“Well,” Kara said, smiling faintly, “let’s hope the Dwarves pay well for our trouble.”

  The ground trembled with cracks spread through the stone, glowing from within. A deep grinding echoed through the hills as the black rock split apart, revealing a narrow, spiraling fissure big enough for their werewolf bodies to squeeze through.

  Karl gulped. “Say it wasn’t a dumb move.”

  “It wasn’t a dumb move,” Kara repeated automatically, rolling her eyes before diving in.

  He snorted. “That curse is so useful.”

  Then the tremor hit again, and the heat of competition and Fenrir’s smoldering rage pushed his hesitation aside. Karl followed her, digging his claws into the fractured stone to slow his descent. The tunnel angled sharply downward, slick with frost and soot. Every scrape echoed too loudly.

  The deeper they went, the wider it became—an enormous chute of jagged black rock. It felt less like a staircase and more like a monstrous water slide carved by giants. Sharp ridges jutted out like teeth, promising to shred anyone foolish enough to slip. The heat from below grew stronger with every meter, carrying the scent of molten metal.

  And beneath it all, the whisper of the forge’s heartbeat was a steady, pounding rhythm.

  “Beat you there!” Kara shouted, her voice echoing through the cavern. She sprang down the slope, leaping from jagged edge to jagged edge, silver blur against black stone.

  Karl growled playfully and followed, his claws carving into the slick rock for grip. His Lunar Sight activated instinctively, painting the pitch-dark chasm in shades of pale silver and deep crimson. The walls around them were etched with sprawling murals of gods, Dwarven heroes, and strange runes that shimmered faintly with trapped light, although Karl had the faintest idea of what they all meant. Though the bronze panels were easier to make out: they depicted wars beneath mountains and monsters older than time itself.

  He barely had time to register them, however, as Kara was already halfway down, tail flicking as she laughed.

  “Let me win!” Karl called through their Pack Link, grinning. His voice carried a subtle Alpha command, and Kara’s stride faltered just long enough for him to pass her in a blur of motion.

  “Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?” she shot back. “Should I start calling you Alpha, too?”

  “Yes,” he said simply, launching himself from the final ridge. The jagged descent gave way to solid ground—a wide, gleaming floor of hammered metal.

  Kara landed behind him with an exaggerated bow. “Alpha. Master. My lord. My Jarl,” she said with mock reverence.

  Karl turned and caught her as she straightened, pulling her close with a half-snarl that bared his fangs in amusement. The heat from the forge fire below bathed them in an orange glow. “You forgot one,” he murmured, pressing his muzzle to hers. “My boyfriend.”

  Her ears twitched. His forwardness startled them both. The Alpha in him—fueled by Fenrir’s curse—spoke bolder than the man ever could. Anger and confidence mixed into something heady, intoxicating. For once, he didn’t second-guess it.

  And he liked it.

  You see? Fenrir’s low voice purred in his head. Dominance looks good on you.

  Karl began pulling her closer, but Kara’s eyes flicked past his shoulder, suddenly sharp. “Maybe deal with them first, boyfriend.”

  He turned.

  The chamber ahead was vast—a cathedral of molten fire and metal. Dozens of Dwarves filled the space, their thick arms swinging hammers that glowed white-hot. Their beards shimmered with oil, and their eyes burned like tiny coals. The floor thrummed beneath Karl’s paws from the rhythm of the forges. Above, a network of brass pipes fed into the ceiling, venting bursts of steam. Conveyor belts lined with half-finished weapons disappeared into side tunnels, whispering of secrets buried deep beneath Midgard.

  It was magnificent. And deeply wrong.

  Every single dwarf had stopped working.

  They stared at Karl and Kara with open hostility, their muscles flexing in tension. Sparks hissed in the silence.

  “The depths of Midgard are our domain,” several of them hissed at once. The sound was unified, like one voice split across many throats.

  Karl blinked, forcing a smirk. “Friendly bunch.”

  Kara crouched slightly, her claws flexing. “I think they mean it.”

