Monica stood between the Four Pillars and looked at the smirking Dworsul with a raised eyebrow. Dworsul, standing a few strides away, merely smirked and crossed his arms over his broad chest.
"I still don't understand."
"Good," the old Dwarf replied cheekily. "Now—raise your hand."
Monica looked at the four pillars, all four quite distant from each other, and the small stone platform the legendary Blacksmith had her step onto.
Monica sighed and did as he asked, lifting her right arm toward the cavern’s roof.
"What now? I don't feel—" Before Monica could finish that sentence, she felt a strong current of Mana in the air.
She activated Mana sense and saw golden echoes gather around the four pillars, swelling around their top part, and entering the black columns. Swirling arcs of Mana flickered into being and started resonating with the metal, making it vibrate ever so slightly.
Small black particles of the weird metal detached from the four pillars, carrying toward Monica's hand.
Suddenly, black flecks peeled off the pillars and drifted through the air. They glimmered like tiny obsidian shards, spinning and gathering into her open hand. Monica’s breath caught as more and more of those particles streamed in, merging into a single shape: a hammer’s head, forging itself from midair. Slowly, a handle formed under it.
The hammer solidified with a quiet finality, resting in Monica’s grip as if it had always been there. She swallowed hard, marveling at its weight—neither too heavy nor too light. It radiated a subtle warmth, the polished black metal reflecting a faint sheen of mana.
Dworsul stepped closer, his face unreadable.
"Every Dwarven Blacksmith receive a hammer made of Duranium and Spatium," he said softly, letting his rough fingertips trace the brand-new hammer’s surface. "Each pillar is an alloy of the two metals. The pillars, unlike what you thought, weren't meant to teach Skills, Avatar. They recognize the Skills of a Dwarf and provide them a suitable tool. Duranium is a rare metal, but among the more common ones you can find. Spatium, instead..."
Dworsul smiled at her.
His gaze slid from the hammer to Monica’s face.
"Thraldrirlum's Bridge is made of Spatium. The madman carved the biggest vein ever found into a bridge. When it's part of a hammer, it allows Mana to distribute itself along the surface of a metal much better. You've dealt with iron, a pure element. But iron is soft and tender compared to steel. And steel is nothing compared to Duranium. Duranium, too, is a plaything for children compared to weaving Mithril into an alloy or, on the pain of shaving your beard, making a weapon or armor of only Mithril."
Dworsul shuddered at the thought and then looked up at Monica's hand, where the hammer had almost fully formed.
"My father, Dworznel, is the one who devised the pillars, the one who carved them and powered them with his own Divinity. This is part of the great Dwarven heritage of Viscera, Avatar. You're the first non-Dwarf to ever receive Dworznel's hammer."
Despite not being the greatest fan of Dworsul because of his manners, she still felt very fortunate to be receiving his teachings and this gift. In the last week, she had come to fully appreciate just how hard forging was.
Whenever it came to fighting, Monica felt invincible. There was not one enemy that, at her level, could give her trouble. Any trouble. But with forging it was different. While fighting, she had always been bitter because she kept challenging monsters stronger than her, which meant that, despite her capabilities, she always started at a disadvantage. Ironically, when it came to forging she felt like she was on an even playing field: sure, she didn't have the Divine talent her Avatar Title gave her in fighting, but she could face forging without having to worry about a difference in levels. Plus, to be completely honest, Monica did feel she had a knack for the thing—not that she would ever admit in front of Dworsul.
Dworsul pulled away, letting her examine her new possession. The metal’s surface felt smooth, but she could sense power coursing inside it.
"How good? How much Spatium?" Monica asked.
"Enough," Dworsul replied cryptically. "Now, get the Quest Reward and let's open up that wall."
* * *
*Ding*
Quest Completed - 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 retrieved the Reward from her inventory. It was a large, sealed barrel. She heaved it up from the Inventory and then placed it on the ground beside Dworsul.
"We'll need a pump," the Dwarf said, scratching his beard.
* * *
They had retrieved a small pumping apparatus that was probably used for water from one of the stalls in the marketplace and went up to the giant brood wall.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Dworsul had assured her that there were currently no Wasps in the Blacksmith District and that none would come along for a while.
Therefore, the Dwarf took the initiative, dipped one end of the pump in the open barrel and, using his foot to operate it, started spraying the wall.
The same wall that the Obsidian Flame hadn't been able to even scratch started melting like snow in front of a forge.
Immediately, the resin hissed and sizzled, tendrils of foul-smelling steam rising from its surface. Where the melter fluid touched, the glossy shell turned milky white and began sagging inward like ice cream left in the sun. Thick rivulets of molten resin sloughed off, dissolving in a slow, ugly cascade. In a matter of seconds, the seemingly invincible barrier started to crumble.
It only took one-fourth of the barrel for them to carve a sizeable passage through the brood wall.
Monica ducked under a dangling loop of half-melted resin, stepping warily into the new corridor beyond. Almost immediately, she realized they had crossed into a different world. Gone were the rough stone tunnels and half-rubble dwarven passages. Here, everything was metal. The walls glinted with polished panels, the floor hummed with faint mana lines, and overhead, a vaulted ceiling was ribbed with iron supports.
"This is the Silver Road."
Her eyes darted to the ground: a gleaming walkway sprawled ahead.
Its surface resembled cobblestone, but each “stone” was a carefully smelted piece of silver-tinted metal in the shape of petals, leaves, and vines, all interwoven to form a winding floral mosaic. Within every leaf or blooming flower, different metals—some coppery, some golden, others of a rare bluish hue—added color and depth. It was so lifelike that Monica hesitated before putting her foot down.
