Lows and Highs in the Vulcanian Dimension
Vulcanian Dimension capital planet, Vulcanian Prime. It looks almost exactly like Earth, but with seas of lava and fire instead of water, and scattered clumps of heat-resistant mineral slag floating where land should be—a volcanic world through and through. You’d think no one could live in a place like this, but it’s home to fire spirits who aren’t tied to flesh and shrug off flames, golems who repair their metal bodies at will, and droves of dwarven corporations chasing those metals. All mixed together, it’s turned out far more developed than you’d expect.
"It’s always so damn hot here..."
The dimensional airport’s interior is cooled decently by its air conditioning, but the moment you step out the gate, a ferocious wave of heat slams into you like a punch to the face. A couple steps more, and sweat soaks through around your shirt collar. This isn’t the kind of heat you fix by loosening your tie or popping a button or two. If anything, you need to tighten that tie and button up tight—sparks sometimes fly from the burning roadside trees straight into your clothes.
"Still, today feels pretty mild, I guess."
Vulcanian Prime’s average temperature runs between 223 and 320 degrees Celsius. Obviously, no ordinary lifeform could survive that. But residential areas, cities, and roads hover around 40 to 52 degrees, thanks to custom AC units from one of the dwarven corps. Livable enough, at least. The weather near the airport clocks in at about 42 degrees—a chilly day by local standards.
...Even thinking that, it’s still brutally hot.
The silver lining? The new-material clothes I wore today. Pricey since it’s some recent discovery, but they’re holding up. Heat vents right off better than expected.
"Let’s see... to get where I’m going... Ah, crap."
My phone’s dead. Makes sense—the clothes wick heat, but a phone? Circuits probably melted inside. I backed up the data just in case, but screwing up something this basic...
...There was a roaming phone rental inside, I think.
Maybe they sell them outright? Starting off with glitches like this. The Vulcanian Dimension is just one place I can never get used to.
...Luckily, I snagged a new phone optimized for heat dissipation. Cost a pretty penny, but better than going phoneless for days. This trip’s too important.
"Tomorrow... hmm, still can’t wrap my head around the time here."
Rest up at the hotel today, hit five spots starting tomorrow. All to source ingredients unique to this dimension.
Vulcanian Candy. A sweet-packed ingredient that only grows here.
What the hell even is it?
I’ve been here plenty, but mostly for raw materials contracts. Metals spawn in insane quantities here—that’s why it developed at all. Dwarven corps poured in investments competitively; this level of progress is practically inevitable.
"Dinner, though... hmm..."
Honestly, eating local in Vulcanian kinda sucks. No abundance of ingredients, no standout cuisine...
"Maybe search something up... Oh. Fast food nearby."
Hate being out in this heat long, so I scour local eats from my hotel room. Mostly chains, rare local joints. What’s this? Dwarf Hammer Hamburg? Hamburgers, huh. Sounds tasty, but that "Dwarf" prefix kills the vibe. Dwarven diets scream "nutrition over flavor."
Chains or local? Locals probably aren’t bad, but...
"Trip’s off to a rocky start—might as well play it safe."
Safe menu, safe pick. Hamburger joint’s closest; let’s go there.
...
"Solidly average."
Franchise burgers are reliably meh. Same taste everywhere, similar everywhere, flavorless everywhere... But right now, in this moment, that averageness is pure bliss. Who knew they kept the standard here?
A brand I’d ignore near System Industry HQ. Soft bun, basic sauce, tossed-in lettuce and tomato, pickles. Patty’s tender but bland—like cheap meat masked by heavy sauce. Fries are the same. If you ask for the best thing at a burger fast-food spot, fries make top three. These? Thick and soft, like boiled potatoes solidified. Is this even frying?
Ice-free but fresh-from-dispenser cola’s sweetly refreshing in that safe way. A menu I’d skip near System Industry unless desperate. But here? This averageness hits different!
Franchise strength: consistent quality anywhere. That uniformity is the real draw! A burger in this scorching hellhole matching HQ levels? Flip it around—it’s like surviving in those flavor-packed alleys near the office.
Huh. Feels kinda premium now.
"Whew..."
Still, franchise burger’s just that. Universal taste is pro and con.
Should’ve tried a local spot...
"Same everywhere" means no need to eat it here. Last visit, the one before—filled up on chains all day. Hot weather means most do day trips; sometimes skip meals entirely. Chance for a meal here, and I settle for this?
...Hit a local before heading back.
Franchises: high floor, low ceiling. Some spots peak higher, but not this one. Locals? Bottomless lows, sky-high highs—pure gamble. But nailing a gem? Ecstasy. Worst case? Write it off, stick to chains next time.
Perfect. Post-meetings tomorrow, scout locals. Better—ask locals during meetings. Long-timers know the gems; ups the odds big time.
Solid plan. Satisfied for today.
...
The next day.
"This is Vulcanian Candy. Sweet as can be—that’s the hallmark."
"This... isn’t lead?"
"Lead, sure. But non-toxic lead—"
...So Vulcanian Candy’s just a metal lump. Crystals grown on a lead base. Mixed metals tweak flavor and texture, apparently. Dwarves chew it like gum. Non-toxic new-material lead, fine—but chomping metal like that?
"Stick it in a corner after chewing, and it patches stuff quick. Like so."
"Oh? Handy."
The dwarf manager chews Vulcanian Candy, slaps it between shattered pottery shards. Stacks another, blasts cool air—seamless, steel-strong seal. Solid, at least; haven’t tested it.
"To remove, just wet it with spit. Softens right up."
"Impressive."
This screams construction or repair material, not food.
But locals—dwarves even on dwarf-only planets—love it.
Dwarf-targeted sales might move units. But lead and metal as "food"?
"Got it. Mind if I take some samples?"
"Help yourself. Candy’s everywhere."
Take these to the office, deliberate. Gotta return for contracts, but worth it.
Four more stops: all peddle Vulcanian Candy variants. Gold flavor, platinum, copper, mithril, orichalcum. Different tastes and properties—all metallic. They think it’s competitive, but it’s just novel materials trading.
"Even the local restaurant tip flopped..."
Asked favorites—mostly chains. Others so bad they lose to franchises. Makes sense. No local food production; all imports. Chains bulk-buy cheap; independents can’t compete. Gap becomes taste gap.
Pity. Vulcanian’s strictly metals-only, then...
Hm?
...Huh?
Hold up—saw something. Unexpected sign, maybe.
Backpedal on the scorching road. Peek at the alley just passed.
Familiar sign. Unfamiliar menu.
What the hell do they sell there...?