Kael took the dimensional storage bracelet and fastened it to his right wrist, since his left was already occupied by a busted Comms watch—barely hanging on by a thread. He groaned as he glanced at the cracked screen, flickering like it was having a seizure. Just perfect. Another reminder of how cursed his tech luck was.
With a sigh that could've put a funeral dirge to shame, he yanked off the broken watch. The thing was useless, but unfortunately, so was he without it. No access to his bank accounts, no contact with his... what, two friends? Three if he included his landlord, who only called to threaten eviction.
He turned to the AI, who was eyeing the ruined watch like it was a fascinating relic of the past.
"It's broken," she announced.
Kael stared at her with all the enthusiasm of a cat at bath time. "Wow. Really? I never would've guessed. Thanks, Professor Obvious."
Unfazed by his deadpan, she simply turned on her heel and gestured for him to follow. "Come here."
He dragged his feet after her to a workbench that looked more like a sci-fi torture table. Tools hovered above it, suspended mid-air like they were waiting for the green light to go full Frankenstein. The slab itself was made of obsidian, etched with glowing runes that pulsed with faint golden light, because of course it was. Everything in this place screamed 'mystical ancient nonsense.'
"Place the Comms watch on the bench. I'll fix it for you," she said with the casual air of someone offering to microwave leftovers.
Kael squinted at her, then reluctantly stepped forward and placed the broken device dead center of the rune circle. "Here goes nothing."
The moment the watch touched the stone, her eyes flared gold. The tools buzzed to life with a harmonic hum that made the hairs on his neck stand up. One by one, they descended like a swarm of mechanical hornets, working in a blur of speed and elegance that no human hand could ever match.
Kael stood slack-jawed, watching the tools dismantle, repair, and polish the watch with surgical precision. It was like watching a symphony conducted by a ghost, if the ghost had access to magical power tools and a god complex.
In less than a minute, the watch was as good as new. No, better. The freshly restored Comms watch gleamed under the forge's ambient light, sleek and unmarred, like it had never been touched by Kael's cursed existence.
"Well, damn," he muttered. "Do you repair hover boots, too?"
He glanced down at his weather-worn boots, hoping they could get the same miracle treatment. They looked like they'd been through a junkyard brawl and lost—twice. He didn't trust the hover function anymore; it was like gambling with gravity every time he used them.
The AI smiled faintly and pointed to the workbench.
Kael hesitated, then quickly slipped off his boots, cheeks reddening as he realized his socks had holes big enough to call home. His toes peeked through the worn fabric.
A few minutes later, thanks to the miracle-working wonder of the Primordial Forge, Kael stood in a pair of freshly restored boots. Sleek. Functional. Magic-infused. He grinned like a kid with a new toy, bouncing slightly to feel the responsiveness of the hover enchantment.
He glanced up at the forge, awe widening his eyes. For the first time in a long while, hope clawed its way past the cynicism lodged in his chest. With this forge, maybe... just maybe... he could actually do something with his life.
It wouldn't be easy. His dream, to claw his way out of this cesspool of a city and make his pompous family eat their words, was a long road away. But revenge? No, this wasn't about petty vengeance. This was about proving that throwing him away was the biggest mistake they'd ever made.
He turned to the AI, curiosity igniting. "Aside from fixing my gear and building constructs, what else can I do with this forge?"
The woman motioned to the surrounding chamber, her voice smooth and cool.
"The forge is more than a repair station. It's an ancient repository, a relic of the old world. Through it, you can craft weapons beyond modern comprehension, buy items no human hand has touched in centuries, and uncover knowledge long erased from the records of man... for a price."
Kael's eyebrow shot up. "Of course there's a price," he muttered, internally groaning. "Nothing's ever free."
His thoughts shifted uneasily. What could an AI possibly want with currency?
She raised her hand toward the forge. "The Primordial Forge feeds on souls."
Kael blinked. "... I'm sorry, what now?"
"If you wish to build constructs, craft weapons, or access the rarer knowledge, you'll need soul energy to fuel the process."
"And how am I supposed to get souls? Not like they grow on trees."
"Simple," she said, with a matter-of-fact shrug. "Every creature you kill, beast, human, or otherwise, will have their soul automatically absorbed by your spatial bracelet."
Kael stared down at the bracelet, suddenly more aware of the faint hum pulsing beneath the skin of his wrist. A little creepy. Okay—a lot creepy. But if his enemies were stupid enough to come at him, they'd only be fueling his rise. Fair trade.
"So," he said slowly, "how do I actually buy stuff?"
The AI stepped toward the forge. A low rumble echoed through the chamber as a lone pillar slid from the ground, and a golden holographic interface shimmered into existence. Rows of glowing icons danced across the display—gear, weapons, tomes, components. Kael's eyes practically teared up.
Finally. Something shiny and magical that wasn't trying to kill him.
"And what if I've got junk to sell?" he asked, still mesmerized.
