The Ember & Anvil was gone. Buried under rubble, its master declared dead.
Kael held a public funeral for Drogmir. Half the town shut down in mourning.
Miles away from the grieving streets…
Deep in a jungle cave swallowed by thick vines, a faint glow flickered.
Evan stood before a tireless figure.
Drogmir.Or rather, what was left of him.
The undead dwarf hammered away at molten metal, his lifeless eyes fixed on the workbench.
Every tool from the ruined smithy had been laid out in the cave.
The air rang with the steady rhythm of steel meeting steel.
Evan's voice had been cold when he gave his order.
"Three days. Fail… and I burn you again."
One day had already passed since Drogmir's "death."
Earlier, Evan had returned to the inn, quietly paying for a few more days. He locked the room, but that wasn't where he stayed.
Under the cover of night, he slipped away to meet his Undead blacksmith summon.
The cave became Drogmir's world—Evan fed him flames, materials, and silence.
Results were all that mattered. Nothing less than Erith-tier work would do.
Tonight, Evan checked on something else.
The forge.
[Royal Forge] {Tier ? / ????}: ???? ?????????? ????????? ????????? ????????.
His first system gave nothing but question marks.
But the second system… revealed the truth.
[Royal Forge – Tier 3 (Tier 0) | Myrran]
An elegantly crafted forge once reserved for the royal smiths of the Draconic King. Its flames burn steadily with noble mana, allowing even common metals to become masterwork—sometimes even miracles.
Bounded: Drogmir Ironbelch (9★ Smith / Tier 0) (Blood-type / Partial)
Effects:
• +35% success rate for Erith-tier forging.
• +25% durability to crafted gear.
• Imprinting of minor elemental attributes.
• -15% material loss during smelting.
Note: A suitable flame is needed to bring out the forge's potential.
Evan read the note and understood why Drogmir had failed to make Erith-tier items before.
The bond between forge and smith had likely formed by mistake. But even in undeath, a partial bond remained.
He hadn't bound it himself for one simple reason—his Blacksmith class wasn't unlocked.
Better to let Drogmir work without rest than waste time himself.
The undead were left in the cave, its entrance cloaked by an undead mage's magic.
Even if discovered, it would take time to break through the barrier.
Back in town, despair was thick in the air.
Drogmir had been one of the top three smiths in the region. Rumours claimed even Sylen had tried to recruit him, only to be refused.
His friendship with Kael, the rising star, only fanned the flames of gossip.
Evan, meanwhile, waited. He could only give Drogmir three more days before moving on.
Time and opportunity waited for no one.
Those days were not wasted. Evan spent most of them honing his elemental mastery.
Two elements could now be manifested and controlled at once, allowing him to perform several acts simultaneously.
His control over a single element had also sharpened to the next level.
At this pace, he was certain he could reach Tier 2 spell power within a month.
Elemental combat was far more complex here, but his understanding deepened with every use.
On the third day, fresh news broke.
Arven returned.
The man who had been silent ever since meeting Sylen.
His face was darker than usual.
The weight in his eyes said enough—whatever he had to share was serious.
And when he spoke… It was a disaster.
"Arven, what happened? Why are you so tense? And where did you vanish for so long?"
Evan's brows drew together, questions flooding his mind.
Arven didn't answer right away. He strolled around the room, eyes scanning the surroundings.
"Kid… I think I need to start looking at the bigger picture.
Some high-end players are meddling in the field of fate before I even step in. And that's not my kind of game."
Evan frowned.
"High-end players? What field? What are you talking about?"
"To explain that… we start from the beginning. Listen carefully. I won't say this twice."
Evan straightened in his chair. If Arven was speaking like this, it meant trouble.
"This world you're living in is just a universe. One drop in an endless ocean.
There are thousands more, each with its own foundations, powers, and laws.
Yours is no different.
At the center of all these universes lies the Main Land of Creation—home to the True Beings.
Monarchs and higher powers from your universe… are nothing compared to them.
From these universes, successors are chosen—God Candidates.
They start as ordinary beings, but they hold one privilege no one else does.
Freedom.
Freedom to travel anywhere. Freedom to draw from any power source.
Freedom to claim talents, traits, soul attributes, even forbidden knowledge.
Each one wields strength equal to thousands of power ascenders.
Their potential for destruction is immeasurable."
Arven's tone grew sharper.
"But there are anomalies.
Beings who push beyond their limits and see the truth that's hidden from the rest. They break into Tier 8—a realm above gods.
That power lets them break their universe's rules and step into the Minor Void between worlds.
They can travel the universes like God Candidates."
Evan leaned forward.
"But if Tier 8s can do that, doesn't that make Candidates pointless?"
"Not exactly. Between the Mainland and the River of Universes lies the Void.
