The resonant clangs of hammer against ingot echoed out of the forge, filling the silence of the area with the sounds of a blacksmith's pursuit of a concept that had eluded him for some time now—day after day of forging, without care for his body, constantly searching for that final piece. The piece that would lead to the breakthrough he had needed for a long time, a special breakthrough that would reveal the path forward.
Rak could feel it—no, he could see it. The mist that hung over his eyes, preventing him from seeing the way forward on his journey of creation, was beginning to clear. This breakthrough would be a whirlwind, blowing the mist away and easing the next few steps on the path.
He had thought the final step would come easily with his metamorphosis, but he was wrong. Something was still missing. His initial thought was that he needed more time—it hadn't been long since he and the rest of the villagers had been transformed. But during his time forging new weapons for the conquest, the blacksmith had felt no change in his bottleneck.
That was when despair began to set in, and with it, doubt. Was he perhaps lacking the talent to continue forward on this path? Even with his Spark of Creation? Though the doubt crept into his heart, it never took hold of him completely. His confidant, the shaman-turned-priest, appeared like a guiding light and dispelled his doubts.
"Patience."
That was the only word the priest said when Rak had asked for advice, and he understood. Patience was something the blacksmith had mastered; he had been waiting for the great opportunity ever since he hit his first bottleneck.
And he didn't have to wait much longer. Even now, as Rak pounded away at the impurities, part of him couldn't believe he hadn't realised what the missing ingredient was. It was so simple.
Inspiration.
He had been lacking inspiration.
And he found it in the most unlikely of places: the Unholy Womb ritual.
Just like the rest of the remaining villagers, the blacksmith had been curious to see what the First Priest intended to do with the prisoners. They had been forbidden from touching them, leaving them only to imagine how they would have enjoyed them. When the time for the ritual came, the acolytes relayed the First Priest's orders: maintain a distance from the ritual site at all times, no matter the circumstances.
With the orders in mind, Rak sat back with his son to observe the ritual, not knowing the opportunity he had been seeking was right in front of him.
It was when the strange heart began to fuse with the sacrifice that he noticed an odd set of markings being projected onto the pair by the circle. Though the markings were right before him, they vanished from his mind as soon as he saw them. It was as if he had been barred from comprehending these mysterious inscriptions, granted only a fleeting glimpse of their grandeur. Whether he was the only one experiencing this, Rak wasn't sure, he could always ask though.
But the look of confusion on his son's face made Rak's heart race. He didn't even need to hear the answer. Something told him he had stumbled onto a secret. A very valuable secret.
And he was right.
"What markings, Dad?"
Rak turned back to the markings without answering his son's question. Right now, he had to memorise at least one of the inscriptions. Selecting one of the many markings at random, he focused on every line that composed it. Little by little, he managed to imprint a single line into his mind, which should have made him leap with joy. But the splitting pain that threatened to tear his brain apart denied him the chance to celebrate his accomplishment.
But more importantly, it served as a warning of the dangers that lay in continuing this endeavour. For a moment, the blacksmith considered stopping here and thanking his Lord for the chance to memorise even one line of those esoteric markings. Yes, that was a good idea, he should just stop here.
"Patience."
A tired chuckle left his lips as he strained his eyes to focus on a specific marking, he had waited long enough. The fruit was ripe was the taking yet he was happy with a mere slice, how absurd.
Fortune favoured the brave, only by taking a risk could he grow and reach his potential. No longer would he dwell in mediocrity, it was time he lived up to the title of divine blacksmith. Well, future divine blacksmith.
So while blood dripped out of his eyes and his brain was being churned and bashed with forbidden knowledge, he kept a sharp focus on the inscription. After a certain point, he couldn't even tell if he had memorised a line or not, all of his senses were clogged with pain, overloading his mind with intense agony. But even then, he kept going, choosing to rely on pure instinct to determine whether a line had been memorised or not.
As the final section of the last line came up, he felt the world changing. The colours seemed to be bleeding away, slowly dripping into the next until nothing remained but grey. Next were the sounds. They were suddenly stripped away, granting the blacksmith's brain temporary respite before flooding it with a different kind of information. Or rather the lack of it. Eventually, all his senses except his eyes stopped working. It would probably be better to say they couldn't sense anything, for there was no stimulus to sense. Even the grey world around him faded to black.
With his brain almost devoid of sensory information, Rak poured everything into completing the image in his mind, this time without the overwhelming pain. Little did he know, fragments of his brain, like his surroundings, were beginning to wither away.
Soon, only the tiniest bit of the final line remained but Rak couldn't even exert himself anymore, there was nothing to exert. His brain was gone, his entire existence gone with it.
Yet somehow, he was still here, floating about in the blackness of nothingness. Was there a part of him that remained? But what was left?
As if reacting to his thoughts, a blue light burst through the eternal black. No. That wasn't right. It was always here. He just couldn't see it.
A condensation of inspiration and ideas that hid away in the depths of his soul, the Spark of Creation. And shifting around deep with this Spark, was an uncompleted mar—no, rune, that's what it was. He knew now. The Spark had thrown the knowledge at him like it was worth nothing in its eye. Or maybe because it was worthless information. He would figure that out later, right now the blacksmith allowed himself to be pulled towards the almost-complete rune.
Sensing his intentions, the rune stopped its movements and waited in place for Rak to reach it, visibly squirming with impatience. It welcomed the goblin with open arms, clearly displaying its aversion towards its incompleteness. Looking at the rune before him, Rak almost couldn't tell that it was missing a fragment, but a closer look at one of the lines revealed that it was infinitesimally shorter than it was meant to be. That final piece currently lay in his right hand. The final piece.
The thought made him laugh. He had always been searching for the final piece, who would've thought the final piece of one puzzle would lead to the final piece of his own. Wasting no more time, he placed the fragment where it belonged, granting the rune its wish.
Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, and then everything exploded.
Vivid colours stretched across his vision, while otherworldly whispers reverberated in his ears. His nose burned with a chaotic blend of scents—sweet orchids mingled with the smokiness of ash, slowly suffocating him with their intense blend. The surface of his skin tingled with a variety of sensations, each distinct in its own way but never lingering long enough for him to identify it.
His mind which had been closed due to his narrowed focus of forging had been forcefully opened to the real world. And it was beautiful.
Rak remained for some time after awakening from his enlightenment, appreciating his surroundings, taking a moment to make up for the time he had wasted searching for something that was right in front of him. And then he ran straight to his forge, brimming with excitement for about he was about to do.
A wide smile streaked the goblin's face as he recalled everything that led up to this current moment. He now had everything for his breakthrough.
All there was left to do was to add the final piece.