[A/N: (*cough cough*) smutty content in the second half of the chapter]
In the darkness of the night, a shadow blended seamlessly into the void, its gaze fixed on a lone figure sitting upright on the only bed in the dim room.
"My core skill is called [Hand of the Forge]," the figure began, voice groggy and distant. "It's an active, somewhat berserk skill… It activates on its own whenever I'm inside a forge."
A pause.
"Why is no one allowed to the surface?" the shadow asked.
"Because Master said so," came the immediate, matter-of-fact reply.
Another silence—tense and unbroken.
"Who is the dead boy?"
This time, the figure didn't answer right away. The delay dragged long enough to make the shadow question if something had gone wrong. But eventually, the reply came—quiet, hollow.
"My son."
The silence that followed was longer. Heavier.
Then the shadow spoke again. "Something's been off with the atmosphere recently. A surge in energy. What is it?"
