Entering Apocalypse in Easy-Mode-Chapter 487: Comission

Clyde led Asqa to the forge district where furnace chimneys rose like blackened towers and sparks drifted through the air like fire‑flies.

A dozen separate workshops were emitting clanging noises in unison. Every one of them stamped with the crest of Hammer as a sign that they were belong to him.

Since word spread that he had forged Clyde’s set of gear, demand for his craft had exploded from the fighters all over the Fortress.

But no one had known about the secret of the amulet that let Clyde slip between realms from the dwarf. The High Council had pressed him and interrogating him about it. But Hammer only shrugged and claimed that he don’t know anything.

And no one dared to push harder becaue nobody wished to invite Clyde’s displeasure if they hurt his friend.

As the pair approached, the apprentices paused at their anvils. Awe and amazement flickered over their faces when they noticed Asqa, but the moment they registered who walked beside her, they bent straight back to work.

Hammer arrived at the main archway and wiping his hands on his leather apron.

"Now you’are here," he said, then lowered his voice and ushered them past rows of blazing hearths into his own forge building, then into a secret stone stairwell.

They went down into the private vault beneath Hammer’s primary forge that have soundproofed walls and rune‑locked doors, the place where real secrets were discussed.

Once the final seal slid shut, Hammer folded his arms. "So, what miracle material have you bring me this time?"

Clyde answered by opening his Inventory. First he produced a palm‑sized crystal in deep crimson ridged with yellow fire and faint black veins. Then a strange, half‑translucent bloom of muscle‑like glass that pulsed softly, as though it still lived.

Hammer’s eyes grew round. Even Asqa leaned closer also curiously.

"What the hell is that?" the dwarf whispered, reverence edging on his expression. "I can feel the magic power coming out from them."

"This one called a Myrraline Shard," Clyde said, setting the crystal on an anvil where it chimed like a bell. "It grows above a crater filled with strange monters in a dead world. And this—" he tapped the glassy flower—"is called Fleshglass Bloom. Both are tougher than you think but I don’t know anything else."

Hammer’s fingers hovered, itching to touch but waiting for permission. "You want weapon and armor out of these?"

"Two sets," Clyde confirmed—glancing at Asqa. "Weapons that can channel our power and rmor light enough for speed, but strong enough to tank a Celestial strike. You know what we need."

A slow, delighted rumble escaped the dwarf.

"Yeah, this’ll keep the forges roaring for a whole week. I need to understand what are these do," He met Clyde’s gaze, beard twitching with glee. "Leave the materials with me. I’ll test small shavings first to make sure they don’t explode in the crucible."

Clyde nodded and slid the shard and bloom into reinforced rune‑boxes Hammer provided.

"I’ll check back when the prototypes are ready," Clyde said.

Hammer clasped Clyde’s wrist in silent pact, then turned to Asqa with a craftsman’s measuring stare.

"I’ll need yout reach and stance later. Come for fitting when I send word," Hammer said to Asqa.

Asqa smiled, cool and confident. "Looking forward to it."

Then Hammer stood in thoughtful silence for a couple of seconds. His eyes still locked on the strange materials that now lay secure in his rune-inscribed boxes.

Then he grunted, rubbing his chin beneath a soot-smudged beard.

"If I don’t rest, I could get it done in three days," he said, more to himself than to them. His voice was plain and steady, no boast, just conviction.

Clyde chuckled. "It’s better if you just rest," he said with a faint grin.

The serious air faded for a while as they drifted into casual talk.With the weighty task now passed on to Hammer, the tension eased.

They spoke about what they had been through since their last meeting.

Clyde recounted a few encounters—fighting through corrupted territories and killing Celestials with growing ease. Asqa added her own stories, more grounded, but equally intense and also amazing.

Hammer listened with keen interest, letting out a booming laugh when Clyde described one of his battles.

There was a spark of satisfaction in his eyes—he had always despised the Celestials. Hearing of their deaths brought him genuine joy.

When the visit was over, Clyde and Asqa left the forge, leaving Hammer already preparing his tools and clearing the sacred workspace for what would become his most complex work yet.

Outside, the heat and noise of the forge district gave way to the quieter streets of Sivagadh. As they stepped onto the main path, they spotted someone waiting.

It was Samuel.

One of the many Fortress fighter stood with his arms crossed, his shoulder-length hair now grown long enough to reach his back. He greeted Clyde with a calm smile.

Clyde smiled back.

Without needing to say much, they moved toward the nearest park together, a place of respite between the district’s stone paths and thick barrier wards. Asqa walked with them in silence, following at Clyde’s side.

They found an empty bench beneath a crystalline lantern tree whose violet light pulsed in a slow, soothing rhythm.

Asqa offered Samuel a polite nod and a simple, warm smile; he answered with a brief bow, noting the calm strength behind her eyes.

For a minute the three of them watched workers in the distance string new barrier runes across an unfinished plaza.

The hush stretched until Clyde broke it.

"You looked like you had something on your mind."

The fighter shifted, fingers lacing together.

"I do." He drew a steady breath. "I’ve trained with every style the fortress offers, but it isn’t enough. I need real power, your kind of power." His voice tightened. "I can’t forget the Selection Stage. I lost everyone. I don’t want to be that helpless again. I said this to you for so many times and now I hope you will give me the change."

Clyde studied him in silence. Beside him, Asqa remained expressionless, leaving the decision to him alone.

Clyde semembere that Samuel told him about when he cradling the bodies of his family on that brutal day, swearing he’d never be weak again.

At length Clyde nodded. "I can open a door. It’ll hurt, and it’ll change you."

Samuel’s eyes hardened with resolve. "I’m ready."

"Then get ready at dawn tomorrow," Clyde said. "We’ll start."

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