The narrow stone passages of the headquarters trembled under the rapid patter of Miki and Ren’s feet. Their light boots struck an excited, rattling rhythm against the cobblestones, as if the entire corridor had been turned into their personal racetrack. Miki was overflowing with unfiltered energy. Her arms swung wide back and forth as she looked behind her at Ren, her eyes as big and glossy as two freshly polished gemstones.
“Ren, if we don’t move faster, Davinci’s already claimed the best stuff, I swear to you!” Miki yelled, spinning halfway around and hopping backward.
Ren let out a loud, carefree laugh that echoed hard through the high support beams. “Let him try! Once I get my eyes on that blacksmith, I’ll talk him into throwing in an extra sword just for the hell of it!”
Right behind the hyperactive duo, the rest of the Goats gathered at the central staging point. The contrast couldn’t have been sharper. Jane and Aurelius strolled forward with a tight, symmetrical calm. Their shoulders hung low, their breathing perfectly in sync, as if carrying an invisible wall of serenity with them. Right beside them walked Apollo with rigid steps, while Beat moved right at his side with a raw, radical intensity. Beat’s gaze was razor-focused, his jaw locked tight, his entire posture radiating an aggressive urge to simply pulverize any obstacle in their path.
“If that smith hands us garbage,” Beat growled in a low, cutting voice, his fingers clutching the vest over his chest, “I’m snapping his anvil in two. We don’t need pretty jewelry, Apollo. We need gear that splits shields and shatters bones.”
Apollo gestured quickly with his fingers. “Let’s see what he’s got first, Beat. Easy. The strategy dictates the tools, not the other way around.”
Meanwhile, Faustus and Renuardo bounced right behind them, their heads in constant motion. Renuardo darted from left to right, looking up at the ceiling beams, tapping a lightning-fast rhythm on his belt with his fingers, jumping into a brand-new topic mid-sentence.
“Look at that stone over there, Faustus, see that crack? That legit looks like a dragon, or no, a cat, wait, what if the ceiling collapses right now, d’you think that smith’s got gold or is he using wire? Wanna bet who gets inside first? No wait, I see a fly…”
Faustus spun around on his heels, clawed wildly through his pockets, yanked out a wooden toothpick, shoved it in his mouth, pulled it out again, and pointed it at the wall. “Look at that rune! It’s pulsing every three seconds! One, two, three, BOOM, no wait, four seconds! Think they have coffee in there? I swear if we don’t get black coffee in a second I’m passing out, but wait, we were here for armor right? Where’d my extra knife go? Ah, right here in my boot!”
Nyx and Silarias walked right alongside them, equally gripped by that non-stop, erratic ADHD focus. Nyx continuously twisted the rings around her fingers, her feet making tiny double-taps on the stone tiles while the darkness beneath her soles shot around in frayed, frantic patterns. Silarias fired off one idea after another, his eyes darting from Nicola to Nyx and back to the wall.
“Nyx, picture this, what if that guy can load my pauldrons with ether-runes that explode when I tackle someone? No wait, what if we weave darkness into the metal so it swallows light when I sprint? Wait, Nic, did you see those lathes in there when we walked past last time? I want arm hooks! No, screw that, lightning rods!”
Nicola looked at them with his chest puffed out, his thumbs hooked behind his belt and a crooked, annoyingly confident smirk on his face. “Look at you guys bouncing around. Like it’s your first time stepping into a candy shop. Sil, Nyx, Faust, act normal, man. When we step into that forge in a second, I want the thickest, sleekest pauldrons in the place. Something that shows I hit the hardest and look damn good doing it.”
Silarias burst into a short, frantic laugh, ran his hand through his hair, and quickly tapped Nicola’s shoulder. “Keep dreaming, Nic! You’ll be wobbling after two steps the second he drops a real breastplate on you! You’re gonna fall flat on your face!”
Lyn let out a sharp giggle and shoved Nicola sideways with her shoulder. “He’s right, you know. You’re flexing already!”
Nicola shrugged with the classic, indestructible arrogance of a guy who refuses to admit he’s wrong. “Just watch. I’ll show that smith what real class looks like.”
Lila and Kaelid strolled through the chaos with a fluid, almost royal detachment. Kaelid adjusted a vial of magical elixir at his belt with nimble, alert fingers while Lila let her gaze drift calmly over the walls. Behind them, Vulkan’s massive frame towered high, flanked by Valeria’s icy, alert glare. Bonk and Zax slouched behind. Bonk tore a tough piece of dried meat in two with his teeth, producing a loud, cracking crunch, after which Zax snatched half out of his hand without even looking. All the way in the back, Izamaro brought up the rear, his hand resting casually on his combat belt while Balamore moved beside him like a shadow, scanning every single corner of the corridors.
Davinci stopped abruptly at the center of the hall. He spun around with a dramatic flourish, sending his heavy, deep-purple fur coat fanning out around his body. His eyes glinted with pure drama.
“Listen up, Goats!” Davinci barked, throwing his arms wide. “Today we stop looking like a ragtag crew. It’s time the outside world sees who’s actually knocking at the gate!”
