Chapter 4 – A Race of Hammers and Heartstrings

Part 1 — Morning Drills and Material Distractions

Two months after the Hallowspire yard had gone wild with the joyous sounds of freed woodland elves, the dark kingdom hummed with a new and unfamiliar energy: progress. The oppressive quiet of old had been replaced by a vibrant, industrious thrum. Orcish engineers, their deep voices resonating with the complex music of physics, could be seen directing woodland elf construction crews in the reinforcement of the castle’s outer walls. Dark elves, once creatures of shadow and gloom, now jogged along the parapets in the mornings, their new, practical athletic forms a stark and startling contrast to the gothic architecture of the castle. The kingdom wasn't just surviving anymore; it was evolving.

Renji was up before dawn, the half-armor he wore clanking a rhythmic, metallic beat against the quiet of the morning. The other half of Nith—specifically the helm and torso—was absent. Nith had insisted on a “collaborative workshop leave” to oversee the orcs’ latest project: reverse-engineering and improving upon designs from Renji’s world. The incomplete silhouette of the cursed armor, with Renji's own training shirt covering his chest, looked less menacing and more like a statue that was still under construction.

Even from across the castle grounds, Nith’s voice was a dry, sardonic, and thoroughly entertained presence in Renji’s mind. “The orcs’ taste in percussive forging is… barbaric. However, their intuitive grasp of thermodynamics is, I must begrudgingly admit, sublime.”

The training yard, nestled in a sheltered corner of the castle’s outer bailey, smelled of cool iron, damp earth, and sharp pine. A ring of orc-designed training dummies stood waiting. They were engineering marvels: compact, heavily weighted automaton bodies with responsive, articulated limbs. Their cores, powered by enchanted mana-stones, allowed them to simulate the unpredictable twitch and momentum of a live opponent. These were not the static, straw-stuffed scarecrows of Renji’s imagination. They landed blows that taught humility, patience, and the importance of not getting distracted.

Rina watched from the low stone gallery, her legs tucked beneath her on the observation bench, a steaming mug of something that was definitely not water in her hands and a grin at the ready. Evelina stood a few paces away, arms crossed, her expression a careful blend of judicial scrutiny and private amusement. In the quiet company of her inner circle, the iron mask of the queen had softened, allowing a subtle warmth to show through.

“Seriously though, why are you training so hard?” Rina called out between sips, her voice echoing in the crisp morning air. “You’ve already mastered the armor. Nith is basically a walking, talking tank suit at full throttle. Just point him at the bad guys and press the ‘smite’ button.”

Renji grunted, ducking under a sweeping blow and driving the heel of his gauntleted hand into a dummy’s jaw. The automaton spun with a whir of well-oiled mechanical grace. “Because I’m not reckless enough to depend on a literal deus ex machina for everything,” he panted, sweat beading on his forehead. “What if the armor’s core gets shattered? What if Nith is magically separated from me? I need to be able to stand on my own two feet. Besides, moving gracefully in only half the suit is a completely different skill set.” As if to prove his point, he attempted a complex feint, his boot slipped on a stray patch of pine-resin, and he was rewarded with a satisfying whap as a dummy’s padded fist connected squarely with his cheek.

The nearby dark elves,who had turned this corner of the courtyard into their own spontaneous calisthenics club,burst into delighted, booming laughter. Even Evelina’s mouth twitched upward at the corner in a failed attempt to suppress a smile. Rina whooped, raising her mug in a toast. “See, Evi! I told you! Having you here is a total distraction! He literally can’t function when you’re watching!”

Evelina’s reply was a dry slice of a threat that still held the weight of a royal decree. “Rinali.”

Renji sat up, rubbing his jaw and trying to look dignified. He failed spectacularly, a cough wracking his frame instead. “Very funny.” It was then that Rina noticed what the dark elves were wearing. The heavy, dramatic cloaks were gone. In their place were crisp, form-fitting athletic garments. Practical, tasteful sport jackets and tailored leggings cut for maximum motion, all in a fashionable palette of blacks and deep purples. It was a design collaboration born from Nith’s schematic sketches of sportswear from Renji’s world, brought to life by the orcs’ newly invented sewing machines and the woodland elves’ mastery of durable, breathable fabrics. The result was very mortal, very functional, and, as the dark elves were clearly aware, very flattering.

