Rhys straightened slowly, his breath still uneven, when another line of text etched itself across his vision:

[Correction Updated: Heartsteel is not a vein. It is the crystallized remnant of Ore Moles' hearts. When they die, their core pulse condenses into Heartsteel fragments. Gathered together, they may revive as a greater form.]

His eyes widened. "…So that's it. The ore moles weren't feeding on Heartsteel. They were Heartsteel. Walking remnants of it. Their bodies just flesh wrapped around a pulsing mineral heart."

He clenched his fist around the last fragment, the glow pushing faintly against his palm like it wanted to keep beating.

"No wonder they're so rare… most miners avoid these moles, but it turns out it was all their hearts all along."

"Well, at least next time I'll just hunt higher-ranked ore moles. Anyway, now that I have five of them, I guess I can attempt to create the Luminous Heart Ore," he muttered as he sat on a stone ledge, sending Puddle back into his heart space.

"Okay, all I need is to set the mana essence into them," he mumbled as he took out one Heart Magic Steel fragment and began to pour his mana essence into it.

A faint glow sparked, a shimmer of crystalline light forming for a moment before cracking apart. The shard dimmed in his palm. Rhys sighed, his expression flat.

"Guess it's stable… but the synthesis isn't binding yet," he said, rubbing his forehead.

Still, he didn't stop. He forced more mana essence into it, stubbornness tightening his grip.

Boom.

The fragment shattered in his hand, scattering into fading sparks. He coughed from the backlash, his aura rippling unsteadily.

Rhys slumped back, groaning. "Cough… well, that was anticlimactic," he muttered, then shook his head. "No matter. I'll just do it slowly this time."

He steadied his breathing again, picked up another fragment, and began channeling mana carefully.

One by one, he tried again. And one by one, the Heart Magic Stele burst apart under the strain.

First. Second. Third. Fourth. All gone.

He sat there, staring at his empty hands, his expression shadowed. "What am I doing wrong…? Why isn't it working?" he mumbled, voice low with frustration.

For a long moment, he considered giving up and returning to the surface. But his gaze drifted back to the glowing vein deeper in the cavern. His jaw tightened. "No. I'll just hunt more. I'll get stronger ones."

With that, he rose, drawing his blade, and plunged deeper into the caves.

It was brutal. He hunted down eight more ore moles—each one stronger than the last. Their massive claws and crystalline spines tore through stone, but Rhys cut them down, one by one, his Ruinous Darkness Blade drinking in their collapsing hearts.

By the end, his body ached and his mana was ragged, but he held two fresh, pulsing cores in his hands. Out of all eight, only these two had survived his attempts.

"Two Luminous Heart Ore," he muttered between heavy breaths. He slumped against the cavern wall, staring down at them. "Well… I only need one."

A long sigh escaped his lips. He tucked the ores safely away, brushing the dust from his cloak. "Enough. I'll retreat to Smithfist… and get these ores to Belholm. And Complete his Quest"

With that, Rhys left the cavern behind. The two Luminous Heart Ores in his pack pulsed faintly with each step, making the walk back to Smithfixt feel heavier than it was. By the time he reached Belholm's smithy, the sun was setting and the streets were glowing orange.

He pushed open the smithy door. Heat rushed out, along with the sound of hammering metal. Sparks lit the dim shop. Belholm looked up from his workbench and wiped his forehead.

"Are you giving up?" Belholm asked as he said "its normal, those hearts are now legend, its okay if You didn't found them."

Rhys smiled seeing, him thinking, that he gave up and then he placed two Luminous Heart ore on the tabel " I got them actually"

"By the forge…" the smith muttered, eyes widening. "You actually came back. And with something to show."

"how did yiu get them thye are basically extinct now?" Belholm asked looking at him.

Rhys gave a tired laugh. "Almost gave up. But I found, The Ore Moles drop their hearts crystalized as heart magic Steel, so I hunted them all and in the end got the Luminous Heat ore."

Belholm leaned closer, frowning, then suddenly chuckled. "why didn;t I think of that, It was known among good miners that Heart magic steel is dropped from ore moles, but whou would have thought thye drop the Luminous Heart ores too."