He turned his back to them and picked up the pace toward the outer archways.
Almost instantly, the architecture around them began to warp. It wasn’t subtle magic; reality itself started cracking open. Massive obsidian staircases, so heavy they could have supported an army, broke free from the foundation with a deafening, grinding noise. The stone steps shifted through the air, floating as loose platforms above the bottomless void and locking together with metallic clanks. Boulders the size of houses rotated slowly on their own axes in the middle of nowhere. The silver runes carved deep into the walls began to boil. They pulsed from a soft golden-green to a deep, aggressive blue that made the shadows on the walls dance to a rhythm. The magical pressure in the air turned so thick it weighed down the Goats’ breathing and made the hair on the backs of their necks stand on end.
At the end of the floating corridor rose a grotesque gate, tens of meters high and built from dark, twisted iron cast into the shape of curled horns belonging to mythological beasts. With a deep, groaning screech that cut straight to their marrow, the gate doors swung slowly outward.
There lay the invisible bridge.
There was no stone. No wood. No railing. Just thin air and a fathomless, pitch-black abyss where shreds of gray clouds drifted dizzyingly deep below them.
Vulkan planted one giant boot over the threshold, accidentally looked straight down into the vacuum, and froze the exact moment his weight was about to shift. The color drained from his face in one rapid wave until he was as pale as a sheet. Even his broad, muscular shoulders began to visibly tremble.
“No… no, no, shit…” Vulkan stammered. His giant hands clawed wildly backward, locking onto the stone frame of the gate. His knuckles turned snow-white from the force of his grip. “I… I completely forgot about this! My feet aren’t stepping on that. Not a chance in hell. I live here now.”
Miki, who had been running up front full of energy until that moment, now seemed just as firmly glued to the floor. Her playful energy vanished instantly. She stared with wide, terrified eyes at the empty air beneath her feet and took a step back, her heels clicking against the stone.
“Nuh-uh! Absolutely not!” Miki shrieked, clutching her hands behind her back, refusing to move even a millimeter closer.
Ren looked at her, let out a loud, booming laugh, and stepped toward her without a shred of hesitation. In one fluid, effortless motion, he grabbed Miki by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
“Hey! Let me go! Ren, I will kill you!” Miki screamed, her arms beating wildly against his back as she squeezed her eyes shut.
Ren didn’t care one bit. Whistling and balancing with his arms spread wide on the seemingly empty air, he marched straight across the invisible path to the other side like he was strolling down a sidewalk.
On the far side of the abyss, the ground felt solid under their boots once more. They stepped directly into the overwhelming bustle of Yellowstone Market.
Right at the entrance of the bustling plaza, the Bastion towered over them. The gigantic creature of living stone and ancient magical cores stood as still as a mountain. A few of the Goats, including Aurelius and Beat, walked right past it. With heavy, friendly thumps on the creature’s massive, moss-covered flanks, they greeted the guardian. The Bastion responded with a deep, low rumble echoing from deep inside its stone chest, making the ground beneath their boots noticeably shake.
Davinci waved his arms and urged the group forward in a heated tone. “Move it, move it! We’re not here for a tourist trip, we have an appointment!”
Yellowstone Market was an explosion of sensory overload. All around them, unique shops built from dark wood and rough stone rose into the air. On the left side stood rotisserie grills where immense skewers of dragon meat and magical game sizzled over bright blue spiral fires. Thick, heavy clouds of smoke scented with sharp spices, smoked garlic, and sizzling fat drifted through the street, making Bonk’s mouth water instantly. On the right, blacksmiths and mechanics stood behind crystal display windows, where rare ether-cartridges, magically charged circuit boards, and glowing, pulsing antings were displayed in wooden crates. Above the crowded throng of traders and adventurers hung heavy drapes of deep red velvet, illuminated by floating, ethereal lanterns that cast a warm, golden glow across the plaza.
The Goats carved their way through the crowd until the bustle of the stalls slowly faded, giving way to a quiet, secluded plot of land.
There rose the structure: a grotesque temple. From the outside, the building looked serene, quiet, and ancient, built from dark timber several meters thick and heavy natural stone. On all four sides, the giant wooden doors stood wide open. A scorching, dry heat surged outward from the interior, heavy with the smell of molten iron, sulfur, and burnt oak.
Davinci was the first to step over the threshold, the hem of his purple fur coat sweeping over the dusty stone. The Goats followed close on his heels.
In the absolute center of the hot, smoke-filled space stood an immense creature. It was Oslo the Giant Forgeling. With his gigantic, muscular build and his face scarred by soot and fire, he towered well over three meters above the group. His hands, as massive and rough as heavy anvil hammers, handled a tiny chisel on a workbench with a bizarre, almost delicate precision.
Oslo stopped mid-motion. Slowly, his broad head rose. His sharp, bright yellow eyes narrowed through the thick smoke as he scanned the incoming Goats. His gaze fixed firmly on Davinci.
