The door splintered again, the sound sharp as a blade through Kaden's racing thoughts.
His grip on the warhammer's handle tightened—cold, solid, a lifeline—yet his eyes kept darting to the corner of the shop, where the ancient anvil sat.
Its surface, once dull and cracked, now seemed to hum, as if the very metal were breathing.
"The core of this place isn't the forge, boy," his master's voice echoed in his head, hoarse with urgency from their last conversation.
"It's the anvil. Old, cursed, but holding the fog at bay. If it breaks, the town breaks with it."
Outside, the shadows shifted.
The clatter of weapons against the doorframe grew louder, punctuated by low, guttural voices.
"He's in there. No escape." But Kaden's pulse wasn't drumming from fear—it was from a sudden, desperate clarity.
The attackers wanted him alive for the Hammer, but if the anvil fell, the shop's protection would crumble.
And without that, whatever lurked in the fog would devour them all.
"Serena." His voice was a rasp, but the girl—small, with a smudge of soot on her cheek—looked up instantly.
Her dark eyes are usually soft, and now held a flicker of the flicker he's once seen only in his own reflection.
She nodded, silent as ever, and moved to bar the door with a rusted iron beam.
Not enough to stop them, but enough to buy time.
Kaden sprinted to the forge.
The system interface flickered in his peripheral vision, a pale blue glow only he could see: [Soul Flame Module Unlocked.
Required for Anvil Reconstruction.
] He'd ignored it earlier, too focused on survival, but now it blazed like a command.
With a grunt, he heaved the anvil onto the forge, its weight making the floorboards creak.
The metal felt wrong—too warm, almost pulsing.
"System," he muttered, sweat beading on his brow.
"Initiate forging."
A shrill beep.
[Warning: Target Contains Heterogeneous Will.
Normal Forging Protocols Inoperable.
]
The anvil shuddered.
Cracks that had been hairline now split wider, oozing a thin, black sludge that reeked of rotting meat and brimstone.
Serena gagged, stumbling back, her hands flying to her mouth.
But her eyes - oh, her eyes - glowed faintly, the golden sigils of the bloodline swirling like trapped lightning.
Kaden's breath hitched.
He'd never seen her mark before.
Master never mentioned…
The anvil's surface erupted in crimson runes, snaking like living things.
They seared into his retinas, burning the shape of a crown, a hammer, a broken chain.
"What are you?" he whispered, reaching out.
His palm, still raw from the metal plate earlier, tingled as he pressed it to the anvil.
Pain.
Not physical—not at first.
It was a rush of images, cold and sharp: his master, "Ironface" Hawke, younger, blood pouring from a gash in his arm.
He stood in a furnace room, flames licking at his boots, and in his other hand… a vial of inky darkness, writhing like a nest of snakes.
"This is the last of it," the vision-Hawke panted, smearing blood over the anvil's surface.
The Dark Iron Council's filth. I bind it here, where the fire of the forging God contains it. But if you ever break the seal Kaden… you'll have to take its place."
The vision shifted.
Hawke turned, his face a mask of scars, but his eyes—warm, familiar—locked onto Kaden's.
"You're the only one who can hold it. The blood in you… it's not just for forging. It's a cage."
The image shattered.
Kaden collapsed, gasping, his head pounding.
The anvil's runes flared brighter, the black sludge now thickening into tendrils that slithered toward Serena.
She yelped, grabbing a pair of tongs and swiping at them—but the tendrils only coiled around the metal, melting it like butter.
"No." Kaden pushed himself up, ignoring the dizziness.
His palm throbbed, the mark of the burning god through his skin.
"You want a cage? I'll be your cage."
He bared his teeth, channeling the faint, flickering warmth in his chest - the bloodline, dormant for years.
It surged, hot and bright, flooding his veins.
His vision tinted gold, and when he looked at the anvil, he saw it: a shadowy mass, pulsing with malice, trying to claw its way out of the metal.
"Soul Flame," he grated, activating the system module.
A pillar of white-gold fire erupted from the forge, consuming the anvil.
The tendrils shrieked, dissolving into smoke, but the shadow within only fought harder, rending the anvil's cracks wider.
Kaden pressed his bleeding palm to the anvil again.
"Bind it," the man in the mirror had said.
"Bind it."
The blood seeped into the cracks, hissing as it met the shadow.
The flame dimmed, then flared -brighter, hotter, as if the flame had its own power had awoken.
The shadow wailed, a sound that scraped against Kaden's eardrums, and then… it was gone.
Silence.
The anvil cooled, its surface now smooth, unblemished.
The system pinged: [Cursed Anvil Repaired.
New Forging Station Unlocked: Soul Forge.
Shop Rank Upgraded to Workshop Tier.
]
Kaden collapsed onto a stool, sweat soaking his shirt.
Serena hurried to his side, pressing a canteen to his li