“This is… incredible,” she breathed, turning in a slow circle.
"Architects are very focused on form," Dworsul started explaining as they made their way through the Silver Road. "That is why there's not much art in the first floor of Viscera and, in general, outside the Blacksmith District. The deeper we go, the more wondrous the artistry you’ll see. That’s the core of our heritage.”"
As they walked, Monica started seeing the first forges, carved as caverns out of the stone walls, but also covered in layers of metal that depicted almost anything from a starry sky to a scene of war.
"Forging is more of an art than planning a building or a war machine," Dworsul said. "Any Blacksmith worth their salt understands it." He gestured toward the forge with metal covering it and forming a starry sky on the wall all around it. "It's customary in Viscera for every Blacksmith to decorate the outside of their forge the best way they can. The more elaborate and difficult the techniques they used, the more respect they would gather."
Monica soon noticed that as they kept moving forward, the forges' decorations became more and more intricate and beautiful. Some of them exuded thick Mana.
A few, however, were empty.
Many forges looked sealed—heavy gates of wrought iron or dwarven runic wards locked them up tight. A few stood open but eerily empty, their interior caked in dust. Ornamental suits of armor were half-finished on racks, all frozen in time.
Monica felt a weight in her chest. She could almost envision dwarven masters bustling here, carrying molten ingots to and fro, hammering out new wonders. Now it was empty, haunted by silence and faint echoes of a glorious past.
As if reading her mind, Dworsul explained why.
"The more skilled you are, the deeper into the Blacksmith District you move because the Silver Road doesn't just act as decoration. Use your Mana Sense and look at it."
Monica turned her gaze between her feet while activating Mana Sense.
She saw that the Silver Road's metal carvings weren't just for decoration. They were gathering Mana and... shifting it forward?
"The deeper it goes," Monica realized, "the more Mana it's gathered onto it. Fire Mana."
Dworsul nodded.
"And," he added, "the denser the Fire Mana becomes. A novice Blacksmith, even one with Dworznel's Hammer, would die if they tried to breathe in the Fire Mana in the deepest parts of the Blacksmith District. Many forges were empty because most of our people died in the war."
That makes sense, Monica thought with a tinge of regret for not having met the living Dwarves at the peak of their civilization.
Dworsul had said that the Fire Mana's quality helped smelter stronger metals. If one lived in the deeper parts of the Blacksmith District, it would make smelting the rarer, stronger metals much easier. It was also a natural way of ranking the Dwarves from the amateurs to the true grandmasters of the craft.
"I take that your forge used to be at the very end of the Blacksmith District," Monica said.
"Here?" Dworsul snorted. "No, Avatar. My forge is hidden away. If anyone came even in the remote vicinity of it while it was powered up, they would have burst in a cloud of ashes."
Dworsul’s footsteps slowed before a particularly impressive forge. Its facade showed a sky churning with thunderclouds, each of the swirling shapes molded from a brilliant steel so polished it reflected Monica’s face. Jagged bolts of lightning etched in a vibrant, bluish metal zigzagged across the design, capturing a storm in mid-strike.
"I knew the Dwarf who lived here. He died during the war," Dworsul said, sighing to himself. "No one ever had the time to take apart his forge before the Queen of Stone cast her curse."
"Why not use another forge?" Monica asked, sensing that Dworsul was not feeling comfortable.
"Many of these forges are still manned by their owners. It is a great disrespect to enter them while they're still there or even while they're still alive, Avatar. I will not break the traditions of my people when there's no need to."
He stepped in front of the forge and, closing his eyes and reclining his head forward, muttered a few words that Monica wasn't able to hear.
"This is Thizmug's forge, the master of the tempest. He has smelted great vessels in here that were used by the Dragons themselves—even the sovereigns of the Sky found a use for Thizmug's creations. That's how talented the man was. In my opinion, he could have reached, one day, Level 500."
Even though Monica had heard Dworsul praise his people before, this was the first time she heard him mention an actual Dwarf.
"It's an honor to enter your forge, Thizmug," Monica said, stepping forward and bowing her head and cupping her hands.
Dworsul seemed surprised by her gesture, but he nodedd in silence and they both stared at the ground for several moments.
"Avatar," Dworsul said, breaking the silence, "your level is pathetic."
Monica, accustomed to the man's antics, just let him talk.
"You will not be able to take these monsters in any efficient way, not even with a Bard as your support. Mind you, no sane person would have come to Viscera this underleveled and underequipped. Only a moron could have made this choice."
Even though it was getting harder, Monica still let him talk without interrupting him.
"I will teach you one of the most secretive techniques we have," Dworsul declared. "You have shown promise. We will now switch to steel and combine it with these things' bodies in such a way that the Wasps will be naturally weaker towards you. Machina's creations, at large, will be weaker. But the Wasps, especially so."
"How?" She asked.
"Forging equipment from parts of monsters is nothing new. Most Blacksmiths know how to fashion a leather armor or to mix hard chitin into an alloy. My father discovered a way to mix the essence of the monsters into equipment. This can repel their attacks or make their own defenses much weaker against gear forged like this."
Monica's eyes widened.
"By mixing the materials you have collected so far with steel, using the right Runes to make sure everything goes well—Runes that I shall activate on your behalf—you'll be able to forge gear for you and your party that will make your collective chances of survival much, much higher."