*Ding*
New Quest Received – The Four Pillars
*Ding*
Quest - The Four Pillars
Raise Phoenix Forge to Level 25 and the following Utility Skills to Level 50:
Hammering
Smelting
Temperature Control
Forging
Reward:
Resin Melter
Monica almost tore up her hair reading that.
“So that’s it,” she groaned, voice echoing against the stone walls. “I need them at fifty and I'll get a resin melter to get through that damn wall.”
That would allow her to get a Blacksmith to the others and finally be able to fight the Wasps properly. Not to mention, it would also remove her malus.
"It's time to work."
* * *
Despite her tireless efforts, she’d slowed down dramatically. After leveling her Phoenix Forge Class to 15 and pushing her four forging-related skills past 25, the progression had become painfully slow. A full day of hammering and smelting had barely nudged them up even a single level.
Frustration pricked at her. She narrowed her eyes and grabbed a thin strand of mithril she had gotten out of her inventory.
If she could smelt or forge something from Mithril, maybe she’d earn bigger jumps in Skill and Class Levels, right?
The Mithril thread she retrieved from her Inventory gleamed with a silvery radiance that, in the right light, appeared entirely white. She had rarely seen a material so beautiful before.
She rested a few threads on the forge and melded her flames again. With enough Vitality to completely melt a globe of iron, the flames didn't even seem capable of heating it up. Even channeling more Vitality until her limbs trembled did nothing. The mithril remained inert.
Monica gritted her teeth and inhaled deeply.
"Ok, let's try this."
She started pouring all her Vitality into the forge while activating Meditation and Mana Sense until the heat in the stall became unbearable and even Monica's armor, who was right in front of the forge, couldn't help but start glowing orange.
But, as life left her body, she saw that the mithril thread was still inert, barely bothered by the scorching heat.
When she resuscitated, Monica stepped away from the forge. If these Skills wouldn’t grow by aimless repetition, maybe there was knowledge out there to help.
Books, maybe?
* * *
She threaded through narrow side passages in the tunnel network on the second floor of Viscera. The magma and artificial ceiling lights like the one on the first floor kept things illuminated.
Monica had encountered numerous Wasp patrols that impaled and instantly killed her. Whenever possible, she would leap into pits of magma to take cover, but otherwise, she wouldn't even attempt to fight back. Given the significant penalty to her Skills, she stood no chance against these creatures. The disparity in levels was daunting under normal circumstances, and now it represented an insurmountable chasm.
When she fell into a random magma pit to avoid several Wasp Soldiers, awaiting in silence for them to fly away, Mana Sense picked up on something.
Monica wreathed in Obsidian Flame, turned toward the side of the pit, and felt a bifurcation as if she was at the bottom of a well with two openings.
Monica’s lungs tightened. Even with her Fire Immunity, she couldn’t breathe actual lava. Normally, she rose to the surface the moment she felt the pressure in her chest become unbearable. Yet now her instincts warred with curiosity: if there truly were passages down here, they might lead somewhere—maybe even to one of the Spear of Dhoznil fragments!
Mixing Phoenix Cloud and Phoenix Step, she slowly made her way through the hidden opening after making her way downward to reach the bifurcation. The denser pockets of molten rock threatened to lock her limbs in place, but she funneled more Obsidian Flame to part the thickest flows.
Her chest burned for air.
At last, the left passage revealed itself. She found a narrow gap hidden behind a folded sheet of magma. Her flaming aura devoured part of the stone, leaving a path. Monica squeezed through.
Suddenly, the floor vanished beneath her feet, and she dropped into a hollow void. With a splash, she tumbled out of the magma and landed in a dark subterranean chamber. Hot black stone replaced the molten flows, though rivulets of lava still dripped in from the ceiling above, forming a bright curtain behind her. Steam hissed all around. Monica lay there momentarily, gulping down big, grateful breaths of sulfur-tinged air. Her entire body felt shaky from near-suffocation, the typical adrenaline spike of I nearly died again pounding in her veins.
