Chapter 107: The Shattered Hammer

  The scale of the Sunken Forge was staggering, designed for beings vastly larger than humans. The primary entrance wasn't a standard set of double doors; it was a yawning archway of scarred abyssal metal, fifty feet high. The roaring thermal updrafts from the geothermal vents created a churning curtain of boiling black water across the threshold, acting like a liquid firewall.

  Zeno hesitated for a fraction of a second. The water around him was freezing, but the sheer thermal radiation bleeding from the open archway was visibly warping the sea. He didn't know if the bio-magical Carapace could withstand sudden boiling.

  The sledgehammer does not stop, Zeno reminded himself fiercely, adjusting his grip.

  He lowered his head, bracing the thick bone dome of his helmet, and engaged his magnetic boots. He marched directly into the churning curtain of boiling water.

  The immediate thermal shock was terrifying. The alchemically treated shark-cartilage joints of the Carapace shrieked loudly, the sudden, extreme fluctuation in temperature stressing the organic materials. Inside the suit, the ambient heat spiked. Zeno began to sweat profusely, condensation running down the inside of his thick glass viewport. The glowing abyssal algae pulsed a frantic, warning yellow, struggling to adapt.

  "Keep breathing, green moss," Zeno muttered, pushing through the intense discomfort.

  He cleared the thermal curtain, stepping into the vast, cavernous interior of the Sunken Forge.

  The water inside was clear, illuminated by massive rivers of raw, molten magma flowing through deep, specialized trenches carved directly into the floor. The sheer scale of the operation was incomprehensible. Towering crucibles made of dark, unyielding metal hung suspended over the magma rivers, capable of holding hundreds of tons of liquid ore. Colossal, mechanical trip-hammers, the size of merchant galleons, rested silently above massive anvils carved from solid slabs of trench bedrock.

  The First Era Leviathans had built a factory capable of outfitting an army of titans.

  Zeno walked slowly down the central aisle, his heavy boots clanking against the metal floor. The overwhelming silence of the abandoned facility, combined with the heavy, pulsing rhythm of the magma flows, created an atmosphere of profound isolation.

  He didn't see any glowing artifacts resting on presentation pedestals. The massive crucibles were empty. The colossal anvils were bare. The Sunken Forge had been stripped clean of its finished products millennia ago.

  Zeno frowned deeply, disappointment heavy in his chest. "There are no big hammers left," he murmured, his voice sounding incredibly small in the vast cavern. "They packed up all their toys before they left."

  He continued to search, meticulously navigating the industrial landscape. As he neared the very back of the complex, something broke the perfect, geometric symmetry of the empty forge.

  One of the colossal, ship-sized trip-hammers hadn't just stopped working. It was violently shattered.

  The massive head of the hammer, forged from dense abyssal steel, was split straight down the middle, resting in a jagged heap of ruined machinery. Zeno approached cautiously, disengaging his magnetic boots to step over the massive debris field.

  He peered beneath the shattered remains of the hammer head. Resting in the center of the cracked bedrock anvil was a jagged, irregular block of pitch-black metal, roughly the size of a footstool.

  It didn't glow red or show any signs of melting despite being suspended over a magma vent. It absorbed the intense light, remaining dark and cold to the eye, looking like a tear in reality itself. The First Era engineers hadn't left a precious artifact on a convenient pedestal; they had abandoned a rebellious, unyielding lump of raw material that had literally broken their gargantuan tools.

  "You are a very strange rock," Zeno observed softly.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He reached out with his articulated bio-magical gauntlet. He didn't try to punch it; he simply laid his thick fingers gently against the dark surface.

  The physical sensation was shockingly bizarre. It wasn't freezing cold like the ocean, nor searing hot like the magma. It felt dense. It felt exactly like touching the center of a collapsing star. Zeno’s highly attuned Vanguard instincts violently reacted.

  His monstrous D-Rank Strength stat, which he effortlessly maintained as a passive aura to support his massive frame, suddenly hitched. The dark metal actively absorbed his physical kinetic potential. Zeno gasped, stumbling backward and pulling his hand away as if he had been burned. For a terrifying fraction of a second, his right arm felt horrifyingly weak, the strength siphoned directly out of his muscle fibers.

  Void-Iron, Zeno realized. It was the legendary, highly unstable metal in its purest, unrefined state. The exact same rare material used to forge Lyra’s stiletto, but infinitely denser and entirely unworked.

