Jacob opens his eyes to the complicated expression on the Mithril Golem’s face. He expects to feel completely battered after what Nimirea put him through, but he doesn’t feel one thing out of place.

  If anything, he’s feeling better than ever.

  Ready to provide an explanation, the Mithril Golem says, “my master would have not allowed me not to heal you. In a trial such as this one, you have the right to start fresh at each threshold, Jacob Cloud. And congratulations, I suppose. You have won the second Trial.”

  Jacob looks around and realizes he’s still on the ground; he places his palm on the warm stone, noting that the chaos in the throne room—the aftermath of him acting as bait for Nimirea—has disappeared.

  The Golem probably took care of it. And he healed me without breaking a sweat. This guy is powerful beyond belief.

  He looks up and sees a smiling Boomgar skipping over to him, clearly happier than he’s ever been.

  Boomgar wasn’t confident in his physical ability. But his Rainbow Skill, Kinetic Overlord, allows him to essentially control and redirect any force under a certain threshold as long as he channels the Skill in the right position and at the right time.

  What Jacob did wasn’t just giving Boomgar an opening to the throne by acting as bait for Nimirea and distracting her, but he also gave Boomgar a self-confidence injection like no other.

  It’s not much in the grand scheme of things, but Boomgar just won us this trial by using the same physical abilities that he himself—and others perhaps—must have underestimated. And with the Grimoire in my hands, I can help him fix any single flaw he thinks he has.

  Now, the Mithril Golem keeps looking at Jacob, to the point that Jacob, confused, asks, “is there any problem?”

  The Mithril Golem and its perfect lineaments don’t move one inch. He just stares at Jacob for a few seconds more and then turns his back, walking toward the throne.

  Making his way to the top of the stairs and to the throne, he has an imposing and ancient aura. When he gets to the top, he gently caresses one of the armrests, reminiscing, and says, without looking at the trial takers, “my master’s youngest son, Lavrev, came up with this trial, among others. He was a King without peers. Perhaps the only child of my master who truly ever came close to his father. But he chose a path that many others would have not taken—a path in service of others. My master attained the greatest achievements and made discoveries mere mortals could never comprehend. Lavrev, unlike his father—my master—took a very different path.”

  For a moment, it looks like the Mithril Golem is about to continue, but then, he says nothing.

  “The third and last trial will be held in another room.”

  When the Mithril Golem says those words, the entire room starts trembling and the pavement starts shifting. It slowly opens, separating the two halves of the throne room in two, with a split that departs from the feet of the throne itself.

  Below the pavement, there’s a terrifyingly hot magma chamber with a few large boulders in-between.

  “What’s the Trial?” Nimirea, who’s trying to look composed after losing the previous Trial, asks.

  That’s a good question, Jacob thinks. It must be something that he thinks both I and Nimirea would have lost. But not something tricky per se. I’ve already figured out the second room, and I doubt the Mithril Golem would be stupid enough to repropose a similar trick.

  “Before I tell you about the Trial,” the Mithril Golem says slowly, “let me tell you about the reward. So far, I have not mentioned it.

  Everyone’s ears perk up.

  Rafnov is a figure of myth. During the very first trial, I have gotten a bunch of Skills that were supposedly about mining, but that have been even more useful in combat. Is this something similar? But maybe not. The Golem said that Rafnov’s son, Lavrev, came up with this.

  “The reward is a drop of Star Metal for each member of the winning team. The one who actually crosses the threshold first, however, will receive two more.”

  Jacob waits for a beat, instinctively waiting for an explanation to resound in his mind through the words of King Baalrek—

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Right. Jacob says, swallowing and biting his lower lip. He’s gone.

  “Star Metal?!” Both Dwarves and both Goblins seem to go insane at those words.

  Jacob raises an eyebrow at Nimirea, who is looking extremely impressed herself.

  “Lad,” Boomgar says, almost panting, “Star Metal is something our people, Goblins and Dwarves, mention many times throughout our founding myths. Our long-lost ancestors supposedly started building our respective civilizations by splitting a bowl of Star Metal between our two races after a long, bloody war.”

  “Until now,” Zibrek says with a deep voice, “I wasn’t even sure whether it existed or whether it was a story for children, Jacob. Its properties are supposedly so incredible that a single drop can change the life of a poor orphan and make him a King of Kings.”

