I am just an NPC ,but I rewrite the story-Chapter 37 - []

"I hate volcanoes," Tybalt whispered. "They’re just angry mountains."

He wasn’t wrong. The road to the Iron Hold was less of a road and more of a scar cut into the side of a black, smoking peak. The air grew hotter with every turn of the wagon wheels, smelling of sulfur and impending doom.

I sat next to Tybalt on the driver’s bench, wearing a spare, flour-dusted apron I’d found in the back of his cart. I had rubbed soot on my face to hide my features, but honestly, nobody looks closely at the delivery guy.

"Just keep the reins steady, Ty," I said, keeping my voice low. "You’ve done this delivery a dozen times before. It’s routine."

"It’s usually routine," Tybalt hissed, his knuckles white on the leather straps. "But usually, I don’t have the three most wanted criminals in the kingdom hiding in my flour barrels. If we hit a bump too hard, Kaelen is going to sneeze, and we’re all going to die."

I glanced back at the covered bed of the wagon. Three massive barrels sat there, labeled PREMIUM FLOUR, SUGAR (FINE), and SALTED PORK.

Inside Flour was Kaelen.

Inside Sugar was Lysandra.

Inside Pork was Red.

"They’ll be fine," I said. "Red is used to tight spaces, Kaelen is disciplined, and Lysandra... well, she’s probably judging the quality of the barrel construction."

We rounded the final bend. The Iron Hold loomed ahead.

It was a fortress of black iron and obsidian, built directly into the side of the volcano’s caldera. Massive steam vents hissed along the walls, powering the machinery inside. The gate was a hulking maw of metal, guarded by two Golems—ten-foot-tall constructs of stone and rune-magic.

Standing between the Golems were four Covenant soldiers.

"Halt!" one of the soldiers barked, holding up a null-iron spear.

Tybalt pulled the reins. The cart creaked to a stop.

"Delivery!" Tybalt squeaked. His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again, deeper this time. "Delivery. For the kitchen."

The soldier walked up to the cart. He looked bored, sweaty, and irritable. The heat up here was oppressive.

"You’re late, baker," the soldier grunted. "Warden hates late breakfast."

"Wheel trouble," I chimed in, leaning over. "Road’s getting worse near the ridge. Had to push it the last mile."

The soldier eyed me. "Who are you? Haven’t seen you on the run before."

"New hire," I said, wiping sweat from my forehead. "Tybalt’s back is giving out. Heavy lifting duty."

The soldier snorted. "Scrawny thing like you? Heavy lifting?"

He walked to the back of the wagon. My heart hammered against my ribs.

"What’s in the barrels?" the soldier asked, tapping the side of the PREMIUM FLOUR barrel with the butt of his spear.

Thud.

It sounded solid. Kaelen was bracing himself against the sides.

"Supplies for the Harvest Festival feast," Tybalt said quickly. "Warden ordered extra pastries. That’s the... uh... high-grade stuff."

"Open it," the soldier said.

Time stopped. Or it felt like it did. I didn’t have the Time Fragment anymore, so I couldn’t actually pause the world. I just had to watch the train wreck happen.

"Sir," I said, jumping down from the bench. "I wouldn’t do that if I were you."

The soldier turned to me, eyebrow raised. "And why is that, farm-boy?"

"It’s Volatile Yeast," I lied. "Imported from the Dwarven Kingdoms. It reacts to sudden changes in air pressure. If you pop that lid now, in this heat? It’ll expand instantly. You’ll be covered in raw dough that hardens like cement. Took me three hours to clean the shop last time it happened."

The soldier hesitated. He looked at his pristine grey armor. He looked at the barrel.

"Volatile Yeast?" he asked skeptically.

"Explosive rising agents," Tybalt added, finding his courage in the lie. "Very dangerous. Culinary hazard."

The soldier sighed. He was hot, tired, and didn’t want to explain to his sergeant why he looked like a glazed donut.

"Fine," he waved his hand. "Get it inside. But if the Warden’s croissants are flat, I’m blaming you."

"Of course, sir," I said, climbing back onto the wagon.

The heavy iron gates groaned open. We rolled into the courtyard of the Iron Hold.

The Loading Dock was located near the base of the fortress, next to the thermal vents. It was a cavernous stone room filled with crates and the smell of sulfur and old grease.

We pulled up to the platform. The area was relatively empty, save for a few goblin scullery workers who were too busy scrubbing pots to pay attention to us.

"Okay," I whispered as Tybalt set the brake. "We’re in."

