Both turned at once.

  Another Dwarf had been hiding among the wreckage, smaller and faster than the rest. His stubby hands trembled as he reached for a lever on the wall. Karl didn’t know what it would trigger, but he didn’t need to. In a forge like this, every switch screamed trap.

  The stone beneath Karl’s paws vibrated faintly. His lunar sight flared open, revealing that the floor wasn’t solid. It was hollow, crawling with some kind of mechanical insects that clattered like gears beneath the surface.

  He didn’t take the time to ponder.

  A beam of golden-white light flared from Kara’s outstretched hand. It struck the Dwarf dead center, punching a hole clean through his chest. The smell of scorched metal and flesh filled the corridor as the Dwarf slammed into the wall, runes burning on his armor before his body caught fire.

  He collapsed in a smoldering heap.

  System Message: “Dvergr Forge Lockdown — Trap Failed. Energy Available: 36%”

  Survive dungeon traps (2/3)

  Alpha Path: lvl 5 (80/150 Reiði)

  Wealth (+3): 5,655 Gold

  “When did you learn that?” Karl asked, lowering his arm as the smoke cleared.

  Kara brushed soot from her fur, her muzzle twitching in what might’ve been a blush. “Upgraded my Blessing of Baldr while I was away from Visby. I’m rank four now.” She flexed her claws, faint traces of light still sparking at her fingertips. “I can summon a Holy Light Shield, too. But I just unlocked that sunlight beam. Been dying to try it out.”

  She grinned, fangs flashing. “Used it on some of those hunters when we tried to negotiate before Agnetha got involved. You were a little… preoccupied at the time.”

  Karl barked a laugh. “That sounds about right.”

  Kara didn’t answer. Instead, she crouched beside one of the fallen Dwarves and began tearing into the corpse with sharp, efficient bites. The grisly act refilled her Health bar, glowing faintly as the System logged the feed.

  Karl did the same—ripping a hunk from another Dwarf’s shoulder and letting the metallic taste flood his mouth. It was disgusting, but his body didn’t care. Strength flowed back into his limbs.

  He glanced at his pack. The inventory indicator blinked red—one slot left. He wasn’t wasting it on scrap. If they survived this, he wanted that space for something worthy.

  When they’d eaten enough to heal, he wiped his claws and stood beside Kara. The tunnels ahead stretched into darkness. The three of them were identical, each flanked by bronze murals of Dwarves at work. Some showed smiths forging blades beside rivers of magma. Others depicted gods handing hammers to mortal hands. Every detail gleamed with centuries of craftsmanship.

  Kara turned toward him. “So,” she said, “which one do you want?”

  Karl squinted. Each tunnel sloped differently—one ascended, one descended, and one curved into the unknown. He could feel faint heat from the left passage, a cold draft from the right.

  “If only I could see the future like that Roman emperor Maximus,” he muttered, only to regret thinking of the man who killed his beloved; even bringing him up made Kara wince. “That would make this a lot easier,” he said, trying to pivot.

  Karl hesitated at the mouth of the three tunnels, each glowing faintly with its own hue—one red, one blue, one gold. The stone beneath his paws radiated with Dwarven runes, still warm from centuries of fire. He glanced between them, trying to decide which path looked least suicidal.

  “Let’s… choose the center,” he said at last, though it came out sounding like a question. He cleared his throat and tried again with more authority. “Yeah. That one.”

  Kara rolled her eyes, amusement flickering across her muzzle. “If we die in there, I’m haunting you.”

  Before he could reply, the two stepped forward—and the moment they crossed the archway, a massive stone slab slammed down behind them with an echoing boom. Dust and embers rained from the ceiling as the sound of shifting gears rumbled through the walls.

  “Well,” Kara said with a smirk, “let’s hope you’re right, Alpha.”

  She dropped to all fours and darted ahead, claws scraping over the smooth Dwarven floor.

  Karl followed, unable to help but watch her move. The flicker of torchlight along her muscles made her look like a living flame.

  “I know you’re staring,” she teased, laughter echoing through the descending tunnel.