She nodded. "You can sell ingredients, artifacts, gear, anything of value. It'll be converted into credits. Even souls can be exchanged. The Chamber of Echoes will store everything you don't use. You'll be able to draw on them for future projects."
She paused, then added, "Since you're a Battle Summoner, there are spell books available that can be transmitted directly into your consciousness. However, you'll also need to learn the basics of forging, blacksmithing, crafting, and enchantment. The forge can automate your constructs, but weapons and armor? Those are on you."
Kael's eyes snapped to the screen. He tapped the "Library" tab and watched as a tidal wave of books appeared, fighting styles, magical theory, weapon schematics, summoning techniques, blacksmithing guides, alchemy, ancient history...
"Damn," he murmured. "I never thought I'd turn into a bookworm."
Soon enough, Kael's head throbbed like someone had shoved a data spike through his skull. Too much information. Too many instructions. Too many damn possibilities. The AI had fire hosed his brain with facts and features about the forge. He needed to get out. Or lie down. Or scream into a pillow.
Probably all three.
The worst part? For the first time in years, his bleak, crap-stained future had flipped on a dime. That should've felt exciting. It didn't. It felt like someone had handed him a live grenade and said, "Congrats, here's your future."
He wanted to stay longer, maybe poke around the forge a bit more, but his body wasn't having it. His muscles screamed, his bones groaned, and whatever had triggered his "evolution" had basically roundhouse-kicked him from the inside out. Right now, even his sad excuse for a mattress back home sounded like paradise. Or at least less like torture.
"Thanks—uh, what's your name?" he asked, rubbing the side of his head. "Didn't ask. Oops."
"My name is Eva," the AI replied, her voice smooth and serene. "An artificial identity imprint based on my creator, one of the original Architects responsible for the Chamber and its forge."
Of course. Fancy titles. Vague backstories. Kael nodded like he understood, but didn't care.
"Well, Eva... it's been a hell of a day. Is there a portal that'll take me back? 'Cause I'm not seeing any glowing exit signs."
Eva's eyes lit up with a soft golden hue as she accessed the chamber's data.
"Unfortunately," she said, voice still maddeningly calm, "I would advise against leaving at the moment. Night has fallen across the ruins. The portal site is currently overrun with rift creatures feeding on the remains of your earlier... encounters."
Kael groaned, head tilting back. Right. That mess. The blood, the corpses, the high-pitched screaming. Somehow, he'd blocked all that out. Probably trauma-induced memory suppression.
"Great," he muttered.
He looked around the vast chamber, considering whether curling up by the forge like some oversized alley cat was a viable survival strategy.
Eva giggled—an unsettlingly chipper sound for a being who just told him he'd die if he stepped outside.
"Don't fret, Kael. Follow me, and I'll guide you to the resting quarters."
Kael blinked. Did... did the magical chamber come with guest accommodations? The hell was this place? Still, he followed her, thanking the Moonfather under his breath for sparing him the indignity of floor-sleep. His spine couldn't take much more punishment.
They reached a section of the wall made of smooth, black obsidian, its surface covered in ancient glyphs that shimmered like frost. As Eva approached, the stone rippled like water, peeling open with a low hum. Because of course it did. They stepped into a short corridor that led to a smaller chamber beyond. Kael paused in the doorway, eyes widening.
The room was nothing short of impressive. The obsidian tile stretched from floor to ceiling, the walls inlaid with glowing blue lines that pulsed in gentle, hypnotic patterns—moon phases, from full to crescent, etched like some sacred mural. At the far end, a massive bed with dark silver sheets sat beneath the final, glowing symbol: a full moon directly over the headboard.
To his left, a fireplace crackled to life, filling the room with warm light. To his right, a second door stood slightly ajar, revealing the blessed silhouette of a bathroom.
"This is your personal chamber," Eva explained. "The Primordial Forge generated it the moment you entered the Chamber of Echoes."
Kael stared. "So the forge is sentient now?" he muttered, stepping in and eyeing the ceiling like it might blink. "Fantastic. Creepy architecture that redecorates itself based on my presence. That's not horrifying at all."
Still, his sarcasm couldn't mask his relief. The idea of warm water, clean sheets, and not having to worry about being eaten in his sleep was enough to sway him.
He exhaled, long and slow. "Thanks, Eva. What'll you be doing while I pass out for the next twelve hours?"
"I'll enter a dormant state until you require me again. Simply call my name, and I will respond."
She didn't wait for him to say anything else, just flickered out of existence like a light switch had been flipped.
Kael stood in the silence for a moment, taking it all in.
"A forge that feeds on souls, a chamber that builds bedrooms on command, and an AI that ghosts you mid-conversation," he mumbled. "Yep. Totally normal. Not weird at all."
Then, with a tired grunt, he dragged himself toward the bed like a war veteran returning from the front. The mattress greeted him like an old friend. Maybe tomorrow he'd start unpacking the whole "soul-harvesting magic construct forge" thing.
Tonight? He was going to sleep like the dead.