Gathering Wives with a System

Chapter 170: Overpowered Hellbloom Forgewalker

“Call Tyr. We will do the advancement now.”

Isaac called the treant, who was patrolling the farm. He hadn’t gone to the shop today after Isaac told him to stay at home.

Tyr’s tall wooden frame creaked softly as he walked forward.

“Tyr,” Isaac said, stepping to the side. “It’s time.”

Tyr turned his gaze toward the crate, then to Professor Catherine.

She gestured toward the open container.

“All four materials are present. Once you consume them, the evolution will begin. There may be pain. Be prepared.”

Tyr nodded. He stepped forward and reached toward the first item.

Crystallized Embercore.

The shell around it cracked open under his touch, and the glowing ember-like shard floated up.

Without hesitation, Tyr pulled it into his chest. It sank beneath his bark with a hiss.

A pulse of flame ran down his limbs. Sparks flickered from his fingertips. The wood along his arms darkened, veins of red glowing underneath the surface like magma lines in stone.

Next came the Ironbark Heart.

Tyr opened his chestplate, a creak of bark separating to reveal the hollow inside.

The heart—heavy, solid, glowing faintly green—floated in.

The moment it touched him, the structure of his body transformed.

His limbs grew thicker. His shoulders expanded. The roots on his back curled upward like skeletal vines, hardening into spikes.

Isaac stepped back a little.

Then came the Forgevine Husk.

Unlike the others, this one didn’t glow. It looked dried and brittle, like an ancient piece of wood.

But as Tyr took it in, its appearance changed.

It dissolved into smoke before it even touched him, and that smoke wrapped around his limbs, staining them black. The flames from earlier turned darker. Less yellow, more crimson. Hotter.

And finally—Obsidian Ashroot.

It looked like a claw. Dense and jagged, almost like a twisted piece of coal.

Tyr hesitated for a second before drawing it in.

The moment it entered his core, his body seized.

A thunderous boom echoed through the place as a shockwave erupted from him, blasting air and mana in every direction.

Isaac raised his hand to shield his face. Professor Catherine did the same.

Tyr’s body cracked. Not like something breaking, but like something shedding its outer shell.

Bark flaked off.

Old growth turned to ash and fell to the floor.

Beneath it, something new emerged—blacker, sharper, infused with veins of glowing orange that pulsed like liquid fire.

His body grew again, this time more drastically.

He stood taller. Thicker. His limbs reshaped into weapons of their own, and his arms now ended in gnarled, ember-coated claws.

The roots at his feet burned as they touched the ground, searing thin black lines into the floor before withdrawing back into him.

The flames weren’t just around him, they were part of him. Flowing along his bark, held in place by deep ridges and scorched channels, like rivers of controlled wildfire.

When the light died down, and the last piece of ash floated to the floor, Tyr stood in silence.

Different. Entirely.

Isaac smiled.

’He looks strong now.’

’I wonder if I can send him to act as a guard for Emily.’

Tyr’s bark had turned obsidian black, smooth in some places and jagged in others. Flames licked along his shoulders and arms, but they didn’t consume him.

His eyes now glowed deep red, no longer the gentle amber from before. He looked heavier. Denser. Not just evolved, but rather forged.

He was a walking furnace in the shape of a treant.

Professor Catherine stepped forward, running a quick scan. Her device blinked a few times, then stabilized.

“Everything held. No abnormalities,” she said. “His mana output is nearly triple from before.”

Tyr flexed one hand.

The flames shifted shape around his knuckles. He tilted his head slightly, testing the way his new limbs moved.

There was no uncertainty. He moved like something that knew what it had become.

“Well,” Catherine said, stepping back. “That’s not a treant anymore. That’s a fire-class vanguard. He’ll tear through armored units with that weight and heat.”

Isaac didn’t respond right away.

He was still taking it in.

Tyr had always been strong. But now? There was something else beneath that strength. A sense of pressure. Not the kind that came from mana or size, but presence. He felt like a living weapon.

“Can you understand me?” he asked.

Tyr’s eyes pulsed once with a steady red light. He tilted his head, then nodded.

Professor Catherine arched a brow. “Seems like sentience increased, too. You’ll probably start seeing him develop more independence. Use that carefully.”

“I don’t mind,” Isaac replied. He turned back to Tyr. “You good?”

Tyr rumbled from deep within his chest. The bark along his face shifted just slightly. It was clear he was smiling.

Then he bobbled his head up and down, twice, with a little more enthusiasm than expected from something that looked like a living war machine.

Isaac chuckled. “Still the same Tyr underneath, huh?”

He felt a bit of the tension leave his chest.