Rina’s eyes went wide with a dawning realization. “Maji? Are those clothes for exercising? Those outfits are sick! Who designed them? Nith? You never said that the ancient, cursed armor can act as a fashion stylist?”

“I merely provided a superior silhouette,” Nith’s voice pinged in Renji’s head, smug and self-satisfied. “A significant improvement over their previous ‘drapes of perpetual sorrow’ aesthetic. Also, my shadow-cape remains a dramatic and timeless accessory. You should be training to wear that cape like it’s the last and most important scarf on this planet.”

A dangerous glint appeared in Rina’s eyes. She clapped a hand to her face as if struck by a divine revelation and leaped down from the gallery. “Evi, you have to change. Now. We must see the queen in proper new attire. It’s a matter of civic duty. And science!”

Evelina’s composure flickered like stressed steel in a forge. “Rinali, do not be absurd.” But the corner of her mouth was still twitching. The short, furtive shove from Rina turned into a full-blown comic kidnapping. Rina, with the surprising strength of a being fueled by pure chaotic energy, grabbed Evelina by the arm and began dragging her off toward the royal chambers with such speed and efficiency that Renji could only watch, dumbfounded, just like the rest of those who had in the courtyard to exercise.

He didn't see the queen’s return, as he was in the middle of a complex parry sequence when he heard a collective gasp from the dark elves. He turned his head.And the world tilted, the colors going bright and loud before fading to a roaring, static red.

Evelina’s gym outfit was, in a word, undeniable. It was tasteful, athletic, and perfectly tailored to her regal frame: a fitted, high-necked sport crop top in a deep violet, and tailored, high-waisted shorts in black. It was the cutting-edge of royal athletic wear, designed for motion and, not coincidentally, designed with Rina’s expert matchmaking eye.

Renji inhaled sharply. The room swam. The dark elves who had been in the middle of deadlifts coughed into their hands and suddenly seemed to find the sky incredibly interesting. Their collective bench press numbers dropped like flies in a cloud of venom.

Rina, looking immensely triumphant, waved both hands like the maestro of a glorious catastrophe. “Perfect! The queen in a sports bra! We truly live in blessed times! Rejoice mortals!” she said with a giggle that filled the void made by the silent gasps of the courtyard.

Renji’s face went beet red. He felt a sudden, warm trickle from his nose. His vision swam with black spots, and he promptly passed out, collapsing in an exhausted, lovesick heap that Nith’s remaining gauntlets caught with a smooth, panicked precision. The armor did not lose its dignity; the host, however, slept the sleep of a man who had seen the face of his favorite character turned into a stunning reality and had absolutely nothing left to ask of this world.

Evelina, mortified, scrambled to his side, her movements having the brisk efficiency of a battlefield commander who had just been unexpectedly instructed to babysit. She checked his pulse, his breathing, his facial coloration, and then—horrified—flailed for a moment with a tiny, choked sound. “Did I… kill him?”

Rina and the dark elves dissolved into raucous, unrestrained laughter. Evelina’s face held a perfect, scandalized crimson as she tried to pull the very inert Renji into a more dignified sitting position. Rina’s one-liner, shoveled into the air like a festive, celebratory mushroom, landed with surgical accuracy. “Love hurts, queenie. He’s fine. Just need to sleep through it.”

Renji came around fast enough to splutter and offer the queen a very embarrassed, wobbly bow. She accepted it like a general taking a salute from a particularly clumsy but well-meaning soldier.

“Note to self,” Nith whispered in his skull, his voice dripping with disapproval. “If your mortal frailties cause you to become lame from a public display of affection again, I will be forced to bite you. Figuratively. Probably.”

The day marched on. After the ridiculousness of the training yard, and after Renji had sworn he would never let Rina act as his personal stylist or hype-woman again, the generals gathered in the War Council chamber.

Part 2: The Dwarf Forge Problem

The map table smelled of sealing wax, fresh ink, and a new, pressing problem: the Hero's party was on the move. Woodland Elf scouts, their natural stealth and woodcraft now at their full, uncursed potential, had forwarded precise routes and sightings. The Hero and his company were already halfway to the great Dwarven Forge of Khaz-Borim, and Renji’s mental map of the game’s critical path lit up with a dozen flashing, high-priority warnings.

“The forge,” Renji said, leaning over the map, his earlier embarrassment forgotten in the face of a strategic crisis.

