The dark iron door loomed before them, its surface carved with strange, interwoven patterns that seemed to twist and writhe under the dim light. A faint, mysterious aura clung to the door, as if ancient secrets slept beneath its surface.
Rune and the others looked utterly confused, unable to make sense of the intricate markings. But Magus recognized them at first glance.
Enchantment runes.
Their structure was simple yet elegant — old defensive magic, the kind used to guard forbidden places. These particular runes appeared to be nothing more than low-tier traps: once triggered, they would sound an alarm and lash out at the intruder.
But now they were dim and lifeless. The flow of mana had long ceased; the runes had failed. Even the finest enchantments could not escape the slow decay of time.
Rune turned to Magus, a hint of excitement in his eyes. "Is the place where the Iron-Eating Beasts were created behind this door?"
Magus nodded slightly. "Most likely. But stay alert. Those beasts won't sit idly by while we walk in."
As if his words had summoned them, the rock walls on both sides of the iron door cracked open with sharp, grinding noises. From within the stone burst several Iron-Eating Beasts, their metal hides glinting dully, their movements accompanied by a foul gust of decay.
Everyone had been on edge, ready for battle. With a collective shout, they met the oncoming creatures head-on.
Only Brede took a few steps backward, raising his heavy shield to guard Magus. Having witnessed Magus's power before, the group had already recognized that he was their greatest strength against these monsters — the heart of their formation.
Magus raised one hand, his lips moving in a soft, deliberate chant. This time, instead of using Acid Splash, he chose another spell — Wizard's Hand.
Far ahead, an Iron-Eating Beast leaping toward Rune suddenly froze midair. Its limbs flailed wildly, claws scraping at empty air, but its body was suspended as though caught by invisible strings.
Rune's eyes flashed. He lunged forward in a burst of movement — Flash — closing the distance in an instant. His blade slashed across the beast's neck again and again, each strike precisely at the same point. On the third strike, the creature's head tumbled free, and its body crashed to the ground with a dull, metallic thud.
The group cheered inwardly. Compared to Acid Splash, which allowed only a single, instantaneous attack, Wizard's Hand might have been weaker in direct damage, but its duration and control made it perfect for teamwork — especially against beasts like these.
Magus watched the others fight and couldn't help thinking to himself:
It's fortunate these low-level puppets lack intelligence. If they knew enough to target fragile spellcasters first, even Brede wouldn't be able to hold them off.
If these creatures weren't mindless constructs, Magus wouldn't have been forced to rely only on simple spells like Acid Splash and Wizard's Hand. A single Flash spell would have blinded them completely — beings born in darkness were notoriously sensitive to light.
Thanks to their practiced cooperation, the Iron-Eating Beasts began to fall one after another. Each time one lunged, Magus immobilized it or diverted its attack, while Rune and the knights struck with precision.
As Magus had predicted, the beasts showed no fear or instinct to retreat. Their only purpose was to guard the iron door. Even as their numbers dwindled, they fought on with unwavering ferocity.
After ten grueling minutes, the final beast met its end — cleaved in half by Rune's sword. Its heavy body fell in two pieces, scattering fragments of black stone and iron across the floor.
A heavy silence followed. The smell of burnt metal and dust hung in the air.
They had done it.
All twenty-odd Iron-Eating Beasts lay destroyed.
Rune stood amid the scattered fragments, breathing heavily, his face flushed with both exhaustion and excitement. Before this, he'd believed the Black Stone Mining Area to be an insurmountable threat. Yet here they were, victorious — and all because of Magus.
He turned to look at the young wizard's calm figure, awe glimmering in his eyes.
When Magus had first declared his intent to walk the path of wizardry, Rune had dismissed it as reckless folly — the whim of a scholar drunk on stories and dusty tomes. But now, after seeing his companion summon power beyond any knight or priest, Rune couldn't help but feel tempted himself.
Perhaps... I should try to study magic when we return to the inner castle.
Magus, oblivious to Rune's wandering thoughts, approached the massive iron door once more. He traced his fingers along the dull runes, confirming his earlier judgment — the magic traps were indeed defunct.
He signaled two knights. Together they pushed, muscles straining, until the door groaned open.
Rumble!
The sound echoed through the cavern as the iron slabs parted. Dust rained from the ceiling, and a cloud of gray filled the air.
