that accepted only the most skilled crafters, regardless of race or origin. To be invited into its ranks was a dream shared by countless crafters—yet here was this unknown demon merchant, being offered membership on the spot.

As the Guildʼs name suggested, it was run by the Ironholds, a prestigious and influential family among the Chaos Dwarves. The Ironhold family had created the Guild not just as a symbol of their mastery but also as a means to assimilate talent from outside their lineage and even beyond their race. For all their arrogance and pride in their craft, even the Ironholds couldnʼt deny that there were always others out there who could rival or surpass them. The Guild was their way of strengthening their familyʼs legacy by absorbing such talent.

Wyatt crossed his arms, his expression unreadable but his gaze steady as he addressed the Elder Chaos Dwarf. ”After seeing how you treat your own blood, what makes you thing I would join your Guild?” His tone was calm but carried a sharp edge. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he added, ”Besides, I already belong to a guild and Iʼm happy where Iʼm.”

His words, though simple, hit like a hammer. The crowd collectively gasped, their disbelief palpable. The Ironhold Guild wasnʼt just any organization—it was a dream many didnʼt even dare to dream of.

The Elder Chaos Dwarfʼs brow twitched, though his expression remained composed. Behind the mask of indifference, his irritation was evident to those who paid close attention.

To the onlookers, Wyattʼs rejection was almost incomprehensible. Yes, a two-millennium employment term might seem lengthy, but it wasnʼt a life of slavery. It was more akin to an extended, elite education. Joining the Guild meant access to the vast resources and knowledge of the Chaos Dwarves, a semi-ruler class race. Under their protection, Wyatt could have grown exponentially.

For most, the offer was a golden ticket. By the time the two millennia were up, a crafter under the Guildʼs wing could reach heights they wouldnʼt have dreamed of on their own—perhaps even becoming a semi-ruler class entity themselves. The Chaos Dwarves had the resources and track record to make such transformations happen; they had done so for others in the past and continued to do so now.

Yet here was this unknown demon merchant, rejecting the offer with an air of casual indifference. His smirk and the unwavering confidence in his tone conveyed one thing clearly—he wasnʼt even tempted.

Biore, standing nearby, blinked in astonishment. ”He... he just said no?” he muttered under his breath, unable to process it fully.

Dulas bit her lip, her awe for Wyatt deepening. She didnʼt know whether to admire his courage or question his sanity, but one thing was certain: the Master Crafter was true to his words, he was really confident about his craft. He never doubted it even in face of such temptation.

Moonʼs sharp eyes darted to Wyatt, her admiration for him growing.

The Elder Chaos Dwarf finally broke the silence, his voice low but carrying a dangerous undertone. ”You are either arrogant or more ignorant than I thought. Do you realize what youʼre turning down?”

Wyattʼs smirk widened, his confidence practically radiating off him. ”I know exactly what Iʼm turning down. Iʼm flattered by the offer, but itʼs not my cup of tea.”

The Elder Chaos Dwarfʼs eyes narrowed, his expression turning colder. Without a word, he summoned his Devil Merchant Codex, as he prepared to leave, the Elder Chaos Dwarfʼs nodded at him saying, ”Make sure you wonʼt come to regret it later.”

Wyatt nodded, unfazed, though he remained cautious. He hadnʼt expected the Elder Chaos Dwarf to let his rejection slide so easily. Especially, considering his hostility towards Dulas and Biore. He was starting to think there was something calculated about the Elder Chaos Dwarfʼs hostility toward Biore and Dulas.

Wyattʼs gaze flickered briefly to Biore and Dulas, who stood awkwardly on the sidelines. Bioreʼs jaw was clenched, his hands balled into fists, while Dulas looked visibly shaken, her usual spark dulled by the weight of the situation. Wyatt then turned his attention to the young chaos dwarves, who were watching Biore and Dulas as if they had seen the bogeyman. It was clear the Elder Chaos Dwarf had made an example of the two to remind the others of what happens to those who stand against their own. At the same time, he demonstrated that Chaos Dwarves welcome outside talent with open arms. Wyatt knew he had to fix this if he wanted to see his chaos dwarven assembly line to come into existence.