  Pathetic, Fenrir groaned in his head. You chase her like a pup while doom breathes down your neck.

  Karl snorted a laugh. “Can’t a guy appreciate his packmate before probable death?”

  The wolf god muttered something in Old Norse that sounded vaguely like “idiot.”

  For all the danger, Karl couldn’t deny the thrill of the unknown pulsing through him. Out here, no villagers were whining about food stores, no endless weight of leadership pressing on his shoulders. Just him, Kara, and the world trying to kill them.

  And it felt good.

  The tunnel widened into a cavernous rectangular hall, the size of a cathedral turned factory. The sight stole his breath.

  Rows upon rows of conveyor belts stretched across the chamber, each lined with Dwarven machinery still running after gods knew how many centuries. The hum of automation filled the air, rhythmic as glowing gears spun and pistons hissed. Sparks flew in neat, mechanical bursts.

  Each conveyor carried something different—swords, axes, halberds, crossbows, even ornate hammers with intricate runes being etched into their sides by needle-like arms of pure light. Some machines tested blades by smashing them against anvils or hammering them into shape. Others dipped weapons into molten troughs or quenched them in streams of glowing liquid metal.

  It was mesmerizing and terrifying.

  “Looks like… a Dwarven car factory,” Karl muttered.

  “Car factory?” Kara asked, stepping closer to the nearest line. “That’s what killed you in your previous life, right?”

  Karl nodded, wincing at the memory.

  Far below, beneath the tangle of belts, hundreds of grinding wheels churned in perfect rhythm. They moved like hungry mouths, grinding the rejected metal that fell from the upper lines. It wasn’t hard to imagine what would happen if one of them slipped: they would become werewolf sausage. The shriek of those blades made Karl’s fur prickle.

  Then a harsh tone blared through the chamber.

  System Message: Forge Defense Protocol Online — Unauthorized lifeforms detected. Initiating Product Testing.”

  “‘Product testing?’” Kara read aloud, tail flicking. “That can’t be good.”

  Karl’s stomach sank. “Yeah, I’m guessing we’re the products.”

  The mechanical arms froze mid-motion, gears whining as they realigned. One by one, they rotated toward the intruders, their jointed fingers gripping half-finished weapons. Dozens of them raised swords, spears, and crossbows in eerie unison.

  A faint click filled the silence as metal limbs locked into attack positions.

  Karl’s eye twitched. “I have a really bad feeling about this.”

  15

  BROKK PRIME

  It turned out Karl had been exactly right.

  A deafening whir filled the air as the factory came alive. Dozens of steel arms unfolded from the ceiling like insect legs, each gripping a different weapon—swords, spears, maces, even shields sharpened to kill. Gears spun in the rafters, pistons hissed, and the entire chamber shuddered to life in mechanical fury.

  The first spear came so close Karl felt its wind on his muzzle. He ducked, claws scraping metal. Kara dropped low beside him, a throwing star slicing through a tuft of her fur before embedding itself in the wall with a metallic shhk!

  “I can see why you don’t like cars!” she shouted, sprinting forward on all fours.

  “You would hate the modern world!” Karl roared, vaulting over a moving conveyor.

  The belts all shifted direction, fighting their momentum and dragging them backward toward the entrance. Metal weapons clanged and sparked around them, the air a storm of steel.

  “Can you Elf Leap us out of here?” Kara yelled.

  Karl grabbed a discarded axe, hurled it toward the far exit, and readied the leap command in his mind. But before the rune could ignite, one of the ceiling arms ripped a shield free and hurled it into the air. The spinning disk smashed his axe midflight, knocking it down in a shower of sparks.

  “So much for that!” he snarled.

  A glowing sword shot toward his face—too fast to dodge—when suddenly a pillar of pure sunlight flared in front of him. The sword struck the beam and ricocheted away, followed by a dozen more. Weapons clattered harmlessly off the shimmering barrier, raining down around them.

  Karl blinked. “Was that⁠—?”

  “Holy Light Shield,” Kara said through gritted teeth, sweat shining on her fur. “But it won’t last long!”

