CHAPTER 37: CHAPTER 37: INTO THE CRIMSON VERGE (6)

We crouched in what used to be a ravine and now qualified as "the least on fire part of hell."The forge’s glow still pulsed in the distance, lighting the clouds from below like a migraine. Every drumbeat shook ash loose from the cliffs.

Varga leaned against the rock, visor up, skin gray under the red light. "Bridge is gone," he said. "Grid’s repairing itself. We need another path to the inner ring."

"Preferably one with no monsters," Elise muttered, brushing soot off her gloves.

Lucien was on one knee, sketching runes in the dust with a fingertip. Each one glowed, then guttered out. "The pulse frequency’s changing. They’re rerouting power. If the forge’s network is symmetrical, there should be maintenance tunnels feeding the outer furnaces."

"So a back door," I said. "Nice. Love those. Usually locked, sometimes cursed."

He didn’t smile. "Locked, yes. Cursed... uncertain."

Varga’s eyes flicked toward the glowing horizon. "We can’t stay exposed. North slope has vent structures. If there’s any way in, it’ll be under the rim."

Elise frowned. "You’re talking about going down there? We just came from up there."

"Up’s worse," he said simply.

I looked at the broken bridge. A chunk of it still hung by a chain, dripping molten metal like it was crying for attention. "Okay. So we go under the forge instead of through it. That sounds so much safer. Love it."

Varga didn’t rise to the sarcasm. "You and sarcasm both keep us alive. Use the first."

Lucien stood, dusting off his palms. "Temperature in the vents will fluctuate, but it’s survivable with my field active."

Elise raised a brow. "Define survivable."

"You’ll hate it, not die in it," he said.

"Comforting," I said. "Let’s pick the direction before the drums decide we’re a side quest."

Varga studied the rock wall, one hand pressed to it. A low vibration thrummed through his armor. "There," he said, nodding toward a jagged cleft where black smoke curled up slow. "Vent shaft. It’ll lead into the maintenance lattice."

Lucien activated his scanner rune; pale lines crawled across the stone. "Confirmed. Hollow space below—wide. Connected to forge conduits."

Elise sighed. "So... we’re going underground. Again."

"Right," I said. "Because that always goes well."

Varga drew a short breath, helmet snapping shut. "We move."

And we did.

We went down because up had started throwing hammers.

The ravine spit us into a throat of cooled lava, walls slick like old glass. Elise coaxed the ash into a slow swirl behind us, blurring our trail. Varga led, sword sheathed, shield down, posture saying loud later. Lucien’s field was a thin hush at our backs—barely enough to keep the fumes from stealing the edges of thought.

[Environmental Status — Vent Network]

[Air Quality: Toxic / Breathable (Short Exposure)]

[Heat Load: Severe]

[Detection Risk: Moderate]

"Left or right?" Elise asked at the fork.

"Right hugs the ring," Varga said, touching the wall. It hummed back—low and even, the forge’s voice through a pillow. "We stay with the hum."

We stayed with the hum.

The passage tightened until we had to turn our shoulders. My knives knocked once against the rock; the sound went a long way and came back bigger. I mouthed sorry at physics and kept moving.

[Absolute Regeneration — Suppressed (27%)]

[Hydration: Low]

[Heart Rate: 108 bpm]

We hit the first grate twenty minutes in—iron bars fused to stone, red veining through them like veins in an angry eye. Varga braced. I leaned in. The bars weren’t welded; they were grown. The metal grain ran with the wall.

[Smelt Sight — Active]

[Material Profile: Iron/Obsidian Lattice • Mana-Bound • Stress Line @ 17°]

[Weak Point: 11 cm below upper crossbar]

"Here," I whispered, and slipped Fangpiercer under the crossbar. A twist, a breath, a prayer to the god of leverage—

The bar gave with a sigh, not a snap. We passed through sideways and pretended we’d always fit.

"Useful trick," Varga murmured.

"Right tool, wrong childhood," I said.

The tunnel curved and dropped in steps like a rib cage. The hum grew clearer. My band thumped once—annoyed, impatient, or both.

[Quest Progress — Reach Inner Ring: 72%]

[Hidden Path — Forgewalker: Resonance +1]

We passed a niche cut square into the rock. On it sat a warped plate, cooling lines etched clean. I tapped it. The note settled in my sternum like a diagnosis.

