The Infernal Armory had changed. All the grime and scrap that had covered the ground had vanished without a trace… but there was something missing. The majority of the materials that he’d collected over the past few weeks had vanished.
A small pile of Maristeel and other metals was piled in the corner along with a few pieces of assorted scrap and some damaged monster parts and the remains of Jessen’s armor. That was it. There was no sign of the wyrmling claws or teeth. The spider and centipede chitin had vanished as well. Everything was gone — but it wasn’t lost.
The back of Arwin’s neck prickled and he nearly took an involuntary step back. The walls were no longer just plain stone. Thick lines traced through them, spiderwebbing out from a rounded extrusion on the far wall. They twisted across the room and gathered, forming a circle at what had once been his hearth.
It was a mere hearth no longer. Instead of the quaint little stone dome that he’d been using, there was now a thick pillar that rose up to his waist made of a mixture of the black material, a myriad of metals, and stone. It extended outward at its top like the yawning maw of a venus flytrap. Spikes ringed its outside and through a hole in its center, Arwin could make out the Millstone Maw buried in the ground beneath.
The extruded area at the far side of the smithy thumped. A ripple of energy passed through the black lines, running through the entire room and over to the new hearth before bouncing back and returning to where Arwin suspected the heart had hidden itself.
These aren’t just lines. They’re veins.
The jutting spikes along the edges of the new hearth — if it was still even a hearth — creaked and furled as if in irritation.
“That is gross,” Olive said through a grimace. “What in the Nine Underlands happened to your smithy?”
The ground beneath her bucked. She let out a yelp and stumbled, managing to catch herself on Reya’s shoulder before she could trip. Olive stared at the stone in disbelief, then lifted her gaze to Arwin. “What did you do to this place?”
“I don’t know if did is the right word,” Arwin muttered. “Enabled might be more accurate. We just made the housing that would let the heart live. I thought it would help power a furnace for me. Not turn my smithy into… whatever this is.”
The mouth — or hearth, whichever one it was — rippled again. Its teeth clacked together several times before lowering back down to its normal, circular position. Arwin and Lillia exchanged a glance, but it was Rodrick that spoke their thoughts.
“I think it’s hungry.”
“Why is your building hungry?” Anna asked.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want an answer to,” Arwin replied. “Or questions that I can’t answer. This is both, I fear.”
“I’ll go make something,” Lillia said. “Give me five minutes.”
She darted out of the smithy. A second of silence passed. Then the heart beat again, causing every single one of them to flinch. It wasn’t nearly as disgusting as it had been when the heart had been exposed, but it wasn’t much of an improvement.
Arwin tried to see if the Mesh could pick up on his new building, but its status stubbornly remained hidden. He was pretty sure the Mesh had said the building would be hidden from others, not him and Lillia, but it seemed that nobody had elected to inform the heart of that.
This would be the second ill-mannered heart I’ve run into in Milten, now that I think about it. I hope this isn’t turning into a habit.
There was nothing he or any of the others could do but wait around until Lillia returned. Arwin desperately wanted to test out the forge and see if it even still worked, but he was pretty sure testing anything before the Infernal Armory got fed was a poor idea.
The new hearth looked like it was capable of taking a bite out of more than just Lillia’s food, and he wasn’t keen to put himself on the menu.
Lillia was fortunately as fast as ever. They didn’t have to wait long before she returned, a plate piled high with meat in her hands. She approached the hearth in the center of the room with a doubtful expression on her face.
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“What do you think the chances are that the whole thing stands up and walks off?” Lillia asked.
“I’m not a betting man, but I doubt it’s taken over the entire building. It seems like it’s just the forge… so it’ll probably be okay,” Arwin replied, not all that convinced of his own words. He’d never run into anything like this in his experiences as an adventurer. “I’d probably get back pretty quickly after feeding it.”
“Probably a good idea,” Lillia said. She tipped the plate, dumping all the meat into the hole at the center of the hearth. She took several hurried steps back, joining everyone else as they moved closer to the door that led into the main room.
The heart thumped. A grinding noise filled the air as the Infernal Armory chewed its meal. A dull light lit within the black veins at the base of the hearth, slowly spreading through the veins and running back to the heart.