“In the game, the dwarves of Khaz-Borim do not gatekeep based on conscience,” Nith supplied, his voice a dry, historical commentary in Renji's mind. “They are, above all, craftsmen. They forge for the highest coin, and they honor any bargain sealed in drink and iron. You are not betting on their morality. You are betting on either out-bidding or out-smarting the Hero.”

“This could become critical,” Caelum said, rubbing a hand over his sharp jawline, his rings clicking softly. “If the Hero secures the dwarven force, the Alliance will have an insurmountable advantage in enchanted weaponry. His holy sword is already a problem; a fully-equipped party of legends would be a catastrophe.” he said, striking a dramatic pose with his muscles twitching as if trying to produce a musical tune.

Evelina’s eyes were already working through the variables, her gaze sharp and analytical. “Of the four materials required for the Legendary Forging, which will they seek first?” she asked, her question directed at Renji, whom she was trying to avoid looking directly in the eyes after the morning situation.

Renji had been thinking of nothing else since the morning’s scouting reports had arrived. He tapped a route on the map that wound through the mountains. “They’ll go for the Holy Tear first. In the game, it’s the most obvious early-legendary item: a sanctified stone formed from the concentrated holy water of a mountain church. The Hero’s party always makes a pilgrimage to the monastery that guards the tear. Once they have it, the dwarves will have a divine core to forge a blade around.”

Rina, still perched nearby with a newfound smugness about her, chimed in. “So, the plan is simple. Go there first. Don’t let their team play artisan.” she said with a cheeky grin.

“That is the plan,” Renji said.

Evelina's hands folded underneath her chest, before her like a closing judgment. “You will not go alone. This is too risky to have you waltz on your own.”

“I know. I’ll take Nith.” Renji glanced toward the half-assembled silhouette of his armor, then at the bustling workshops where Gorund’s crews were hammering at new prototypes, and finally back at the map that promised a dozen adventures and several potential funerals. “I only need speed and some deceptive tricks.”

Eirwen, the restored Woodland Elf matriarch, now a permanent and shrewd member of the council, pressed her hands to the table and raised one eyebrow. “You will be clever, Renji-san? You are the man who flipped off an entire cathedral to teleport away.” she said as her scouts were now much more efficient at securing information in their elven forms rather than goblin ones.

Renji smiled, a lopsided, self-deprecating expression. “I’m getting way better at it now.” he said with a grin that would send chills down the spines of those unaware of his antics.

“Good,” Evelina said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Go forth my general and secure me that forge!”

The council meeting was deep in a discussion of logistics when Evelina turned to Renji again. "Sir Renji, your thoughts on the human settlements near the Grimfen? Eirwen's reports suggest their loyalty to the Alliance is wavering."

Renji was miles away, his mind a flurry of wiki pages, forum posts, and speedrun strategies, trying to calculate the optimal route for the material heist. He didn't hear her.

Evelina’s eye twitched with annoyance, not only did she finally muster her courage to look him in the eyes, but he had the audacity to not pay attention to her?! That would not go unpunished; a single, perfectly controlled spark of blue lightning arced from her fingertip and zapped him squarely in the back of the neck.

"Gah!" Renji yelped, jumping a full foot in the air, before crushing back on his chair, by some miracle the chair not breaking under him.

Rina giggled into her hand. "See? Love hurts."

"What did I miss?" Renji asked, rubbing his neck.

Evelina rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of amusement in the gesture. "The human settlements. Thanks to the Woodland Elves, trade is flourishing. Many of the older humans remember being treated fairly by Eirwen's people before their disappearance, and now that the 'goblin menace' has conveniently vanished, they prefer our trade rates to the Alliance's war taxes." she said with smugness in her tone that befitted her title of the dark queen.

"That's good," Renji said, his mind clicking back into gear. "That's very good. It gives us a foothold. But the dwarves are the key. The Hero recruited them in the game, and they became the Alliance's armory. We can't let that happen this time." He looked at Evelina, his expression hardening with resolve. "I'll handle it."

He quickly scribbled a list on a piece of parchment and passed it to Eirwen. "I'll need these items prepared for delivery on my command. It's a bit of a strange shopping list, I know, but as you know me, i aint your ordinary guy." he said with a wide smirk forming on his lips.

