“What do you mean I can’t leave until you’re done?” Scott asked, his brows furrowing deeper. It made sense if he couldn't leave the shadowy space until he chose a weapon—but being barred until the blacksmith finished forging it? That was something else entirely.
“Try it for yourself,” the blacksmith replied, not even turning to face him. “Experience is the best teacher, as they say. Try leaving through one of those—”
Scott needed no further encouragement. A nihilistic portal swirled into existence beneath his feet, and in an instant, he vanished into the all-consuming void.
Stripped of his human form, Scott drifted through the nihility, his gaze locked on the shadowy rift overhead.
Was the blacksmith just messing with me? he wondered. Another rift caught his attention. Through it, he could clearly see Orion—along with multiple clones—and even Fi-Fi, the elemental slime, still in her humanoid form. Unlike before, her appearance made it hard to tell what she truly was—whether slime or man.
Scott’s eyes swept the territory until he spotted familiar faces.
They’re finally awake, he thought, recognizing Zara, Slim, and Plume in different areas, each accompanied by one of Orion’s clones.
Without hesitation, he shot toward the rift and reemerged on the other side.
“Guys…” he called out—but trailed off. “Guys?”
The world was eerily still. Perfectly motionless. Orion and his clones. Fi-Fi. Even the others—frozen in place like statues.
But… they weren’t frozen when I looked through the rift.
As the thought crossed his mind, a gray mist began to leak from his form, billowing and spreading like fog. It spilled into every corner of the territory, and in its wake, shadowy figures stirred to life.
The ground beneath Scott softened suddenly.
Plunk.
He sank, powerless to stop it.
He blinked—and the rhythmic clang of hammer on steel filled his ears. The hulking figure of the blacksmith loomed into view once again.
What the…
Scott blinked multiple times, scanning the shadowy space in confusion.
“Convinced?” the blacksmith asked.
Scott's gaze locked onto him. A new portal swirled open beneath his feet.
“I guess not,” Scott heard the blacksmith say as he descended into the void again.
He drifted back toward the rift overlooking his companions, his focus unwavering.
“Can anyone hear me?” Scott called out mentally through the party channel.
Silence.
He kept watching. No one reacted.
“Orion? Do you hear me?” he tried again, this time directing it privately to the mage. He monitored every clone simultaneously. Yet, nothing.
Something—or someone—is preventing me from reaching them.
But Scott wasn’t about to give up.
A Judge of Madness manifested beside him.
“Go and relay my commands.”
The judge surged toward the rift. Scott tracked its progress carefully. It crossed the invisible threshold—and the world beyond froze.
Again? Scott thought, watching the now-familiar gray mist spill outward, followed by more shadowy figures.
The ground swallowed the judge instantly.
Time resumed.
It’s exactly like before.
Scott summoned another judge. “Carve my message into the earth,” he ordered.
The judge obeyed, crossing the divide—but time froze again. The judge was swallowed before the mist or shadows could even emerge. Then, once more, time resumed.
Still determined, Scott summoned multiple judges. With a single command, he sent them through several rifts at once—including the one to his companions.
He kept his attention on every rift.
Time froze in all of them. The judges were expelled almost instantly.
This is… this is going to be a problem.
Scott looked back toward the rift that led to the blacksmith’s domain. Every expelled judge had returned to his previous position.
With a thought, he opened another portal beneath them. They dropped silently into the void.
At this point, it’s obvious. The overseer doesn’t want me interacting with the outside world in any way. But there must be a way around it. Right?
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Doubt lingered, but he wasn’t ready to stop.
His eyes turned to the rift showing his companions once more. If I can’t go to them… maybe I can bring them to me.
The thought solidified—took root.
He summoned a massive portal inside his territory. As it formed, time froze—and an imperceptible force shattered the portal like glass.
I’m not done yet, Scott remained resolute. If physical contact is blocked, then I’ll bring them into my world.
He activated the sigils linked to his companions. Nothing happened.
Hovering in his nihilistic form, Scott stared at the mirror-like rift where his companions remained. He felt the sigils respond—barely—but something vast and incomprehensible had smothered them, rendering them all but useless.
He could still see everything within the rifts—movements, expressions, details—but he couldn’t hear a sound. Couldn’t touch, speak, or reach out in any meaningful way.
Is there really no way through? he wondered, his thoughts echoing through the endless, soundless void.
Then he noticed it. A flicker of movement that felt off. One of the Orions twitched—not unnaturally, but with purpose. His head turned this way and that, scanning his surroundings, confusion and a hint of anticipation dancing behind his eyes.
Wait… has he sensed something?
Scott’s mind surged with possibility. Clinging to the sliver of hope, he summoned more Judges, flinging them through the rift in waves. At the same time, he activated the sigils once more, focusing all his intent on Orion.
Every Judge was wiped out almost instantly. His mental efforts were rebuffed without mercy.
Still, Scott refused to stop.
For what felt like ten solid minutes, he repeated the process—again and again—watching a thousand Judges meet the same fate. Still, he endured.
Then—more Orions began to shift. Each one bearing that same expression. Confused. Alert. Curious.
Scott’s grip on hope solidified. He knew Orion. Knew that once his curiosity was sparked, he would chase the thread until he unraveled it all.