"B," I said before I could help myself.

Elise arched a brow. "You’re naming notes now?"

"Plates that ring true don’t choke your armor," I said. "Shop wisdom."

"From which shop?"

"The one i still need to pay."

She smiled into the dark. "Sounds cozy."

The floor broke into ledges and we went single file along a lip that didn’t believe in knees. Below, vents opened and closed in a lazy cadence, coughing steam that glowed red at the edges. Every cough rolled the heat up the walls and through our bones.

"Two hundred meters," Varga said. "It curves left. But i think I see light."

We didn’t make it.

The air changed. Not hotter—heavier. The hum shifted and picked up teeth.

[Hostile Presence — Approaching]

[Class Estimate: S-Rank (Elite)]

[Advice: Do not get hit.]

"Hold," Varga breathed.

We held.

Something scraped the stone below like a shovel the size of regret. A shadow swelled out of the steam—broad, hunched, dragging a chain that had fused to its wrist. It stepped into our dim, and the dim tried to run.

Skin like basalt seams, plates grown over muscle, joints wrapped in slag that glowed dull orange. Tusks. A helm welded to its skull. In its free hand: a pillar of iron, squared at the end, pitted with use. Its eyes were not embers. They were furnaces.

Elise mouthed, "what the fuck is that."

"Bad union job," I mouthed back.

It lifted the iron pillar and set it down once. The passage vibrated.

[Identify: Crucible Troll — Gate-Forged Guardian (S-Rank Mini-Boss)][Traits: Heat-Engorged • Shock-Resistant • Core-vented]

[Weakness: Overpressured Core / Vent Timing]

It sniffed the air—slow, deliberate—and turned toward us.

"Plan?" Elise whispered.

"Varga anchors," Lucien said. "I keep him up. Elise, you target the joints and vents. Cross—"

"Don’t die, make it bleed," I said.

Varga stepped forward like he’d been waiting his whole life to block something stupid.His shield flared—a pale dome swallowing the tunnel’s glow.

The troll hit him like a wrecking ball made of road. The impact shook the floor. Rock cracked up the walls in lightning patterns. Heat slapped us in the face.

Elise flung both hands out. A ribbon of blue-white fire snapped across the troll’s forearm. The slag boiled but didn’t break.

"They eat heat," she hissed. "Fine—let’s see if they eat angles."

Her next burst bent midair, hooked back, and kissed the same spot from behind. The coating bubbled, split open.

"Do it again!" Varga barked, catching another blow that would’ve folded a smaller man like laundry.

The troll drew in a long, rattling breath. Vents along its ribs flared orange, the smell of burning iron spilling out. Then it exhaled. A column of molten air rolled down the tunnel.

Varga’s barrier went white-hot. Lucien’s sigils crawled brighter up his arms, fighting to keep the heat out.

[Barrier Load: 61% → 78%][Lucien Field Output: 63%]

"Now, Cross!" Lucien yelled.

[Lightning Step — Step 1/3 Active]

[Cooldown: 2 s]

I blinked to its blind side. Fangpiercer came up under the monster’s arm, jammed between the black plates of its elbow. The blade hissed. Flesh popped.

[Fangpiercer Critical]

[Armor Penetration: 30%]

The troll bellowed—low, long, deep enough to make my teeth hum. It swung the iron pillar through the steam. I dropped flat. The pillar screamed across the wall inches above my head, carving sparks.

[Lightning Step — Step 2/3 Active]

[Cooldown: 2 s]

I came up inside its guard and dragged Gloamthorn across its ribs. The knife turned bright white, air bending around it. A vent under its ribs cracked open with a cough of molten air.

[Gloamthorn — Thermal Saturation][Result: Vent Pressure ↑]

"Pressure it!" I shouted. "Pop the bastard!"

Elise snapped her fingers. Her next fire arc curved down the tunnel like a boomerang, smashed straight into the vent I’d opened. The iron webbing shattered. Steam howled out.

The troll staggered. Varga surged forward and smashed its knee. The joint bent the wrong way with a sound like trees breaking.

The thing dropped to one leg, dragging that chained arm against the wall hard enough to carve a groove. Every movement sounded like a forge falling apart.