Chapter 125: Dead Forge IV
The molten warden fell to one knee, its body cracking apart as the Death Flame consumed the lava in its veins. Each step it took shook the entire chamber, sending molten streams spilling across the ground.
Rhys didn’t slow down. He advanced through the heat, the black-red flame in his hand burning steadily. The air warped around him, but he moved without hesitation, eyes fixed on the collapsing warden.
With a roar, the creature slammed its remaining hand into the floor. Pillars of molten rock shot upward, closing in from every direction.
"You cannot burn what was born from the core!" it thundered.
Rhys raised his sword, his tone even. "Then I’ll end it another way."
Mana surged. He vanished in a flash—Swift Cut followed by a storm of slashes that blurred through the molten haze. Every strike carved deep, leaving black flame patterns across the warden’s body. When it tried to counter, he cut clean through its arm, the lava within turning cold and lifeless.
The creature stumbled back, cracks spreading across its core.
"Wh... what is this flame—?"
"Death," Rhys said flatly. "For things that should’ve stayed buried."
He lifted his sword, the Death Flame twisting into a dark spiral around the blade. Energy built fast, feeding on the warden’s fading power until the light in the chamber dimmed.
"[Execution Art – Deathfire Requiem]."
He brought the sword down in a single strike.
A wave of black-red light erupted outward, silencing everything. When it faded, only cooled stone and glassy obsidian remained. The warden was gone.
At the center of the crater, a dim molten heart pulsed once before dissolving into light and flowing into Rhys.
[ You have absorbed: Ember Core of the Lava Warden ]
— Stat Boost: +150 Strength, +100 Vitality
— Skill Unlocked: Molten Wrath – Converts 10% of physical damage taken into Death Fire retaliation.
Rhys exhaled, steadying his grip on the sword. "Two wardens down."
Puddle’s calm voice echoed from within. "This forge still has more trials ahead."
Rhys glanced at the newly revealed staircase of glowing obsidian leading deeper below. The faint sound of metal striking echoed from below, steady and distant.
He adjusted his armor, the Death Flame flickering in his palm. "Then let’s keep going."
Without another word, he stepped down the staircase, the black-red light of his flame illuminating the next descent of the Dead Forge.
The stairway spiraled deep into the forge’s heart, each step glowing a dull red beneath Rhys’s boots. The air grew heavier, quieter—the roar of fire above replaced by a low metallic hum that vibrated through the walls. The stone had changed too. It was no longer molten but blackened metal streaked with slow rivers of cooling gold, like veins of an ancient titan slowly dying.
When Rhys reached the third floor, the heat had settled into a deep, pulsing warmth. The chamber ahead stretched wide, circular, and silent. At its center stood a massive anvil of black obsidian, large enough to forge a god’s weapon. Suspended above it by glowing chains burned a single white flame. It wasn’t hot—it was pure, almost too pure, shining like sunlight trapped in crystal.
"Third floor," Rhys murmured, eyes narrowing. "The Heartforge Anvil."
He stepped closer. The anvil trembled as though sensing him. The white flame flared violently, flooding the chamber with blinding light. From that brilliance, something began to take shape—a towering figure of radiant metal, sculpted like a knight from heaven. Its armor gleamed gold and silver, runes pulsing beneath its plating. In its hand appeared a colossal hammer, its head shaped from the same flame that hung above.
[ Guardian of the Third Forge – Argent Warden ]
[ Element: Holy Flame ]
The being’s voice echoed across the chamber, metallic and clear.
"Only those unburned by purity may stand before the Heartforge."
Rhys’s Death Flame flickered along his sword, its black-red glow defying the warden’s light. He tilted his head slightly, smirking.
"Then purity’s about to get a reality check."
The warden moved instantly, swinging its hammer in a great arc. The air exploded into golden fire—a wave of light surging across the floor. Rhys crossed his arms in front of him, Mana Shield bursting to life as the wave hit. The pressure was immense; molten cracks spread under his boots as he slid backward several meters.
When the light faded, Rhys’s armor smoked slightly, but his eyes were calm.
"Strong start," he muttered. "Let’s see how long that lasts."
He vanished in a flash—Swift Cut. His blade sliced across the warden’s torso, sparks and shards of holy light scattering like stars. But the warden barely flinched. Its armor gleamed, repairing itself as divine energy surged through it.
