The Forge of Eternity blazed with an intensity that rivaled the heavens. Sparks rained down like falling stars as the hammer struck the anvil, a rhythm so steady it felt like the beating heart of Auralis itself.

In the heart of the massive forge, Solarael worked in silence. His twin pistols, Luna and Sol, rested nearby, their etchings glowing faintly with the Aether coursing through them. The hulking Eclipse gloves were mounted on the wall above his head, their metallic surfaces absorbing the light of the flames. Every movement of his hammer sent ripples of power through the chamber, as though the world itself bowed to his craft.

This was no ordinary forge, and Solarael was no ordinary smith.

The Eternal Anvil, a relic of untold ages, shimmered under his touch. Every strike infused molten metal with the essence of Aether, transforming it into weapons of legend. Beside him, Baldeir watched with a mix of pride and concern, his scarred arms crossed over his chest. The elder blacksmith's voice, deep and steady, cut through the din.

"You're pushing yourself too hard," Baldeir said, stepping closer. His twin hammers, Thundersroar and Anvilstrike, hung tattooed across his back, faintly glowing with latent energy. "Even you can't outrun the weight of what you've lost."

Solarael didn't stop. The hammer fell again, sending another shockwave through the air. His face, usually calm and composed, was lined with exhaustion.

"I can't stop," Solarael muttered. His voice was low but carried the resolve of a man trying to hammer his grief into the steel. "If I stop, I'll... I'll lose her all over again."

Baldeir frowned, stepping to the side of the anvil. "She wouldn't want this. Your daughter needs you."

The hammer paused mid-swing. For a moment, the fires of the forge seemed to dim as Solarael lowered the tool and stared into the glowing metal before him. His reflection shimmered on its surface, distorted by the heat.

"I've already failed her," he said, his voice breaking. "I failed both of them."

Before Baldeir could respond, the air in the forge grew heavy. The Aether within the chamber seemed to tremble, responding to something unseen. Solarael's hand instinctively went to Luna at his side. Baldeir straightened, his eyes narrowing as the faint, otherworldly hum of Aether corruption echoed from the open doorway.

From the shadows beyond the forge, a figure emerged. It was a man cloaked in rags, his eyes glowing faintly with a sickly green light—a clear sign of corruption. His steps were unsteady, as if his very soul were unraveling. Behind him, other shapes skulked in the darkness, their distorted forms marked by the touch of excess Aether.

"Aetherfiends," Baldeir muttered, gripping the tattoo on his shoulder. With a guttural chant, he pulled his hammers from his back. They materialized in his hands with a crackle of lightning, illuminating the chamber.

The corrupted man stepped closer, his voice a rasping whisper. "The legend... must... fall."

Solarael didn't hesitate. In one smooth motion, he slid his pistols into his hands. With a brief whisper of his own, the runes on Luna and Sol flared to life.

"This forge is sacred ground," Solarael said, his voice cold and steady. "You won't desecrate it."

The corrupted man lunged, and chaos erupted.

The battle that followed was brutal and unrelenting. The air rang with the clash of weapons and the howl of fiends. Baldeir's hammers struck with the fury of a storm, each swing sending arcs of lightning that obliterated the weaker creatures. Solarael moved like a shadow, his pistols unleashing beams of pure Aetheric light that burned through their enemies.

But for every fiend they struck down, two more seemed to take its place. The corruption was spreading faster than either of them had seen before.

"Something's wrong!" Baldeir shouted, his voice straining against the cacophony of battle. "This isn't natural—this is coordinated!"

Solarael fired a shot that ricocheted off the walls, striking three fiends in quick succession. "Get to the forge's core," he ordered. "If they corrupt it—"

An explosion rocked the chamber, cutting him off. A massive creature, its body a grotesque fusion of bone and metal, burst through the doorway. Its roar shook the walls, and its Aether-infused limbs radiated an unnatural heat.

The sight of it made Solarael's heart sink. He had crafted that armor.

The realization struck him like a hammer blow—this wasn't just an attack. It was a perversion of his life's work.

"We can't hold them here," Baldeir growled, stepping forward to face the creature. His hammers sparked violently as he raised them. "Go. Protect what's left of your family."

"No," Solarael said, his pistols glowing brighter. "We fight together."

Before Baldeir could argue, the creature charged.

By the time the sun rose over the city, the forge was silent. The corrupted were defeated, their bodies reduced to ash, but the cost was steep. The once-pristine chamber lay in ruins, its flames guttering out.

Solarael stood alone. His weapons hung at his sides, their light dimmed. Baldeir was gone, though his hammers rested against the anvil—a silent memorial.

For a long moment, Solarael stared at the destruction. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away, his cloak billowing behind him. He didn't look back.

From that day on, the world knew one thing: the Legend of Creation had vanished.

And in the years that followed, as the corruption spread and whispers of doom grew louder, his absence became a question that haunted all of Auralis.