Suppressing a smile, Ezekiel reached into his inventory and, with a deliberate pace, pulled out the goods he'd selected for this trade.
Dark grey, jagged crystals — each the size of his palm — struck the counter with sharp, metallic clinks. Somia's eyes narrowed, the candlelight casting flickering shadows that sharpened the edges of her cheekbones.
"Dark Life Cores..."
Thirty-nine of them, pulsing faintly with a violet hue, each one alive with a strange, malevolent glow. Not corrupted — but something close.
These were Ezekiel's harvest from the bodies of the Children of Darkness that he killed in the White Stone Cave.
Somia's fingers didn't immediately move toward them. She regarded the glimmering stones with an almost inquisitive caution.
"…These are genuine," she said finally, voice lower now, more serious. "From pre-evolved Children of Darkness."
Ezekiel nodded.
Her fingers hovered a moment longer, then touched one. She turned it over delicately. "Still warm. You harvested them manually."
"Well, they don't drop clean unless you do."
She let out a breath and straightened. "You've been venturing into domains no sane Adventurer dares approach at your level. Shall I call you a genius or a fool?"
Ezekiel smiled at her words. Ironic, really — that she would question his sanity over a dungeon so trivial in the grand scale of what he planned.
"You may judge me however you wish," he said quietly. "But whatever the consequences, I am ready to bear them."
Whether it were Demonkins or Evil Deities, if he allowed fear to sway him, he'd never survive the road ahead — much less conquer it.
Somia held his gaze for a long moment, as if trying to read something beneath the surface. When she found only quiet resolve, she exhaled softly and looked away.
"Thirty-nine pristine cores from pre-evolved monsters. Not something I see often. I will offer you two gold coins for all of them."
Ezekiel didn't speak right away.
Instead, he slid an arm toward the cores and pulled them gently back toward himself. The elf arched a brow at his actions.
"I'm not looking for gold," he said.
That earned a longer pause.
Somia's gaze sharpened.
"Then what is it you want?"
Ezekiel reached into his inventory once more, this time with far more care. From its depths, he drew a silver chest etched with faintly glowing runes on its lid, and set it gently on the counter.
Without indulging in theatrics, he unlatched the lid and opened it.
A low, resonant hum filled the space. Warmth spilled out like breath from a sleeping beast, brushing against their skin.
Resting atop a bed of fine silken cloth lay the Magma's Heart.
A flawless emerald gemstone, threaded with delicate golden veins that pulsed in time with an unseen rhythm — as if it were alive.
Nearly twice the size of a Dark Life Core, it gleamed with an internal fire, each flicker of light reflecting off its polished surface. Even the candle flame leaned subtly toward it, as if drawn by a force it could neither resist nor comprehend.
Somia's breath caught audibly.
"…That's…" She leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's the genuine heart! Where did you get it?"
Ezekiel tilted his head. "Genuine?"
Somia's eyes flicked to him, then back to the Magma's Heart.
"Copies of this circulated within the black market ten years ago. Eight, perhaps nine of them in total appeared out of the blue one night. They, too, were powerful as standalone artifacts. But none compared to the original."
Her voice held a trace of awe.
"No fragments, no decay in the channeling veins, no mana echo distortions." Her fingers hovered an inch away, then pulled back. "This is indeed the real thing. The true first heart of the Ninth-Circle Archmage, Magma."
Ezekiel studied her reaction in silence, his mind racing.
So that's what it was.
Those Pseudo-Epic Magma's Treasures — so often tied to the same tier quests found in a selective few starting villages — had all been degraded copies.
He'd initially assumed that once one of these quests was completed and the treasure claimed, all similar quests would vanish — as Pseudo-Epic tier artifacts were typically unique, one-of-a-kind rewards.
But if these were merely replicas of an Epic-tier original, then their widespread presence made sense.
Still, one question gnawed at him: who could possibly forge accurate copies of an Epic-tier artifact?
He couldn't think of an NPC with that kind of craftsmanship.
If such a forger truly existed... and Ezekiel could find them, earn their trust — then perhaps he could farm Pseudo-Epic artifacts at will.
The mere thought quickened his pulse.
First things first, he needed to track down those copies. Collecting them might offer clues to the origin of the forgeries — and the one capable of such a feat.
But that plan could wait.
For now, he had to survive what came next.
His thoughts scattered as Somia's excited voice cut cleanly through the silence.
"Adventurer, trade it with me. I will offer you two thousand gold coins."
Ezekiel didn't know whether to laugh or sigh. The Magma's Heart was worth — at the very least — a thousand times more than the thirty-nine Dark Life Cores he'd just traded.
