Monica breathed deeply as she channeled the usual Fire Transmutation Skill to generate the hottest flame she could. Dworsul, in the meanwhile, had a hand on the forge, channeling some Mana into it.

  Several thick strands of Mithril were inside the forge, about twenty of them. Dworsul had said that was the best number to make a proper ingot for a large katana.

  "Now!" Dworsul barked, never taking his eyes away from the Runes on the forge, which started lighting up.

  Monica didn't pay any mind to the terrific expenditure of Vitality she had to consume in order to sustain the hot fire. The Runes, however, moved the Mithril and the flames, working out a dance inside the Runic Forge.

  The strands of Mithril hissed in defiance, turning pearlescent as they struggled to remain cool. Each time Monica’s Divine fire licked at their surface, the Mithril twitched and arched upward.

  "Keep going, Avatar! Mithril is a hard mistress to win over!" Dworsul roared.

  Monica inhaled sharply, activating Meditation to steady her mind. She zeroed in on Charred Masochist, letting the self-inflicted pain of burning her own Vitality drive her forging flames even hotter.

  If it hadn't been for the fact that Phoenix Forge gave Monica thirty Vitality for each level, she would have never been able to accomplish such a task.

  "It's not happening!" Monica screamed, feeling too much of the Vitality leaving her and being tempted to stop.

  "Avatar, don't you dare!" Dworsul spoke back. "It'll happen in a second! Burn it hotter, you God-forsaken beast!"

  Monica scowled and tapped into all the reserves of Vitality she had.

  Soon, she lost contact with reality, having no idea what was even happening. Then, she started losing consciousness. Lastly, her life.

  * * *

  Monica woke up to a rectangular white block in front of her face.

  "Huh?" She groaned, feeling the aftermath of dying once again as a throbbing headache, like the world's worst possible hangover.

  "You did it," Dworsul said, removing the ingot from her face and laying it on top of her naked belly.

  Monica took the Mithril and sat up, looking at the ingot. It was like a captive star pressed into a rectangular shape.

  The ingot was something so incredibly magnificent, so powerful, and full of Mana that even without Mana Sense, Monica could still feel its incredible Mana reserves. It was slightly electric to the touch and currents of shifting rainbow hues ran across its glimmering edges.

  "This is..." Monica was speechless.

  "The greatest Dwarven ore, only found in Viscera," Dworsul smiled and a hint of melancholy trickled through his words.

  In fact, he couldn't help but stare at the ingot, letting his true feelings show on his face for perhaps the first time since Monica had met him.

  "Dworsul," Monica cleared her voice.

  "What?" The Dwarf said, looking distraught.

  "I will get your people back."

  Maybe, in another moment, Dworsul would have laughed, he would have scowled, and insulted her, even.

  But now, he turned his eyes up.

  They had talked about this before, but he had never looked so serious.

  He had mentioned safeguarding the Great Forge, but this, talking about his people and getting them back...

  "The Queen of Stone will still exist even if you managed to conjure up a miracle and get my people back. She could still come back, wager war against us. And the outcome would be the exact same. There's no point in trying to repair a flawed sword Avatar, you can't unfuck what's already fucked."

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  Monica was caught aback by the swearing, feeling like she had always heard him insult her, but never cuss. It felt beneath the legendary Dwarf.

  "I think I can kill her," Monica said.

  "Machina? Probably," Dworsul said. "I can feel something stirring in the third layer, Avatar. You shouldn't take her lightly."

  "Not Machina," Monica said.

  Dworsul froze. He slowly set the Mithril ingot aside on the stone ledge and turned fully to face Monica, meeting her gaze head-on. He took a long moment before speaking, and when he did, his voice was threaded with pain. “You mean... the Queen of Stone.”

  Monica nodded.

  "The Queen of Stone was beyond Dragons," Dworsul averted his gaze and looked around the forge, "the great casters and perhaps the greatest warriors there have ever been. Humans had more Gods, Avatar. But Gods are not everything. The Dragons could have razed empires to the ground, and the Queen of Stone took them for a spin like kids. The only reason she doesn't govern everything is her hatred for everything."

  "What do you mean?" Monica asked.