Eirwen scanned the list—perfumes, rare potions, specific types of bait—and rolled her eyes. "If this is some kind of elaborate merchant joke, Sir Renji, you have a terrible sense of humor." she said, passing the list to the nearby elf and ordering them to fetch everything on it and make it snappy.

"Just trust me," he said with a grin, and turned to leave. He had a race to win, and a hero to humiliate.

Part 3: The Emissary

Renji was in the middle of his preparations, cross-referencing his mental game map with the physical one on the table, when a royal page found him. “Sir Renji, the Queen requests your presence in the private council chamber. At once.”

The chamber was a small, intimate room, a stark contrast to the intimidating Throne Hall. A single hearth fire burned, casting a warm glow on ancient tapestries. Evelina stood by the fire, not as a queen on her throne, but as a leader facing a difficult decision. With her were Gorund and Eirwen. And a human.

Mayor Anya of Oakhaven was a woman in her fifties, her face lined with the deep weariness of a leader who had seen too much hardship. She was pragmatic, sharp-eyed, and clearly terrified, but a core of steel resolve kept her standing tall.

“Your Majesty,” she was saying as Renji entered, her voice steady despite her trembling hands. “I come without the knowledge or consent of the Alliance. I come on behalf of the border towns, Oakhaven, Stonebridge, Westfall. We are… suffering.”

Evelina listened, her expression unreadable but her posture attentive. She gestured for Renji to join them.

“The Alliance’s war taxes have bled us dry,” Anya continued, her voice thick with a quiet anger. “The light elf commanders stationed in our towns treat our sons and daughters as expendable shields in their patrols. They preach of purity and light, but their actions are filled with a cold, cruel darkness. They requisition our grain and leave us with scraps. They enforce their laws with a casual brutality that they call ‘order.’” She took a deep breath. “We remember the old days. We remember when the woodland elves were our neighbors, not goblins. We remember when trade was fair and borders were just lines on a map.” She looked at Evelina, her gaze direct and pleading. “We do not wish to be your subjects. We wish to be your allies. We will supply you with grain and intelligence on Alliance movements, if you will grant us your protection from them.”

It was a massive political gamble, an act of high treason that could get her and her people purged.

Evelina was silent for a long moment, her dark gaze analytical. “You ask me to trust the word of humans,” she said, her voice cool and measured. “The race that has broken every treaty our peoples have ever signed. The race that stood by and watched as your elven allies cursed my people and drove the orcs from their ancestral homes.”

Anya’s chin lifted with a defiant pride. “I do. Because we are not the nobles in the capital who signed those treaties. We are the common people who paid the price for their greed.”

Renji stepped forward slightly, speaking for the first time. “Your Majesty,” he said softly. “She’s not speaking the language of politics. She’s speaking the language of necessity. These aren't the people who benefit from the system; they're the ones being crushed by it.” He turned to Mayor Anya. “The Queen is a just ruler. But her people have been hurt before. She needs more than just your word. She needs your commitment.”

The negotiation that followed was a masterclass in diplomacy. Evelina, sharp and surprisingly fair, laid out her terms: sanctuary for refugees and fair trade routes in exchange for unwavering loyalty and critical resources. Anya, pragmatic and fierce, argued for her people’s autonomy and a guarantee that they would not simply be trading one master for another.

Renji acted as the bridge. When Evelina’s regal pronouncements sounded like demands, he would rephrase them in the language of mutual benefit. When Anya’s fear and distrust surfaced, he would speak of the changes he had already witnessed, of orcish genius, elven restoration, and a queen who was learning to rule with a compassion that the Alliance had long forgotten.

By the end, they had forged a new, secret alliance, one built not on ancient prophecies or divine mandates, but on mutual need and a shared, desperate hope for a better world. As Mayor Anya left, cloaked and under the cover of darkness, Renji felt the entire nature of his quest shift. They were no longer just fighting to save Evelina. They were fighting to build a new world.

Part 4: Of Forges, Folklore, and a Four-Part Heist

Renji used the Ancient Map to make a series of short, disorienting jumps, appearing on a windswept mountain pass overlooking the entrance to the Dwarven Forge. Khaz-Borim wasn't a gate; it was a wound in the mountain's side, a vast, square opening framed by colossal statues of dwarven kings, their stone faces grim and impassive. The air itself was different here. It tasted of coal smoke, hot metal, and the sharp, fermented tang of strong ale. A rhythmic, soul-deep clang... clang... clang echoed from the mountain's heart, the sound of a thousand hammers striking anvils in perfect, industrious unison.