  A few of the Dwarves reached for runed tools like chisels and hammers that pulsed with faint magic. Karl’s instincts prickled. The old Karl would’ve been terrified, trapped between panic and diplomacy. But the new one—the wolfed one—felt only the pounding surge of adrenaline and the heat of challenge.

  They’d just fought river demons and devoured unicorns. What were a few angry smiths?

  He started to speak through the Pack Link, forming a plan, when the forge hall erupted with noise.

  Doors slammed open as the Dwarves scattered in every direction, shouting in a tongue that sounded unknown to him. Some vanished into narrow side tunnels that sealed shut behind them with glowing rune locks. Others sprinted across catwalks, slapping glyphs on walls that collapsed into solid slabs of metal.

  Within moments, the entire forge was empty.

  The silence afterward was deafening—only the hiss of steam and the groan of the furnaces remained.

  Karl exhaled. “Free loot, I guess,” he said, forcing a shaky laugh. His voice sounded too loud. “We grab what we can and get out before⁠—”

  A chime cut him off.

  System Message: “Dvergr Forge Lockdown — Unauthorized Divine Energy Detected. Containment Protocols Engaged.”

  The words pulsed crimson before fading.

  Karl’s heart lurched as dozens of brass and bronze pipes extended from the walls and ceiling, sparking with crackling blue energy. They sealed the exits before they could react. He could see no way out—the path they’d descended was gone, swallowed in metal.

  The air began to tremble thanks to the rapid increase in heat pouring in from the pipes above them. Even the forge pits began to churn, bubbling molten iron like boiling water. A wave of hot wind rolled over him, stinging his muzzle and eyes.

  Health: 129/130

  Health: 128/130

  His fur sizzled slightly.

  Kara tilted her head, unbothered. “Well, what are we going to do, Alpha?” she asked sweetly, her eyes glinting through the rising steam.

  Karl swallowed, forcing a grin. “Something idiotic, probably.”

  At last, Fenrir growled, something we agree on.

  14

  DVERGR FORGE DUNGEON

  The floor of the Dwarven Forge turned into the actual game of “The Floor is Lava.”

  Stone tiles split apart, glowing white from within as rivers of molten metal poured through the cracks. The air shimmered with heat so intense it felt alive, scorching everything it touched. Chains hanging from the ceiling rattled and began to sag, their links softening to red.

  Karl’s paws struck the floor and hissed. The stench of burned fur filled his nose. His Health dropped in steady, merciless ticks. Kara yelped nearby, her claws smoking as the floor seared through her boots.

  He tried to think—move, plan, anything—but the forge itself roared like a beast around them. Then the familiar, chipper tone of the System broke through the chaos.

  New Quest: Hammer Time

  “Congratulations, you absolute lunatic—you opened a billion-gold dwarf hole! The System strongly advises against further tampering, but since you’re already inside, you might as well loot the place before something molten eats you.”

  Primary Objectives:

  Survive dungeon traps (0/3)

  Find the dungeon key to escape (0/1)

  Bonus Objective:

  Awaken and slay the Dvergr Metal God known as Brokk-Prime (0/1)

  Rewards:

  Item: Brokk’s Spare Hammer (Epic) — A forge tool that doubles as a weapon. +25% crafting speed, +15% blunt damage, and smells faintly of singed beard.

  Item: Dvergr Iron ×100

  Item: Rune-Carved Stone ×150

  Item: Moltenplate Blueprint (Rare) — Unlocks craftable armor set resistant to Fire and Stupidity.

  Settlement Upgrade: Masonry Hall (Unlocked) — Allows construction of advanced stoneworks, reinforced palisades, and smug architectural bragging rights.

  Settlement Upgrade: Forge Materials +3 tiers (Visby gains access to advanced weapon schematics).

  Bonus Rewards:

  Item: Brokk’s Memory Core (Legendary)

  +250 Reiði

  Karl hopped from table to table, claws scraping over warped metal. Each landing sent a fresh wave of pain through his feet. The heat bit deep, singeing fur and skin alike. Even the benches began to smolder beneath him, wood hissing with tiny flames.