A second thump shook the room, this one louder than the first. The light brightened and the hearth curled in on itself, its pointed tips rising like a furling flower and all coming to a point. Then there was silence.
Everyone looked around the smithy.
Rodrick let out a confused grunt. “Huh. I was kind of expecting more. Not to sound bratty, but that was a little lackluster.”
“I don’t think it’s done,” Olive said, eyes narrow. “It’s waiting for something.”
Arwin was pretty sure she was right. He just wasn’t sure what. It had closed its orifice, so it wasn’t like they could feed it anymore. It had already taken all his materials to do… whatever it had done to itself.
The Infernal Armory answered the question for them. The floor at Arwin’s feet rolled forward like a small wave, lifting him up and depositing him at the base of the hearth.
“I think it wants to eat Arwin,” Reya said. She put a hand on the hilt of her dagger. “Do we have to fight his smithy?”
“Hold on,” Lillia said. “I’m not sure about that. The mouth is closed. It wants something else. Look at the points at the top.”
Arwin squinted up at the hearth. Lillia had sharp eyes. There was a thin, clear sheen covering the pointed pieces, glistening just barely enough to be visible. He was pretty sure Lillia was right about it not wanting to eat him. But if it didn’t want food… the only other thing he could offer was [Soul Flame].
Well, I suppose it’s still a hearth. Can’t hurt to try.
Arwin flexed his fingers and summoned a curling ball of fire in his palm. Heat rolled off it and prickled at his fingertips as he held it out to the top of the hearth. It touched the pointed ends of the furled hearth and leapt from his hand of its own volition.
He drew in a sharp breath as he felt a powerful draw on his magical energy. Before he could even try to stop it, power coursed down his arm and into the hearth in a river. The dull light illuminating the black veins from within grew brighter.
The heart slammed in its cage. A groan shook the building. Arwin canceled his [Soul Flame] and yanked his hand back, but the flame at the top of the hearth remained. The mouth of the Infernal Armory unfurled, and each one of its tips dragged a small portion of the fire down along with it.
They burned along its edges, casting a warm glow across the room, as the heart started to beat faster. Every thump echoed through the room and shook the floor at their feet.
“I’m not so sure I like this,” Anna said nervously. “I think we might be about to get eaten. Perhaps we should back up.”
“Wyrmhunger doesn’t see this building as a threat,” Reya said with a frown. “Or maybe it just doesn’t want to fight something it can’t stab. It could be either of the two.”
“Not very helpful,” Olive muttered as she drew her sword and held it before her. “We should be ready to fight or we might get our smithy stolen by our smithy.”
Arwin was about a step away from agreeing with Olive and summoning Verdant Inferno. The black veins burned with far more energy than Arwin had given the Infernal Armory. The thumping heart turned to a drumbeat that echoed in his ears and made his teeth clatter in his jaw.
Then the fire sputtered. There was a whump as a thick gout of black fire erupted from the hole in the center of the maw. It infected the other flames like a virus and spread instantly, forming a sea of obsidian fire upon its surface.
Hazy waves twisted off the hearth and a droplet of sweat rolled down Arwin’s brow from his proximity to it. The fire started to rise, looming above him and raising the temperature of the room to the point where even his heat resistance was starting to feel a bit inadequate. He took a step back and extended a hand to prepare for a fight — and then he paused. His brow furrowed.
The flame was changing. It wasn’t just growing larger. It was taking on a rectangular form. Arwin stared in disbelief as fire took on hard lines. Indiscriminate whorls straightened and became discrete and designs traced themselves through the air.
It was a door, but it was more than that.
It was a door Arwin recognized.
This one was smaller and the designs upon it were definitely different, but it was strikingly similar to a door in a dungeon that had led into a strange workshop with a lava trap where he had first gotten to test [Molten Novice]. The door that several adventurers had killed each other over trying to enter. A door to which he had left the key for in his smithy when —
A clatter echoed across the now-silent room. Arwin looked down as a metal key skidded across the ground and came to a stop at his feet. Despite the heat washing against his face, the back of Arwin’s neck prickled.
There was no denying it. This was more than just being smart enough to need food.
The Infernal Armory was intelligent — and it wanted him to open the door.