  She stumbled, steadying herself as cracks splintered across the radiant wall. The sound of grinding metal below echoed louder, reminding them that even one fall meant being turned into werewolf mince.

  “Any ideas?” she gasped.

  Karl’s mind raced. He had nothing. His claws were useless against flying blades, and his bow was pointless here—he couldn’t string it fast enough. The arm-machines were faster, smarter, and terrifyingly precise, tracking every movement.

  Come on, think, he told himself, scanning his System inventory in panic. Weapons, crafting materials, potions—none of it mattered here. He almost closed the menu when his gaze snagged on one glowing line of text near the bottom.

  Item: Grave Silence Rune (Epic) -- Instantly snuff all sound within a 10-meter radius for 10 seconds. Enemies cannot call for help, and ranged attacks from within the silence are silenced and +50% stronger. User gains invisibility for 10 seconds. Cooldown: 3 minutes. Glory Cost: 225 per use.

  Karl grinned. “Here. Use this!”

  He triggered the rune.

  Glory (-225): 1,030

  A wave of absolute quiet rolled through the room. The noise of clashing steel vanished in an instant, including Karl’s thundering heart. Even the sound of their own footsteps disappeared. The silence was eerie and total, pressing against Karl’s ears like a heavy fog.

  Kara’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide, but she didn’t need an explanation. She bolted forward, vanishing from sight as the rune’s invisibility took hold. Karl followed, his body blurring into nothingness.

  The shield behind them shattered in a flash of light, and weapons screamed through the air, cutting through where they had stood seconds earlier. To avoid colliding mid-sprint, Karl opened his Pack Link, syncing their senses together. Her vision layered over his, a ghostly mirror of movement.

  Left. Jump.

  She obeyed instantly. Both leapt across the conveyor belts, weaving between flying weapons that sliced through the air above them. A hammer the size of a wagon wheel crashed down inches behind Karl’s tail. They darted through the maze of machinery, the metal arms slashing blindly in confusion, unable to see or hear their prey.

  The silence held. Ten seconds never felt so long, or so short.

  Together they bounded over the last conveyor, landing hard on a stone ledge overlooking the pit of grinders below. Karl didn’t wait. He grabbed Kara’s wrist, and they sprinted into the next tunnel just as the air shimmered back into sound.

  A massive stone door began to drop behind them—but halted halfway with a thunderous clang.

  System Message: “Dvergr Forge Lockdown — Trap Failed. Energy Available: 0%. Shutdown Commencing.”

  Survive dungeon traps (3/3)

  Intelligence (+10): lvl 3 (20/40)

  Glory (+20): 1,050

  Level: 29 (120/300)

  Karl leaned against the tunnel wall, panting hard, his fur damp with sweat. The glow from the forge room dimmed behind them, replaced by the cold stillness of Dwarven stone.

  Kara looked over, catching her breath. “That rune,” she said, voice trembling with awe. “Remind me to steal it later.”

  Karl gave a weary grin. “You’ll have to pry it from my dead claws.”

  Oh, that can be arranged, Fenrir murmured.

  The entire dungeon trembled as if exhaling its final breath.

  Behind them, the massive stone door that had sealed the tunnel groaned and lifted back into the ceiling. Far below, the conveyor belts shuddered to a halt. The whirring arms drooped like wilted flowers, their weapons clattering uselessly to the floor or the meat grinder far below. The constant hum of the forge faded into silence.

  Karl exhaled, shoulders sagging. “Well,” he said, voice echoing softly, “at least there are no more traps.”

  Kara didn’t answer. Her expression was unreadable.

  He tilted his head, watching her as they stepped over cooling metal and ash. “You look disappointed. Everything okay?”

  “It’s nothing.” She shook her head, brushing soot from her fur.

  “Come on,” Karl said, a crooked smile tugging at his muzzle. “That’s your ‘I’m thinking about something I’m not supposed to’ face.”