I hopped into the back of the wagon and tapped a rhythmic code on the barrels. One-two. One-two.

The lids shifted.

Kaelen emerged from the flour barrel first. He was covered in white powder, looking like a very angry ghost. He shook his head, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

"I can’t breathe," he wheezed quietly.

Lysandra popped out of the sugar barrel. She was sticky, crystals clinging to her armor. "This is undignified. I am a Knight Commander. I am covered in glucose."

Red kicked the lid off the pork barrel. She took a deep breath. "Smells like bacon. I’m okay with this."

"Keep it down," I hissed. "We have maybe ten minutes before the kitchen staff comes to collect the inventory."

We helped them out of the barrels.

"The map," I said to Kaelen. "Do you remember the layout?"

Kaelen nodded, wiping flour from his eyes. "The layout is circular. We’re on Level 1. The Warden’s Office is on Level 5—the penthouse. The Prison Block—where Cian is—is on Level 3."

"And the Vault?" Red asked. "My payment?"

"Level 4," I said. "Next to the armory."

"We split up," I decided. "Red, you go to the Vault. Secure the gear and create a distraction if things go loud. Tybalt, stay here with the wagon. Keep the engine running—or the horses fed. Whatever."

"I stay?" Tybalt looked relieved. "I can do staying. Staying is my specialty."

"Kaelen, Lysandra, and I will go to Level 3," I said. "We get Cian. Then we hit the Warden’s office for the Fragment."

"We’re leaving the Rogue alone to rob the treasury?" Lysandra asked, eyeing Red.

"She works faster alone," I said. "And we need speed."

"Fine," Lysandra said. She drew her rapier. "Let’s find the mage."

We moved toward the service elevator—a heavy iron cage operated by a pulley system.

As we waited for the cage to descend, I heard voices echoing from a ventilation shaft nearby.

"...Lord Thorne insists on increased production," a deep, resonant voice said.

I froze. Lord Thorne. Governor Thorne. Vance’s father? No, Vance’s father was the Councilman. This was the Governor of Oakhaven.

"Increased production requires more fuel," a second voice replied—metallic and cold. The Warden. "The prisoners are burning out. The Time Dilation cells are efficient, but the human soul can only endure so much mana extraction before it snaps."

"Then get more prisoners," Lord Thorne’s voice snapped. "The ’Dark Wolf’ scare has given us license to arrest anyone in the outer districts. Fill the cells. The Emperor needs the battery fully charged by the Equinox."

"The Emperor?" I whispered. "Since when do we have an Emperor? We have a King."

"Valen," Kaelen mouthed. "He’s upgraded his title."

"And the battery..." I looked at the floor. "They’re not just mining ore. They’re mining people."

The elevator arrived with a clank. We stepped in.

"Level 3," I said, pulling the lever.

The cage descended into the bowels of the volcano.

"Ren," Lysandra said softly as we passed a vent blasting hot steam. "What did they mean by ’Time Dilation’?"

"The Time Fragment," I said grimly. "They’re using it to speed up time inside the extraction cells. A prisoner might feel like they’ve been drained for a year, but only a day passes outside. It maximizes output."

Lysandra gripped her sword hilt until her knuckles turned white. "That is... monstrous."

"That’s efficiency," I said. "Welcome to Valen’s new world order."

The elevator stopped. The gate rattled open.

Level 3: Detention Block.

The corridor was long, lit by flickering red mana-crystals. Cells lined both sides, barred with null-iron.

But there were no guards.

"It’s quiet," Kaelen noted. "Too quiet."

"Automated security," I guessed. "Watch the floor plates."

We crept down the hall. I scanned the cell numbers.

301... 302... 303...

The cells were occupied. Mages in rags, hooked up to strange copper machines that hummed softly. They looked gaunt, their eyes vacant.

"They’re being drained," Lysandra whispered, horror on her face. She reached for a cell door.

"Don’t," I stopped her. "If you break the seal, the alarm triggers. We get Cian first. Then we release everyone."

We found him at the end of the hall. Cell 314.

Cian was slumped against the wall. He wasn’t hooked up to a machine yet, but he looked terrible. His glasses were broken, held together by tape. He was scratching equations into the stone floor with a piece of bone.

"Cian," I whispered.

Cian looked up. He squinted.

"Ren?" he croaked. "Is that you? Or did I finally crack and hallucinate a waiter?"

"It’s me," I said. "And a flour-covered mercenary. And a sticky knight."

