Orichalcum (2)

Throughout every era, mankind has drawn countless resources from nature.

Wood, water, stone, beasts, flora, soil, minerals—there is virtually nothing civilization possesses that was not plucked from the natural world. If timber stood as the alpha and omega of human development, then minerals were the catalyst that forged wealth and sheer power. From the iron essential for weapons of war to the glittering luxuries of gold and diamond, minerals have propelled civil progress to staggering heights, second only to wood. With each technological leap forward, forgotten or dismissed ores found new life, their true potential repeatedly rewritten across the passage of centuries.

Mineral veins were an endless topic of gossip across the forums. Whether a vein of pure diamonds had surfaced in a regional shaft or an ultra-rare deposit had been unearthed, mineral finds were inextricably tied to overnight fortunes and life-altering windfalls.

Mithril was significantly lighter than steel while matching or exceeding its durability. Adamantium shared a similar mass to ordinary steel, yet its physical resilience occupied a completely different plane of reality. And finally, Orichalcum was a peculiar creature altogether. Its sheer tensile hardness was actually lower than ordinary iron, but it possessed a glaring, unmistakable trait: an extreme sensitivity to mana. Had it merely been reactive, it might not have commanded such frantic demand; however, as civilization discovered countless ingenious methods to harness that hyper-conductivity, the metal's valuation soared through the heavens.

That painted a clear enough picture. Reading the catalog of uses someone had so graciously compiled, a distinct thought took root in my mind.

Is it basically a room-temperature superconductor?

Or perhaps something akin to a mystical semiconductor. While Earth semiconductors required a complex cocktail of rare elements, silicon substrates, and micro-etching, Orichalcum performed the task organically, on its own, and at an overwhelmingly superior tier of efficiency. It was a near-omnipotent substance for magical engineering.

I decided to ship the presumed Orichalcum chunk straight to the dwarf. I needed to open a trade window with him soon anyway, and I wasn't planning on heading back in with a pickaxe right this second. At best, it meant I'd secured another valuable trading commodity like the mature mandrakes. Yet, being a mineral rather than an edible herb—and an eccentric one at that—it felt somewhat awkward to utilize.

The only folks likely to trade for it are the Dwarf and Allfather, right? Praise the Sun seemed curious too.

Being an ultra-rare metal, it would naturally command a staggering price on any open exchange. But gold coins were worthless scrap to someone trapped in an ancient death-forest. Wouldn't it be far more practical to forge Orichalcum into a weapon or survival gear? With that thought, curiosity prompted me to write another post.

So it really was nothing more than a raw semiconductor ingot. I smacked my lips in lingering disappointment, then pressed the gallery for another angle. Could a craftsman fashion a magical refrigerator or a washing machine using Orichalcum cores? If I could possess modern appliances like those, the time saved on mundane chores could be poured entirely into hunting, training, or doting on Wonmo.

When even the master dwarven blacksmith shut down the idea with such blunt finality, there really was no workaround. Just as I sighed and prepared to shelve the whole Orichalcum matter for later, an unexpected commenter piped up.

It was Princess Chaeng-gu, an unexpected party to enter the bidding. Up until now, she had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠showered me with goodwill and high-tech athletic gear without ever demanding repayment. Pushing my momentary surprise aside, I asked what she intended to use it for.

The idea of a magical formation suffering from overheating felt bizarrely mundane. I had assumed that as long as a mage constructed an accurate formula and pumped sufficient mana through it, spells could be spammed without consequence. Clearly, reality was far more complicated.

I didn't grasp the intricate arcane theory behind it, but I understood the core takeaway: sustained magic generated intense operational strain, and Orichalcum was the supreme heat-sink that suppressed that decay. Whichever way one looked at it, it was undeniably an extraordinary material.

Since things had played out like this, I resolved to distribute pieces to my regular acquaintances. Right now, I only had enough loose fragments on hand to fulfill requests up to Lady Starlight, but an entire subterranean cavern lay waiting whenever I needed more.

Logging off the forum, I set about preparing our midday meal. Rather than smoked rations, I planned to butcher the freshwater catches hauled in from the river traps.

One for my plate, one for Wonmo, and the third cleaned and sent to the Dwarf.

As for the Neidan... I intended to store it safely for the time being. The Heavenly Demon had sternly advised waiting at least another week before ingesting another inner core, assuring me that by then, my meridians would be entirely acclimated to the Internal Cultivation Art, rendering absorption harmless. The real dilemma was preservation. Inner cores were notorious for leaking condensed mana into the open atmosphere if left exposed over prolonged periods.

An empty glass vial will have to do.

