Chapter 367: A Reality Check
(Planet Tithia, Inner Furnace District, Supreme Master Blacksmith Argo’s Forge)
After his meeting with the First Elder concluded, the Twelfth Elder stepped into the Inner Furnace district, which was home to THE undisputed best blacksmiths in the universe.
He had come here to secure a small dimensional portal point that he could supply Leo with in order to complete the mission.
However, when he made the request to Master Argo through a communication crystal the previous day, the man had not taken it well and immediately started shouting like a rabid dog.
In the end, Argo demanded that Noir visit him in person at the forge, which left Noir with no choice but to make the trip himself.
*Crackle*
Noir’s neatly pressed robes billowed faintly as heatwaves rolled over him like silent fire.
Sparks danced through the air as hammers pounded molten metal, and apprentices scrambled to make space, bowing low the moment they recognized who had entered.
But the man at the center of it all did not bow.
He didn’t even glance up.
Until Noir cleared his throat once.
“Supreme Master Argo, you called for me?” he began, as the sound of hammering ceased instantly.
The chief blacksmith raised his soot-streaked face, his expression not one of reverence—but exasperation.
“You people again?” Argo muttered, before he stood up fully, wiped his palms on a dirty rag—and without warning, bit into one of them.
*RIP*
The sharp snap of his teeth tearing fabric echoed through the smithy.
“Are you out of your damn mind, Lord Twelfth?” Argo snapped, eyes blazing as he spat the torn rag aside and stepped forward.
Noir blinked, caught off guard not by the words, but by the sheer hostility in the man’s tone.
“Like I already explained to Lord Fourth when he came into my smithy with the same harebrained idea as you…. what you’re asking for is not practical!” Argo barked, his voice thunderous now, startling several of the junior smiths nearby.
Noir frowned, but said nothing.
Argo didn’t wait for a reply. He bent down, picked up two random pieces of junk metal from the forge floor, and held them up.
“Let me spell it out for you like you’re a first-year at the Academy of Arcanoscience,” he growled. “Teleportation has laws. Rules. Limits. The bigger the jump—the bigger the damn gate needs to be.”
He held up one finger, positioning the two objects a centimeter apart.
“If I want to teleport this scrap from here to just one centimeter left, I can do that. A grain-sized portal will suffice, smaller than your thumb, and it’ll work flawlessly.”
He then extended the other hand, pointing skyward.
“But now… if I want to teleport this same chunk of trash from here to Planet Ixtal?” His gaze bored into Noir’s.
“Then the portal required would need to be the size of this entire planet, Lord Twelfth.”
He let the metal clatter to the ground.
“There’s a reason instant interplanetary travel doesn’t exist. The space between planets is too vast. No matter how many high-grade mana stones or divine energy cores you throw at me, the physics just won’t bend.”
Noir’s brow twitched.
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He hadn’t expected miracles, but he hadn’t expected the limit to be so… sharp.
“So what you’re saying,” he said slowly, “is that if I want a teleportation point small enough to fit in my pocket—but still capable of sending a squad in and out—then the operatives need to already be on that planet to make the jump?”
“Exactly,” Argo muttered, already massaging his forehead. “Close is an understatement, they would have to be within ten kilometers, or you make the portal point larger. Much larger.”
He sighed.
“I told the Fourth Elder the same thing when he tried to storm the Grand Arena with five divisions using a coin-sized gate. The damn thing collapsed and melted two of my assistants’ faces off.”
Noir winced.
“And don’t get me wrong, we definitely have come a long way compared to the rest of the universe in dimensional travel.
We’ve got dimensional anchors, quantum relays, and some new hybrid magic-tech platforms. But we’re still bound by the rules of space, time, and energy.”
He paused for breath, then added coldly, “So no, Lord Twelfth, I cannot forge you a ping-pong ball that teleports troops from Tithia to Twin Fang.”
Noir looked down, his fingers tapping his wrist.
He had promised Leo a portal. Had told him the Cult would handle the rest after he dropped the portal point inside the Black Serpents Vault, but clearly, the situation was more difficult than he’d thought.
He looked back at Argo. “So then… what can we do?”
Argo blew out a breath and walked over to his bench.
“The best I can offer you is a photo-frame-sized dimensional gate,” he said. “It won’t be fancy, and it’ll take me at least seven more days to calibrate, but I’ll make it portable and durable.”
Noir’s expression darkened. “And the range?”
“If I push it to the absolute edge,” Argo muttered, “it might let you link to a supply ship orbiting near Twin Fang. Something small. Something close.”
He met Noir’s eyes again.
“Which means, your people will need to hijack a courier vessel or a low orbit skiff if you want a realistic shot at getting back. It’s doable. But the real danger… starts after the teleportation.”
Noir nodded silently.
It wasn’t the clean operation he wanted, but it was the best they could do.
“Well if that’s the best you can do, then the soldiers will have to make the rest work from their end…..Thank you, Supreme Master” he said at last, as he bowed before turning away.
As he stepped out of the forge and the searing heat gave way to cold air, his frown instantly deepened.
This was supposed to be a secure and easy mission after Leo dropped off the portal point.
However, today just seemed to be a day full of unnecessary headaches.
“It’s a good thing that Supreme Master Argos is the most talented blacksmith we have, a pioneer in both dimensional and missile technology—because with that attitude, no one would tolerate him otherwise,” Noir muttered.
“Realistically, it’s going to be far more difficult for Skyshard to smuggle a photo frame-sized device into the vault room compared to something pocket-sized. But I suppose he’ll just have to step up his game.”
He paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“The same applies to the operatives completing the heist. They’ll have to adapt quickly and manage far more variables due to the teleportation’s limited range.”
Noir let out a small sigh and shook his head.
“Well, I have done everything I could to provide them with the best resources available. The rest is in their hands now.”
Noir said at the end, as he shrugged his shoulders and began thinking about other important issues now, which was how to deal with the labour unions once he went back to Planet Vorthas.
In his mind, he was working to the edge of his abilities and doing the best he could for the Cult and its people, however, while his intention to help the Cult was indeed present, his methods to achieve desired results were most definitely questionable.