Scott prepared another wave of Judges, coding a fresh set of commands into their minds. They surged toward the rift—But before they could cross, a grey haze crept across the surface. The rift shimmered, then dulled—sealed by the murky curtain.
The Judges slammed into it with muffled thuds.
What the hell is that?
More barriers formed—rushing outward like a flood. One rift. Two. Ten. A hundred. Everywhere Scott had ever left his mark across the infinite timelines, the grey swept in like a disease.
All except one.
The rift that led back to the blacksmith’s domain remained untouched.
Scott approached the nearest sealed rift, reaching out to examine the barrier. The moment his form brushed the haze, a violent suction yanked him in.
Darkness twisted around him. Then—
Clank.
The hammer’s echo filled his ears once more. Scott blinked, shadows shifting in the dim light. The blacksmith’s hulking frame stood tall as he continued to hammer away at the ore.
“You done yet?” the blacksmith asked without turning. “Feel free to keep trying. I’m curious to see if you’ll break through.”
Scott didn’t answer immediately. The truth was becoming harder to ignore.
The longer I linger here… the more time I lose out there.
He exhaled quietly, shifting his gaze to the blacksmith. “How long does it usually take you to forge a weapon?”
The blacksmith hissed. “Irrelevant. It’s done when it’s done. Stop trying to run from this. Use the time to reflect.”
Clank.
Clank.
The silence between them was thick—only broken by the rhythmic hammering.
Scott turned away from the smith, his gaze falling on the dormant War Hammer of the Mad God and the coiled Chains of the Abyss. Both were ego weapons—but he was more familiar with the hammer.
The thought of choosing something else didn’t even occur to him.
“I’m ready,” he said suddenly.
The hammering stopped. The blacksmith straightened.
“So… what will it be?”
Scott swallowed. “A superior version of both my weapons—if that’s possible.”
“It’s possible,” the blacksmith replied without emotion. He reached toward Scott, and both weapons stirred. The hammer manifested and flew from Scott’s grasp; the chains unraveled from his arms and slithered through the air toward the blacksmith.
They floated in place, suspended before the forge master.
The blacksmith studied them in silence, never once touching either. His expression didn’t change.
Scott waited.
“Are you not going to ask if I have specific requests?” he asked after a moment.
The blacksmith cast him a single glance, then returned to examining the weapons—wordless.
Ignored, Scott crossed his arms and fell into thought. The restrictions chaining him to unknown space weighed heavily on his thoughts. He kept thinking back to Orion.
If I had more time… he’d figure it out. Maybe whoever’s behind this noticed that too.
He looked toward the shadows that writhed within the mist.
The longer I stay here… the more I feel them watching me. Whoever—or whatever they are.
They remained indistinct—formless things shifting beyond comprehension. Scott didn’t focus on them for long.
Scott shifted his attention back to the blacksmith, who remained fixated on the hovering weapons. The forge master’s gaze occasionally flicked to Scott—specifically to his hands and wrists.
Time passed—Scott couldn’t say how much—before the blacksmith subtly adjusted his stance.
At that moment, both weapons began to vibrate violently. A low, guttural hum rose into an ear-shattering roar, each weapon screaming with a resonance that rattled the very air.
“What’s happening?” Scott asked, eyes darting between the blacksmith and the shrieking weapons.
The blacksmith didn’t respond. His attention had shifted toward the building concealed by mist. The weapons, meanwhile, continued their deafening cries—cracks spiderwebbing across their surfaces like lightning bolts.
They’re going to explode. Scott frowned, unsure. Is this… part of his process?
He didn’t dare approach. He still remembered the heat. The searing, soul-piercing heat that occupied the area.
Then—footsteps.
Scott turned.
The blacksmith had begun walking toward the mist-shrouded structure. His massive form vanished into the haze as the weapons reached a fever pitch. More fractures split them apart, the surfaces groaning under pressure.
Moments later, the blacksmith returned—no longer empty-handed. Resting across one shoulder was a massive wooden case, easily several times taller than even his hulking frame. He moved without effort, each step deliberate and unbothered by the sheer size of the object.
With a heavy thud, he set the case on the ground.
At that exact moment, the weapons finally reached their limit.
BOOM!
The explosion split the mist. Shards of the war hammer and chains blasted in all directions, vanishing into the fog like fading stars.
And then—Scott saw them.
Shadows.
They shot from the epicenter of the blast, darting through the mist with impossible speed.
His eyes widened. Wait… are those—egos?
He watched the shadowy forms vanish into the grey, each one pulsing with chaotic power.
They’re all egos… The realization sent a chill down his spine. The enclave… it’s full of them.
“Alright,” the blacksmith said suddenly, voice cutting through the air. “It’s time for you to make a decision.”
Scott turned toward him.
The blacksmith smacked the wooden case with one large hand. It swung open.
Scott froze.
Rows upon rows of radiant ores shimmered inside—each one resting in a neatly carved layer. Golds, silvers, blues, deep reds, and stranger hues flickered with divine light, the essence within each piece almost singing.
What the…?
“These are divine ores,” the blacksmith said. “Each one holds immense power. Even the weakest among them is several times stronger than the materials used to forge your previous weapons.”
He leaned against the side of the case casually, then pointed into the mist where the shadows had fled.
“However…” he continued, “if you retrieve those egos—you’ll gain something far more powerful. Immeasurably superior.”
He suddenly paused.
Then, he continued, “So… what will you choose?”