Karl blinked, still absorbing the magnitude of what Hephaestus had told him. The term Forger Class echoed in his head like a hammer striking an anvil. Yet something about it still felt incomplete, as if there were more beneath the surface.
"So… this Class thing," Karl began slowly, lowering his arm as the last traces of nanite light faded from his blaster form, "you said it's not just ranking or titles… then… are there others? Other Classes like mine?"
Hephaestus smiled faintly, the gears within his chest rotating with a soft hum. "Of course, Karl. You are not the only one who was granted structure from the essence of a Primordial. Each Chosen inherits a Class that mirrors their nature and the domain of the being who resurrected them."
Karl tilted his head, curiosity rising. "So, what are they? The others?"
The forge-god extended his hand, and with a motion of his fingers, streams of molten gold and blue Vythra light coalesced into symbols hovering in the air before Karl — glowing emblems, each pulsing with a different rhythm, a different soulprint.
Hephaestus' voice deepened, reverberating like divine metal.
"There are nine other major Classes known among the Chosen."
"Each Class," Hephaestus began, "is born from the bloodline of a Primordial — the first flames of existence given shape through mortal vessels. And every Chosen, like you, inherits their spark."
He gestured to the first sigil — a deep burning crimson crest shaped like a roaring beast's heart, burning with endless vitality.
"Juggernaut — the Class of those who embody strength itself. Born from Kaiser's dominion over power and endurance. They are living engines of might, whose bodies defy all limitation."
Those of this Class crush mountains and endure calamities. Their bodies are the laws of might made flesh."
Then, a storm-gray sigil erupted beside it, arcs of lightning crawling across its surface like veins.
The second symbol sparked gray, arcs of chaotic lightning flickering outward.
"Raijin — heirs of Voltraeus, Primordial of Storms. They are the lightning that refuses control — speed and voltage given sentience. Their every movement hums with the storm's pulse."
The third emblem shimmered canary yellow, like ghostlight flickering through fog.
"Soulshade — bound to Thanamira, Primordial of Spirits. They dance between the living and the dead, wielding phantoms and sealing forbidden souls. They are serenity and terror intertwined."
Next came a radiant marmalade-orange crest, burning like script etched in sunlight.
"Arcanum — blessed by Artemis, Primordial of Wisdom. They weave the fabric of reality through intellect and design. Knowledge is their weapon — thought itself their spell."
The fifth floated forward — an ocean-blue emblem that rippled like the surface of water under moonlight.
"Tidebreaker," Hephaestus declared. "The Class born of Poseidara, Primordial of Oceans. They command the abyss — wielding pressure, current, and flow. Their wrath drowns empires."
Then came a haunting magenta sigil of interwoven strings and pulsing veins.
"Marionette — of Moara, Primordial of Flesh. They are the masters of control, shaping life and body like clay. Their art is manipulation, their strength lies in command over the living form."
The next emblem shone emerald green, shaped like a fortress surrounded by radiant runes.
"Sanctum," the forge god rumbled, "chosen of Aegriya, Primordial of Protection. They are living bastions, capable of generating barriers strong enough to hold back extinction itself."
The eighth shimmered with ultraviolet brilliance, shadows bending around its glow.
"Umbra — descended from Nocturne, Primordial of Shadows. They exist between light and dark, unseen, unfelt, unstoppable. They are the void's silent whisper."
And finally, a pale-white crest flared at the center — calm, yet infinitely powerful.
"Tempest — those blessed by Savitar, Primordial of Momentum. They are the balance between chaos and harmony, mastering the rhythm of speed and stillness. They flow like wind, and strike like inevitability."
The lights reflected across Karl's face as he gazed upon the nine divine sigils. His cerulean-core eyes widened with awe.
"These… these are all Chosen like me?"
As the nine sigils orbited him, Karl's cerulean-core eyes widened in awe. The air vibrated with divine frequency — each emblem sang, a harmony of worlds colliding.
"These are the Nine Classes," Hephaestus said, his voice now soft but heavy with meaning. "The living reflections of the Primordials who shaped reality. Together, they form the Axis of Existence — the balance that keeps the realms from collapsing into ruin."
Hephaestus leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Juggernauts destroy.
Raijins storm.
Soulshades guide.
Arcanums enlighten.
Tidebreakers flow.
Marionettes control.
Sanctums protect.
Umbras conceal.
Tempests move.
Karl stood frozen, his Admiral Blue eyes wide as he took them all in — each symbol radiating its own distinct presence, almost alive.
"These…" he whispered, "these are the others… the other Chosen Classes?"
Hephaestus nodded solemnly. "Each one represents a different facet of existence — power, motion, spirit, knowledge, water, flesh, defense, shadow, and storm. Together, they form the foundation of the new world's balance."
Karl looked back at his own symbol — a blazing cobalt gear surrounded by interlocking rings of energy. "So… Forger fits among them?"
A low chuckle escaped Hephaestus. "Not quite. Forger is the shortened form, Karl. Your true Class title… is Forgesmith."
Karl blinked. "Forgesmith?"
Hephaestus inclined his head. "The title reserved for those who can create the impossible. A Forger constructs. But a Forgesmith—" his voice deepened, echoing with divine resonance "—forges concepts into reality itself. You can build systems that even the Primordials must respect."
Karl felt a chill run through him. "Wait… even the Primordials?"
Hephaestus smiled, not denying it. "If your mastery grows far enough, yes. You are the architect of the tangible. The one who turns imagination into existence. The others destroy, shield, manipulate, or move… but you, Karl…"
Hephaestus gestured toward him, eyes burning like twin forges.
"You build."
For a long moment, Karl stood there — silent, humbled, and utterly overwhelmed. Around him, the holographic emblems of the Classes shimmered and pulsed in a rhythmic harmony, like stars waiting to be joined in constellation.
And for the first time, he realized:
He was no longer a bystander in a war between gods and demons.
He was one of them — a Chosen among Chosen, the Forgesmith who could create miracles from dreams.