SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS - Chapter 945 - 945: Powerful Bow and Divine Quivers!

The dull red glow of the ancient forge casting flickering shadows on the cracked stone walls. Molten rivers of metal flowed beneath the ground like slumbering serpents, and every now and then, a breath of flame would burst from a vent, lighting up the curved ceiling like a dragon exhaling in sleep.

Kent stood still, arms folded, his eyes fixed on the massive, coiled form of Muni Naga, the legendary blacksmith sage. Half serpent and half ancient man, the old Naga sat lazily atop a heap of obsidian scales, smoke curling from his nostrils, as though he’d been half-asleep for decades. A dusty silence lingered until Muni Naga, without even opening his eyes, rasped in a gravelly voice:

“Mmm… So, what weapon does the little storm brat desire?”

Kent took a step forward, the lightning sigil on his palm flickering faintly in the forge light. His voice was calm but carried weight.

“A Divine Bow. One that can hold the wrath of the storm. I want it bound with an Immortal Quiver that births spell-arrows — endlessly, each tuned to my will and my domain. Thunder, poison, fire, ice, space, chaos — all kinds.”

The silence that followed was sharp. Muni Naga’s eyes creaked open, ancient and golden, staring at Kent as if he’d grown a second head. He uncoiled slightly, the ground trembling under his movement.

“Haaaah… Immortal Quiver… Unlimited spell arrows…? You speak as if you’re asking for an old stick and a bag of hay!” He chuckled, a low, thunderous sound like metal grinding.

“Boy, do you even understand what you’re demanding? Such a weapon needs core-forged starsteel, the Divine Fang of a Sky Serpent, and a Phoenix-heart branch from the First Tree. And that’s just the start.”

“I have six months,” Kent said simply. “And I’ll help in the forge — furnace, quenching, crafting… I’ll carry every piece if I have to. But I need that weapon ready before the Golden Heir Tournament.”

Muni Naga stared at the pouch, then back at Kent, his serpentine tongue flicking out in disbelief.

“Heh… Either you’re a madman or a storm in disguise.”

“I have only six months,” Kent said again.

The old sage grinned slowly, revealing rows of gleaming obsidian teeth.

“Very well, brat. Let the forge wake. You want a Divine Bow? Then prepare to bleed for it.”

With Muni Naga’s agreement, the temperature seemed to rise — not with fire, but with intent. The ancient forge, buried beneath layers of time, cracked open its dormant hunger. Shadows recoiled. Sparks flared. And the weight of what was to come pressed into Kent’s bones like a silent oath.

The old Naga stretched fully now, his serpent coils shedding layers of ancient soot and rust. Scales like blackened jade shimmered faintly under the dim forge-light as he circled the forge pit in the center of the cave.

“You asked for a divine bow with an immortal quiver,” Muni Naga hissed thoughtfully.

“Then you shall learn what it takes to birth one.”

He turned his eyes to Kent, suddenly sharper, alive with the weight of countless eras of crafting.

“The furnace must awaken — not by flame alone, but with purpose. You must gather Molten Sun Crystals and Sky-Iron Coals from the Deep Vents. Then, carve Wind Vein Tunnels so the flames breathe true. This alone may take two weeks or more. You’ll do it.”

Kent nodded. No questions.

“Then begins the Quenching Ritual,” Muni Naga continued, slithering over to a massive vat sealed with divine locks. “You must retrieve Stardew Ice from the Moon Caverns and mix it with the First River’s Ashes. This is not water. This is memory. Cool it wrongly, and the bow shall scream and shatter.”

“Next, you’ll carry every part. Feathersteel rods, Suncore marrow, Voidthread silk, and the bones of beasts who remembered the sky before it had stars. You will carry them. You will not drop them. Each drop — a month wasted.”

Kent stood silently, absorbing each instruction like scripture.

Then, from his spirit ring, he pulled a coiled, glowing string — thin as a hair yet pulsing with an ancient rhythm. The light it gave off was not bright, but deep — like thunder echoing in silence. It danced in his palm, resisting the air.

“This is the Ancestral Naga Vein,” Kent said reverently.

Muni Naga’s eyes widened — for the first time, a flicker of genuine astonishment broke his expression.

He slithered closer, gently cupping the string with both clawed hands, whispering words in an ancient Naga tongue. The string pulsed softly, like a heartbeat. Muni Naga’s coils stopped moving. Silence.

“This… was woven by the Matron Naga herself… during the Age of Molten Rain. I thought it lost.”

He handed it back with both hands, bowing his head lightly — a gesture rare for a being as old and proud as he.

“Very well. You’ve brought life to the project. I shall forge.”

He turned toward the forge and jabbed a long black claw into the floor.

The ground cracked — a deep fissure opening beneath the forge platform. From within rose a low, rumbling roar. Molten light flickered beneath, and the faint cry of a beast long sealed beneath stone echoed for a moment.

“Now, go. Your first task — awaken the furnace. You have until the third eclipse night. Or the forge shall return to slumber.”

Kent gave a firm nod, tied the ancestral bowstring around his wrist like a promise, and turned toward the dark tunnels leading deeper into the Abyss Caverns.

Behind him, Muni Naga whispered softly to himself, eyes burning with anticipation.

“A divine bow… with a living soul. And a boy bold enough to ask for it. Let’s see if he survives what he asked for.”

–

Deeper Abyss…

Deep within the earth, the cavern had changed.

Where once silence and soot reigned, now there was movement. A pulse. A distant roar that grew stronger each day. The Eternal Furnace, buried and forgotten for millennia, was slowly beginning to wake — not with fire, but with hunger.

And Kent was its feeder.

For hours, days, and nights — indistinguishable in the endless twilight of the forge caverns — Kent carried Sky-Iron Coals on his back, each chunk weighing more than a full-grown ox. He etched Wind Vein Channels into the walls and floors with precision, guided only by Muni Naga’s cryptic diagrams and riddled warnings. At the edge of exhaustion, he meditated briefly, summoned lightning to replenish himself, and returned to work.

Each time a vein connected, a part of the forge flared — briefly, like a heartbeat returning to a dying body.

But even as Kent labored, elsewhere in the cave, a different ritual had begun — older, quieter, and no less sacred.

Search the NovelFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.