The old smith's eyes widened. "You… do know I am a Divinesmith, right?"
Vikram only nodded. Without a word, he willed the armor on his body to vanish back into his inventory. Metal plates dissolved into motes of light and disappeared, leaving him in simple clothes. He rolled his shoulders, bones crackling one after another, and settled onto the stool he had dragged near the forge.
Across from him, Akk watched in silence, astonishment flickering across his lined face.
Vikram materialized the [Nether River Gourd] in his hand. The gourd pulsed faintly with otherworldly radiance as he placed it on the table between them. "You probably created this, didn't you?"
Akk let out a weary sigh and nodded. "I did." His voice was low, worn thin by time.
The silence lingered, and he reached into his inventory, pulled out a battered cigarette, and lit it with a flame drawn from the forge itself. The orange glow reflected in his eyes as he took a slow drag.
When he exhaled, the smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling. "Then tell me," Vikram said, voice steady.
"Tell me your story..."
For a long moment, Akk's expression twisted, as though fighting against memories he had buried for far too long. Finally, his lips trembled with a sigh.
"When the Village Head discovered her pregnancy, his already fractured mind shattered. He… killed her." The words left him hoarse, heavy, each syllable carrying the weight of centuries. "When he realized what he had done, he gave himself over to the corruption of Asura."
Vikram didn't move, only let the silence hang, smoke trailing from his lips as he listened.
"Elsa was gone," Akk whispered. "And I swore revenge. But what came of it? Nothing. Trouble after trouble, until years dulled that fire. I buried myself in the forge. I became a smith that even gods acknowledged. And by then… the passion that had once consumed me had burned to ashes. Godly pleasures make you forget why you once lived."
His hands trembled as he spoke. Vikram said nothing, only watched him through the haze of smoke.
"But my gift was a curse," Akk continued bitterly. "Every creation I forged was greater than the last. Colleagues feared what I wrought. They formed the Council of Hammer and Anvil to protect one another from exploitation. But me?" He gave a laugh, dry and broken. "My talent was too great. My forges reshaped wars, rewrote destinies, and in the end… pulled me closer to ruin."
He gestured around at the cold pillars that had become his eternal prison. His voice cracked. "Jealous gods. Greedy immortals. The malice of the Outers. Their hands reached for me… and dragged down everyone I once called peer. My curse wasn't just mine. They all fell because of me."
The name of Akkinus, the Divine Smith, hung heavy in the air.
Vikram took a final drag before grinding the cigarette out against the table. He shut his eyes for a breath, savoring the faint sting of smoke in his lungs, before letting it drift away.
"You probably think I am scum," Akk muttered, lips twisting into a helpless smile.
Vikram's gaze met his. He crossed one leg over the other, leaning back with a sigh. "Ignoring the death of your lover… the woman carrying your child…" His voice hardened. "Yes. That is something I can't forgive. You were scum."
Akk flinched, teeth grinding, but Vikram didn't stop there. He stood and stretched, muscles shifting beneath his shirt, and let the silence stretch before continuing.
"But…" Vikram's tone softened. "You're still my senior. In skill, in experience, in knowledge. I don't know the burdens you carried. If it had been me, I can't say I would've stayed sane after everything you endured."
He bowed his head slightly, a rare sign of respect. "What I see is a man who lived with regret, even after millennia. I'll take your mistakes, your regrets, and use them to build something better, for others if not for myself."
Akk blinked. For the first time in ages, a spark of life flickered in his eyes.
Vikram smirked. "Well then. Seems my tea time is over."
The old smith chuckled quietly, rising to his feet. His large hand settled gently on Vikram's shoulder. In the boy's sharp features, he caught a glimpse of the unborn child he had lost long ago. His vision blurred.
"Look at me," Akk muttered, wiping at his eyes, embarrassed. "An old man crying like this."
"There's no shame in showing your emotions, Elder," Vikram replied evenly. He didn't believe those words for himself, but looking at Akk… he knew this man was the exception.
"Haah… it's been a while since I felt this light inside my body."
Vikram let the breath escape slowly. He hadn't expected anything from Akk. Not really. Experience had taught him otherwise, every treasure, every hope that had once belonged to him had always been stolen. By gods. By Immortals. By the Outers.
Even now, just thinking of them made the air tighten, as if creation itself faltered for a fraction of a second.
Yet the old man's eyes told a different story. Akk's gaze glimmered unnaturally bright, and Vikram felt, for the first time in years, that something exceptional was about to be placed into his hands.
Akk spoke with a steady conviction that carried weight."Me and my friends… our crafts are scattered across the world. The one you currently hold, [The Nether River Gourd], was a joint work. A labor of years, carved with blood and patience."
He paused, a shadow crossing his face. "I do not know how many Artifacts still survive. Or where they have drifted."
Akk moved toward what appeared to be a blank wall. Nothing marked it, no rune, no seal. But when his hand brushed the stone, it rippled like disturbed water, peeling away the illusion. A hidden chamber revealed itself, majestic, oppressive, alive.
The air trembled with runes etched into every surface, their subtle resonance biting into Vikram's mind, leaving behind the sting of a headache. Rows upon rows of talismans floated like sleeping spirits. But Vikram's gaze was wrenched away from them.
It was the lamp.
The lamp's body was pure, matte black, a black so absolute it seemed to drink in all surrounding light. Its two ends were bound by pale, writhing tentacles of white, alive yet still. Within the hollow core of the lamp, something pulsed softly. A rhythm. A heartbeat.
Vikram shivered. The same cold, alien pressure he had felt when he first obtained [The Nether River Gourd] coiled through his veins again.
Akk's expression had grown solemn. His voice was almost reverent."This… is my masterpiece. The greatest work I have ever wrought."
He stepped fully into the room. A wave of pressure surged out from the runes, crushing down on Vikram. His body trembled under the weight, but as quickly as it had mounted, it vanished. He blinked, his breath uneven, then hurried to follow Akk.
Closer to the lamp, something stirred within Vikram. A familiar chime echoed through his soul.
[You have found the Divine Artifact, The Alblight Light of the Outer.][Do you wish to bind it to your soul?]
Vikram's heart burned. His eyes widened as he forced his voice steady. "Senior… what does it do?"
Akk chuckled, his weathered hand brushing the lamp as if it were a sacred relic."It consumes the soul of what it touches. Condenses it. Transforms it into an inheritance. Knowledge, power, essence, distilled and remade. When I forged it, I did not fully understand what I had birthed. This… was my final creation."
He lifted the lamp with both hands, his arms almost trembling, not from weakness, but from the sheer gravity of handing it over."And from today on, it will recognize a new master."
Vikram did not answer. His voice had abandoned him. Excitement boiled inside him, violent and uncontrollable. His hand closed over the lamp, his soul binding to it in a rush of heat and ice.
'If this works like I think it does…'
He wasted no time. Leaving the building in a blur of steps, he reached the outer grounds. With a sweep of his arm, he summoned the corpse, the hulking body of the Asura he had earned as reward. Its form loomed, grotesque and heavy with lingering malice.
The lamp stirred.
The pale tentacles, dormant until now, slithered awake. They detached from the lamp's frame and stretched outward, weaving through the air like hungry serpents. One by one, they wrapped around the Asura's corpse. Binding. Encasing.
White cocoon. Radiant glow.
And then,
Blinding light.