"I didn't bring it out to sell," he said plainly.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he conjured eighteen gold coins and arranged them in a tidy stack beside the silver chest. "Including the two you offered earlier, this makes twenty gold coins."
Somia's head snapped toward him. For a second, confusion flickered across her face — then it disappeared, replaced by sharp understanding.
"You—"
"Please implant this heart," he said, his voice steady as he met her gaze. "Into me."
The elf's eyes widened, disbelief flaring in their depths.
"You want me to perform a transplantation?" She echoed. "On yourself?"
He gave a calm nod.
"You're the only one in Fwerah with the skill to do it."
Somia held his gaze for a long, tense moment, her expression unreadable. Then her eyes narrowed — not with doubt, but calculation.
"That's not a casual surgery. You'd be replacing your true heart with another. If anything goes wrong — if your body rejects the bond — you'll die."
"I know."
"You'll feel it," she added, eyes searching his. "No potions, no spells to shield you. Just raw mana, cut nerves, broken flesh, and excruciating pain."
He didn't shy away from her gaze. "I am aware."
Somia exhaled through her nose, a quiet curse barely escaping her lips.
"…You're insane."
But she didn't say no.
She stared at the Magma's Heart again. "…Fine. But if I do this — there's no stopping halfway. You understand that?"
"I do."
Ezekiel was about 40% certain that it would work. Whereas, failure would mean crippling his account, and perhaps, even his mind in real life.
But he didn't have a choice. The Magma's Heart was crucial to the future trajectory of his class. He had to risk it all and leave the rest to fate.
Somia hesitated once more. Then, with a flick of her hand, the Dark Life Cores and the gold coins vanished without a trace.
Silently, she lifted the silver chest and turned toward the back of the counter.
"Follow me," she said, her voice quiet but resolute.
Across her, the back wall of the shop shimmered.
A shelf folded inward like rippling paper, revealing a smooth set of stairs carved from white granite, softly glowing with passive wards. The counter separating him from the other side also disappeared and Ezekiel followed without a word.
At the top, the world changed.
Somia's personal workshop felt otherworldly.
The scent of crushed herbs and sterilized silver. The floors were seamless black stone, etched faintly with healing runes. Wooden rafters curved into vaults that held no dust, no clutter — just order and precision. Five doors branched off from the circular chamber.
She gestured to the last on the left.
"Wait inside."
He obeyed.
The room beyond was stark — cold and sterile. White Stone walls, softly pulsing with heat-regulating enchantments. A single surgical bed lay at the center, runic restraints hanging loosely at its sides. No windows. No distractions.
Minutes later, Somia entered.
Now clad in a pitch-black surgical coat laced with shimmering enchantments and her hair pulled into a tight bun, Somia radiated precision and command.
Floating at her side was a white tray lined with surgical instruments — some forged from gleaming steel, others sculpted from enchanted bone and glass. Beside them rested the silver chest, its lid slightly ajar, the Magma's Heart pulsing faintly within.
She stopped in front of him, eyes settling on the collar of his tunic.
"Undress. And leave that one outside," she said, voice calm but firm.
Ezekiel hesitated.
"You sensed it?"
Somia offered a faint smirk, but gave no reply.
He exhaled slowly. Of course she had. Perhaps Roana had noticed too — but chosen to remain silent.
Reaching beneath his collar, he gently pulled out the now trembling hatchling.
"I need you to stay," he said softly. "It'll hurt. Bad. But don't interrupt until it's done."
The creature chirped once, all of its heads staring at him anxiously. It rubbed against his chest, refusing to move.
"Behave."
He gently pulled it off, set it by the door, and closed it behind him.
A soft, muffled sound followed — small and choked — and guilt struck him like a blow to the chest. But there was nothing he could do.
Silently, he unbuckled his armor, then pulled off his tunic, folding it beside the bed.
Somia cast a glance toward the closed door, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she returned her gaze to him.
"Lie down."
He did.
The bed was as comfortable as one in a hospital ward would be. But it couldn't take his mind off of what he was about to do to himself.
His heart didn't tremble — but something cold nestled beneath his sternum. Fear, not of dying, but of losing control.
Somia handed him a thick linen square.
"Keep this in your mouth, so you don't accidentally bite off your tongue."
Ezekiel nodded and followed.
The room dimmed as she spoke a binding incantation. Chains of soft red mana wrapped around his limbs and torso, leaving only his chest bare.
Then she picked up a bone-handled scalpel — and began.