  His eyes scanned the quest window through the haze. If they could find the key, Visby would gain more than defenses—it would gain power. Walls that could hold against raiders. Forges that could turn iron to god-metal. It might finally give his people a chance, especially if they got attacked by another Draugr horde or, god forbid, the skull-masked raider.

  “Kara—” he started, voice hoarse.

  She didn’t answer.

  Kara had collapsed onto the floor. Her body lay trembling, claws pressed flat against the burning stone.

  “Kara!” Karl dropped from the bench, ignoring the pain that scorched through his legs. He gathered her into his arms and leapt back to higher ground. Her body felt fever-hot. Her eyes were open but glowing.

  “No,” she whispered. “Not again.”

  She went still in his arms, frozen like a statue. Karl’s massive werewolf arms went numb as he realized what it was.

  Baldr’s curse.

  The blessing of the Light of the World came at a cost. Each day, those marked by it saw their own death. Sometimes quick, other times slow, but always certain.

  He’d heard stories from Visby’s elders of those who carried that gift. They’d learned to live with the visions. But never had Kara been seized by one in battle. It was usually at night, sometimes when they ate together.

  Not here. Please, not now.

  Her mind brushed against his. He gasped as the world twisted.

  Suddenly, he wasn’t in the forge.

  He was somewhere else. Marble arches towered all around them in a great circle, reminding him of the Colosseum, though this one had bronze pipes snaking through it and what looked like light bulbs. Through her eyes, he saw her on her knees in the arena dirt. Blood streaked her face as her sword arm hung limp. Over Kara stood a Roman gladiator adorned in midnight black armor and an ethereal cape that looked translucent, as if it were made of dreams.

  The terrifying figure raised his golden pilum slowly, as though exhausted. No triumph lived in the gesture. Just weary inevitability. The golden pilum glowed with an impossible brilliance, almost holy, which was in sharp contrast to his oily black armor.

  With a single downward strike, he cut through Kara’s neck.

  Karl gasped and nearly dropped her as the flash of light faded, replaced by the dim red of the forge. He could still feel the pilum cutting through.

  She had never told him what her visions were like, only that they were always the same. Always ending in her death.

  It was unmistakably the Roman Emperor Maximus. The thought of the man was more terrifying than the lava beneath their feet. Why was she battling him?

  Karl forced himself to breathe, though the air seared his lungs. Don’t panic, he told himself.

  A low chuckle rippled through his skull. It’s only a matter of time until you fail, Fenrir purred, voice slick with amusement. There’s no way out. And neither will there be for your lover.

  Karl’s hackles rose. The taunt gnawed at him, feeding that buried rage he kept chained in the back of his mind. He shoved it down and looked around the blazing room for anything—anything—that might serve as an escape.

  The forge howled like a living furnace as the bronze beams warped in the heat and rivers of molten metal coursed beneath the floor grates. There was only one way out: up.

  He snatched up a glowing ingot and hurled it at the copper bars sealing the chute they’d slid down through earlier. The metal struck with a thunderclap. Blue lightning crawled across the walls, detonating the entire frame in a shower of sparks. The blast seared his arms and nearly knocked him backward.

  The only way out stayed closed.

  He knew even if he could die and revive—his body reappearing in a burst of sizzling bacon, courtesy of his tattoo—he’d still be trapped here to die again. Kara would just die quicker.

  She hung limply over his back as he leapt from table to table, trying to stay off the burning floor. Each surface glowed hotter by the second. Smoke curled around his legs, licking at the fur and causing his Health to drop like sand through an hourglass.

  When the tables began to smoke, he jumped down to the main hallway door and slammed his shoulder against it. Once. Twice. The stone didn’t even crack. His feet scorched against the glowing floor as a result, the pain shooting up through his bones. He struck the door again, roaring through clenched teeth, but it might as well have been a mountain.

  He fell back, panting, every breath heavy.

  You’re alone, Fenrir whispered.