Whatever this new form was, however powerful or terrifying it looked, Tyr was still Tyr. That mattered more than anything else.

“All right,” Isaac said. “Can you show us your stats? Skills too, if you can.”

Tyr nodded.

A thick branch extended from his right arm, split into a sharpened tip, and lowered toward the ground.

He began writing in precise strokes, each letter carved neatly into the stone floor. His handwriting had improved drastically over the days.

When he finished, Isaac stepped forward and read the details.

Tyr

Species: Hellbloom Forgewalker

Rank: Adept (Level 20) → Elite (Level 21)

Stats

Strength: 75 → 91

Agility: 50 → 78

Constitution: 70 → 99

Spirit Power: 55 → 87

Mana: 63 → 79

“Damn,” Isaac muttered.

That was a massive jump.

All of Tyr’s stats had taken a leap forward, but Constitution and Strength especially stood out.

And Agility—going from 50 to 78—that was fast for something of Tyr’s size. Too fast.

“Looks like you’re going to be punching holes through tanks now,” he added.

It made sense, though.

Monsters didn’t use classes or gear like humans did.

Their growth came from evolution, high stats, and system-provided skills.

The trade-off was that they couldn’t equip armor or weapons in the same way.

“Now let’s see those skills,” Professor Catherine said, stepping closer with narrowed eyes.

Tyr started writing again. This time, more symbols, more strokes. The first skill appeared:

[Volcanic Bloom] — SS Rank

A powerful area-based fire skill. Tyr channels magma-infused roots into the ground, creating ruptures that explode in fiery blossoms. Causes widespread terrain destruction. High heat and sustained damage over time. Effectiveness increases with Constitution.

…

“That’s a nice skill,” Isaac said, nodding.

It was a battlefield-control skill. Good for large enemies or cutting off reinforcements.

Then Tyr wrote the second:

[Molten Shell] — SS Rank

Forms a protective armor of burning bark and hardened flame around the user. Increases defense drastically. Returns partial damage to attackers. Has passive regeneration based on fire absorption. Active duration scales with Mana.

…

Professor Catherine raised a brow.

“Reinforcement plus counter-damage,” she muttered. “That’s not just tanky. That’s a punisher. Anyone who gets too close is going to regret it.”

Isaac scratched his chin. “He is going to a nightmare for the enemies.”

Tyr, seemingly pleased with their reactions, began writing the last one.

This time, the branch tip pulsed with more energy. The strokes were slower, as if creating suspense:

[Infernal Alloy Roots] — SSS Rank (Passive)

Tyr’s new branches and internal root system have transformed into Hell-Iron Myre, a rare forging metal found in the deepest volcanic layers of Hell. All harvested branches contain refined Hell-Iron Myre, perfectly suited for weapon and armor forging. Self-regenerating over time. Immune to decay and heat. Can fuse with other elemental materials.

…

There was a pause.

Isaac blinked once. Then again.

Professor Catherine stepped forward quickly and crouched, eyes locked on the etched letters.

“Wait,” she said. “Hell-Iron Myre? Tyr is this what is really written in your status?”

Tyr pulsed again, confirming.

She straightened slowly. Her face was still calm, but her hands clenched at her sides.

“Do you know what that is?” she asked Isaac.

“I’m guessing it’s not common.”

“Not common?” She gave a short breath through her nose. “Hell-Iron Myre is one of the most valuable forging materials. It doesn’t exist naturally on the surface.

“Only a few ancient monsters brought it up when they escaped Hell centuries ago. Some of them had metal-based bodies—golems, infernal beasts. Their deaths left behind fragments.

’That’s where most top-tier blacksmiths get it from now—monster-hunting. But it’s expensive, dangerous, and tsime-consuming.”

She turned to Tyr, her voice lower now.

“But if your branches contain it… if they grow Hell-Iron Myre…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.

Isaac looked down at Tyr, realization spreading slowly through his chest.

“You’re saying we now have access to unlimited Hell-Iron Myre?”

Professor Catherine nodded, still processing the reality.

“Depending on how fast it regenerates, yes. And if it’s pure… then it’s already forged. No need for refinement. That alone skips months of labor.”

Tyr rumbled again, and extended one arm.

A small, thin branch grew outward. At the tip, a crystal of black metal slowly formed, glowing faintly red at its edges.

Professor Catherine walked forward like she was approaching a divine artifact. She reached out, then stopped herself.

“May I?” she asked.

Tyr nodded.

She snapped the crystal off gently, held it between her fingers, then pulled out a small analysis tool from her coat pocket.

The results came up instantly.

She read them twice. Then a third time.

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