Beside the flame stood a throne, crafted from some strange material that pulsed with an eerie orange and blue bioluminescent glow. Seated upon it was a figure—taller, more muscular than the others, yet sharing the same molten eyes. Perched atop his head was a black crown, dark as charcoal, without a single gem or decoration. His gaze, full of disinterest, swept over the one attempting to be reborn in the fire. "So much festivity… for nothing," he muttered.
"I'm sorry, my king, but we need this to keep morale high," said the figure standing beside the throne.
"You think I don't know that?" The Ashking's voice carried a slow, simmering heat. "I wouldn't be here otherwise. If only we could do as we pleased! Those damned bastards… they think they can order us Nephirid around as they wish."
"About that, my king," the advisor hesitated, then continued, "one of them contacted us. They claim they'll lift the restrictions on us… if we get them something they want."
The Ashking's molten gaze flickered. "What do you mean? Explain."
"They're searching for a traveler. They say there's one in our depths. If we capture it alive before their magus arrives—"
"Will they really keep their word?" The Ashking let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "I don't believe them. Have you already forgotten what they did to us?"
"Of course not, my king."
Ben and Elvira had no idea. They had fallen all the way down—past the known depths—into Layer 12, an uncharted domain where the Nephirid ruled. Yet even here, the Nephirid were far from their former glory. If anything, they were at their weakest… all thanks to the faction the Ashking so bitterly called 'bastards.'
The Ashking glanced at the back of his hand. A white sigil lay there, its glow faint, dimmed nearly to nothing. He scoffed. "If that's all they offer, then we have no reason to obey. The seal will be removed soon anyway. But that doesn't mean we do nothing." His gaze turned sharp. "Send a squadron. Kill the magus. Capture them alive if possible."
The advisor gave a deep bow. "And the traveler?"
The Ashking's eyes settled on the figure inside the flame. A slow smirk spread across his face. "Use him for the Trial of the Warrior."
The advisor sucked in a sharp breath. To become a full-fledged Ashborn, one had to pass two rituals. The first—Baptism of Fire—where the body was reforged in primordial flame, granting immunity to fire and creating one's molten core. The second and final step—Trial of the Warrior—where the initiate had to hunt a powerful enemy and feed them to their molten core, birthing their own living weapon.
"My king, are you certain?" the advisor hesitated. "I thought you would at least capture him. Feeding a traveler's artifact to the molten core won't necessarily pass on its—" His words cut off as the Ashking's burning gaze turned to him, searing with quiet fury.
"Count yourself lucky," the Ashking said, voice like embers beneath the wind. "The kingdom has too few skilled people left. If this were the past, I would have cut your neck already." His molten fingers curled into a fist. "You think I don't know something so basic? This is the last time I'll explain myself. Taming a traveler is nearly impossible. Cooperating with one is even more dangerous in our situation. It's better to crush them early. Though… I do wonder how he got past the barrier at Layer 10." The Ashking's molten eyes flickered once more. "Not that it matters. The risk isn't worth it. The vassal already keep making up noise, if they have a change I'm sure they'll attack."
The advisor clenched his jaw. He still wanted to object. If the traveler had truly broken through the barrier with brute force… then the newborn Ashborn would stand no chance. But he knew better than to push further. 'I'm sorry… you're on your own, Draeven.'
Meanwhile, the platform Ben made had completely transformed. It had grown in size to a 10x15 block area, now covered with a smooth floor. Tall walls had been constructed, creating 8x8 area, and he placed the final block, sealing off the ceiling. The structure was basic—a plain square building with no decorations yet. But for now, it was more than enough. He could always add more details later when he had the time.
The building had two entrances for now—one was a trapdoor on the ceiling, and the other was a normal doorway. He planned to expand the structure further, eventually adding an entrance to an underground area.
Other than the trapdoor, the ceiling also had multiple openings for Eldergleam crystals. It was a simple system—Elvira just needed to drop the crystal through one of the openings, and it would fall straight into a crate that Ben had set up below.
Inside the building, several weird-looking devices had been installed. The first one was 2 blocks wide and 3 blocks tall—a simple mechanism designed to take crystals from storage on one side and grind them using the gears inside. Right now, the gears had to be turned manually, meaning Ben would need to assign a few workers to help Elvira with her work.
She could use magic to operate the machine, but it wouldn't be efficient. Her mana was better spent elsewhere—like finishing the products or doing things that couldn't be replaced yet, such as igniting flames hot enough to melt Eldergleam dust.
Another machine functioned like a furnace, designed to make it easier for Elvira to concentrate her flames, raising the heat exponentially.
The last machine wasn't finished yet. It was a simple logistics device, something that would allow Elvira to send finished traps directly to the storage area. This way, workers wouldn't need to keep coming in and out of her lab. Ben still needed to build the storage building.
There were also multiple desks and simple furniture inside, giving Elvira a place to take breaks or do research. "Alright," Ben muttered, stretching his arms. "Next, I will need to create the worker."