Rhys shrugged, hiding how worn out he really was. "A lot of moles for just two ores. I tried pushing for more, but this is all I managed." He avoided saying anything about using mana essence.

The smith nodded, impressed. "That's more than enough." He reached under the counter and pulled out a heavy medallion with black steel and runes carved into it. He handed it to Rhys.

Rhys frowned. "What's this?"

"A smith's promise," Belholm said. "Your reward, I will give youre reward after I forge these two ores, after that I will give you your reward, that medallion will summon you to me when I am ready to give you the reward"

He picked up his hammer again, and the forge behind him flared with strange rainbow flames. His eyes reflected the light.

"You've brought me something rare, boy. When this is forged, it won't be normal steel. It'll be a relic. But that kind of work takes time."

Rhys nodded. "I'll wait."

Belholm gave a small smile. "Then go. Rest, train, and be ready. When the time comes, I will call you agian, till then wait."

The rainbow flames rose higher as Belholm turned back to his anvil. The medallion in Rhys's hand pulsed once, then went still.

Rhys glanced back before leaving. "One day," he muttered. "I'll come back for it."

He sighed and shook his head. "Now that the quest is done… time to power level."

Opening the forum menu, he searched through the listings until he found what he was looking for: the Cold Dead Forge.

"Hm… it says it's owned by the Raven Guild," he muttered, reading further. "Looks like the entrance is through one of their dungeon gates… and the fee is… one gold coin per run."

Rhys frowned, but then shrugged. "Expensive, but worth it."

Without hesitating, he paid the fee for two full days of access and set the waypoint. The confirmation screen blinked green, locking in his entry.

"Alright," he exhaled. "Cold Dead Forge… let's see what you've got."

The teleportation gate flared. A whirl of cold mist and pale-blue fire swallowed him whole, and in the blink of an eye, the world shifted.

Rhys stepped forward, boots crunching down on brittle frost. His breath fogged in the air. The cavern around him was enormous—black stone walls streaked with veins of frozen silver, chains dangling from the ceiling like skeletal ribs. Fires burned dimly in cracked braziers, their flames a cold azure instead of red.

[ Instance Dungeon – Cold Dead Forge (Solo Mode) ]

The notification flickered across his vision, and a chill swept his spine. Even his mana felt sluggish here, as though the forge itself drained warmth from his veins.

A deep clang echoed from further within, like the strike of a hammer against an anvil. Then again. And again. A rhythm, metallic and deliberate.

Puddle stirred in the Heartspace, rippling with unease. Master… this place feels wrong. The fire here isn't alive. It's bound.

Rhys rested his hand on Aether Vein's hilt, eyes narrowing. "Then we'll just have to unbind it."

A corridor stretched ahead, lit by that unnatural fire. Frosted statues lined the walls—warriors, beasts, even smiths themselves—each one frozen mid-motion, as though caught in time. Their eyes glimmered faintly, as if they were watching.

The hammer-strike boomed again, closer this time.

Rhys steadied his breathing, mana thrumming around him like a shield.

"Alright, Forge," he muttered. "Let's see how dead you really are."

And with that, he advanced deeper into the frozen halls.

The further he walked, the thicker the frost became. The walls no longer looked like stone, but black iron sheathed in ice. Faint silver cracks pulsed dimly, as though the dungeon itself was alive.

His steps echoed strangely—sometimes loud, sometimes swallowed into silence, like the dungeon was deciding when sound should exist.

Then the statues moved.

One at the corner of his eye twitched, a faint grind of ice cracking. Another's head turned slightly, crystalline eyes following him.

[ Cold Forged Sentinel – Rank 3 Elite ]

The first statue lurched free, frost and shards falling from its body as it raised an enormous hammer of frozen iron. Its steps shook the floor. Behind it, two more tore themselves loose from the walls, their bodies glowing faintly with inner embers.

"Figures," Rhys muttered. "Forge guardians. Always guardians."

He drew the Ruinous Darkness Blade, shadows oozing from its jagged edge. The dark mana around it flared against the cold, sending ripples of warmth through the cavern. Puddle's voice whispered sharply in his mind. Master, strike fast. These things don't bleed—they burn from within.

The first sentinel roared, a sound like grinding metal and shattering stone, and slammed its hammer down. The impact froze the ground into jagged spikes of ice.

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