"He moved it!" Chief Igris exclaimed, shock flashing across his face before a slow smile followed. His heavy hands clenched with satisfaction, and for a rare moment, the iron hardness of his demeanor softened. He was genuinely pleased.

Yet within his heart lay a truth he had never spoken to Max. The story he had told three months ago had been a lie. Not all of the geniuses he had once trained had managed to move the black cube. In truth, almost none of them ever did.

The Divine Veins could still be opened without such monstrous strength, but those who lacked it quickly reached their limits. They became stuck, unable to push past the second or third level of the Divine Veins, forced to linger there for the rest of their lives, unable to climb any higher.

Max's success meant something greater. He had surpassed the threshold most never even glimpsed. He had proven that his foundation was not just stable but terrifying, and his body could bear the weight of the Seven Divine Veins what the previous geniuses before couldn't do so.

Chief Igris's smile lingered, but in his heart he thought, 'This boy is different. If he continues like this, he might open all Seven Divine Veins, something that has never been achieved in this universe since ancient era.'

"I did it!" Max said, his voice filled with disbelief as he stared at the cube that had shifted backward. He was the most surprised of all.

The strike had not come from his Draconic Essences or from any of his inherited powers. It had come from his body alone. He had not expected that the endless beatings he endured and the strange meat he consumed for three months would raise his strength to such an extent that he could move the black cube with nothing but raw force.

It sounded almost impossible, as though something this miraculous could not belong to reality, and yet the proof stood before his eyes. The cube had moved. His body had changed.

What Max did not realize was that the giants who had trained him were not ordinary warriors. Their heritage was far older, bound to the same traditions as the dwarves known across the realms for their mastery of blacksmithing.

Normal dwarves could take crude scrap and forge it into a weapon fit for battle, striking with hammers until the worthless metal gleamed with purpose. But these giant dwarves were not of the ordinary kind. They stood a step higher, their skill refined over countless generations, their strength and knowledge etched deep into their bloodline.

They had applied those same blacksmithing methods not to iron or ore, but to Max's body itself. Every blow from their clubs had been no different than a hammer striking molten steel upon an anvil. Each strike broke him down, shattering weakness, splintering flaws, and stripping away the impurities that clung to his human flesh.

The meat they provided him acted as the ore's refining flame, nourishing his body from the inside, feeding it strength and vitality just as fire fed the forge. His skin became the hardened surface of tempered steel, his muscles the tightly wound core of a blade, his bones the indestructible spine of a weapon forged for battle.

The pain he endured was no accident and no simple brutality. It was a process, a deliberate shaping of his vessel. The giants had not seen him as a boy to be trained but as raw material waiting to be transformed. To them, he was like an unfinished weapon on the anvil. Their hammers had rung against his flesh day after day, beating out weakness and carving resilience into his very marrow.

After three months of this relentless forging, Max's body no longer resembled the fragile human vessel he had once carried. It had been remade into something sharper, denser, and more unyielding, a terrifying vessel capable of withstanding the weight of the strength that raged inside him.

What stood before the cube now was not the same Max who had once collapsed under its immovable weight. This was a body refined through fire, hammer, and suffering, a body that carried the mark of ancient blacksmithing arts passed down through the giants.

Just as a master blacksmith could turn a scrap of metal into a Divine Rank weapon, they had sharpened Max into something far beyond what he himself had imagined possible.

"Am I ready for the Seven Divine Veins now?" Max asked, turning his gaze toward Chief Igris. For a brief moment, he remembered the rage he had felt during the endless months of beatings, when every strike made him wish to pummel the old giant into the ground. Yet now, after seeing the results of his suffering, he could not help but feel a grudging respect. The man's cruelty had turned into wisdom in hindsight, and Max found him more likable than he would have admitted before.

"You are ready," Chief Igris replied with a slow nod, "but there is still one thing missing."

Max's brows furrowed. "What is that?" he asked, his voice sharp with curiosity.

"A catalyst," Chief Igris said, his lips curving into a knowing smile. "Do not think the Seven Divine Veins will open on their own. Even with the strength you have now, even with your body tempered to a terrifying vessel, it will not be enough. Each Divine Vein requires an immense surge of energy to awaken, and not just ordinary energy. It must be raw, primal, unrestrained power that can tear the barriers of your flesh and force the veins open. Without it, you will never succeed."

Max's eyes narrowed slightly as he absorbed the words. He had known it would not be easy, but the thought of needing something more than his body unsettled him. "So this power… it cannot be drawn from myself?"

Chief Igris shook his head. His voice grew deeper, filled with a weight that spoke of ancient truths. "No. Did I not already tell you how the path of body cultivation was lost to the ancient era? Once, this path was common. The heavens themselves acknowledged it, and the world provided what was needed. But when the path fell into ruin and disappeared from the grasp of mortals, the world adapted. Laws shifted. The heavens closed their hands around the energy that once flowed freely. It became forbidden, as though the world itself declared, 'This path shall no longer be walked.' That is why those who try now require a catalyst. Without it, the veins will remain sealed, no matter how strong the body may become."

Max's expression hardened. "And you," he asked finally, his voice steady, "have a way to get your hands on this catalyst?"

Chief Igris's smile returned, this time faint but certain. "You should thank the lords of the secret domain for that. Within this domain, there is nothing impossible. Catalysts, treasures, forces that defy natural law—this place holds them all."

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