After lingering there for another three days, Gorgin finally gave the signal for the return journey to the Dragon's Lair Tribe.

  Ultimately, the dwarves' resources fell short of equipping the ogres with twenty complete sets of spiked club and shield combinations.

  However, there were more than enough spiked clubs, with a total of twenty available.

  When it came time to distribute these clubs, some of the ogres grumbled in dissatisfaction.

  They yearned for the previous weapons that had a fiery effect...

  Gorgin was left in a state of bemusement.

  Hell, if one's resolve was strong enough, they could imbue the weapons in their hands with whatever effect they fancied.

  These enhancements were merely in their infancy.

  It was just the initial stage of weapon augmentation, and the effects were rather feeble.

  If it were the full - fledged "green - skinned" version, one could potentially transform a heap of scrap iron into a mecha...

  But what could he do? He had to coddle his own dim - witted ogres. Gorgin feigned some tinkering with the spiked clubs, and only then did these simple - minded ogres buy into it.

  After all, they believed their chief was omnipotent.

  Nu, with an air of haughtiness, shouldered the triple - barreled machine gun and clutched a spiked club in his hand.

  Had it not been for the chief's decree that everyone was to have one, and his occasional urge to engage in up - close and personal enemy - smashing, he wouldn't have given the spiked club a second thought.

  This rapid - firing, high - damage machine gun was the true weapon befitting a real man!

  He would saunter around in front of the other ogres, casually brandishing the bullet - less triple - barreled machine gun, relishing the envious glances from his tribesmen.

  They too desired such a weapon, but there were no more to be had.

  Previously, when they led the dwarves to attack the Hot Sand Consortium, they flew into a rage and smashed two goblin Gatling guns to smithereens.

  In the end, it was their own doing.

  On their way to battle, they had ridden in modified tracked vehicles, but those vehicles were blown to bits by that idiotic goblin craftsman.

  And Gorgin was at a loss. After all, it was he who had insisted on having the goblin demonstrate...

  So, he had no choice but to perch on the outer shell of the steam tank for the return trip.

  Indeed, both the steam tank and the dwarf airship, the two prized possessions of Giant Sand City, had been retained.

  The steam tank was a fearsome offensive weapon, yet it left much to be desired when it came to defense.

  Its cannon packed a mighty punch, but it simply couldn't reach the dwarves' city walls. The dwarf airship, on the other hand, combined offensive, defensive, and reconnaissance capabilities.

  However, with only a single airship, it was far from ideal.

  Since everyone on the ground had surrendered, it was futile for the dwarves aboard the airship to continue their resistance.

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  Gorgin had fancied taking a ride in the dwarf airship, but the pod beneath was custom - built for dwarves, and he couldn't squeeze inside.

  Weight wasn't an issue; it was the cramped space that posed a problem.

  Kolber, along with over a thousand dwarf children and a small number of female dwarves, was forcibly relocated to the Dragon's Lair Tribe.

  Three ogres and the remaining dwarves were left behind to assist Karin.

  Gorgin made it crystal clear that if those dwarves harbored any rebellious thoughts, he would turn these dwarf children into kebabs one by one and have his tribesmen devour them right before the dwarves' eyes.

  He was taking hostages, plain and simple.

  If they dared to revolt, they could test his resolve to massacre them all.

  Gorgin didn't have the patience to engage in subtle games with the dwarves.

  He laid his cards on the table. Surprisingly, this straightforward approach actually put the dwarves somewhat at ease.

  At least they were less anxious about the children. After all, the chief had permitted some female dwarves to accompany them for care - taking.

  Viewed in this light... it wasn't half bad?

  Gorgin couldn't have cared less about the dwarves' thoughts.

  All he yearned for was to return to his abode and collapse onto the bed Karlov had crafted for him.

  This infernal dwarf steam tank had zero shock absorption, jolting Gorgin so violently that he felt on the verge of retching.

  Upon reaching the Dragon's Lair Tribe, Gorgin bolted back to his house with astonishing speed.

  The over - thousand dwarves left behind stood there, staring at one another in confusion.

  "That dim - witted dog, take them to set up camp outside the tribe! Don't pester me before dawn tomorrow!"

  Currently, the only one in the tribe who bore the branding and possessed a modicum of sense was Captain Dog.

  Captain Dog was equally culpable for the current situation, but Gorgin was still at a loss as to how to punish him. Killing him seemed excessive...

  But if he didn't mete out punishment, considering how the succubus had been left on the brink of death, it would seem he wasn't being fair in his rewards and punishments.

  This dilemma left Gorgin in a bind. He couldn't very well...

  As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Gorgin drifted off to sleep.

  Captain Dog, who received a task before any punishment, was elated.

  The dwarves were equally dumbfounded.

  They had never in their wildest dreams anticipated that one day they would be under the command of a jackal, a common desert scavenger.

  Captain Dog strutted about, his tail held high in the air, his hands clasped behind his back, exuding an air of superiority.

  "What are you all loafing around for? There are still several hours until dark. If you can't get your camp set up properly, you'll all freeze your tails off tonight!"

  Not only the jackals but also the newly - subjugated goblins eyed him with envy.

  This inflated his ego to no end, and he nearly tipped his chin up to the back of his head.

  "Especially you!"

  Captain Dog pointed an accusatory finger at Kolber.

  "I don't give a damn what your past status was. Here, you're all fourth - class members.

  You're the only adult male dwarf among your group, so you've got an even heavier workload!"

  Kolber took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face.

  "Rest assured!"

  "Hmph!" Captain Dog wagged his tail, shot him a glare, and then spun around and marched off.

  "Let's go. Don't just stand there like a bunch of numbskulls. Do you expect the camp to materialize out of thin air?"

  Kolber led the female dwarves out in silence.

  Captain Dog wasn't as harsh as he appeared.

  He was well - aware that although these dwarves were at the bottom rung of the tribe's hierarchy, one never knew when they might make a name for themselves through their contributions.

  Or rather, despite his current second - tier status in the tribe, when it came to contributions, he, as a jackal, paled in comparison to the dwarves.

  In terms of combat prowess, the two parties were worlds apart, and these dwarves were born blacksmiths.

  He deliberately allocated the dwarves' camp to the north of the smelting furnace.

  This way, even if they didn't manage to construct their camp before nightfall, they wouldn't freeze to death in the drastic temperature drop at night.

  Of course, Captain Dog wasn't entirely without malice. The goblin camp was situated right beside the dwarf camp.

  The goblins' city had been overrun by these dwarves in league with the ogres. And not long after, the dwarves' city had also fallen to the ogres.

  Watching the dwarves bending over to gather desert thorns for their temporary camp, the goblin engineers erupted into fits of laughter, their guffaws dripping with schadenfreude.

  Serves you right! You thought you could play with fire by aligning with the ogres!

  The goblins, who had initially wallowed in self - pity, suddenly found a new sense of equilibrium. Goblins were shrewd creatures.

  In the final analysis, all these successive events were instigated by these dwarves.

  If they hadn't hired the ogres to attack their third city in the first place, none of these subsequent troubles would have ensued.

  As for the dwarf supplies they had plundered earlier, they conveniently chose to remain silent.

  In the harsh desert, the law of the jungle reigned supreme, did it not?

  The ogres were powerful, and they were weak.

  Now that they were all slaves here, it was just the natural order of things, was it not?