She looked at the chamber that stretched in front of her with an open mouth, stunned.
A large Dwarven inscription that she could only read thanks to her Myriad Tongue racial Skill read:
Ashen Archives
Unlike the rest of Viscera, the Ashen Archives were completely dark and only through Mana Sense Monica could read the stone inscription and get a look inside.
Massive stone shelves filled the space—most sealed tight behind thick metal shutters, which presumably had once protected fragile documents from the sweltering heat. Now, the shutters were warped and bent. Many had partially melted, creating lumps of corroded iron fused into the black rock.
Still, some sections looked intact. More importantly, the entire area seemed empty of wasps. Monica’s heart swelled with relief.
Monica looked at the sprawling chamber, which looked very similar to the rest of Viscera, despite its lack of light. She slowly walked forward, looking at the huge columns that reached a ceiling beyond her Mana Senses.
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Then, she almost got a heart attack.
Light went off all over the chamber, illuminating it as if it was the middle of the day. Every shelf got bathed in life in a sequence.
A fresh wave of determination coursed through her. A dwarven archive… If she was lucky, it might hold forging manuals—or anything that could push her forging Skills faster. She had told the others that she would have been away for a while, but she had been gone for days and she wasn't sure how much longer she would have to be here. Furthermore, she couldn't just go back above. She had barely made it this far when all her Skills worked properly. With the Malus given by the Phoenix Forge Class, it would take her too long to make the trip back and forth again.
She needed to get to Level 25 in Phoenix Forge and push those four Skills to Level 50 to earn the System’s “Resin Melter.” That was the only way to break through the brood wall and eventually bring dwarven blacksmiths back to her party.
She advanced deeper into the vault-like space.
Finally, she came upon a corner where the shutters between the shelves were partially pried open, revealing a crack. She approached carefully, ears straining for any sign of scuttling insects. None came.
Using her bracers to pry the warped metal wide enough to slip through, Monica stepped inside. It was lined with thick shelves, each supporting rows of carefully placed, rectangular stone slabs—not paper books, but dwarven “tablets."
She picked one and blew a layer of soot away.
[Forging with Rune-Fire]
Skimming the first lines, she saw references to “heat runes” and “mana conduction.” The writing was had actual dwarven forging secrets. This is exactly what I need, Monica thought, heart hammering. I can’t just brute force forging forever; there’s knowledge here I can use to train faster.
She gently set the first tablet aside and eyed the rest. Titles like...
[Temper of the Molten Soul]
[Runic Hammering Techniques]
[Alloys of Mana-Infused Metals]
I’ll just store them. Monica quickly opened her Inventory window and began placing tablets inside. She continued prying open shutters and rummaging for anything resembling forging or blacksmithing instructions. The dwarves had used a wide array of mediums—more stone tablets, hammered metal scrolls, and even a few books with pages made from heat-resistant materials.
Occasionally, she glimpsed more specialized texts: [Art of Defensive Runes], [Heat-Channeling Formations for Workstations], or an extremely thick slab labeled [Theory of Phase-Shift Alloys].
She grabbed those, too.
At last, she retreated from the small reading alcove to the main corridor. Her arms were covered in dust from the shoulder socket to the tip of her fingers.
Monica wedged herself behind a large toppled shelf, forming a small nook that gave partial protection on three sides. Satisfied it was secure, she lit a Golden Flame in the air overhead—like a floating lantern.
Then she retrieved the first forging tablet from her Inventory and let her Myriad Tongues ability wash over the script.
* * *
[Advanced Treatise on Forging with Rune-Fire]
“The dwarven hammer is not guided by brute force alone. It is guided by the measured synergy of heat, mana, and the craftsman’s breath. The forging of high-tier metals demands—”
Monica slowed. Breath? That probably had something to do with Fire Breathing. Perhaps dwarven crafters used that technique while forging, too. She read on.
