The deeper they traveled, the more oppressive the heat became.
Soon Edison was shrugging off his leather jacket and tying it around his waist, his tank top already sticking to his back with sweat.
"Are we walking into a volcano?" he grumbled, swiping at his forehead.
"Possibly," Guide mused. "Freljord's volcanic activity is concentrated near—"
"Thump."
Something soft but insistent bumped against Edison's backside. He turned to find the little poro blinking up at him innocently—or what would be innocent if not for the way its eyes kept darting downward toward his waist.
"Ah," Guide said. "It appears your coat is obstructing the Poro-Snax pouch."
The poro's little beard like face fur trembled, its enormous eyes welling with crystalline tears that reflected the dim glow of the dying torch with devastating effectiveness.
Edison clutched his chest.
"Ugh—that's cheating!"
But his hands were already moving, fishing out a treat.
The poro's despair vanished instantly as it snatched the offering with a happy prrt, tail nub wagging furiously.
Thud.
This time the impact nearly knocked him forward. Edison whirled around—
—and found himself staring down at the hammer-wielding poro.
Though slightly larger than the little poro, even with its spiraled horn it barely reached Edison's thigh.
Yet those obsidian eyes held terrifying depth, like staring into a well of ancient grudges condensed into a comically small package.
Edison instinctively took a half-step back. "Uh..."
The poro's mustache twitched. Up this close, he could see it's lush facial fur, each iron ring at the end etched with tiny runes that glowed faintly under the torch's faint light.
Silence stretched.
"The Poro-Snax..." Guide whispered like a hostage negotiator.
"Oh! Right!" Edison fumbled for another treat, nearly dropping it in his haste.
The hammer poro sniffed delicately before accepting the offering with surprising grace.
One nibble. Then—
"...Hnn."
Its brows relaxed marginally. A slow blink. Another nibble.
Then, with the solemnity of a wine connoisseur, it gave a single approving nod before giving Edison's thigh one firm smack that almost sent Edison stumbling to the wall.
Edison rubbed his throbbing thigh, staring at the surprisingly powerful creature.
The hammer poro continued nibbling its treat with refined precision, every chew radiating quiet dignity completely at odds with its grumpy eyebrows.
As he watched, something tickled at the back of Edison's memory.
Those iron-ringed mustache... The hammer... The darkened fur...
"The Fabled Poro..." Edison muttered.
The Fabled Poro.
The legendary figure said to bestow magical gifts upon worthy porokind. A blacksmith among fluffballs.
Edison's breath hitched as the pieces snapped together—the unnatural heat coiling through the tunnels, the indestructible dark stone, and now the Fabled Poro padding ahead of him with its hammer. His mouth went dry.
"Guide," he whispered. "That heat... it's not geothermal, is it?"
"...No." Sensing Edison's inner thoughts, Guide responded with infuriating calm. "Like I said, my guess is as good as yours."
The tunnel beyond the crack was different—wider, smoother, as if it had been deliberately carved rather than naturally formed. The metallic veins in the stone were thicker here, pulsing faintly with a dull, ruddy glow, like embers beneath ash.
The grumpy poro led the way without looking back, its hammer resting on one shoulder.
Edison exhaled, forcing his nerves down. No point overthinking it now.
He picked up his speed.
After several minutes of winding descent, the tunnel opened into a vast cavern
The walls were lined with intricate carvings, their edges worn smooth by time. Strange glowing stones were embedded in the rock, casting a dim, flickering light across the cavern.
The space felt more like a storage hall carved from the heart of the mountain than a natural cave.
Crates of every size were stacked in orderly chaos along the walls, brimming with dark ores that shimmered faintly even in the dim, ambient glow.
The metal in the tools hanging from hooks caught the low light in subtle flashes, as if each item had been polished by centuries of use, yet still bore the marks of hands that had worked tirelessly to shape it.
The air itself seemed heavy, vibrating faintly with the reverberation of distant hammering, carrying the warm, metallic tang of molten metal and stone.
At the far end of the chamber, a massive stone double door loomed, slightly ajar. A wave of heat radiated from it, rolling forward in waves that made the air shimmer.
"The forge," Guide said, its voice low, confirming what Edison had already realized.
A deep breath filled his lungs, though it offered no relief from the stifling warmth. He knew exactly where he was now.
Then, faint but insistent, came a sound.
"Clang… Clang… Clang…"
The rhythm was steady, measured, the unmistakable echo of hammer on metal. It resonated through the cavern like a heartbeat, drawing Edison forward despite the sweat slicking his skin and the weight of apprehension settling in his chest.
He stepped cautiously past the crates, past the walls hung with tools of all shapes and sizes, each shadow and glint of metal pulling his gaze in multiple directions at once.
The storage room gave way to a colossal hallway that seemed almost impossibly tall, stretching twenty feet overhead and ten wide, lined with heavy doors on either side that hinted at more chambers within the mountain.
A nudge at his side made him glance down.
The Fabled Poro stood there, dark eyes locked onto his with a seriousness that made the small creature seem ancient. It gestured deliberately toward the massive stone door at the end of the hall.
Right. Of course. Edison was an intruder here, an uninvited trespasser.
He swallowed hard and began walking toward the door, every step sounding impossibly loud in the quiet corridor.
The stone door itself was unlike anything he'd seen—etched with intricate runes that pulsed faintly, stretching nearly as wide and tall as the hallway, and between the slightly ajar slabs a sliver of light spilled through, so bright it nearly blinded him against the dim, reddish glow of the cavern.
The hammering from beyond grew louder, each strike ringing with crystal clarity, echoing as if the mountain itself was responding to the rhythm.
Edison's throat went dry.
"Remember to choose your words carefully," Guide murmured, unusually serious.
The gravity in its tone sent a shiver crawling down Edison's spine, sharpening every nerve.
He squared his shoulders and stepped forward.
The heat hit him instantly, like a living, breathing entity, thick and dry, stealing the air from his lungs.
His eyes watered as the scorching air seared against them, forcing him to blink rapidly. And then, when they cleared, the sight before him stopped him entirely.
The cavern beyond was enormous, vast beyond comprehension, a forge built on a scale that seemed impossible.
Rivers of molten lava flowed beneath massive stone platforms, burning with deep, fiery red that reflected in the jagged surfaces above.
Flames leapt in great arcs, hissing and spitting embers into the air before plunging back into the fire below.
Platforms, broad and unyielding, hung suspended over the inferno, anchored by chains thicker than ancient oaks, their roots biting into the walls and ceiling like the fingers of the mountain itself.
Bridges of carved stone connected the platforms, forming a labyrinth of pathways that all converged on one central stage.
And there, at the heart of it all, a figure worked.
The silhouette, warped by the heat's rippling distortion, was unmistakable in its majesty. Broad-shouldered, crowned with great curling horns, the figure's arm rose and fell in an unrelenting rhythm, each strike of the hammer sending sparks flying that danced across the cavern like fireflies.
The sound reverberated through the vast chamber, each clang rolling in waves that made the air vibrate with power and intent.
Edison's pulse thundered in his ears, his mouth moving before he could stop it. The name slipped out in a breath, a whisper filled with awe and disbelief.
"Ornn…"