“Uh… um… Davinci…” Oslo rumbled. His voice sounded like two massive boulders grinding violently against each other. “Were you followed?”
Davinci stood his ground. Without twitching a single muscle in his face, he spoke in an icy, dry tone. “No.”
A nearly imperceptible wink crossed Davinci’s face, so fast the rest of the Goats almost missed it entirely. Immediately after, Davinci reached deep under his purple coat. Without saying another word, he shoved two heavy, bulging leather sacks straight into the master smith’s gigantic palms.
Oslo wrapped his massive fingers around the sacks and weighed them in his hands a few times. The heavy, dull clink of pure, solid gold echoed loudly through the high timber roof of the temple. A broad, toothy grin slowly broke through the layer of soot on his face.
“Haha! Davinci, since our last meeting, I’ve done a little remodeling in here!”
Oslo grabbed a massive, cast-iron lever sticking out of the floor beside his central anvil and yanked it up with a hard, metallic clack.
With a deep, thundering roar that shook the dust from the beams, all four gigantic temple doors slammed shut simultaneously. The daylight was shut out in an instant, plunging the workshop into a dark, sweltering warmth.
Above their heads, five immense, rough gemstones began floating through the air in a perfect circle. They ignited in a blinding, ethereal light that cut through the shadows. A rippling, translucent wave of ether-energy shot down from the crest of the temple, forming a pulsing, shimmering dome around the entire property. On the outside, reality shifted: the ether made the temple visually and physically disappear completely into the landscape. To anyone walking down the road outside, the path simply continued uninterrupted over the exact spot where the building stood.
Nyx leaned slightly toward Silarias, biting her lip frantically and popping her knuckles in a rapid sequence. “Sil, d’you think that thing actually works? Wait, what if that ether wave locks us in or shuts down our magic? Did you see those stones? They’re spinning counterclockwise, no, clockwise! What if we’re trapped in here?”
Silarias looked up, his eyes flying from gemstone to gemstone, his muscles tense from the rapid rush of thoughts. “Nah, see those runes under the ridge? They’re absorbing the pressure! Wait, but if the floor moves we gotta jump, no, stand still…!”
Before Silarias could finish his sentence, the stone floor beneath their boots dropped several meters with a hard shock and a deep, mechanical crunch.
Renuardo let out a loud shout of excitement. “WHOA! See! An elevator! Faustus, look at those gears! They’re running on blue ether!”
Faustus pointed wildly with his toothpick. “That’s no ordinary ether, that’s compressed antings-steam! Look at those pipes on the side! Man, this is genius!”
All around them, hundreds of built-in crystals and magical runes flashed to life on the walls. The space transformed right before their eyes. They were no longer standing in a traditional temple, but right in the middle of a cross between an underground fantasy bunker and a high-tech forge. Everywhere, heavy ether generators hummed at a low, tangible frequency. Reinforced runes in the bedrock pulsed in rhythmic patterns of blue and gold, while steam-driven machinery, hydraulic presses, and magical lathes were continuously fed by shimmering, energy-rich antings. Against the rock walls hung gigantic racks filled with rare fabrics, breastplates of dark metal, razor-sharp weapons, and masterfully finished combat gear.
The raspy murmurs and uninterrupted, rhythmic hammering of Oslo’s assistants echoed through the depths of the gigantic workshop.
Oslo stepped forward with a booming laugh, his broad chest puffed out with pride. “I haven’t been sitting idle!”
He marched with long strides toward a giant stone drafting table in the center of the hall and slammed his massive knuckle hard onto it. The stone slab lit up from within, projecting a three-dimensional, magical light schematic into the air: The Laughing Goats.
The design showed helmet components with two elegant, backward-curling horns that appeared to be forged from a combination of gold and glossy ivory. The pauldrons flared steeply upward, shaped like the powerful, flexed neck of a mountain goat. The base of the armor consisted of dark, magically charged metal finished with refined golden ornaments. On the chest plate proudly sat a stylized sun, wedged precisely between the two horns, while a heavy, rough fur collar draped over the shoulders of the cloaks.
Beat stepped forward, his eyes locked onto the draft. He ran his hand along his chin, staring at it with a rock-hard, unyielding glare. “The horns look sick, but the plating on the chest is too thin. If a wave of heavy strikers slams into this, the gold’s gonna shatter. It needs to be thicker. Brutal. It’s gotta take damage AND deal it out.”
Davinci placed his hand on his chin, tilted his head at the projection, and shook his head slowly, thoughtfully. “Mm… nah, nah. Beat’s got a point, and it’s still not quite there… We need armor sets that don’t just create a unified appearance, but fit each person individually. Their unique powers, their fighting styles, their anatomy.”
Oslo raised a heavy eyebrow. A challenging, confident smirk spread across his face.
“I got just the thing for that…” Oslo said with a deep nod.
He gestured with his gigantic hand toward the back section of the forge. There stood a heavy, elevated stone platform. Right behind the platform was a giant wall made of a crystal-like substance that slowly began to move and shimmer the moment magic coursed through it.