“—the craftsman’s breath harnesses the internal furnace of the soul, channeling Fire Mana outward through specialized dwarven runes. In particular, one must calibrate the forging heat by exhaling sustained pulses of this internal Fire Mana. Such synergy helps the metal remain stable under intense transformation.”
Her brow furrowed. This was different from Fire Transmutation, which burned Vitality to furnish heat. The Dwarven method seemed to revolve around breathing out Fire Mana in carefully measured bursts.
"Maybe that's why I had trouble keeping the Mana even," she frowned.
Eyes flicking faster across the lines, she found instructions for layering a forging station with Runes that anchored the Fire Mana, ensuring an even, controlled temperature.
She realized that maybe her Temperature Control skill was too broad. This dwarven approach was more akin to an entire forging environment regulated by runic arrays, rather than just an internal skill used on the metal.
From her brief conversations with the others and Lucas, it was Monica's understanding that Runes acted like conduits for Mana and Enchantments. And while the Elves were the masters of Enchantments, the art of powering the conduits, the Dwarves were those who created them. Runes were much closer to metallurgy than Enchantment, which was more esoteric and closer to the job of a jeweler.
The next tablet, [Alloys of Mana-Infused Metals], made her widen her eyes.
“…Mithril is highly resistant to external Mana and does not easily conduct foreign energies. To smelt mithril effectively, the crafter must saturate it from within. This demands advanced runic infusion and, if possible, synergy with a superior flame—where the flame’s essence merges with the metal on a deeper level.”
"Superior Flame?" Monica muttered. "Do the Golden and Obsidian Flames count?"
Essence merges with the metal on a deeper level… Her Obsidian Flame had devoured the iron’s impurities, and the Golden Flame had knitted them back together. But mithril’s structure repelled foreign Mana.
"Does this mean I need some Runes to make it work? I'm confused."
But then, she realized something.
With a dwarven forging station and its runes, I might be able to refine mithril or even repair my bracers and gear. Maybe. I don't really know how Mithril works. But... it might work.
"So... stuff about runes, I guess?" Monica told herself, looking for more knowledge.
She tried prying open a few of the closed off shelves but her Obsidian Flame didn't even scratch the metal. The brood's resin felt like soft butter compared to this.
As she kept walking through the main corridor, something caught her eye.
There was a reading table—a small one, and a single Dwarf statue sitting at it.
Unlike the petrified dwarves she’d seen elsewhere—dozens crammed together in city squares—this dwarf was completely alone.
Monica frowned. “That’s… unusual,” she whispered, pressing closer.
Though worn by time, the statue looked oddly regal despite its simple attire: a rough-spun tunic and sturdy belt. One hand rested on a hammer at his hip, the other grasped a plain satchel. He wasn’t bedecked in fine armor or gem-studded braces—he appeared almost like a common tradesman. And yet something in his posture, in the set of his shoulders and the quiet dignity of his expression, suggested more about him than the eye could meet.
She glanced around, double-checking there were no other Dwarves. Only this one… alone.
Cautiously, Monica activated Mana Sense, skimming for any trick or corruption. Nothing.
Her mind flickered back to the forging station in the dwarven marketplace above—the Four Pillars. If she awakened a Dwarf who knew about runes, maybe he could help her fire up a forge inscribed with Runes, find one, or even just teach more about it.
But is this even the right dwarf?
It does have a hammer on his belt, Monica noted, looking at the elaborate hammer by his side.
Plus, the Ashen Archives seemed like a rather secretive place, even for Viscera. That meant this Dwarf had to be important.
She bit her lip, rummaging in her Inventory for the Dwarven blood. There were only two vials left. She recalled Gromorlig’s confusion and weakness when resurrected. This might be another gamble.
But she was running out of time. Her forging Skills had plateaued under these ad-hoc conditions, and the brood wall blocked the true Blacksmith District.
"He looks like a Blacksmith to me," Monica bit her lower lip, sloshing the content of the small vial in her hand. "Should I?"
“All right,” she whispered, popping the vial’s cork. “Here goes.”