Chapter 551 - 15: Dumasong’s Furnace
The wrinkles on her face seemed to deepen, and her gaze once again became indistinguishable from the other gray-skinned people marching forward.
"Forget it," she mumbled, her voice so low it was almost inaudible. "What’s it to me... Returning is the only way... Dumasong is waiting..."
Muttering to herself, she staggered forward and merged back into the gray torrent, soon swallowed by the wave of other gray-skinned people surging from behind, becoming completely indistinguishable.
Murphy silently watched her figure disappear into the stream of people.
He didn’t linger. He turned and continued walking toward the rear of the column, into the ever-deepening darkness.
...
A desolate, rocky plain.
There was a small slope.
Below the slope was a massive cave entrance, from which a rhythmic "CLANG! CLANG!" and a gust of hot, sulfur-scented wind faintly emanated.
Seven or eight people were gathered outside the cave mouth.
The man in the lead was burly and middle-aged, clad in gleaming half-plate armor with a Knight’s Longsword hanging at his waist.
He had a resolute face and a neatly trimmed beard. His brow was furrowed as he stared into the dark maw of the cave, one hand resting unconsciously on the hilt of his sword.
Beside him stood a pale-faced young man in a deep blue Magic Robe, holding a Short Staff inlaid with a Sapphire. His gaze was sharp and wary as he whispered to a companion by his side. This companion wore brown Leather Armor, carried a longbow on his back, and had long, pointed ears.
A little farther off, several other equally well-equipped companions were positioned on either side of the cave entrance, vigilantly scanning the barren surroundings and occasionally exchanging glances.
The middle-aged Knight spoke up. "Are you sure this is the place, Elvin? According to the map, why would the entrance to Dumasong’s Forge be in a place like this?"
The young Mage, Elvin, stopped whispering with the Elf Ranger and turned around, his face alight with excitement.
"The map can’t be wrong, Captain Keynes. The Spatial Positioning Magic points right here. As for the entrance... the Nightmare World is inherently unpredictable. The documents we found mentioned that the entrance to Dumasong’s Forge doesn’t have a fixed location."
The Elf Ranger sneered. "Elvin, the smell of sulfur here is choking, and it’s mixed with a weird stench of burnt grease. Are you sure we’re about to enter a sacred ruin and not the site of some Demon Lord’s barbecue?"
"Lelas!" Elvin shot him an annoyed glare, but then took a deep breath, striving to keep his voice steady. "According to fragments from *Ancient Deities Research* and the declassified snippets from the academy archives, Dumasong is the legendary ancient God who presided over forging, fire, and the purification of souls. His forge was described as ’the place where the fires of purification ascend.’ Sulfur and high temperatures are only to be expected!"
Lelas said coolly, "I’m just worried you’ve led us astray, Elvin. You know better than I how dangerous the Nightmare World is. One wrong step, one miscalculation, and we might not make it back out."
Captain Keynes raised a hand, stopping the argument before it could continue.
His gaze swept across each team member’s face before finally settling on the dark mouth of the cave.
"Lelas is right. Exploring the Nightmare World is inherently filled with unknowns and risks. But we’ve come prepared."
He glanced at a silent, taciturn figure wrapped entirely in a gray cloak. "Milton’s Spiritual Vision can warn us of most psychic traps. As for physical dangers..."
His gaze swept over the fully armed guards. "We’ll rely on our swords and shields."
Lelas pursed his lips but said nothing more. He simply took the longbow from his back, checked the string, and drew an arrow from his quiver, nocking it. His movements were fluid and silent.
Elvin, meanwhile, began to chant in a low voice. The Sapphire on his Short Staff pulsed with light, and a pale blue, translucent Energy Film slowly enveloped him and Captain Keynes—clearly a form of Protective Magic.
"Stay alert. Move out in formation."
Captain Keynes gave the final order and was the first to step forward.
Elvin followed close behind, with Milton trailing to the side like a shadow. Lelas and the guards fanned out to the flanks and rear, forming a tight exploration formation.
The dim twilight was quickly swallowed by the darkness within the cave. Only the faint glow from Elvin’s Magic Staff and the light from a few of the team’s Lanterns illuminated a short stretch of the rugged, descending passage ahead.
As they advanced, the "CLANG! CLANG!" of hammering grew louder, like a giant heart beating deep within the rock strata, causing the very air to tremble. The smell of sulfur grew increasingly pungent.
Soon, they reached a relatively open space. It was brighter here, but the light was a deep, crimson red.
Captain Keynes abruptly raised a clenched fist, signaling the team to halt.
They now stood at the edge of a platform resembling a cliff face.
Below them lay a breathtaking sight.
In the far distance, an immense, dark-red forge crouched like a slumbering behemoth in the abyss, its mouth spewing golden flames and waves of heat.
Below their platform, a narrow, black stone path—only wide enough for two people to walk abreast—stretched out toward the forge in isolation.
On that stone path, countless figures were now advancing, packed together, moving in slow, silent procession.
Like a gray river, they flowed out from an unseen darkness on the far side of the chasm below, shuffling toward the platform of the forge that was their destination.
Elvin gasped, and the light from the Magic Staff in his hand flickered.
His eyes went wide as he stared at the moving figures below.
Lelas’s expression grew grim, and his fingers tightened on the arrow. "What are those things? Gray Dwarves? Or some other kind of monster?"