“The architectural aesthetic is... brutally efficient,” Nith commented as they approached the gate. “I can respect it. There are no frivolous arches. Every buttress has a purpose. These are people who view beauty as a function of durability.”

Dwarven guards, clad in heavy, overlapping plates of black iron and carrying axes that looked like they could fell a god, regarded him with suspicion. Their beards were intricately braided, woven with iron rings that denoted rank and honor. They didn't challenge him immediately, their gazes lingering on the impossible, rippling metal of Nith's armor. They recognized legendary craftsmanship when they saw it.

"I am here to see the Thane," Renji announced, his voice amplified by the helm. "On behalf of Queen Evelina Duskbane." he announced his name and presence with his cape waving dramatically behind him, Nith being extremely proud of it.

One of the guards snorted, a plume of hot air in the cold. "The Thane sees whom he wants to, and when he wants to see them. And he usually wants to see the bottom of a tankard first. You want an audience? You earn it in the Guzzling Hall." spoke the guard with a raspy voice causing the other to chuckle.

Renji was escorted not to a throne room, but to the forge's heart—a cavern so vast it had its own weather system of smoke and steam. The heat was like a physical blow. Rivers of molten metal flowed in channels carved into the floor, and the air rang with the symphony of creation. In the center of it all was the Guzzling Hall, a circular area where off-duty smiths sat at heavy stone tables, their tankards striking the tables with the force of hammers.

This was the trial. A great, bearded dwarf who introduced himself as "Grom-Barrel" challenged Renji on behalf of the Thane. The rules were simple: drink for drink, tale for tale. The last one standing got an audience.

"I've got this," Renji muttered, having barely any experience with strong liquor, his secret drinking nights with Kenta did not count as an experience as they barely sipped on beer before replacing it with cola.

“No, you do not,” Nith corrected him. “Your mortal liver would liquefy. I, however, am a supernatural engine of immense power. I can metabolize the ethanol and convert it into a low-grade thermal energy.”

"You're going to drink for me?" asked confused Renji, never hearing about Nith being able to consume or digest food, not even in fanfics, and he read plenty.

“I am going to efficiently process fuel. Do try to keep up.” dryly responded the dragon.

And so it began. The first tankard was "Magma's Kiss Ale," a brew so strong it felt like swallowing a lit torch. Renji choked it down, and felt Nith's inner systems hum as the armor siphoned the alcohol from his bloodstream. The dwarves roared with approval, thinking it was some sort of a light show.

Round after round, they drank. The dwarves told tales of stubborn veins of mithril and legendary forging mishaps. Renji, drawing on his own world’s tales; some he made up, some were pulled by Nith from the documentaries and tv shows that he had seen. Told them garbled but enthusiastic stories of skyscrapers that touched the heavens and metal birds that flew across the sea. The dwarves, their reality shaped by stone and fire, found these tales of impossible human engineering fascinating, almost legend-like.

All the while, the dwarves complained. About the Alliance raising tariffs on iron exports. About the light elves demanding more and more "shiny, useless jewelry" that held no structural value. About the Hero's party, who had passed through days before, drinking their lightest ale and speaking of "destiny" as if it were a tradable commodity.

By the fifth round of "Stonebeard's Folly Stout," a change was occurring, not in Renji, no, it was Nith. “Metabolizing... efficiency at 98%... Minor cognitive... clouding detected,” Nith's internal voice slurred slightly.

"Nith, are you okay?" asked Renji making sure to cover his mouth so dwarves wouldn't see him talking to his armor.

“I was a god of destruction, you knowwwww,” Nith said, his voice suddenly filled with a maudlin, drunken sentimentality. “I shattered mountains. Armies fled from my shadow. And now and now I'm a glorified flask for a human obsessed with a cow-tailed... lady... Is this all there is, Renji? Is this my life now?” he grumbled and it sounded like he was about to cry, as Renji swore he could see light droplets form on his helmet.

"Just keep processing the fuel, there buddy, I promise you a snack when we are done." Renji urged, trying to pat his own pauldron reassuringly as he slammed down another empty tankard.

