The air in the "Abyssal Marrow" was vibrating with a low, bone-chilling hum as Yun, Shara, and Meilin returned to Silas's workshop. The Bone Smith was no longer working at his bench; he was standing before a massive resonance chamber, his six mechanical arms moving in a synchronized, hypnotic dance.
The hologram of the Star-Eater Beast flickered behind him, its shadow looming over the room like a premonition. Silas turned, his metallic eyes whirring as they locked onto Yun. The Marquis's visit had clearly reached the underworld's ears, as Silas looked even more frantic than before.
"The Marquis is a fool, but he is a fool with the power to tilt the world," Silas rasped, gesturing toward two obsidian cases resting on a slab of fossilized bone. "He thinks formations can cage a singularity. But you, Yun... you are not yet a singularity. You are an open wound in reality. And wounds can be stitched shut if you don't have the right cautery."
Silas opened the first case. Inside lay a pair of twin daggers that looked like frozen smoke, their edges shifting between physical steel and ethereal mist.
"For the Phoenix," Silas said, handing them to Meilin. "These are the Cinder-Wraiths. They won't just channel your fire; they will allow your flames to burn things that have no physical form—ghosts, intents, and the Arena's own suppression arrays. Your fire must be the veil that hides Yun's true nature until the moment of impact."
He opened the second case. A long, slender staff made of white wood from the Silent End, tipped with a crescent blade of jade that seemed to breathe.
"For the Saintess," Silas continued, offering it to Shara. "The Thorn of Providence. It is attuned to the ley lines of Odis. Use it to feed Yun the energy he needs when the Arena tries to starve him. You are his anchor; if you fail, the Void will consume him before he can consume the beast."
Yun stepped forward, his eyes searching for his own weapon. But the third case was empty.
"And me?" Yun asked, his voice a low vibration that made the resonance tubes in the room rattle.
"You are the paradox, boy," Silas said, stepping closer. "I cannot forge your blade. Not yet. I have prepared the Void-Hilt—a grip made from the vertebrae of the Titan. But it has no edge. It is a handle for a vacuum."
Silas pulled out a hilt of dark, pulsing bone. It felt cold, colder than the Abyss, yet it resonated with Yun's own marrow.
"The Star-Eater Beast is not just a monster," Silas explained, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It is a fragment of the Forge that was never cooled. Its soul is the 'Edge' you lack. To forge the Void Reaver, you must enter the Arena with this hilt and, in the heat of battle, you must reach into the beast's very essence. You must 'domat' its soul—not by breaking it, but by making it realize that it is part of you."
Meilin gripped her daggers, her flames turning a deep, vengeful white. "So he has to fight a world-ending monster with a broken handle?"
"Not a broken handle," Shara corrected, her hand tightening on the Thorn of Providence. "An invitation. Silas is right. Yun's power cannot be contained in a pre-made vessel. He has to create the vessel while the world watches."
Yun took the Void-Hilt. The moment his translucent fingers touched the bone, a shockwave of violet light erupted from his body, blowing back the loose scrap metal in the shop. He didn't see a hilt; he saw a door that was waiting to be opened.
"The beast is hungry," Yun said, his eyes now completely violet, devoid of pupils. "But it doesn't know that I am the hunger that birthed it. Shara, Meilin... tomorrow, we don't just survive the Arena. We finish the work the Titan started."
Silas watched them leave, his mechanical arms finally going still. "Either he forges the end of the world," he muttered to the empty workshop, "or he becomes the silence that follows it."