The eight of them pushed through the wooden door of Mountain Smithery, the bell above the frame chiming like a struck coin. Heat punched out immediately, the dry, rolling warmth of an active forge, tinged with the scent of metal filings and coal.
Veyra blinked, fanning herself. "So this is the place you've been raving about?"
Veryn sniffed the air. "Smells good, in a strange way."
Rime grinned. "Try not to name every weapon here before we leave."
Ember put a hand over her heart. "Excuse you, but Flame Jr. and Hothead were beautiful weapons with rich inner lives."
Before anyone could fire back, heavy boots clanked on metal stairs leading up from the forge floor below.
Borth appeared, soot-smeared, and already scowling with affection.
"By the stones, I know humans multiply fast," he grunted, wiping his brow with a cloth that only made the soot smear worse, "but I didn't expect you lot to double in a week."
Argent laughed under his breath. "These are the rest of our companions. They came to see the place, and to help commission what we need."
"Oh aye?" Borth peered over the group like he was surveying faulty merchandise. "Good to know you didn't drag in any freeloaders."
Argent raised a brow.
"You know when you sent us off, you might've mentioned," Argent said, arms crossed, "that the spiders were the ore themselves. That was… a surprise."
Borth snorted so loud it echoed. "And ruin the fun? Bah! Bet you were grateful not to chisel ore out of cave walls while dodging monsters. I did ya a favor."
A few of the group snickered. Argent only shook his head.
Then Borth scratched his beard.
"Though seriously now, I didn't expect it'd take you a week to get a handful o' the creatures. What, three or four spiders would've been plenty for all your weapons."
Ward, Ferric, Ryn, and Argent exchanged the exact same look: a shared, wordless oh no.
Ward cleared his throat. "…And, uh, what if we got more than that?"
Borth blinked. "More? I'll gladly buy whatever ore you've got. As I said before, I'm entirely out. Most artisans are. The Ledger even posted a notice offering top price."
That made the group exchange another look, this one brighter.
Borth folded his arms. "So? How much did you bring me?"
Argent rubbed the back of his neck. "…We may have gone a bit overboard."
"How overboard?" Borth asked slowly.
"…Four full pouches. All of them five-hundred-pound runed bags."
Silence.
Then Borth's eyebrows shot up so violently they almost detached from his face.
"…By the mountain's beard."
Argent shrugged helplessly.
"You know," Borth said, rubbing his temples, "those spiders are ninety times heavier alive. Ninety! Come on, warehouse. Now. Let's… let's see what kind of madness you've dragged in."
He herded them through a back door into a warehouse built like a metal cathedral. Stacks of crates lined the walls, heaps of scrap glimmered, and the air smelled like old iron and oil.
"Alright," Borth said, bracing himself. "Dump two of 'em. Let's see what this mess looks like."
Ward and Ferric each flipped a pouch over.
What poured out wasn't a pile, it was a landslide.
Chunks of crystalline spider husk clattered and rang against each other, shimmering in pale blues and whites. It rose knee-high across almost the entire warehouse floor.
Borth's jaw dropped open so far Ember whispered to Rime, "Think we broke him."
"I thought," Borth managed, staring at the mountain of ore, "You all were new. Fresh. Soft. I did not imagine you'd haul back fifty spiders' worth." He stepped forward, crunching over the glittering pieces. "And I've lived a long time, long enough to know crazy when I see it."
Argent shrugged. "We kept dying and going back. Over and over till the pouches were full. Got stronger each time so we did not want to stop."
Borth spun toward him with incredulous disbelief.
"Aye, because you're new. People round here don't do that. They fight one day and take five off! I expected you to kill a couple, die, then give up like sane folk! In this place time is endless there is no need to rush!"
Ward stretched. "Yeah, we operate a bit differently."
The other seven nodded in perfect casual agreement.
Borth let out a slow, reverent whistle.
"…Different is one word for it."
He wiped his hands on his apron and squared his shoulders.
"Well then. I don't have enough merits on hand for this haul, but here's what I can do."
He held up a thick finger for each point:
"One: I'll give each of ya one thousand merits.
Two: I'll make all your weapons, no charge.
Three: For as long as this ore stockpile lasts, you eight get twenty percent of the profits from anything I craft from it."
"You will end up making more than if you sold all this ore to the Ledger unrefined."
The eight exchanged a series of wide-eyed glances. It was an outrageous deal.
Argent stepped forward and extended a hand.
"That works for us."
Borth grinned, shook his hand with a grip like a vice, and said, "Thought so."
Ryn looked at the remaining two bulging pouches.
"What do we do with the other two bags' worth?"
