SSS Awakening: Rebirth of the Strongest Vampire God novel Chapter 158

Chapter 158: Where the metal meets magic

"Ah... ah... I don’t... Nothing like that..." The old man fumbled but after a while, he wiped his eyes and started talking slowly. "He... he was always fond of riddles," he murmured. "Said no one would find his secrets unless they understood how he thought. He always told me, ’Father, the heart of creation lies where the metal meets the magic.’"

"The heart of creation lies where the metal meets the magic," Damon repeated under his breath. "Sure, very useful and not at all vague." He lifted the mechanical sphere again and examined it carefully.

"Metal and magic," Damon mused, his mind jumping to the basics of crafting, materials and mana circuits, things he had no idea about.

In his previous life, he had spent all his time researching and learning about vampires and trying to find out hidden clues about the legendary item of the vampire race. He had absolutely ignored all of the professions and only paid a little attention to alchemy.

Now that he thought about it, this sort of mech tech was not really popular in his last life. Sure, some players chose engineering as their profession skill and their secondary class. They had tried their hands at it but nothing came out of it.

Engineering was also one of the more pricier professions and had even bankrupted many so much so that some straight up rage quit the game and left.

Damon stared at the sphere for a good ten minutes. "Yup, my only option is to brute force the shit out of this." He narrowed his eyes at the mechanical ball, rolling it around in his palm.

"Well, let’s see how you tick," he muttered. Then without any hesitation, he channeled a hefty pulse of mana directly into the sphere, fully expecting some hidden mechanism to click or maybe a small panel to slide open.

Instead, the thing gave a high-pitched whine, brightened to a piercing white, and then, BOOM!

It exploded right in his face.

Reflexes faster than thought, Damon threw up a mana barrier, the explosion bouncing off his shield like rain on a windowpane. Even so, his hair was left smoking, and his eyebrows were singed at the tips.

"What the hell?!" he sputtered.

The old man barreled in from the back room, eyes blazing. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON’S TOYS?!" he bellowed, voice hoarse with rage. His wrinkled hands trembled with anger. "GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Damon had no choice but to bolt for the door, dodging a surprisingly swift swipe from the old man’s cane. The city had clearly forgotten all about how he was the city hero and Damon knew better than to argue or reason with a drunkard.

Once outside, he leaned against a cracked wall, wiping a hand across his scorched face. He waited there, hidden in a shadowed alley, until the old man’s drunken rants and cries faded. Minutes turned to an hour as the old man’s voice cracked, his energy spent.

Damon heard a heavy thud, probably the old man collapsing onto his bed, exhausted. Damon waited a minute longer, then quietly slipped back inside.

He searched every inch of the tiny house, every loose board and hidden corner. Nothing. No trapdoors, no hidden notes, not even a scribble on the walls. Just broken memories and too many empty bottles.

With a frustrated sigh, Damon left the house behind. "The heart of creation lies where the metal meets the magic, huh," he mumbled, recalling the old man’s words. "Could be anywhere in these godsforsaken mountains." It looked like he had a busy day ahead of him.