Finally, a great horn blew. Thane Borislav Krukov himself descended a flight of stone stairs, his footsteps heavy and thunderous. He was built like an anvil, with a magnificent, iron-grey beard braided with gold and platinum rings. He chugged an entire barrel of ale without pausing for breath, slammed it down, and fixed Renji with eyes like hot coals.

"You're still standing," he grunted, a note of grudging respect in his voice. "And my best drinkers are telling tales about flying metal cities. What do you want, strange man-in-armor?"

Renji, his own head remarkably clear, stood. "I come on behalf of Queen Evelina. We wish to commission your Legendary Forge. Not for the Alliance and their crony heroes, but for her majesty’s generals!"

The Thane laughed, a deep, booming sound that shook the tavern and the caverns above them. "The Hero and his twerps were just here, making the same request! They drank with me for three days. Good lads, but no stomach for the real stuff." He stroked his beard, his expression turning shrewd. "I am a smith, not a politician. My loyalty is to the craft. The Hero seeks the four materials. If you, on behalf of your Queen, can bring me the four legendary materials before he does... then the forges of Khaz-Borim are hers to command. A race, boy. A race of hammers and will. Can you do it?"

"I can," Renji said without hesitation.

"Good. Now get out of my forge. You've drunk half my weekly supply." he laughed as the rest of the tavern erupted in cheerful laughter as they resumed their own drinking.

As Renji turned to leave, Nith let out a final, drunken, tearful sob in his mind. “He called me 'man-in-armor'... Do you see the indignity? I, Nithraga the Hollowcoil, reduced to a common noun…” growled the drunken dragon, sadly reminiscing about its glory days and slowly crying itself to sleep.

Renji teleported them away to the sound of dwarven laughter, his ancient, all-powerful cursed armor weeping softly in his head.

The first destination was the monastery on the other side of the mountain. It was a place of quiet, serene beauty. But Renji wasn't looking at the church. He was looking at the discreet, well-maintained building down the road: The Lurehouse, the local succubus brothel.

“A bold strategy, placing a den of carnal temptation within smelling distance of a house of holy chastity,” Nith noted, his voice having sobered up into its usual dry commentary. “Or, a brilliant business decision.”

The plan was simple, devious, and relied entirely on Renji’s meta-knowledge of the game, and some trivia. He needed the one true Holy Tear. But he also needed to ensure the Hero couldn't just get another one made.

He used a teleport rune to return briefly to Evelina's castle. Rina met him in the courtyard, holding out a beautifully wrapped package. "Eirwen sent your 'diplomatic gifts,'" she said with a wink. "Try not to get into too much trouble, Renji-kun."

Returning to the village, he approached The Lurehouse, not as a customer, but as a merchant. The head succubus, a woman of sharp wits and sharper horns named Lyra, met him in a private parlor. She was a businesswoman, not a seductress, and she appraised him with a shrewd gaze. He offered her a trade: a case of the finest, most alluring perfumes from the Woodland Elves in exchange for a single, potent vial of "Siren's Lustral," the magical potion they used to launder their lets just say, work clothes. It was enchanted to imbue fabric with a subtle, long-lasting aura of allure and convenient malfunctioning.

Lyra agreed, intrigued by his strange request. That night, Renji, cloaked in shadow, undertook a mission of breathtakingly petty sabotage. He crept into the monastery's laundry house, a place of humbling, soap-scented purity, and swapped the nuns' washing lye with the Siren's Lustral.

The next morning, he approached the head nun, Mother Superior Agnes, and requested the Holy Tear, claiming it was for a noble quest to heal a blighted land. Agnes, a kind woman who could sense the genuine, albeit chaotic, goodness in his heart, granted his request. He had the true Tear in a velvet pouch just as the Hero's party marched into the village, their armor gleaming righteously.

They caught a glimpse of Renji as he stood on a nearby rooftop. He gave them a cheerful, two-fingered salute and vanished in a swirl of teleportation magic, before any of Hero’s party's spells or projectiles could hit him or get even closer to him.

The Hero, enraged at being beaten, demanded the nuns create a new Tear. They began the hours-long ritual of prayer and consecration. And as they prayed, the Siren's Lustral, now imbued in their holy vestments, kicked in. Their simple, homespun robes began to shimmer with an unholy glamour, before conveniently malfunctioning, causing a bit of an uproar from horrified nuns as well as a wave of distracting, awkward charm that filled the church. The holy water they used for the ritual turned a faint, blushing pink. When the new stone was finally formed, it was tainted, pulsing with a light that made the young knights in the Hero's party blush and cough with awkwardness rather than devout reverence. The stone was, for all intents and purposes, holy and horny. It was useless for forging a weapon of pure divine justice. The Hero's quest for the first material had ended in utter, baffling, and deeply embarrassing failure.

