The rhythmic clang of hammer against metal echoed through the cramped forge, a steady beat that filled the dimly lit workshop. Ashen Sky, sweat dripping from his brow, grit his teeth as he brought the hammer down again and again, shaping the glowing bar of iron resting on the anvil. Sparks flew with every strike, illuminating the determined lines etched into his youthful face.
He was just an apprentice, the son of a nameless blacksmith in the small village of Emberstead, but in his mind, he was forging something far greater than a simple horseshoe.
"One day," he whispered under his breath, the words a mantra as his hammer struck, "I'll forge a blade worthy of the heavens."
But dreams didn't pay for food, nor did they keep raiders from storming the village gates. And Ashen's world was no place for dreamers.
The forge door creaked open, and his master, Old Garin, shuffled in. The grizzled man's face was as weathered as the iron tools hanging on the walls. He squinted at Ashen through the smoke-filled air.
"Still daydreaming about forging swords for immortals, boy?" Garin grumbled, crossing his arms.
Ashen wiped his brow, forcing a smile. "One day, Master Garin. You'll see."
Garin snorted, though there was a flicker of pride in his eyes. "Dreams are fine, but focus on what's in front of you. That shoe's not going to shape itself."
Ashen returned to his work, but as the hammer rang out again, something shifted. A faint, unnatural warmth spread through the forge, prickling at his skin. The flames in the forge pit flared, rising impossibly high and casting eerie shadows on the walls.
"What in the heavens—" Garin began, but his words were cut off as the flames coiled like serpents and surged toward Ashen.
The Flame Within
The fire struck Ashen's chest like a tidal wave, knocking him to the ground. Pain seared through his body, but it wasn't the burning he expected. Instead, it felt as if the fire was burrowing into his very soul, a molten current coursing through his veins.
"Ashen!" Garin shouted, rushing to his side, but the boy couldn't respond. His vision blurred, the world dissolving into a haze of flame and shadow.
Within the fire, a voice spoke—a deep, resonant tone that vibrated in his very bones.
"You have been chosen."
"Chosen for what?" Ashen tried to speak, but his voice was little more than a whisper.
"The Infernal Forge awakens. Prove yourself worthy, or be consumed by its flames."
The fire swirled around him, forming shapes—glowing runes that danced in the air, their meaning incomprehensible. Before he could process what was happening, a massive forge materialized in the void of his mind. It was unlike anything he had ever seen—towering pillars of blackened steel, a furnace that roared with golden flames, and an anvil etched with symbols that seemed to pulse with life.
The voice spoke again. "Forge your first creation, and your path shall begin."
A Trial of Fire
Ashen's body moved on instinct, his hands gripping the spectral hammer that appeared in his grasp. A lump of molten metal glowed on the anvil before him, and though the heat was overwhelming, he felt no pain.
"Forge...?" he murmured, his heart pounding.
With a shaky breath, he raised the hammer and brought it down. The impact sent a shockwave of energy rippling through the void, and the molten metal began to take shape. He didn't know what he was crafting—his hands moved as though guided by an unseen force.
The fire around him pulsed with every strike, the voice growing louder. "Shape the weapon. Let the flames become your guide."
Minutes—or hours—passed, the concept of time meaningless in this strange realm. At last, the hammer's final strike rang out, and the fire roared with approval. Before him lay a gleaming blade, its surface shimmering with ethereal light.
The voice spoke again, quieter now. "The Infernal Forge accepts you. But beware, young smith. Its flames are both a gift and a curse."
The blade dissolved into light, and Ashen felt a surge of energy flood his body. The fire receded, the forge disappearing into darkness.
A Changed Man
When Ashen awoke, he was back in the village forge, lying on the cold stone floor. The flames in the forge pit burned low, as if nothing unusual had happened.
"Ashen!" Garin's voice broke through the haze, and Ashen sat up, wincing. His entire body ached, but it wasn't the pain of injury—it was something deeper, something... changed.
"I'm fine," Ashen said, though his voice trembled.
Garin knelt beside him, his eyes wide. "Fine? You were engulfed in flames! I thought you'd burned to ash!"
Ashen looked down at his hands, half-expecting them to be scorched. Instead, they felt warm—no, powerful. A faint glow emanated from his palms, and in the back of his mind, he felt the presence of something vast and ancient.
A message flashed before his eyes, written in glowing runes:
Infernal Forge System Activated.
Welcome, Ashen Sky. Your journey begins.
"What... what is this?" Ashen whispered.
Garin frowned, his voice low. "You're not telling me everything, are you, boy?"
Ashen hesitated. He didn't know how to explain what had just happened—or if he even could. But before he could answer, the forge door slammed open, and a group of villagers burst in.
"Raiders!" one of them shouted. "They're coming!"
Baptism by Fire
The village of Emberstead had always been a target for raiders—its location at the edge of the Flamewake Empire made it vulnerable. But as Ashen stepped outside and saw the approaching group of armored figures, something inside him shifted.
The raiders were led by a towering man clad in black armor, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Bring out your valuables!" he roared. "Resist, and we'll burn this place to the ground!"
Ashen clenched his fists, the warmth in his chest surging. The system's voice echoed in his mind.
"Forge a weapon. Defend what is yours."
He turned back to the forge, his heart racing. The flames roared to life as he stepped inside, guided by an unseen force. Grabbing a bar of steel, he placed it on the anvil, the spectral hammer appearing in his hands once more.
"What are you doing?" Garin shouted.
"Something I should have done long ago," Ashen replied, his voice steady.
The hammer struck, and sparks flew. Each strike seemed to resonate with power, the flames in the forge growing brighter. The steel twisted and reshaped, becoming a blade unlike any Ashen had ever seen—sleek and deadly, with runes etched along its surface.
When the weapon was complete, Ashen grasped it, feeling its weight and power. A notification flashed in his mind:
Weapon Forged: Emberfang (Rank: Mortal Tier).
Effect: Enhances wielder's strength and speed by 20%.
Ashen stepped outside, the blade glowing faintly in his hands.
The First Fight
The raiders laughed as Ashen approached. "What's this?" their leader sneered. "A blacksmith boy thinks he can fight?"
Ashen's grip tightened on the hilt of Emberfang. The warmth of the Forge filled him, steadying his nerves. "Leave now, and I won't have to prove you wrong."
The leader's grin faded. "Kill him."
The first raider lunged, but Ashen moved faster than he ever thought possible. Emberfang flashed, and the man's weapon shattered on contact. A second strike sent the raider sprawling, unconscious.
The rest hesitated, and the leader's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
Ashen raised his blade, the flames of the forge reflected in his determined gaze. "Just a blacksmith."