  "The Queen of Stone is a being of pure hatred and violence. She petrified the races out of spite. She destroyed and slayed Gods because she could, Avatar."

  "The Twin Phoenix is the only Titan who asceded with two Divine Skills," Monica rebutted. "I am the ultimate fighter, Dworsul."

  "You don't understand," the legendary Blacksmith shook his head. "The Queen of Stone is... beyond everyone else. Machina? Maybe you have a chance. But you're weak, still. You're far from the pinnacle of your power. And even if you were at your strongest, the Queen of Stone would most likely dispatch of you like one does with a used sock, Monica."

  It was maybe the first time Dworsul had used her name.

  "I don't understand what makes her so strong."

  "She has control over all things dead. She has rules that bind her powers, which is why her spell only turned me and my people to stone, but her magic is the pinnacle of destruction. Whenever she comes back from her slumber, the world will be plunged into an infinite darkness once again."

  "What does she look like?" Monica asked curiously.

  "She's a monster clad in black. No one knows her face."

  "And what happened the first time around? Didn't the New Gods defeat the Old gods?"

  "You don't know?" Dworsul raised an eyebrow. "Many Old Gods perished in the conflict, like ours. When the battle started turning toward our side, only then the Queen of Stone intervened. And that plunged the world into an eternal night until she..."

  Dworsul sighed and shook his head.

  "Until she got too bored to play with our lives."

  * * *

  Monica next attempted to meld Mithril, Aetherium, and Corrupted Wasp Chitin to craft the specialized sword for Dotty. She laid out the lumps of Aetherium—dark red metal that actively repelled Mana—alongside the purified Mithril she’d just created.

  Monica stirred the crucible, letting her flames coax the three materials together. Yet the moment the chitin touched the Mithril-Aetherium mixture, bright sparks jumped outward as the Mana-laden metal refused to bond with the lesser quality chitin.

  The mix refused to homogenize. No matter how precisely Monica managed the Temperature Control or how carefully she hammered with Forging, lumps of chitin separated and hardened along the surface. With a hiss, Dworsul told her to halt the process.

  He examined the result with critical eyes and grumbled, “The chitin’s too weak. Hasn’t enough Mana density to fuse with Mithril. We need a higher-grade piece—like the ones from an Elite Wasp or one of the Royal Guards.”

  Sighing, Monica wiped sweat from her brow. “Guess we have to find one, then.”

  * * *

  Later, rejoined by Ted, Heidi, Dotty, and Sir Tristan, they made short work of another patrol of Soldier Wasps.

  Monica sipped some water and checked her System interface. Her Golden Flame hovered tantalizingly close to Level 100. Her main Class, Phoenix Healer, was around Level 98, while her Phoenix Forge Class soared in the high 90s as well. A glowing tension vibrated under her skin—the fateful threshold of Level 100 loomed near.

  She asked Ted about it. He fiddled with his mandolin, gaze thoughtful. “Level 100 is kind of a big deal for Classes, dude. They evolve, you know? You’ll get a new title for your Class and stronger Skills. Probably have to make some choices, too.”

  Monica surveyed the rest of them. Apart from Sir Tristan—who was already far beyond Level 100—everyone else stood on the cusp of their own breakthroughs. Dotty likely sat around Level 95, Heidi around 96, Ted 99. They were all approaching that milestone together.

  Heidi wiped away a line of sweat. “At this rate, just a few more big battles, and we’ll cross that boundary.”

  No sooner had she spoken than a fierce, guttural buzzing rumbled through the corridor, far louder and deeper than any they had encountered before. The echoes vibrated the metal walls, sending tremors across the ground.

  Everyone shot to their feet.

  Before they could form a defensive line, a looming shape surged around the corner. It dwarfed the typical Soldier Wasps, nearly triple the mass. The air around its thorax shimmered with liquid heat, and its exoskeleton bore chiseled ridges that glowed with internal veins of molten metal. In one swift blur, it dive-bombed straight for Dotty.

  “Dotty—!” Monica shouted, lunging. But the wasp’s speed outpaced any they’d seen.

  As it closed in, a tag flickered into Monica’s view.

  [Corrupted Molten Wasp, Royal Guard – Level 190]