  Zeno re-engaged his magnetic boots, anchoring his massive frame to the metal floor. He widened his stance, dropping his center of gravity. He reached down with both gauntlets, gripping the sides of the pitch-black block. He took a deep breath, expanded his chest, and pulled with a massive, roaring grunt.

  The block did not move a single, microscopic inch.

  Zeno stopped, confused. He could easily flip a stone slab loaded with crystals. He could effortlessly hold the severed tentacle of a Kraken above his head. This block was barely the size of his iron cauldron.

  He redoubled his effort, channeling every drop of raw physical power he possessed. He pulled upward with world-shattering force. The heavy magnetic locks on his boots began to violently groan, struggling to keep his feet anchored against his own upward pull.

  The pitch-black block remained immovable. The sheer, incomprehensible density of the unrefined Void-Iron defied normal physics. It possessed a localized gravity well of its own.

  Zeno released his grip, dropping back onto his knees, panting heavily. His massive arms trembled from the exertion. The dark metal had drained his kinetic output, neutralizing his Strength stat.

  He stood up, placing his armored hands firmly on his hips. He glared down at the dark metal, a wave of genuine, childish frustration bubbling up in his chest.

  "You are cheating, black stone," Zeno scolded the unyielding lump, his voice echoing in the helmet. "You are smaller than my iron pot, but you act like a whole mountain. That is not fair at all."

  He lightly tapped the side of the block with his magnetic boot. The jarring physical feedback shot straight up his leg, making his toe ache.

  "Very stubborn," he muttered.

  If he couldn't carry the anvil back to the surface, he would have to take a piece of it. He raised his heavy right arm, curling his articulated fingers into a tight fist. Instinctively, a brilliant spark of Blue Tena flared to life around his gauntlet, ready to fuel a devastating D-Rank strike.

  Instantly, a high-pitched shriek filled his helmet. The glowing abyssal algae rapidly shrank back, the soothing green light violently flickering and dimming to a sickly, dying yellow. The air inside the Carapace turned scorching hot, and Zeno choked on the sudden lack of oxygen.

  Panic flared. He remembered the terrifying lesson from his descent. No blue fire! Zeno mentally screamed, immediately extinguishing the magic.

  He dropped to one knee, coughing harshly in the dark as the algae slowly stabilized, returning to its faint green glow and replenishing the breathable air.

  He couldn't use his magic here. One full-powered magical strike would burn the rest of his oxygen and suffocate him in the trench. He had to rely on pure physicality and the lethal environment around him.

  Zeno stood back up, adjusting his strategy. He manipulated the internal pressure seals of the bio-magical Carapace. He routed the heavy hydraulic fluid and ambient magical pressure from the suit's thick cartilage joints, focusing the massive, four-hundred-pound weight of the armor entirely into his right shoulder and arm.

  He widened his stance, rooting his magnetic boots deep into the cracked bedrock of the anvil. He drew his right arm back. He didn't use an ounce of Tena. He relied on his base Strength stat of 26, the crushing weight of the bone suit, and the catastrophic, ambient pressure of the deep ocean pushing down on him.

  He threw his entire mass forward.

  Zeno delivered a pure, unadulterated, kinetic Heavy Punch, driving his spiked bone gauntlet directly into the jagged top edge of the pitch-black Void-Iron block.

  KRA-KOOM!

  The impact was deafening. The Void-Iron did not shatter like normal stone. True to its legendary nature, the dark metal absorbed the catastrophic kinetic force of his punch, compressed it, and violently reflected the excess shockwave right back at him.

  Zeno was blasted backward off his feet. The magnetic locks on his boots violently snapped loose, and his massive frame went flying through the boiling water, skidding harshly across the scarred metal floor of the forge.

  He groaned, sitting up slowly. His right arm throbbed with an intense, agonizing ache inside the heavy suit.

  But as the churning water settled and the dust cleared from the anvil, Zeno peered through his thick glass viewport. The pitch-black block remained exactly where it was. However, resting on the cracked bedrock right next to it was a single, jagged shard of unrefined Void-Iron, roughly the size of his open palm.

  Zeno grinned, the ache in his arm instantly forgotten. He pushed himself off the floor, walking back to the anvil to claim his heavy, hard-won prize.