Chapter 549 - 15: Dumasong’s Forge
His consciousness felt like it was sinking into the deep sea, drifting in and out amidst the churning darkness.
His five senses were enveloped by a heavy void, making it impossible to perceive direction or the passage of time.
The giant tongue that had wrapped around Murphy seemed to carry some power beyond comprehension. It had not only bound his body but had also directly shielded him from all external perception.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t resisted; it was that his resistance had been useless.
All his struggles and strength vanished without a trace, failing to stir even the slightest ripple.
CLANG!
A crisp, Piercing clang of metal on metal jolted Murphy’s consciousness from the deep sea of nothingness.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
It was followed by a second, a third... a continuous chorus of forging sounds, striking his consciousness again and again, growing clearer and louder.
Murphy’s eyes flew open. The first thing he saw was an impossibly massive, dark-red furnace below him.
The furnace was larger than he could have imagined. Its walls were forged from some kind of rough rock and plunged dozens of meters deep.
Its mouth was as vast as a volcanic crater, endlessly spewing scalding heat waves thick with the pungent stench of sulfur and oxidized metal, scorching the surrounding air until it shimmered and warped.
Murphy found himself standing on a narrow stone path.
The path was flanked by a bottomless, dark abyss. Only the flagstones beneath his feet, barely wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side, stretched forward. In just a few more steps, the path reached the space directly above the furnace.
At the end of the path was a metal platform, situated directly over the massive furnace’s mouth.
The edge of the platform, facing the boiling pool of lava below, formed a red-hot diving board with no railings.
Most astonishingly, the narrow stone path was packed with people standing in a dense line.
Murphy was standing near the front of this long queue.
PLOP!
A dull splash echoed from ahead.
Murphy instinctively looked up.
He saw the figure at the very front of the line, standing at the edge of the red-hot platform. It was a naked, gray-skinned silhouette that, without a moment’s hesitation, leaped forward and vanished into the golden ocean of lava below, which was constantly bubbling and churning.
It barely even made a splash.
The moment the figure submerged into the lava, it was like an ice cube dropped into boiling water. It was instantly enveloped and consumed by the viscous, high-temperature substance, leaving behind only a wisp of green smoke and a trail of bubbles.
Watching this scene, Murphy’s dark pupils contracted slightly.
’An illusion? Or some kind of ritual? Or perhaps a deep-seated dream.’
Before he could sort out his thoughts, a push came from behind.
"What are you spacing out for? Keep moving," a hoarse, dry voice rasped from behind him, its tone impatient and demanding. "Hurry up, don’t block the way."
Murphy turned around.
Standing behind him was another person, also nearly naked.
He was almost naked save for a tattered, grayish-black strip of cloth barely wrapped around his waist.
His skin was also a grayish-white, covered in fine cracks and some kind of dark splotches.
What was most striking were his eyes. The irises were a murky light brown, and his pupils, faintly contracting in the flickering red light of the furnace, were filled with excitement and anticipation.
This person was unlike any race Murphy could recall.
And it wasn’t just him.
Murphy’s gaze quickly swept over the line in front of and behind him.
In this silently advancing queue, nearly everyone resembled the person behind him.
Most of them were scantily clad, with only a few wearing tattered scraps of cloth or leather whose original color and material were unrecognizable.
Their exposed skin was generally a dull, lusterless grayish-white.
Only their eyes varied in color: light brown, earthy yellow, dark red...
But without exception, they all gleamed with a near-fanatical excitement, as if walking toward that boiling furnace was the one and only final destination of their lives.
"Hey, did you hear me?" The gray-skinned man with light-brown eyes behind him pushed Murphy again, a little harder this time, a trace of urgency in his voice. "Move. If you’re not going to jump, I will."
As he spoke, he even tried to turn sideways and squeeze past Murphy.
Murphy stepped aside slightly.
The gray-skinned man immediately pushed past, continuing forward without a backward glance. He soon blended back into the silently advancing queue, drawing closer to the ultimate end.
...
But soon, a new, even cruder voice urged him on from behind.
"What the hell! Are you just going to stand there like a rock?" another voice snapped, more agitated than the last one. "Get a move on! If you don’t want to jump, then get out of the way! Don’t waste my time!"
Murphy slowly turned around.
This gray-skinned man was taller, his skin a darker shade that was almost grayish-black.
His eyes were dark red, and he was glaring viciously at Murphy, the muscles in his brutish face twitching as if he were ready to shove him aside at any moment.
"You go first, then," Murphy said, his voice calm and steady.
Hearing this, the agitated expression on the dark-red-eyed man’s face first went blank with surprise, then immediately transformed into one of near-unbearable eagerness.
He didn’t hesitate for a second. Without even giving Murphy another glance, he violently shoved his way into the space Murphy had slightly vacated. His rough skin scraped against Murphy’s long black shirt as he eagerly took Murphy’s former spot, then continued forward without looking back, as if afraid that being even a step late would cause him to miss the opportunity of a lifetime.
The next person in line behind Murphy, seeing that he was still motionless but had made room, didn’t even bother to ask. They simply reached out and shoved his shoulder with an urgent, forceful push, jostling him aside.