It stretches millions of light years and teems with Voidlings—diverse, terrifying, and absolute enemies of all who live in the Space Reality.
In the Void, they have the advantage, enough to halt even Tier 8 or Tier 9 beings from reaching the Main Land.
Because of them, non-relic Tier 8s are trapped in wandering—crossing universes, dodging dangers."
Arven's eyes darkened. "And one such anomaly is here. In this universe. Recovering."
Evan blinked. "Wait… here?"
"Yes. The day we met Sylen, I looked into his fate. It wasn't natural—it was man-made.
I dug deeper.
Found traces of someone hiding inside an Abyss Fragment. A Tier 8 who stumbled into this universe to escape a Void Beast surge.
He's been hiding ever since."
Evan exhaled."So what, Sylen is his chosen pawn? One of those 'destined ones' trying to take over Ceruleth?"
"Exactly. But not just the planet.
Sylen's backer is that Tier 8 anomaly. And Sylen himself… isn't human.
He's a clone. One of several. Each was placed in different expanses to seize control of Abyss Fragments."
Evan stared."So that smiling idiot is a copy of a Tier 8 god? That's… terrible news."
"Not as bad as you think. If he could fully connect to his true self, you'd already be dead.
He can probably only contact his other clones or his main body at intervals.
The story about his brothers and being abandoned? Probably a lie.
They're likely spread across other expanses, each hunting their own fragment.
We need to be careful.
And we need to investigate the forbidden zone he entered before gaining this power.
It might hold the truth."
Evan nodded slowly, the weight settling in. The conversation ended, but his mind didn't stop turning.
Now he wasn't just dealing with inner-universe threats. He had an Outer God problem hanging over his head.
"Hey, kid. What's got you so deep in thought?"
Evan jumped, nearly spilling his soup. When he looked up, he was in the inn's bar.
Arven sat beside him, unseen by everyone else. "I'm… just thinking how to kill him.
But that guy probably has more life-saving tricks than I can count. And there's something I'm still unsure about."
"What?"
Arven leaned closer. The chair shifted slightly, though no one noticed.
Only Evan could see him.
'I couldn't shake the thought.
What if we kill him… and that God Anomaly tracks us down?
Wouldn't that be a disaster waiting to happen?'
Arven leaned back, grinning like he owned the world. "Oh, that thing? Why worry? You have me, your chain, and my space-enclosure ability. If even that can't stop him, then give up on beating him entirely."
His eyes gleamed with pride.
"In matters of souls and death, I'm second to none. Only a handful of ancient monsters could match me—and not one can surpass me."
He flexed his chest, clearly enjoying himself.
Evan rolled his eyes, finishing his soup and bread, now cold from the delay.
He tossed a few coins on the table and left for his room.
No one followed.
No one watched.
The moment his door shut, he didn't bother with elemental training. Today was different.
Today… his new equipment was ready.
A mental ping from his mage confirmed it—Drogmir was putting the final touches on the items.
He waited a little longer, timing it perfectly.
Then, he opened the window.
One breath.Skill active.
He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the town shrinking behind him.
The wall came and went in a single bound, his enhanced stats making the jump effortless.
Outside, he summoned Zephoros—ten levels lower, but faster than most mounts could dream.
The stallion thundered forward, tearing across the land. In minutes, the town was nothing but a smudge in the distance.
The forest swallowed him in green shadows. When the moment felt right, he dismissed Zephoros and continued on foot.
The air grew thick.
Birdsong faded.
Before him stood a small, fake mountain.
He raised his hand. Earth shifted. Rock groaned. The ground obeyed.
Beasts fled as the mountain split, revealing a dark opening.
Evan jumped inside.
Moments later, the stone sealed behind him, erasing any trace of an entrance.
This was no natural cave.
It was his hidden forge.
He'd found it by chance—a hollow beneath an old tree, guarded by squirrel-like beasts. Beneath their home was a network of six connected caves.
Perfect for Drogmir's work. Perfect to hide from prying eyes.
He'd reshaped the entrance into a false mountain. No one had ever found it.
No one ever would.
"Drogmir," Evan's voice echoed in the dim chamber, "you'd better have finished. And it had better be to my taste—or you're dead."
Two undead stood silently by, like guardians to the treasure within.
Then he saw them—newly forged weapons and armour, gleaming under torchlight.
Exactly as he'd envisioned.
'System, enchant all pieces to the peak. Take the amount. We'll settle later.'
The talent worked swiftly.
One by one, the items' stats surged to life.
Evan opened the interface. Numbers and abilities filled his vision.
His lips curled into a grin.
"Oh damn… Now this is art."
And then—
-->To be continued...
What he saw were weapons beyond anything good or something far greater than he could have anticipated.
If you wanted answers, then came later on to the next chapter. Until then, goodbye—and don't forget to add it to your library and maybe leave a review too! :-)