Rhys pivoted and unleashed a [Whirlwind Slash], his sword surrounded by the Death Flame. The twin arcs of black-red light tore across the golden surface, burning runes into it. This time, the warden staggered slightly.
"Purity can burn too," Rhys said flatly.
The warden responded by slamming its hammer into the ground. A pillar of light erupted upward, then shattered into hundreds of smaller bolts that rained down like spears. Each strike left molten craters where they landed. Rhys sprinted between them, the heat flaring against his armor. He raised his hand.
"[Water Blade]!"
Thin, cutting streams of pressurized water formed around him, slashing upward through the falling light spears. Steam filled the air, clouding the warden’s vision.
Rhys burst through the mist. His sword met the warden’s hammer mid-swing. The clash sent a shockwave through the entire chamber—holy flame against deathfire. Gold and black sparks burst outward, carving deep marks into the floor.
The warden pushed, its voice cold and commanding. "Your darkness will not consume the light!"
Rhys gritted his teeth, his sword trembling against the pressure. "Then let’s mix them."
He twisted his blade, channeling both [Molten Wrath] and [Death Flame] through it. The blade turned crimson-black, dripping sparks like liquid fire. With a roar, he slashed upward, breaking the warden’s guard. The impact cleaved through its chestplate, golden fragments scattering across the floor.
"Core’s exposed," Puddle’s voice echoed in his mind. "Beneath the chest armor!"
Rhys didn’t hesitate. He leapt high, spinning midair as mana gathered along his blade.
"[Vertical Slash – Deathfire Arc]!"
The strike landed dead center. The warden staggered, its golden veins glowing too bright, pulsing out of rhythm. Its movements turned frantic—it swung wildly, each blow shaking the walls, each impact bursting with divine heat.
But Rhys was already inside its reach. He ducked, sidestepped, and struck again and again, every cut leaving trails of black fire across the radiant metal. The holy glow began to darken. The chamber itself flickered as if the forge couldn’t handle both forces at once.
Rhys planted his feet, drawing in all of his mana. The Death Flame spiraled up his sword like a living serpent. The air grew heavy; even the warden froze for a fraction of a second, sensing the power gathering.
"[Execution Art – Deathfire Rupture]."
He brought his sword down with both hands.
A single line of light split the air.
Then, silence—followed by an eruption of black-red energy that swallowed the warden whole.
The explosion ripped through the chamber, shattering the anvil’s chains, sending molten debris flying in every direction. When the light faded, the warden stood motionless, cracks glowing faintly across its golden body—then collapsed, turning into ash and fragments of dim silver.
A molten core remained, glowing faintly in the ruins.
[ Argent Core Acquired ]
— Stat Boost: +200 Strength, +150 Defense
— Skill Unlocked: Radiant Break – Temporarily nullifies light-based damage and reflects 25% as Death Fire.
Rhys picked up the fragment, feeling its warmth fade as it absorbed into him. His sword dimmed, the Death Flame returning to a steady pulse.
"Three down," he said, exhaling.
"The final forge waits," Puddle said quietly. "The central furnace."
Rhys turned toward the massive gate at the far end of the chamber. The walls around it pulsed faintly, the rhythm deep and steady—like the forge itself was alive, waiting.
He tightened his grip on his sword, the Death Flame casting red shadows along the blackened metal.
"Then let’s end it."
The gate split open with a heavy groan, the grinding of ancient gears echoing through the forge. Molten light spilled from within, brighter than anything before—white at its center, fading into red and black at the edges. The air rippled with the raw pressure of the heat.
Rhys stepped through, the light washing over him. The Death Flame flickered in answer, steadying as if recognizing the challenge ahead. Beyond the gate lay the final floor—a colossal furnace chamber, the heart of the Dead Forge itself.
The ceiling was lost in shadow. Below, a sea of molten metal churned, glowing like a dying sun. Massive chains hung from above, anchoring a platform in the center—a vast circular arena of dark steel. In its middle rose a single forge, taller than a tower, and at its peak burned a colossal flame, neither alive nor dead.
Puddle’s voice resonated softly. "This is the origin of it all... the True Furnace."