The air in the village grew heavy after the attack of the assassins. Every shadow seemed sharper, every gust of wind colder. The villagers whispered in fear even as they tried to smile at Eryan, hiding their dread behind forced gratitude.
Selene noticed it most. Each time she walked past the marketplace, she heard hushed voices:
"Kael won't stop now."
"If even his shadows came here…"
"Will the smith really protect us?"
The weight pressed on her chest. She found Eryan at the forge, hammering again, sweat dripping down his arms as sparks danced across steel. He wasn't forging a new weapon—he was reforging the walls of his soul.
Eryan lifted the Rare Weapon, inspecting its violet glow. "This isn't enough," he muttered.
Selene stepped closer. "You beat Dargan. You survived the assassins. What more proof do you need?"
His eyes were shadowed. "Proof? Proof won't stop Kael. He's coming himself. I can feel it." His voice hardened. "I need to be stronger than this. Strong enough to crush him, even if it means…" He trailed off, glancing at the cursed blade lying on the anvil.
Selene followed his gaze, her stomach knotting. "No. Not that way."
Eryan closed his eyes. The whispers of the cursed blade slithered into his mind, echoing: Take me. Use me. You will not just defeat Kael… you will erase him.
He shoved the voice aside. "Then tell me, Selene… if not this, then how?"
Kael's March
Far away, Kael strode through his fortress, issuing commands like thunder. His crimson eyes blazed as he inspected the army forming below—rows upon rows of armored soldiers, each bearing his crest. War drums echoed, rattling the stones.
"Ready the vanguard," Kael commanded. "No more shadows, no more games. The blacksmith will see what true despair feels like."
Dargan limped beside him, shame still heavy on his shoulders. "My lord… forgive me, but if you march openly, you risk drawing the kingdoms into this. They will not stand idle while you raise your banners."
Kael stopped, turning slowly. His hand gripped Dargan's chin, forcing the man to look into his burning eyes. "Let them come. I will show them the futility of standing against me."
Dargan swallowed, trembling, but said nothing more.
Kael released him with a cruel smirk. "This smith has lit a spark. I will drown it in blood."
Foreshadowing Conflict
That night, Eryan sat alone outside the forge, staring at the stars. The villagers were quiet, the night still—too still. He ran his fingers over the hilt of the Rare Weapon, its warmth pulsing faintly, like a heartbeat.
Selene joined him, sitting close enough that their shoulders brushed. For a long while, they sat in silence. Finally, she whispered, "What do you see when you look at the stars?"
Eryan exhaled. "Endless battles. Endless trials. A sky full of fires waiting to fall." He turned, his eyes softer now. "But when I see you, I remember why I fight."
Selene's cheeks flushed faintly. She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Then promise me… whatever happens when Kael comes, you won't let him take that reason away."
Eryan placed his hand over hers. "I promise."
But deep inside, he wasn't sure if he could keep it.
The Omen
The next morning, scouts returned, breathless and pale. They reported seeing banners on the horizon—Kael's banners. The villagers panicked, some weeping, others rushing to pack their belongings.
Eryan stepped onto the square, raising his voice. "Listen to me! Kael is coming, yes. But this village will not fall. I forged this blade to protect you, and I will stand in front of you until my last breath."
The villagers quieted, their eyes turning to him with fragile hope. Children clutched their mothers, men stood straighter, and women whispered prayers.
Selene's heart swelled with both fear and pride. He was no longer just a smith; he was their shield.
But behind him, in the forge, the cursed,
The ground trembled long before the army was seen. Drums echoed across the hills, a steady thunder that rattled windows and froze hearts. By the time the villagers gathered at the edge of the square, dust clouds already rose in the distance.
Selene clutched her cloak tight, standing beside Eryan. Her face was pale, but her eyes never left his. "They're here…"
Eryan nodded grimly. His hand rested on the Rare Weapon at his hip, its violet glow faint but steady. Behind him, inside the forge, the Cursed Blade pulsed like a living heart, its whispers gnawing at the edges of his mind.
You cannot hold them all back. Take me. With me, one swing will silence their drums forever.
Eryan clenched his teeth. "Not yet."
Preparing the Forge
Before Kael's banners reached the village, Eryan retreated to the forge. The villagers whispered, fearing he would flee, but Selene followed him inside, shutting the heavy door.
He set the Rare Weapon across the anvil, staring at it. "I need to push it further. Reinforce the edge. Temper the core. If Kael himself comes, this won't be enough."
Selene moved closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her touch was warm, grounding him. "You've already risked everything. You nearly lost yourself to the Cursed Blade. Don't do it again."
He turned toward her, eyes dark. "If I don't, we all die. This isn't just a duel of honor anymore—it's war."
Their faces were close now, the heat of the forge wrapping around them. Selene's breath caught, but she didn't move away. Instead, she whispered, "Then let me stand beside you. If you fall, I'll pull you back. Every time."
The weight in his chest eased. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. For one fleeting moment, the world outside—the drums, the fear, the whispers—faded.
Fan Service – A Fragile Moment
Selene leaned into him, her lips brushing his jaw. "Don't carry it alone, Eryan."
For a heartbeat, he let himself give in—her warmth, her closeness, her faith. His hands rested on her waist, and he breathed in the faint scent of steel and lavender clinging to her.
But just as quickly, he pulled back, shaking his head. "Not now. Not when they need me clear."
Selene's cheeks flushed, but her smile was soft, understanding. "Then later. When you've won."
Kael's Arrival
The forge shook as a horn blared outside. Eryan stepped out, Selene at his side, and saw Kael's army at the edge of the fields. Hundreds of armored soldiers lined the horizon, their banners black and crimson. At the center, mounted on a black warhorse, Kael himself sat tall, his eyes glowing like embers in the dusk.
The villagers gasped, some falling to their knees. The sheer presence of Kael crushed the air, suffocating them.
Kael raised a hand, and silence rippled across the battlefield. His voice carried unnaturally far, a booming declaration.
"Eryan the Smith. You dared to defy me. You dared to forge a weapon that humiliated my men. Now, I will break you before your people, and they will learn what happens to those who resist."
Eryan stepped forward, Rare Weapon unsheathed, its violet glow cutting through the gathering dark. His voice was steady, iron forged in fire.
"If you want me, Kael… then come and take me."
Cliffhanger
The soldiers parted as Kael dismounted, his boots striking the earth with deliberate, thunderous steps. The ground seemed to shiver with each one.
He stopped only a dozen paces from Eryan, eyes locked, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
"Then let this village be your grave."
The Rare Weapon pulsed in Eryan's hands. Behind him, the Cursed Blade screamed for blood.
The storm had arrived.