The rhythmic clang of hammer on metal had become as familiar to Wooin as his own heartbeat. Day after day, the clang, the heat, and the sweat were constants in his life, keeping his mind focused, his hands steady. Months had passed since the day Gyeo had first offered him a glimpse of something more—something beyond the forge.
At first, Wooin had resisted. Gyeo's words had echoed in his mind, but he kept his distance, buried deep in the work. The world outside the smithy had only ever brought him pain, and Wooin had learned long ago not to trust anyone who offered too much. But slowly, something had changed. It wasn't just the grind of the forge anymore; there was a bond, a camaraderie that had started to form between him and Gyeo. It was subtle at first—a few shared words here and there, small moments where Gyeo had shown an unexpected kindness. But over time, those moments had added up, and Wooin found himself listening more when Gyeo spoke, letting his guard down just a little bit at a time.
Gyeo had become the only person, other than his family, who ever seemed to care.
---
One evening, after the last hammer strike had sounded, Wooin wiped his brow and put down his tools. The forge was dimming, the last embers flickering weakly in the furnace. He glanced at the doorway to the main hall of the smithy, where Gyeo was leaning against the frame, watching him.
"You've been working a lot lately," Gyeo remarked, his voice gruff, but not unkind.
Wooin paused, leaning against the workbench. "It's nothing. I'm used to it."
Gyeo didn't respond right away. Instead, he pushed himself off the doorframe and walked toward Wooin, a look of contemplation in his eyes.
"You know," Gyeo said, after a moment, "you've been here a while now. I've seen a lot of young ones come through, but none quite like you."
Wooin shifted uncomfortably. "What do you mean?"
Gyeo studied him for a moment, before letting out a sigh. "You've got a rough exterior, but underneath? You're soft, Wooin. Too soft for this world."
He quickly turned his back to Gyeo and set about organizing the tools on the bench, his movements sharp and deliberate. "I'm fine."
"You don't have to pretend with me," Gyeo continued, his voice quieter now. "I've been where you are. Been through it all. The pain, the loss, the struggles. But you've got something that a lot of people don't—you've got heart."
Wooin clenched his fists, feeling a surge of emotion he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge in a long time. Gyeo was right. The years had been brutal. He thought of his father, slain by monsters in the early days of the chaos. His mother's tired face, constantly bearing the weight of the family's survival on her shoulders. His younger sister, still a child, who had only known a world filled with terror. And Wooin? He had carried it all on his shoulders—day after day—watching as the world seemed to crumble around him, while he could do little more than survive.
"What's your story, Gyeo-sshi?" Wooin asked quietly, not meeting his boss's gaze.
Gyeo grunted, clearly not expecting the question. For a long while, there was silence between them, broken only by the occasional crackle from the dying embers in the furnace. Finally, Gyeo spoke.
"You want to know what it's like?" he asked, his voice softer now, laced with an edge of something like regret. "I came from nothing. Lost everything when the dungeons first opened. My family, my home, everything. But I didn't let that break me. I didn't have a choice. The world was changing, and either I changed with it, or I'd be trampled by it."
Wooin looked up at him now, surprised by the vulnerability in Gyeo's voice. The man was a pillar of strength, gruff and unyielding. To hear him speak of his past so openly was rare.
"I spent years wandering the ruins of cities, surviving off what I could find, working odd jobs to keep going. But then I found the forge—found something to hold on to. It was the only thing I could control in a world that had gone mad. And I kept going. Kept working. Because that's what you do. You keep pushing forward, no matter what."
Wooin was silent, his chest tightening as he absorbed Gyeo's words. He had never seen the blacksmith this way—raw, exposed. For the first time, he saw the man not as a mentor or boss, but as someone who had been through the same kind of suffering he had.
"I know it's not easy," Gyeo continued, his voice taking on a harder edge. "But you can't let the world break you. If you do, you'll end up just like the rest of them—lost, forgotten. You've got the potential to rise above it all, Wooin. You've got the heart to do more than just survive."
Wooin swallowed hard, feeling something inside him stir. It was a feeling he hadn't allowed himself to entertain for a long time: hope.
Gyeo stepped forward, his eyes narrowing with a sense of finality. "That's why I'm offering you something. An opportunity. Something that could change your life. All I need is for you to trust me."
Wooin's mind raced. "What kind of opportunity?"
Gyeo gave a sly grin, the first smile Wooin had seen from him in months. "Follow me."
---
The basement of the smithy was cool, darker than the main forge above. The walls were lined with old tools, rusted and unused. The stone floor was slick with years of dust and oil. Wooin followed Gyeo down a narrow, winding path, the air growing colder with each step. There was something about the place—something hidden, ancient, almost oppressive.
At the end of the corridor, they came to a large, thick door—taller than any door Wooin had ever seen. It was made of metal, dark and weathered, with intricate markings carved into its surface. The door seemed to hum with an energy that Wooin couldn't quite place, but something about it drew him in, a sense of foreboding mixed with something he couldn't name.
Gyeo stood before it, his hand resting on the cold metal, his expression grim.
"This," Gyeo began, his voice dropping to a whisper, "is the legacy of Hak Yon."
Wooin blinked, confused. "Hak Yon?"
"Yeah," Gyeo replied, his tone heavy with reverence. "He was the greatest blacksmith who ever lived. But more than that, he was the greatest swordsman to ever walk this earth. Hak Yon ruled the world, not just through his blade, but through his skill as a craftsman. He forged weapons that could change the fate of battles, that could bring down armies, that could shape the world. But eventually, his name was erased from history. His legacy was lost, buried deep underground."
Wooin's heart quickened. "But… why is it here?"
Gyeo's eyes darkened, and for a moment, Wooin saw the weight of years in his gaze. "Because this door holds Hak Yon's legacy. Behind it is his secret, the culmination of all his knowledge. Only one who is worthy can unlock it."
He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in.
"Many have tried," Gyeo continued, his voice bitter. "I've tried myself. But no one has ever made it past the molten lava chamber. No one."
Wooin stared at the door, a mix of awe and fear swirling inside him. "And you think I'm worthy?"
Gyeo didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked at Wooin, his gaze piercing. "I think you might be. But it's not something to take lightly. You could die trying. There's a test—Hak Yon's final challenge. Only those who pass can wield his legacy. Those who fail… sometimes they lose their mind sometimes die from the shock but rarely people like Gyeo-sshi with strong mentality survive."
Wooin's mind raced, his breath shallow. This was beyond anything he could have imagined. A part of him wanted to turn away, to walk back to the familiar grind of the forge and leave this madness behind. But another part—the part that had spent his entire life fighting for survival—began to stir. Could this be the chance he had been waiting for? The opportunity to change his fate, to stop just surviving and finally take control?
Gyeo's voice broke through his thoughts. "Think carefully, Wooin. This could be your chance. But it could also be your end. No one else can decide for you. The choice is yours."
Wooin's gaze locked onto the massive door, the heavy silence stretching between them.
Behind that door lay the legacy of Hak Yon. And with it, the possibility of something greater.
But was he willing to risk it all?