  Karl ignored him and vaulted back onto the nearest table, searching for another way. Through the haze, his lunar sight activated, granting him sight through the walls.

  Tiny shadows moved in the mineshafts above—Dvergr miners. Watching.

  Of course they were. The little bastards.

  Karl spotted one peering through a vent-like opening and launched himself toward it. His claws dug into the metal grate. Runes shimmered across its surface, demanding a passcode in ancient script.

  “Yeah, sure,” he muttered. “Let me type that with my burning paws.”

  He ripped the rune plate free, ignoring the magical warning flashing in his vision, and hurled it into the molten floor. It vanished with a hiss.

  The shaft beyond was narrow—too small for him. Inside, the Dwarf froze. The little man’s face twisted into a grin before he turned and scrambled away down the tunnel, laughing in that squeaky, metallic Dvergr way.

  Tick-tock, Fenrir said softly. Soon, I shall be released.

  Karl’s claws curled tight around the edge of the shaft. “Not yet.”

  He grabbed a heavy ingot from the table—a black one streaked with molten lines—and ignored the glowing System prompt that identified its worth.

  Then he threw it.

  The ingot whistled through the shaft as if it were a bullet. It struck the Dwarf square between the eyes. For an instant, the grin froze there—then his skull burst in a flash of red.

  The explosion punched through the tunnel. Karl’s instincts took over as he activated his Elf Leap.

  Magic surged through his limbs as he and Kara blinked out of the forge in a streak of crimson light, vanishing into the explosion.

  System Message: “Dvergr Forge Lockdown — Trap Failed. Energy Available: 66%”

  Survive dungeon traps (1/3)

  Alpha Path: lvl 5 (50/150 Reiði)

  Wealth (+1): 5,652 Gold

  Intelligence (+10): lvl 3 (10/40)

  Glory (+20): 1,255

  Level: 29 (100/300)

  They reappeared inside a smaller chamber. The sudden absence of fire was a huge relief. The air here stank of oil and iron filings. Several narrow corridors branched off, each lined with flickering red rune-lamps.

  A half dozen Dwarves turned from their workbenches, eyes wide.

  Kara stirred on his back. She slid off and staggered, her breathing ragged as her mind cleared. Her gaze darted between the Dwarves, who were now shouting curses in their guttural tongue.

  Karl’s lips pulled back, the edges of his fangs glinting in the forge-light. The Dwarves stank like old beer and scorched fat, and a hint of piss from one of them, which made sense. But beneath that foulness, he caught the copper-sweet tang of blood.

  His stomach yearned with hunger as his Health bar hovered in the red. He needed to feed. Luckily, Karl was very, very angry.

  This will do, I suppose, the wolf god mused, his tone halfway between irritation and approval. Carnage isn’t as fine as your death would be, but blood will suffice.

  Karl didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His growl did it for him.

  With Kara at his side, he lunged into the cluster of Dwarves who had made the mistake of standing their ground. The first tried to run. Karl’s claws tore through his back before he made it three steps. The Dwarf’s spine came free with a wet rip, glowing faintly orange in the forge light.

  Two more Dwarves scrambled to flank him, but Karl seized one in each hand and slammed them together again and again—like cymbals in some demented Dwarven orchestra—until their bones gave way to pulp.

  Kara moved in perfect sync beside him. She caught one Dwarf by the beard, spun, and hurled him into another who was trying to flee. Their skulls met with a dull crack, and both crumpled before they could scream.

  “Not bad,” Karl muttered, chest heaving.

  The words had barely left his mouth before one Dwarf, half-dead but still breathing, raised a glowing knife. Runes flared across the blade before it detonated in a burst of molten shrapnel.

  Karl staggered back, shoulder smoking, Health plummeting by thirty points.

  Health: 42/130

  Kara hissed and leapt between him and the next blast, claws out. Their Pack Link pulsed in his vision, and for the first time, he felt it working. Her kills were feeding him. His were feeding her.

  A grim grin tugged at his muzzle.

  He was about to compliment her—maybe even thank her—when he heard a faint scuff behind them.