Avince stood still, his gaze locked on Althiel’s hands as she performed what could only be described as art. The silver he had acquired was now being transmuted into mithril, and the process left him speechless.

Each movement of Althiel’s fingers was purposeful, as though she were conducting an invisible orchestra. A soft blue glow radiated from her hands, enveloping the silver in a shimmering cocoon of mana. The air was thick with energy, and Avince could feel it thrumming against his skin.

The silver began to shift, liquefying and taking on a radiant, otherworldly hue. It shimmered with a brilliance that seemed to reflect every color of the spectrum, yet it held an unmistakable silver-blue core. Althiel’s control over her mana was absolute, the precision in her movements leaving no room for error.

For her, it seemed effortless, but Avince knew better. The mana control, the intricate adjustments in flow and density—it was beyond anything he could imagine himself doing.

“Is it always this... intense?” he asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the transmutation.

Althiel smirked but didn’t look up. “This? No, this is child’s play compared to what true masters of transmutation can do. In my prime, I could have done this in seconds.”

Avince couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, even your ‘child’s play’ is leagues ahead of me. I can barely keep a rune stable for five minutes.”

She finally finished, the glow fading as the silver solidified into a perfect bar of mithril. She held it up, inspecting it briefly before handing it to Avince. “Here. Pure mithril. You won’t find better quality unless you stumble upon an ancient dwarven vault.”

Avince took the bar gingerly, as though it might dissolve in his hands. It was cool to the touch, yet he could feel the raw power coursing through it. “This is... incredible. Avince hesitated, his excitement dimming slightly as reality set in. “There’s actually a problem. I know a crafter my dad will introduce me to, but... mithril isn’t exactly subtle. How do I use it without drawing too much attention?”

Althiel tilted her head, her emerald eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “A valid concern. Mithril has a way of catching people’s eyes, especially those with less-than-honorable intentions.”

“Exactly,” Avince said, placing the mithril bar on the table between them. “I want to make something useful, but I don’t want to be a walking target. Plus, I’ve got an appointment with that crafter soon, and I need to figure this out before then.”

Althiel leaned back, her expression contemplative. After a moment, she said, “Perhaps you could commission a base piece—something upgradeable. It could start simple and unassuming, with the potential for enhancements later on.”

Avince’s eyes lit up. “That’s... actually a brilliant idea. A piece that could be upgraded later on.”

“But...” he added, frowning slightly, “there’s still the issue of how to actually use the mithril. Even if I start simple, mithril isn’t exactly common, and people will notice if I want to commission someone to upgrade them.”

Althiel nodded, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. “True. If you’re looking for a solution, why not use your ability to locate a suitable craftsman? Dungeons, after all, aren’t just places for slaughter. Some of them have been transformed into civilizations.”

Avince blinked. “Civilizations? What do you mean?”

Althiel smiled faintly. “Exactly what I said. Some dungeons have conditions that are favorable for habitation—ample resources, stable mana flow, and natural defenses. Over time, settlements have been established within these dungeons. In my world, some people built an entire city inside one. Their dwarven smiths are unparalleled, especially when it comes to working with mithril.”

Avince glanced around the empty chamber they were in, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "Speaking of dungeons... how is this place so peaceful? I've never seen a dungeon without monsters before."

A knowing smile crossed Althiel's face. "Ah, you've finally noticed. Just as there are rituals to collapse a dungeon core, there are methods to suppress them. When properly executed, these techniques can halt or significantly reduce a dungeon's monster spawning capabilities."

"You can do that?" Avince leaned forward, intrigued. "Is that what the people who imprisoned you did here?"

"Indeed." Althiel traced a pattern in the air, leaving a brief trail of silvery light. "It's complex magic, requiring intimate knowledge of dungeon cores and their functioning. The suppression technique essentially puts the core in a dormant state—still alive and maintaining the dungeon's structure, but unable to generate the energy needed for monster spawning."

"That's... incredible," Avince said, his mind racing with possibilities. "Is this how those dungeon cities you mentioned work?"

"Some of them, yes. Though each city has its own methods. In my world, some people built an entire city inside one. Their dwarven smiths are unparalleled, especially when it comes to working with mithril."

Avince leaned forward, intrigued. “Wait, so there are dwarves living in a dungeon in your world?”

“Not just dwarves,” Althiel said, shrugging nonchalantly. “Other races have done it too.

Avince frowned, tilting his head. “Then why not just commission a dwarf to make the base equipment in the first place? Wouldn’t that save me a lot of trouble?

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Althiel smirked, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “You could,” he admitted, folding his arms. “But tell me, do you have the resources to even provide the material for a custom piece?”

Avince opened his mouth to retort but immediately froze. The memory of his Alliance Credit balance—exactly 0—flashed in his mind. The weight of it hit him harder than he’d like to admit, and he let out a self-deprecating laugh.

“Yeah… no,” Avince muttered, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I don’t think I could afford a pebble from a dwarf, let alone a full custom order.”

Althiel smirked. “Exactly. The dwarves don’t work for free, and providing mithril alone won’t be enough. They’ll expect payment for something valuable.

Avince raised an eyebrow. “Something valuable? Like what? If mithril isn’t enough, what else can I even offer?”