I took the crystal-clear bottle that had held Starlight Princess's golden Elixir. Surely a vessel crafted to contain imperial-grade panaceas possessed enough alchemical sealing to preserve the beast's core for a week. After tucking the glowing sphere securely inside, I grabbed my gear and marched up toward the riverbank. Wonmo had already woken from his nap, so leaving him alone was out of the question; he trotted eagerly at my heels, thankfully refraining from wandering off into the undergrowth.

Splash! Flap-flap-flap!

“Kkyuu! Kkyuu!”

“Yeah, yeah. Calm down. That's our lunch.”

Wonmo's pupils dilated to the size of saucers at the sight of large, thrashing fish pinned inside the wicker traps. He bounced on his paws, visibly drooling with desperate anticipation. I hoisted the fish traps onto the bank and headed back to the cavern camp. Inside the mesh were three fat, glistening river beasts—an abundant harvest. A single fish trap had revolutionized our daily quality of life; foraging anxiety had completely evaporated.

Chomp, chomp, chomp! Gulp!

To preempt any magical indigestion, I carefully excised the glowing Neidan from Wonmo's portion before sliding the rich, deboned fillets into his wooden bowl. Despite having gorged on giant serpent meat just hours prior, the little owlbear attacked the river fish with ravenous glee. A bottomless stomach indeed.

Didn't someone on Earth say that a bear's favorite delicacies are wild honey and salmon?

Entertaining idle survival thoughts, I sat by the hearth and dug into my own piping-hot grilled fish. As for Fast Sloth, his meal was effortlessly handled with an Inedia Pill. Once our bellies were full and the campsite tidied, I meticulously scaled, gutted, and salted the final fish for the Passing Dwarf.

In all the dimensions connected to the forum, this crazy bastard had to be the only creature contemplating brewing alcohol from an apex beast's spiritual core. Shaking my head, I finalized the delivery.

With the Dwarf's trade wrapped up, only one trade partner remained unresolved: Allfather, to whom I had transferred the saber-toothed tiger's heart yesterday. The scholarly gentleman was uncharacteristically quiet.

Is he still deep in his dissection and analysis?

Most likely. There was no harm in waiting until he chose to publish a report. Considering the wealth of anatomical knowledge and medicinal aids he had supplied me with, a little patience was the least I owed him. Pressuring a renowned researcher felt needlessly petty, and besides, an oversized feline heart held zero utility for me anyway.

Having tabled Allfather's transaction, a vital oversight suddenly struck my memory.

Ah. That's right. The cave entrance.

I glanced toward the rear of the cavern, where Wonmo was splayed out on the sleeping mat, snoring away in bliss. If I stepped away for another lengthy foraging excursion, the mischievous cub might stage another breakout. I needed a sturdy portcullis or gate to barricade the gaping mouth of the cave.

Something wide enough to seal off the opening, yet light enough for my current physical strength to haul into place.

Wondering if such a prefabricated structure existed, I opened the interdimensional auction house and browsed the architectural listings. Because the previous Owlbear patriarch had violently enlarged the rock face during its final rampage, a standard residential door was far too narrow.

Here. Heavy iron security grates.

A modular set of heavy dungeon bars was listed for trade. It was practically tailored for the dimensions of the cave. Working steadily, I dragged the iron grates across the opening, anchoring and interlocking the joints with interlocking pins. Bearing in mind that Wonmo might attempt to batter his way through with brute force, I hewed stout wooden crossbeams from fallen timber to wedge the frame deep into the limestone grooves.

Hm. Perfectly secure.

Stepping back, a deep sense of domestic satisfaction warmed my chest at the sight of the heavy iron gate completely walling off the entrance. There would be no more unexpected runaway crises. All that remained was waiting for Passing Dwarf's verification post. If the sample proved to be genuine Orichalcum, I could hand out fragments to Princess Chaeng-gu and Starlight Princess with a clear conscience.

Unless the old drunkard got so hammered on his damgeumju that he forgot all about it...

Precisely as Grylls had feared, far across the dimensional divide in the dwarven sovereign realm of Mountain, broad daylight saw an uproarious banquet in full swing.

“Khaaah! By the Ancestors' beards, this is magnificent! It melts right over the tongue! Where on earth did you get your hands on this nectar?”

“Hic! If I told you, it'd ruin the mystery! Drink up, lads! Here's the Mature Mandrake Steeped Liquor! Let's drink until we drop!”

“The more I gulp it down, the more terrifying strength floods my veins! I've brewed for four centuries and never tasted a vintage like this!”

“You want to hear something even more insane?”

“What?”

“It's not just a drunken illusion—the more we drink this stuff, the healthier our old bodies actually get!”

“Oho! A true elixir of the gods!”

Deep within the mountainous stronghold, barrels were drained amidst roaring dwarven laughter—an utterly quintessential afternoon in the sovereign realm of Mountain. Until, without warning...

“Ugh... wait. Why does my chest suddenly burn like fire?”

“D-did we drink too much? Hic! Argh, my stomach...!”