When it finally cleared, a vast hall revealed itself before them. It stretched four or five hundred square meters wide, the floor paved with gray-blue stone tiles blanketed in centuries of dust. Scattered across the floor were claw marks and deep grooves — evidence of the beasts that had once prowled here.
This was clearly their den.
Three stone doorways yawned at the far end of the hall, each one open, each swallowed in darkness.
Several knights stepped forward, torches in hand. They entered the side passages one by one, checking for traps or hidden threats. When all returned with the all-clear, Magus and Rune proceeded inside.
Behind the first door, they found a vast chamber — a warehouse filled with neatly stacked bars of black stone iron. The air was thick with the metallic scent of ore and dust.
Rune and the others stood frozen in disbelief. These weren't unrefined ores but fully processed ingots, each one polished and cast to uniform size.
"T-there must be... thousands of them," murmured Jorton, swallowing hard. His voice trembled. "We're rich."
No one laughed at his outburst. Their own faces mirrored his astonishment. Even Rune's eyes widened in awe and greed, his expression twisted by emotion.
Black stone iron was known for its unusual qualities — as hard as fine iron but far lighter, making it prized among weapon smiths and enchanters alike. Each ingot was worth a fortune.
By Magus's quick estimation, the stockpile before them was worth at least six or seven thousand gold coins — nearly equivalent to ten years of Blackstone City's tax revenue.
It was a treasure trove beyond imagination.
While the others stood dazed, Magus merely took a steady breath. Wealth meant little to him; knowledge was worth more than gold. After a quick survey, he moved on to the next doorway.
The second room was smaller, filled with the smell of burnt metal. Inside were blacksmithing tools — furnaces, molds, and bellows, all coated with layers of rust and soot.
At the center stood a large stone table over three meters long, its surface scarred by deep cuts and scoring marks.
Magus examined the table, then the heaps of black stone iron stacked in one corner, and a realization dawned.
So this is where the puppet beasts were forged.
This had been the laboratory of a wizard apprentice — not a formal wizard. The signs were clear: the strength of the Iron-Eating Beasts, the crude enchantment on the iron door, and the absence of advanced wards all pointed to an apprentice's limited skill.
Had a true wizard been here, none of them would have made it past the first layer of defenses alive.
Magus searched the entire workshop, moving quickly and methodically. But aside from the blacksmithing tools and leftover materials, he found nothing of real value. No scrolls, no crystal cores, no magical reagents.
He sighed softly, shaking his head. Then he turned toward the third and final door.
The third room was far smaller but markedly different in atmosphere. Its walls were smoother, its floor swept cleaner. A small bed stood in one corner, a writing desk in another, and beside it — a tall, dust-covered bookshelf packed with books.
The faint scent of old parchment and ink lingered in the air.
Magus's eyes brightened.
He stepped closer, brushing a layer of dust off the shelves. The titles were faded, many written in ancient script — notes on rune theory, alchemy, and elemental synthesis. Though most were incomplete or damaged, even fragments of such knowledge were invaluable.
"Looks like we've found the apprentice's study," Rune said softly behind him.
Magus nodded. "Yes. And perhaps the key to his craft."
He began sorting through the books carefully, setting aside the ones that remained intact. Several were filled with dense, handwritten notes — sketches of puppet designs, rune arrays, and experimental formulae. A few pages even contained detailed diagrams of the Iron-Eating Beasts' internal structures, explaining how mana cores were embedded within black stone shells.
As he read, Magus's heart quickened. These notes could serve as a foundation for his own studies — the missing link between raw materials and magical synthesis.
After an hour of examination, Magus gathered several promising tomes and scrolls. When he looked up again, Rune was standing by the doorway, watching him quietly.
"Well?" Rune asked.
Magus smiled faintly. "Worth the journey."
They left the study together, rejoining the others in the main hall. The knights were still marveling at the treasure they had uncovered, their voices filled with excitement.
But Magus's gaze lingered on the iron door behind them.
Somewhere beyond these ruins, he knew, lay deeper secrets — not of gold or steel, but of knowledge. The legacy of the ancient wizards might still be waiting, buried in forgotten chambers like this one.
And for Magus, that was worth far more than any mountain of gold.