  “It is quite fateful that Jacob Cloud and Nimirea Arendor came here with a Dwarf and a Goblin, indeed,” the Mithril Golem says. “And that story, that was my master’s doing.”

  “What?” Zibrek frowns. “The myth says that during the bloodiest battle, a star took pity on our two races and shed tears for us, gifting our ancestors the Star Metal.”

  “I would like to point out,” the Mithril Golem says, irritated, “that one of my master’s titles is The Miner of Stars. He was irate with your distant ancestors and decided to put an end to the war. However, neither of your people wanted to settle without the complete annihilation of the other. My master, therefore, came up with…” The Mithril Golem seems to struggle to say out the last words.

  Everyone looks at the Mithril Golem curiously.

  “My master told every single creation of his to refer to the gift as…” the Mithril Golem seems to struggle with the very matrix that keeps him together. “The Bribe.”

  Jacob is the only one to snort, “Master Rafnov definitely had a good sense of humor. So, the bribe put an end to an entire race war?”

  “It was a priceless gift! How undignified of him to call it a bribe out of humor! He saved countless lives! And the reason he didn’t want either of the races to include him in their history is because he didn’t want to take the moment away from either. In reality, they were selfish, greedy little bastards who took Master Rafnov’s generosity and ran wild with it! If it was up to me—” The Mithril Golem barely restrains itself and straightens up. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Both the Dwarves and the Goblins are looking slightly ashamed at that. Filr’etk and Narfikara are more angry than ashamed, whereas Zibrek and Boomgar seem to carry some shame over what their ancestors did.

  “As for the Star Metal, I’ll explain how to use it to whomever wins,” the Golem says, then turning to Jacob Cloud. “I know your Master must have told you about this trial. I don’t know where he got the knowledge, but you must carry three pieces of his inheritance that can be only unlocked by Star Metal.”

  Everyone turns toward Jacob.

  “King Baalrek told me about it, yes,” Jacob smiles. “He came by the information through one of the heirs of Lavrev. He told me that the second Trial would have Star Metal as its reward, which is something that I need, yes. But, King Baalrek did not know the details of the Trial itself, milord.”

  The Mithril Golem curls his nose upward at being called milord.

  “How arrogant of him to believe you would be the first in many eras to pass this Trial,” the Mithril Golem says with disgust. “But I suppose that’s what one might expect from Baalrek the Mad. That the earth has been ridden of him is something anyone will mourn.”

  Jacob, who has been mostly calm and happy throughout this, now feels the fire of anger burning in his chest. King Baalrek did indeed entrust him to win the Trial because his Domain, his sword, and the Primordial Spell need to be enhanced by Star Metal—more specifically, the power of the three is not something that Jacob can wield without Star Metal acting like a reinforcing glue. Without it, Jacob has no way to achieve the full potential of each even at this low Rank.

  “I will win,” Jacob says, looking straight at the Mithril Golem. “And I have much respect for Master Rafnov—too much to be able to say what I think of someone who speaks of the dead like you do. If you have lived for as long as you say you did, you should know what my master did for this world. I doubt Master Rafnov would be happy about you badmouthing King Baalrek like this—that one of his creations does not have honor in their words brings shame to his memory as well.”

  Suddenly, the previously perfect-looking Mithril Golem is surrounded in white flames and his eyes, perfectly expressive and human, become fully white and possessed by a demonic-like power.

  “Jacob Cloud,” the Mithril Golem steps toward Jacob, and the ground around him suddenly vaporizes. “The only thing that can keep you alive after you DARED talk of my master’s honor is the fact that my own master’s words bind me. But if you think I won’t give up my existence to take yours down, you’re beyond wrong.”

  Jacob, even though he can feel his skin being charred through the Mana he’s pumping all over his body to resist such flames as the Mithril Golem gets closer, says, “I understand. Let’s proceed, then. Aren’t you curious to see who deserves your master’s legacy? And aren’t you curious to see how I will win?”

  The Mithril Golem suddenly realizes that the flames around his body are about to kill everyone in the room and he extinguishes with a thought, just as fast as he had generated them.

  “We shall see,” the Mithril Golem replies. “Now, let me explain the rules.”