What followed was three hours of unimaginable torment.
Pain like liquid fire coursed through his veins.
The first incision wasn't the worst. It was the moment she reached in — when his chest was opened, ribs eased apart, and his heart was lifted from his body — that agony bloomed into something unspeakable.
He screamed endlessly, but the handkerchief muffled all sounds. He instinctively tried to break free of his restraints. Gods, he tried. But Somia's binding chains were immovable.
He felt every nerve cry out, every mana circuit tremble. It wasn't just physical pain — it was spiritual, like his soul was being unspooled and rewoven.
She inserted the Magma's Heart, then began anchoring it — threading flesh and spell, stabilizing it rune by rune. He felt a foreign energy burn through every cell in his body.
Death whispered at his ear.
Ping—
{20 Merits with Divinity of Fate Consumed}
{Chances of Survival increased from 20% to 85%}
The heart flared once. He continuously arched against the bindings, vision shattering in shards of red and white.
Once it finally ended, he barely knew where he was.
The physical pain had begun receding, but only barely. His body was a trembling ruin of sweat and phantom fire.
Somia undid the bindings and pulled the handkerchief from his mouth. He sucked in a breath like it was his first.
The elf nodded, satisfied.
"Your body didn't reject it. No scarring, either. You're lucky you didn't rupture."
He didn't speak — he couldn't.
"Shower," she said, pointing to a newly appeared door at a corner of the room.
Ezekiel cast a glance at it, idly wondering just how many hidden rooms this building contained.
"Your clothes and gear will be clean by the time you're done," Somia said, her tone brisk. "Consider it part of the deal."
He gave a faint nod, unable to summon the strength to speak. His eyes slipped shut again as he worked to steady his breathing. His throat was raw, his mouth dry like sun-scorched parchment.
Somia turned without another word and left the room. From beyond the door, he could faintly hear her voice — soft, measured.
She was speaking to the hatchling. Reassuring it, no doubt, that the surgery had been successful. He was thankful for her consideration.
With a groan, Ezekiel sat up on the bed. Every muscle in his body felt taut, as though threaded with fire. He tried summoning the system window, hoping to catch a glimpse of his new stats — but nothing appeared.
Still synchronizing, perhaps. The heart might be too powerful for an instant update.
Sighing, he forced himself to his feet and stepped into the room Somia had pointed out earlier.
By the time he emerged, a towel slung around his torso and steam clung to his skin. His armor and clothes had been cleaned and neatly folded on the now-immaculate surgical bed. Beside them was also a glass of warm honey water.
He smiled. Wasting no time, he slipped into his gear. The residual heat from the shower helped soothe the lingering tension in his muscles, each movement just a little easier than the last.
The hatchling was waiting at the door, all heads pressed against it, tear lines still fresh along its tiny faces.
The moment he stepped out, it chirped and launched itself at him, clinging tight and wailing in relief.
Ezekiel caught it, staggering slightly. "Hey… hey, I'm okay."
It didn't believe him — not right away.
He stood there for several minutes, gently rubbing its spines, until the creature finally quieted.
When he looked up, Somia stood nearby, arms crossed, observing silently.
He caught her gaze. "Is something wrong?"
She shook her head slowly. "No. But that creature… It's — Nevermind"
He waited, but she didn't seem keen on elaborating.
Instead, she asked, "How do you feel?"
Ezekiel inhaled, feeling the heat pulse deep within his chest.
"Stronger," he said simply. It was an understatement.
Within himself, an overwhelming power stirred, eager to make itself known.
Ping—
{You have successfully assimilated with the Magma's Heart}
{Magma's Heart (Epic-tier) — Can be Evolved}
• Stat Bonuses:
+100 Vitality; +200 Intelligence
• Passive Effects:
• +25% Resistance to all Elements
• -50% MP Cost on all skills
• -50% Cooldown Time on all skills
• +100% Effects Enhanced on all skills
• Skill — Descent of Rage (Active):
Calls down a meteor shower over a 50-meter radius, dealing 1000% of the user's Intelligence as impact damage to all enemies within the area.
Cooldown: 60 Minutes
• Skill — Absolute Heart Shield (Passive):
Survive one fatal blow per day. The incoming damage is fully absorbed, and 500% of it is reflected toward a chosen enemy within 30 meters.
Cooldown: 48 Hours
• Evolution Condition: ???
He smiled faintly, the pain in his chest already beginning to dull at the sight of his gains.
Somia just looked at him and muttered, half to herself, "I can't believe you survived that."
Ezekiel chuckled.
"Neither can I."