The Luminous Heart Ore.

In the age of the Ancients, it had been spoken of as a living metal, a crystallized echo of creation itself. Back then, mana essence flowed freely in the air—woven into breath, earth, and flame. The ore formed naturally when that essence sank deep into veins of Magisteel, reshaping them into something brighter, stronger, alive.

But those days were gone. The skies no longer sang with mana essence, and the veins had long since gone cold. The Luminous Heart Ore was considered extinct.

For anyone else.

Rhys's lips curled in a faint smirk as he trekked across the stony ridges. Thanks to his bond with the Ancients—through Puddle, Aurelius, Moonbounce, and the very legacy of the Tamer—he still carried mana essence, not the thinned and separated "mana" of modern times, but the true primal current. His core wasn't just a reservoir. It was a forge. And that meant he could do what no smith alive could. He could create it.

Still, one problem remained.

The ore could only take form through the heart-shaped variant of Magisteel—an exceedingly rare mutation of the common veins. Ordinary Magisteel was plentiful, its dull black luster prized for runes and enchantments. But the "Heartsteel," as miners called it, was a legend even among legends. It appeared as a vein shaped like a pulsating heart, glowing faintly with inner rhythm. That rhythm was what allowed mana essence to bind and reshape it into Luminous Heart Ore.

Without it, the process was impossible.

"Figures," Rhys muttered under his breath as the wind whipped across the mountains. "Nothing worth having ever comes easy."

He unrolled a rough map he had marked from the Archive. Several mines were noted, most long-abandoned after the veins dried out. Still, if Heartsteel existed anywhere, it would be hidden in those forsaken depths, waiting for someone who could hear its call.

The climb was not gentle. The mountain paths were scarred from centuries of picks and carts, and the air grew colder with each step. Puddle's calm presence pulsed faintly through the bond, steadying his breath. Moonbounce's glow hummed at the edge of awareness, a soft lantern in his heart space. Aurelius, still small and fragile, trilled in his sleep, radiating warmth that reminded him of the forge-light below Smithfist.

Rhys reached a dark ravine where a collapsed mine entrance yawned like a broken tooth. He crouched low, hand brushing the ground, feeling for the pulse of essence. Nothing… nothing… then—faintly, the whisper of something deeper. A rhythm. Slow. Steady.

His eyes narrowed. "There you are."

He drew his blade and set a hand against the broken stone. Mana essence surged, flooding into the cracks. The collapsed rock shuddered, dust spilling as runes sparked across the surface. With a heavy rumble, the barrier split, revealing a narrow tunnel leading into the abyss.

The mine breathed cold air against his face. Not empty air. Heavy. Waiting.

"Time to do some serious mining," Rhys said, stepping into the dark.

The tunnel sloped steeply downward, walls streaked with veins of dull gray ore. His boots scraped against loose gravel, the sound echoing unnaturally far into the dark. The deeper he went, the stronger the rhythm became—not loud, but steady, like a heartbeat muffled behind stone.

At first, Rhys thought it was the Heartsteel already calling. But as the echo sharpened, he realized it was… off. Too quick, too shallow, with a faint scratching noise between the beats.

He slowed his pace, hand brushing the haft of the weapon strapped across his back—not a sword this time, but the gleaming pickaxe he had purchased on the way down. Forged from tempered mythril with runic veins along its edge, it was less a miner's tool and more an artifact that could split mountains if swung with intent.

"Not ore," he murmured, eyes narrowing. "Something alive."

The answer came with a low rumble through the walls. Dust shook from the ceiling, and a fissure opened in the tunnel floor. From it crawled a massive shape—mottled stone hide, eyes glowing dim red, jagged claws tearing into the rock as if it were clay.

An ore mole.

Rhys exhaled through his nose, almost a sigh. "Figures."

The beast's heartbeat had been what he sensed. It stood twice his height, its back lined with crystal shards from years of burrowing through mineral veins. Ore moles were territorial, drawn to vibrations, and they crushed anything that dared approach their burrows. This one's claws could shear through iron like butter.

Still, Rhys didn't tense. He rolled his shoulders once, loosening them, and muttered, "Guess you're angry."

The mole roared, a grating sound like rock grinding on rock, and lunged forward.