Althiel’s smirk deepened as he crossed his arms. “Well, you could use leftover mithril as collateral if you’ve got enough of it. Dwarves respect fine materials more than most races. But…” His voice took on a knowing edge, “…that would be a waste, don’t you think?”

Avince frowned. “A waste? How is that a waste if it gets me the equipment I need?”

“Because,” Althiel said, leaning in, his tone like a teacher schooling a particularly dense student, “mithril has far more applications than just being used as currency. Crafting, enchantments, reinforcement—it’s too valuable to just hand over to pay for labor. Instead, you can use something that’s easier to come by. Monster cores.”

“Monster cores?” Avince repeated, his curiosity piqued.

Althiel nodded. “Most dwarves are as practical as they are skilled. They’ll gladly accept high-grade cores as payment because they’re versatile. Powering forges, crafting enchantments, or even as raw mana sources—it’s all fair game to them. Plus, cores are easier to come by compared to rare materials like mithril.”

“Monster cores,” Avince repeated, nodding slowly. “That makes sense. Cores usually maintain their value really well”

“It’s because they’re so useful,” Althiel explained. “Cores contain raw mana, making them useful for crafting, fueling magical devices, and even serving as currency. Fire- and earth-attuned cores, in particular, are highly valued among dwarves for their affinity with forging.”

Avince scratched his chin, considering his options. “So... I need to start hunting fire and earth monsters. That’ll get me the cores I need, and it’ll help me gather materials for the body-tempering potion at the same time.”

“Precisely,” Althiel said with a nod. “It’s an efficient use of your time.”

Avince leaned back in the stone he was sitting on, his mind churning with possibilities.

“Althiel,” he said, breaking the momentary silence. “Do you know of any specific places where I could find these smiths to help me ?

The elf rested her chin on her hand, her bright emerald eyes narrowing in thought. “Hmm... let me think,” she murmured.

Several moments passed, and Avince began to wonder if she’d forgotten he’d even asked. But then Althiel snapped her fingers, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Ah, there’s a place that might work. A neutral dungeon city. It’s not entirely run by dwarves, but all kinds of races gather there. You’d have a better chance of finding a smith skilled enough to work with mithril.”

“A dungeon city?” Avince repeated, leaning forward.

Althiel nodded. “Yes. The city’s neutrality makes it safer than wandering into more... exclusive dungeons. Take the dwarves’ main dungeon, for example. If you were to somehow bypass their guards and pop up in the middle of their domain unannounced, you’d likely be executed on the spot. And that’s assuming they don’t torture you first wondering how you got in.”

Avince blinked. “That’s... horrifyingly specific.”

Althiel shrugged. “It’s not far from reality. They’re a proud race, and humans suddenly appearing in their domain would be seen as a grave insult. Of course, for you, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Not a problem?” Avince asked, raising an eyebrow.

Althiel gave him a pointed look. “You don’t truly die, remember? Even if they kill you, you’ll just be sent back to your body. It’s not exactly a permanent issue.”

Avince sighed, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, but I’d rather not go through the trauma of being turned into a dwarf barbecue, thanks. Let’s stick with the neutral city you mentioned. What’s it like? If I knew what it looked like, I could nudge my ability toward it when I have the time.”

Althiel tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I could give you another transfer of memories,” she offered.

He groaned. “Of course you could. Because I could always trust you with my memories.” Avince said sarcastically.

Althiel laughed softly. “You survived, didn’t you? Besides, transferring memories is such a delicate process that you can easily notice and stop the transfer if I’m up to something. Not that I’m planning anything.” She said jokingly.

He hesitated, glaring at her briefly before sighing in resignation. “Fine, but not now. Let’s do it later, once I’ve got my base armor ready and enough cores for upgrades. No point in rushing if I’m not prepared.”

“Suit yourself,” Althiel said with a shrug, clearly unfazed by his reluctance.

----------------------------------------

Avince stood, slipping the mithril bar into his storage space as he prepared to leave. “Alright, I still have more to do. Let me out of here, Althiel.”

“You want me to kill you again, I assume?”

“Yeah, I—” He froze mid-sentence, frowning. “Actually, now that you mention it, how are you killing me in the first place? You’re not exactly stabbing me with a sword or anything.”

A sly grin spread across Althiel’s face. “I was wondering when you’d finally ask. It’s quite simple, really. I noticed your soul was becoming too strong, which, frankly, would have been an issue as I’ve said before. So, I’ve just been dissipating it every time you need to leave—gently, of course. It’s the easiest way to send you back without complications.”

Avince stared at her, his blood running cold. “You’ve been... dissipating my soul?”

“Relax,” Althiel said with an amused chuckle. “It’s not that serious. Killing you outright would simply damage your soul which would then heal. What I’m doing prevents that damage, allowing you to leave this place without injuring your soul, although I'm pretty sure that doing that to anyone else would just leave them in a hollowed-out husk. .”

He swallowed hard, the color draining from his face. “You’re terrifying, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” she said with a wink.

Avince shook his head, deciding he’d heard enough. “Fine, just... do it. Kill me or dissipate me or whatever it is you do. I need to get back.”

“As you wish,” Althiel said, standing there gracefully looking at him.

The world around him then began to blur, Althiel’s serene face the last thing he saw before everything went black.