  Kara sighed, giving him a side-eye as they started up the stone staircase that spiraled toward a faint light above. The walls here were carved with Dwarven runes in what looked like lines of script, though he couldn’t decipher these either. Each step creaked faintly beneath their claws, echoing through the hollow chamber.

  “It’s stupid,” she muttered.

  “Then it’s definitely important,” Karl said.

  She hesitated. “It’s about my Valkyrie quest.”

  Karl slowed, ears twitching. “I thought you said that was impossible now.”

  “I did.” Her claws brushed the wall as they climbed, tracing the runes. “But every time we fight… every time I gain Glory… the quest counter still moves. It’s small, but it’s climbing. I don’t know why.”

  “Maybe the System doesn’t know what to do with you,” Karl offered.

  She laughed once, a low, sad sound. “Maybe. Or maybe Odin hasn’t given up on me.” Her tone softened. “Part of me thinks that if I reach ten thousand Glory, maybe—just maybe—he’ll overlook what I’ve become. Maybe he’ll still let me become a Valkyrie.”

  Karl didn’t answer right away. His throat went tight. Like your mother, he thought.

  They climbed in silence for a while, the sound of lava somewhere above growing louder with each step.

  “And if you do reach it?” he asked quietly.

  Kara’s eyes met his, glowing faintly in the dark. For a heartbeat, they looked softer—almost human again. “Then I’ll join her.”

  Her gaze drifted away as she said it, voice barely more than a whisper. Karl didn’t need to ask what that meant. He already knew.

  At last, they emerged into the chamber above.

  It was vast—cathedral-sized, easily. Bronze archways stretched so high they vanished into steam. Waterfalls of lava poured down from the walls in symmetrical rows, lighting the entire room in a trembling red-gold glow. The heat pressed against his fur, thick and humid.

  In the center of the chamber rested a giant pool of molten rock. Floating above it was a colossal bronze head—a Dwarven automaton, half submerged. Its closed eyes glowed faintly through seams of molten light, and the curved plates of its face shifted ever so slightly, like something dreaming beneath the surface. Tubes and gears wound across its features, giving it the uncanny beauty of something divine—and very, very dangerous.

  And all around the lava pool, treasure gleamed.

  Piles of quarried stone stacked higher than wagons. Crates of refined iron, rows of runed tools, racks of weapons, everything that Karl could want from a dungeon. Statues of Dwarven kings stood guard over it all, each one nearly three times human height, which Karl thought was humorous, as if they had something to prove. Their expressions were solemn, cloaked in molten reflections from the glowing pit.

  And there—resting on an altar of blackened metal behind the automaton’s head—was the dungeon’s heart. A single, massive bronze key, shaped like a hammer crossed with a rune sigil. Beyond it stood a wall of tall, dark windows that looked out over the forests and hills of Gotland, the world bathed in twilight.

  Karl stared. The view stretched for miles, the horizon painted gold with the torchlights of a nearby village twinkling in the distance, which Karl could only guess was the one Harald Bluetooth and his gang were going to, given its proximity.

  “We were under this the whole time?” Karl asked.

  “Dwarven magic,” Kara murmured. “Or maybe the System is playing tricks again.”

  For a moment, he just let himself enjoy the sight. After everything—the fire, the traps, the near-deaths—they could finally see daylight. And with that key, they could walk out without having to backtrack through it all.

  Easy.

  He almost smiled. But when he looked at Kara, the thought died in his throat.

  She wasn’t looking at the treasure or the key. Her gaze was fixed on the sleeping automaton and the glowing lava below, her face shadowed with anger mixed with regret and determination.

  Karl’s ears flattened. “You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

  Her silence told him everything.

  Whatever the System had planned for this place, she wasn’t ready to walk away from it.

  Without a word, she strode across the platform toward the massive anvil positioned before the automaton’s bronze face. The thing loomed like an altar, its surface carved with Dwarven runes that glowed faintly beneath the heat. Steam hissed from the molten cracks surrounding it, painting her in ghostly red light.

  A crimson System prompt appeared before them both, its glow reflecting in her eyes.

  System Message: “Interaction Available: Divine Forge of Brokk”