Rhys swung the pickaxe free in one smooth motion, its edge catching the faint glow of the crystals overhead.

The mole was only a Rank 1 creature, so it died instantly from the backlash of Rhys blocking its attack. "Poor guy," Rhys muttered as the beast slumped to the ground.

Its crystal-backed hide carried a purified core he could use to craft some useful tools—or simply fuse back into his gear as a strengthening shield.

Pocketing the core, Rhys let his senses spread out again, feeling for that deep heartbeat hidden in the stone. It pulsed faintly, farther down. He followed, turning through another bend in the broken tunnel.

But just as he caught the rhythm again, the ground shivered beneath his boots. Another set of claws scraped free of the rock.

More nibblings. Another mole.

The second mole burst through the wall in a spray of gravel, its crystal-plated body gleaming in the dim light. This one was bigger, its claws sharper, its eyes glowing faintly with the essence it had swallowed from the rock.

Rhys tilted his head. "Rank 2, huh? At least you're worth swinging at."

The mole screeched and lunged. Rhys didn't bother to draw his sword—he twisted aside, letting the creature's bulk slam into the tunnel wall. Before it could turn, he brought the pickaxe down in a sharp arc. The enchanted edge bit through crystal hide like it was brittle glass.

The mole convulsed once, then collapsed, its core clattering free as the body dissolved into dust. Rhys caught the glowing shard in his palm, rolling it between his fingers before tucking it away with the first. "At this rate, I'll have enough for a new set of tools before I even find the vein."

The heartbeat thudded again—stronger this time. Rhys paused, eyes narrowing. It wasn't just the ore he was sensing now. Something else stirred deeper in the mine. A bigger rhythm. He adjusted his grip on the pickaxe, mana flowing lightly under his skin.

"Alright," he muttered. "Let's see what's waiting at the bottom."

He pushed forward, boots crunching over loose stone. The tunnel narrowed before splitting into three paths, each choked with old support beams and half-buried in rubble. The heartbeat echoed from somewhere ahead, but the stone distorted its direction, making it hard to tell which way was true.

"Oh, Puddle's new skill could be useful here," Rhys muttered, a faint smile tugging at his lips. She'd recently unlocked one of her hidden talents—[Divide], the ability to split her essence into smaller avatars of herself to scout or distract enemies. Perfect for a maze like this.

He called her out, and the ancient beast rippled into being, eyes glowing softly. "Master, why are we in a tunnel?" she asked, her voice carrying the curious innocence that always contrasted her immense power.

Rhys crouched, patting her head. "Help me scout these three paths"

With a shimmer, Puddle split apart, three smaller slimes hopping forward, each bouncing down a separate tunnel path. Their translucent forms glowed faintly in the dark, like little lanterns.

A moment later, one of them sent back its voice, thin and echoing. "Master, that first one… it's a nest. Dangerous. Too many."

The second reported back soon after. "This path ends in stone. A dead end."

Finally, the third voice came, trembling with urgency. "Master… this one is strange. I feel… not a heartbeat, not alive—but something beating in the ore. Like… like a heart trapped in stone."

"Heh… that's exactly what I want," Rhys muttered, nodding. He focused, letting his senses follow Puddle's lead. Soon, she returned, a small glowing fragment clutched in her translucent hands.

"The Heart Steel," she said softly. "It was big, so I kept it."

Rhys held the fragment carefully, murmuring a silent prayer over it. "Good work, Puddle. Let's find four more of these. After all, I am not sure… I'll be able to artificially create Luminous Heart Ore in one attempt."

She nodded eagerly, and together they pressed deeper into the tunnels, following the faint pulses that hinted at other hidden heart-steel veins, each one bringing them closer to completing the rare material Rhys needed.

Rhys moved carefully through the twisting tunnels, Puddle gliding just ahead in her ethereal, semi-solid form. The faint pulsing of the Heart Steel fragments acted like a compass, guiding them through the fractured stone.

"Master… this way," Puddle whispered, her voice tinged with excitement. Tiny slivers of light flickered around her as she hovered over a patch of stone that seemed… alive.

Rhys crouched, brushing his hand over the rock. His mana essence flowed into the crevices, probing, harmonizing. A faint heartbeat throbbed beneath the surface. He struck with his pickaxe carefully, shattering the stone in precise bursts.

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