"Oh, that?" Borth laughed, already imagining the chaos. "Take it to the Ledger, and gouge 'em for every merit they've got! They've been desperate for crystalline ore. You'll walk out of there rich enough to buy almost anything you want."
The eight glanced at each other… and grinned.
***
The eight filtered back through the door to the shop, chattering excitedly about what their new gear would look like. Borth clapped his soot-covered hands together, the sound echoing like metal striking metal.
"Alright then," he grunted, clearly energized in a way only a dwarf with fresh materials could be. "I got what you all want. With this much ore? Hells, I'm inspired. Should have yer orders finished in a few days. Come back then, pick 'em up."
The eight nodded, murmuring thanks.
They turned to leave, but Argent held up a hand.
"Hey, go on ahead," he said. "I'll catch up. I want to ask Borth a few things."
The seven exchanged glances, shrugged, and stepped out into the street.
Argent waited until the door shut behind them.
The dwarf looked up, one brow lifting.
"Something on yer mind, lad?"
Argent stepped closer to the counter.
"…Yeah. The dungeon."
Borth's eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn't interrupt.
"I want to know what it actually is. It isn't a part of the war, so why does it exist? What's with the wheel on the first floor? How does any of it work?" Argent asked.
Borth leaned back against the counter, crossing thick arms over his chest.
"Well," he said, voice rumbling deeper, "I'm only gonna tell ye what's been passed down in dwarf history, sparse as it is. Knowledge from before the Eternal War is… tricky business."
Argent nodded for him to continue.
"The world weren't always like this," Borth said, his tone oddly softer. "Peaceful, actually. The races lived side by side. No death cycles. No temples. No apex nonsense. Just life."
Argent blinked. He had heard roughly the same from the giant chief.
"What changed?"
Borth snorted. "Hell if I know. That knowledge is long lost. But before it all went sideways, the gods, aye, real gods, built the dungeons."
"Why?" Argent asked.
"For challenge," Borth replied with a shrug. "Prideful races, prideful warriors. The deeper yer people got, the higher yer standing. Sort of a world-spanning tournament of strength."
Argent exhaled slowly, picturing giants, dwarves, elves, and whatever else existed pushing deeper and deeper into massive complex mazes, competing not for war, but for honor.
"You mentioned the deeper you go, how is that measured?" he pressed.
"Every dungeon's got sixteen floor," Borth said firmly. "Don't know why. Never met anyone who did. Sixteen floors, each floor's got a boss or two. Kill the boss, ye get marked, and ye can proceed down."
"Marked?" Argent asked.
"Aye," Borth nodded. "Something only gods understood. Some say your soul remembers. Some say the dungeon itself recognizes ye."
Argent frowned. "That's… complicated."
"Aye," Borth said with a dry smirk. "God-made things tend to be."
Argent hesitated, then added, "When I fought the giants, I saw fourteen massive statues. Older than anything I had ever seen here, but they still looked pristine. Are those the gods you're talking about? The ones the races followed before… all this?"
Borth shook his head slowly.
"Dunno what statues ye saw. Giants keep to their own ways. But aye, there used to be fourteen gods the races followed. Fourteen… not countin' the Unnamed One. He came later. Or earlier. Depends on who ye ask."
Argent swallowed. That did nothing to clarify anything.
Borth waved a hand. "Giants are stubborn buggers. If they've statues, they're likely the old pantheon. Not many races remember 'em proper."
"I see."
Argent stepped back, a weight in his chest, mystery, responsibility, maybe both.
"Thanks," he said. "See you in a few days."
Borth gave him a nod, almost respectful.
"Take care, lad. And try not to die too much until then. I'm out of storage for all the ore ye keep draggin' in, so make sure to get a good price from the Ledger on anything else ya get."
Argent chuckled, shook his head, and stepped outside to join the others. The noise of the city washed over him, shouting vendors, rolling carts, laughter, clattering boots, but none of it reached him fully.
His mind was elsewhere.
Sixteen floors…
God-made trials…
The world before this one…
He walked a few steps down the street, and paused.
A chill ran down his spine.
Last night's dream resurfaced, the mosaic wheel, the cold hush of that nowhere place, and the hazy figure standing before him. Its voice rolled through his memory again, impossibly close:
"Finish what you started here… see it through to the end.
Complete the trial and earn the qualification…
child who follows both light and shadow."
Argent's breath caught.
He hadn't told anyone. Not yet.
He looked toward the distant mountain where the dungeon waited, its shadow cutting across the horizon.
"Finish what I started..." he murmured. "trial"
A shiver crawled through him, half fear, half excitement.
Whatever that dream was, it wasn't done with him.