Next on Renji’s list was the grove of Ael-Donar which was an ancient forest: its air was thick and sweet with raw mana. His goal was the great tree which in itself was like a living cathedral, its branches so vast they created their own sky. It was also heavily guarded by its own residents.

The moment Renji set foot in the clearing, the ground trembled. Ancient Treants, their bark-like skin covered in moss and their eyes glowing with a green, territorial light, rose from the earth.

This time, there was no talking, no tricks or gimmicks, just pure combat; Renji drew the Fangblade. The fight was a blur of high-budget anime like action. Nith was a tactical overlay in his mind, calling out weak points with cold precision. "Strike the left knee joint, where the old lightning scar is. Their core is exposed for 1.7 seconds after a ground-stomp attack." he commanded him with each blow landing and devastating the stricken foe.

Renji moved, his body now in perfect, fluid sync with the armor. He was no longer just a man wearing a suit; they were a single, terrifyingly efficient combat unit. He parried a blow that could have shattered stone, slid under a sweeping branch, and scored a deep cut into a Treant's trunk, the Fangblade leaving a trail of dark, sizzling energy. He was faster, stronger, and more confident than he had ever been, which once again made Nith extremely proud of both himself and Renji and how far they had come as partners.

He fought his way to the heart of the great tree, noticing how it seemed to leech the very mana from the air, as well as from his own reserves. That gave him an idea, which made even Nith shiver. He tossed a pre-inscribed rune stone at the tree's trunk which lodged within the tree, and teleported himself back to the castle. Just to see a certain delivery elf woman waiting on him "Brought back a souvenir?" Rina quipped as he grabbed a potion and vanished again making her pout as she was not getting feedback on her one liners.

He drove the Fangblade deep into the tree's heartwood, severing a huge, pulsing chunk of the living mana-wood. As the Treants roared in fury, he uncorked the mana-draining potion he'd bought from the castle and poured it onto the tree's exposed roots.

The tree didn't die. It shuddered, its green glow flickering, and then its nature inverted. Instead of producing mana, it now absorbed it. Any weapon forged from its wood would no longer grant power; it would drain it from the wielder to fuel its own devastating attacks. The dwarves wouldn't be able to forge anything holy or even remotely useful for any magician or sorceress that comes their way and the Hero, should he come seeking the wood, would find only a cursed, power-hungry trap.

Another destination on the list was the dragonborn village and it was quite a welcoming sight. The guardian he had helped, whose name he now knew was Kaelen; something that Renji did not know because again, wikis and guides did not go into such great details about NPC. Had spread a good word about him as the first human who came to help a dragonborn without asking for anything in return, which was again a shocker for everyone who was used to the usual way that humans acted in that world.

Thus upon his arrival, he was greeted by Kaelen with a warm, rumbling laugh. Kaelen's son, now healthy and bright-eyed, ran up to Renji and showed him a small, crudely carved wooden dragon, proclaiming that he wanted to be a knight for Queen Evelina one day, since his father had told him that it was a knight of a beautiful queen who had saved his life. That moment was so genuinely heartwarming that even Nith went quiet for a full ten seconds, as he had never had kids of his own before being turned into a suit of armor.

Renji explained his need for the legendary Ironwyrm ore. which made Kaelen chuckle. "The ore from the Great Ironwyrm Lonzhur? The stories say it is harvested from his scales as he sleeps." he said with a bit of a sly smirk

"And the truth?" Renji asked, a curious smile in his voice as he was about to learn the deepest lore from one of the NPCs in the story, something the real fans would die for, which he kinda did die for, but let's not talk about that.

Kaelen leaned in conspiratorially and whispered into Renji’s ear "The truth is that Lonzhur eats a diet of iron-rich mountain stones. The ore that everyone seeks is highly refined inside his stomach during the process of digestion and comes out as mineral-rich waste. It petrifies into what we call 'dragonian ore.' The legends are just better for the marketing, as no adventurer or trader would come here if they knew where it really came from, or what it really was."