Kaelen and Lysandra stepped into view.

Cian started to laugh. It was a weak, hysterical sound. "The squad. You actually came."

"Can you stand?" Kaelen asked, examining the lock. It was a complex rune-lock.

"I can stand," Cian said. "But I can’t cast. They put a dampener collar on me." He pointed to a metal band around his neck.

"Ria would pick this in a second," I muttered. "Kaelen, can you break it?"

"If I hit it, the noise will alert the Warden," Kaelen said.

"I can open it," Lysandra said. She sheathed her sword and placed her hands on the bars.

"Paladin override?" I asked.

"Royal Authority," she corrected. "These locks were made by the Royal Artificers. They respond to the magical signature of a Commander."

She pushed her mana into the lock. It glowed gold.

Click.

The door swung open.

Kaelen rushed in and helped Cian up. "Easy, Einstein. We got you."

"The collar," Cian gasped. "It’s heavy."

"We’ll get it off later," I said. "We need to move. To the Warden’s office."

"Wait," Cian grabbed my arm. "Ren. You need to know. The Warden... he’s not a man."

"I know," I said. "Level 50 Construct."

"No," Cian shook his head. "He’s not a construct anymore. He’s... fused. With the Fragment."

My eyes widened. "He integrated the Time Fragment?"

"Yes. He can rewind combat. He can undo hits. We can’t beat him in a straight fight. He’ll just reset the encounter every time he loses."

"A save-scummer," I cursed. "I hate save-scummers."

"So how do we beat him?" Kaelen asked.

"We don’t," I said, a plan forming in my mind. "We steal his save file."

"Ren," Lysandra warned. "That sounds like one of your crazy plans."

"It is," I admitted. "We need Red. And we need a really big distraction."

I tapped the communication crystal Silas gave me—which I still had in my pocket.

"Red," I whispered into it. "Are you at the Vault?"

Static. Then, Red’s voice, tinny and excited.

"I’m in. It’s beautiful, Ren. So much gold. And there’s a staff here that looks like a dragon’s tooth."

"Grab the staff," I said. "And grab anything explosive."

"Explosive? I found a crate of Fire-Salts."

"Perfect," I said. "Rig the Vault to blow. On my signal."

"You want me to blow up the loot?" Red sounded heartbroken.

"Just the door," I said. "Make it loud. We need the Warden to leave his office."

"Fine. But you owe me double."

"Deal."

I looked at the squad.

"Okay," I said. "We’re going to Level 5. We trigger the alarm, draw the Warden out, slip in, steal the fragment, and run."

"Simple," Kaelen said.

"Suicidal," Lysandra corrected.

"Let’s go," Cian said, leaning on Kaelen. "I want to hit someone with gravity again."

We headed back to the elevator.

The Guild was forming. The Heist was active. And the Dragon...

As the elevator rose, the ground beneath the fortress rumbled. A deep, rhythmic thrum that vibrated through the soles of my boots.

"That’s not machinery," Kaelen noted, looking down.

"No," I said, thinking of Lord Thorne’s words. The Heat Source.

The Iron Hold wasn’t just a prison. It was a lid.

And whatever was under the volcano was starting to wake up.

[Narrative Objective Update: Secure the Time Fragment.]

[Secondary Objective: Don’t wake the Dragon (Yet).]

"Level 5," I said as the elevator clanked to a halt. "Everybody look sharp."

The doors opened.

And standing right there, waiting for us, was the Warden.

He was a hulking mass of clockwork and flesh, gears ticking audibly beneath his skin. In the center of his chest, glowing with a soft golden light, was the Hourglass Fragment.

"You are early," the Warden said. His voice echoed, layered over itself like a skipping record.

He raised a hand. The air shimmered.

"Let’s try that again."

The world blurred.

Zip.

The elevator doors closed. The sensation of rising hit my stomach. The doors opened.

And standing right there, waiting for us, was the Warden.

"You are early," the Warden said.

"He reset us!" Cian screamed. "He looped the arrival!" 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

"We’re stuck," Kaelen realized, drawing his sword.

"We’re not stuck," I said, gripping my rusty knife. "We’re just farming."

"Red!" I shouted into the crystal. "Blow it! Now!"

BOOM.

The floor beneath us shook violently. Somewhere below, the Vault exploded.

The Warden flinched. The ticking in his chest skipped a beat.

"Anomaly," the Warden stated, turning his head toward the explosion.

"NOW!" I yelled. "Rush him while he’s lagging!"

The fight for Time had begun.