It took Armand several days to feel like he had mastered manipulating iron. He moved into attempting to create steel; apparently steel was made by mixing in charcoal while heating the metal. He didn’t understand why this worked but was more than happy with the result. The next reasonable step was mithril smithing. If he had to describe working with iron, it was like clay in his hands; molding mithril, however, felt like molding solid rock.

  The magic metal took significantly longer to both heat and forge into shapes. His body ached after just forging the metal into a workable shape, and it took several days of effort to make a part close to what he expected. He had created another warbeast that he had disassembled and was looking at for reference in the forging. He worked with his original hammer for a long time before finally creating one from mithril himself. Thoth showed his alchemical gold and managed to create some.

  Alchemical gold was significantly softer than any metal he had worked with; it would be like paper if handled improperly. But he used it and several enchantments to create a proper blacksmith hammer. This cut down the smithing times by over half. Even then, it took him an uncountable number of days to forge all the parts for the Mithril Warbeast. His small frame had begun to transform during this process; his slouched, big-bellied goblin form had transformed into something more stout. His posture now stood upright, his body was muscled, and he probably wouldn't even be able to recognize the goblin he had become.

  He wiped the sweat from his brow and stepped out of the forge. The goblin went and got washed off and headed to the main room. Thoth was lounging in a chair by the hearth, face deep in a book. Armand took a seat in his usual spot. He pulled out a book too and began turning through the pages; he had planned to ask the demon to supply some hellfire to continue his experiments, but he also knew that interrupting Thoth mid-read was not advisable. Last time he did so, the demon had sulked in his room for at least a week.

  After a period of time, Thoth finally placed the book aside; the goblin caught sight of the title on the spine, Deus Demonica. “I see you have completed your smithing for the day.”

  “Indeed,” the goblin replied, “I think I am ready for usage of hellfire in my smithing.”

  “That was faster than I expected.” The demon commented, and he pointed his finger at the heart; a wisp of blood-red flame left and entered the purple flame. It still looked mostly the same but a faint blood red tinged the ends of the flame. “I think that should be enough; just use that when you forge.” It seemed a little too easy but Armand mostly trusted Thoth so he went off and prepared some food for both of them.

  The next day he began his experimenting again but pulled in flames from the hearth into his forge. He heated a batch of mithril again; the process took significantly longer than just mithril from before and when he pulled the metal out, he was surprised. The heated metal no longer glowed an orange but rather a reddish-purple color. When he struck it with his enchanted smithing hammer, it barely moved; the strength had far exceeded his capabilities.

  Well, he had already started; he might as well keep working on it. After a whole day of effort, all that came from it was a barely dented piece of metal. He was rather disappointed at this result and he would need to find a solution. The goblin put his tools back and started his evening routine. Thoth had decided to join him at the dinner table today; he was indulging in his wine and they were enjoying a hearty soup.

  “I have come across a problem, Thoth.” The goblin suddenly announced.

  “Allow me to guess, you are incapable of forging hell-forged mithril?” The demon asked.

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  “As usual, spot on.” Armand replied, “Any ideas?”

  “If you lack the strength to do it, just make something that does.” Thoth suggested, “I’m surprised that you hadn’t attempted creating a construct in a more humanoid form.”

  “Sometimes the most obvious answers elude us.” The goblin replied with a chuckle; he was already devising something.

  “Do not include me; this is on you.” The demon clearly stated. Armand had long stopped listening as he was going through all his knowledge for his newest model of construct. After another night's sleep, he rose and quickly ran to his tinkering workshop. He decided to model this construct on the adventurers who had visited so long ago. He needed the build of the dwarf, the balanced mass of the human and the height of the elf. No need for a face; only its limbs were important. After creating his first version, it appeared as an extremely bulky humanoid; he didn’t bother giving it a head. It almost looked like a suit of armor, except it was not empty.

  Next the runes: he began to carve grooves into the construct; first he put in strength, dexterity, and defensive runes. The goblin then added some evocation magic to heat its limbs. He finally carved in the mana-gathering and observer runes. Amand looked over his latest construct; this one will be known as the Sentinel. He nodded in satisfaction. Instead of mithril, he summoned in alchemical gold to fill in the grooves and, once done with that, activated the magic circles. After confirming there were no issues, now came the next issue: soul control.

  He headed to the main room; at this point in time the intruder from all that time ago, the crimson tint that pervaded it, had left, leaving it colorless. Now what to do. “We demons are experts of matters of the soul.” Thoth said from behind him, causing the goblin to jump in fright.

  “I would prefer you not sneak up on me like that,” Armand commented.

  “No promises,” a grin plastered across the demon’s face. “Well, what seems to be the issue?”

  “Another function of this dungeon is to collect souls of those who die within. The souls are then scrubbed clean of their past lives but are left with nothing. To preserve the personality of Fenrir, I had to use a creature that was not completely replaced. But for this project I need a strong enough soul but this soul is empty; it will take forever to teach it.’ Armand said seriously.

  “Just make a soul clone.” The demon calmly said.

  “Soul clone?” the goblin asked, clearly wanting the demon to elaborate.

  “It is a necromantic technique to imprint a person’s personality onto a clean soul. The being becomes a split part of you and you can direct it like another part of your body.”

  “So how do I do this?” The goblin inquired.

  “You just need to take a piece of your soul and put it within the clean soul fragment.” Thoth turned away and extended his hand, but the hand kept going and began to snake its way down the hall. He lost vision of the hand as it rounded the corner but shortly thereafter the hand began to return with a leather-bound book in turn. He turned back to the goblin and handed him the book. He then said, “You have to use this soul-splintering technique to break off a piece.”

  “Isn’t it bad to break off a chunk of my soul?” Armand asked, a little worried at the direction this whole thing was going.

  “It would be; damaging your soul is very dangerous and left untreated would prove fatal but you have the perfect tonic available.” The demon replied.

  “And what might that be?”

  “Just consume the smaller soul fragments in your dungeon core to repair the damage. After all, they are already clear and perfect as a tonic to the soul. I’m surprised you hadn’t tried consuming one of those buggers this whole time…”

  “Consume souls?” Armand looks very apprehensive at the whole process.

  “Yes, it is no different from consuming meat or plants. It is just a resource your body needs.” Thoth replied. The goblin didn’t really want to do this but he was unsure of any other way of getting what he needed so why not? He decided to try the soul-splitting technique and create this clone.

  He took the book and began to flip through its contents. He needed to imagine his own soul and form part of it into a blade, and then after forming the part of his soul into a sharp weapon, he had to then cut off part of his own soul. Once that was done, he would need to attach the severed soul part to the soul clone in question and patch the hole in his soul with a soul of equivalent strength. The goblin breathed out and prepared to do this; all he knew was that this was going to hurt.