“So how does it feel to know that the legendary, nigh-unobtainable ore is, in fact,just dragon poop?” Nith asked, his voice a masterpiece of dry understatement, and heavy trolling.

“Lets just hope it doesn't smell.” said Renji as he was getting ready to do some legendary “mining”.

The harvesting was a delicate, and frankly bizarre, process involving long-handled shovels and a great deal of quiet dignity. They secured a large quantity of the dragonian ore, heavy, warm, and humming with the potential to be forged into steel that could hold enchantments in its very bones.

It was honestly a sight to behold, the fact that the ore was still warm, was something that would haunt Renji in his darkest nightmares for the rest of his life. Which earned a few laughs from the dragonborns who assisted them in packing all of it.

Before leaving the village, Renji warned Kaelen about the Hero's party arrival and that they would demand the ore as well. Kaelen's smile was sharp just as much as it was threatening. "Don't worry,my human friend. For those pesky humans and their self-righteous elf friends, we have a special welcome planned." he said, raising a scaly thumb up which made Renji wonder what they had in mind?

As Renji teleported away, the Hero's party was just arriving at the base of the mountain, only to be met by a very angry, very much awake Ironwyrm, who had been conveniently awoken early from this 100 year old nap as well informed by the villagers that a group of shiny knights had come to slay him. Needless to say, the dragon lord was not pleased, and neither would be the Hero and his party.

The last ingredient was the most annoying, not because it was difficult, but because it was time-consuming and required patience, something Renji did not have even on a good day. The Aurelic Carp, a golden, jeweled fish of legend, was said to only appear to those with a pure and patient heart. Its spawn rate was abysmally low and usually it was only sought after by people who seeked out 100 % completion of the game and all of its achievements.

The location where the lake it would spawn at, was located near one of the tutorial villages, this one was located at the edge of what used to be known the goblin forest, where the player would encounter their first enemies, the goblins, and since now those did not exist, well, lets get on shall we?

Renji teleported to the village and was surprised to find a familiar face: Latch was running a thriving tavern in this sleepy village surrounded by a vast forest. The old smuggler had clearly done well with the forged seals. He greeted Renji like an old friend and, upon hearing about his quest, grabbed two fishing rods, some ale and led him to the pier.

They sat on the pier as the sun set, fishing and talking. It was a quiet, philosophical conversation about second chances, purpose, and what it meant to be happy. "Are you happy, little skylark?" Latch asked. The whole mood between them felt like a movie scene from the early 70s, with a father and son who haven't seen each other in a very long time, finally being able to catch up on what they had been missing in each other's lives.

"Yes," Renji said, surprised by his own honesty. "For the first time in my life, I have a purpose I'd die for. It's stupid and small, but it's mine." that made even Nith, feel a small tingle in his soul; both he and Renji had found purpose, Renji wanted to protect Evelina and her subjects, while Nith found pleasure in crafts and studying the mysterious and sometimes cursed labyrinth that was Renji’s mind, which brought them both a sense of belonging, and something, deeper perhaps?

As they talked, and caught fish that was anything but the Aurelic Carp, Renji began to lose his hope, it was then that Latch laughed. "Maybe the fish you're looking for has already been caught." He said before leading confused Renji back to his tavern, where the legendary Aurelic Carp was swimming serenely in a beautiful, custom-built pond, acting as the tavern's main tourist attraction.

As Renji stood there, conflicted; he couldn't just take away his friend’s source of income, but at the same, he needed the carp to complete all of the item sets, it was a dilemma that made even Nith ponder, wondering if there was truly a solution that could satisfy both parties? The carp seemed to sense his distress, which caused it to glow with a radiant, golden light, before releasing a cloud of jewel-like, shimmering roe that sank to the bottom of the pond. It was a promise of future generations, which meant that Latch wouldn't go broke, even if he decided to try and sell the carp meat. And then it did something unimaginable, it leaped from the water, landing gently in Renji's arms before passing away and turning into solid gold.

Renji, Latch, and Nith were all left in a state of stunned, sad, and yet happy confusion. The legend would live on. Latch promised to guard the pond and tell the Hero's party, should they arrive, that the carp hadn't been seen in years, and maybe try and sell them something that would further ruin their attempts at crafting anything of use.

Renji now had all four materials. It was time to return to the forge, with a simple touch of a rune, the world would flick yet again.