Following the crisscrossing network of elevators upward, Histori stood before the obsidian structure known as the Great Forging Assembly, feeling like a poor little white mouse thrown into an oven.
…Too, too hot.
Even though the Great Forging Assembly was built at the city’s highest point, theoretically the farthest from the lava, whether it was due to being close to the volcanic crater or because this place was some kind of pipeline hub, the skin temperature Histori had just managed to lower with cooling potions seemed to be creeping up again.
“Hero, are we just going to walk right in? Before that, I think I could still buy a few more bottles of water and cooling potions to carry on me…”
Even though she had bought a few bottles of overpriced drinking water from a profiteer on the way, Histori was still feeling parched.
She wasn’t just battling the high temperature; she was also using all her willpower to suppress the tail behind her.
“We’re already here. We should at least go and say hello first. Besides, don’t you want to see what the Sacred Artifact you need actually looks like?”
Even though cooling potions probably wouldn’t be very effective for her either, Amir appeared exceptionally calm.
Without even furrowing her brow, she led Histori straight toward the door of the Great Forging Assembly.
This should be an important place for the Dwarf Race, but surprisingly, there weren’t many guards.
Many Dwarves were coming and going, entering and exiting everywhere, making it seem like a bustling marketplace.
However, upon seeing Histori and Amir, a guard whose entire body was encased in armor stepped forward to stop them.
“Wait, little Human girls, this isn’t a place you can just waltz into! If you want a tour, you’ll have to wait for the upcoming Great Forging Festival.”
Hearing the guard’s words, Histori instinctively asked—
“…The Great Forging Festival?”
“Huh? You don’t know? The Great Forging Festival our Dwarf Race holds every twenty years!”
When mentioning this festival, a rather proud expression appeared on the guard’s face—
“During that festival, we won’t just exhibit the finest forging works of the past twenty years, but our Chief Blacksmith, President Baren, will personally use our Dwarf Race’s Sacred Artifact, the Anvil of Thunder, to demonstrate his skills before everyone, forging a weapon imbued with divine power!”
“Is that so?”
Amir raised an eyebrow slightly—
“Then, since people will get to see it sooner or later anyway, can’t we go in for a visit now?”
“No, no, I said no means no. Forging isn’t a woman’s business, let alone for delicate-looking women like you. Go play somewhere else.”
“…”
Amir fell silent for a moment, then peered through the gap in the guard’s helmet.
“Aren’t you hot?”
“Hot.”
“Speaking of which, I just happened to find two bottles of cooling potion on the ground nearby.”
Amir casually pulled out two small bottles from her robe and waved them in front of the guard—
“Are these… the ones you dropped?”
“…”
The guard silently swallowed, then shifted his gaze to the side—
“Hmph, trying to bribe me with such trifles? You clearly don’t understand Dwarf dignity. The high temperature is the Forging God’s tempering of our flesh…”
“I must have remembered wrong. It seems like three bottles were dropped.”
Amir, as if performing a magic trick, produced another small bottle from between her fingers, lining them all up in front of the guard.
“…Th-this, even so, I…”
“Sigh, finding four bottles of cooling potion by the roadside is just too unbelievable. I suppose there’s simply no such good fortune in this world.”
Amir sighed softly, then naturally took Histori’s hand—
“Histori, let’s just go.”
“Wait! I suddenly remembered, those potions do seem to be the ones I dropped!”
The guard snatched the cooling potions from Amir’s hand, then grinned at her, gesturing toward the main entrance with a wave of his hand—
“And, come to think of it, the Forging God has never rejected any follower. On the contrary, he should be pleased to have diligent and studious women like you.”
“Go on, go on! I hope you see what you’re looking for inside!”
As soon as the guard finished speaking, he pulled a lever by the door.
With a heavy sound of mechanical gears, the door of the Great Forging Assembly slowly opened a crack.
Amir gave the guard a cold smirk and stepped into the crack with Histori.
How to put it?
If the outside was just high temperature, then the inside of the Great Forging Assembly was a genuine oven.
Deafening sounds of steam and hammering echoed under the vast dome, with sparks and white mist flying everywhere.
In the very center of the hall, Histori’s eyes immediately fell upon the city’s theoretical highest ruler, the President of the Great Forging Assembly mentioned by the guard—Baren.
Unlike the dignified and majestic Dwarf king one might imagine, this President was currently standing on an ordinary anvil, waving a large iron hammer, and cursing at a group of equally scruffy-bearded Dwarves around him with flying spittle—
“Bunch of useless fools! The heat! Mind the heat! This is the temperature needed to smelt mithril! Put more force into it! Did you not eat?!”
This President’s temper was clearly even more volatile than the magma here.
He had a large red nose and a face full of rough features, but for some reason, the iconic long beard that Dwarves prided themselves on—the one that stretched from the chin down to the navel—appeared rather sparse and patchy on Baren’s face.
Just as Histori was observing Baren, Baren’s gaze also caught the two conspicuous uninvited guests at the entrance.
“Huh? Who are you two? Who let you in? Don’t tell me it was that idiot Skal again, the one who’s always letting people in for tours?”
Baren, his beard bristling with anger, jumped down from the anvil and began approaching Histori and Amir.
However, the closer he got, the stranger his expression became.
He looked up, studying Amir’s appearance, then scratched the tip of his nose—
“Wait, black hair, black eyes… You, could you be the legendary Hero?”
Amir gave a noncommittal smile, then removed a small shoulder badge from her attire.
“Haha, I knew it at a glance. That little light-bending gadget on you is useless against a master blacksmith like me. Come to think of it, it was invented by one of my disciples’ disciples.”
“As long as it keeps most people from noticing, that’s enough. From that perspective, it’s a very cost-effective little gadget.”
Amir nodded at Baren with a smile—
“It would be even better if it weren’t single-use. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have to walk around Vulcania dressed in Demon Race clothing.”
“Can’t be helped. Just judging from its materials, it’s destined to be unable to withstand much disturbance from the moment it’s activated. However, if it’s something the Hero wants, I suppose I could help you research it.”
The Dwarf Race’s Chief Blacksmith, Baren, set the hammer by his side aside, then wiped the sweat from his face with a towel hanging around his neck—
“So, what is the esteemed Hero doing here in our Vulcania, instead of fighting those Demon Race scum on the front lines? If I recall correctly, the United Kingdom said they didn’t need the weapons we forge, right?”
“We came here just to see one thing.”
Since her identity was already exposed, Amir gave a slight shrug. She didn’t engage in any pleasantries or formalities, cutting straight to the point—
“Your Dwarf Race’s Sacred Artifact, the legendary Anvil of Thunder. If possible, I’d like to borrow it for a while.”
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.