Ashen sat cross-legged beneath the broken statue of a forgotten king. The ruins of Grayfall were quiet now, but not lifeless. Something had awakened inside him—a quiet, humming power just beyond his understanding.
The Concept Forge.
He focused.
His breath slowed. Thoughts sharpened. And then he imagined.
Not a sword. Not a flame. He pictured something smaller—something simple.
> A dagger, forged of solid light, shaped like the one his mentor used to carry in the mines back home.
The air shimmered.
Light folded in on itself—and a weapon formed in his hand.
Crude, imperfect… but real.
Ashen gasped. The blade hummed, warm and light. It pulsed with his heartbeat, as if asking to evolve.
> "So that's how it works," he whispered. "It's not about copying… it's about creating."
He stood and tested the dagger with a few swings. It held its form for ten seconds before dissolving into golden sparks.
> [Prototype Concept: Light Fang – Stability: 18%]
> "It's unstable."
But that was okay. Because it was his.
---
Miles away, in the city of Virenth, someone else was watching.
A man dressed in crimson robes with a silver mark carved into his chest—an emissary of the Obsidian Eye, a faction that studied dimensional shifts and divine anomalies.
He dropped the glass orb he'd been using to track fluctuations.
> "We've found it," he said. "The anomaly has awakened."
A second figure emerged from the shadows—a woman wrapped in dark velvet, eyes glowing violet.
> "You're certain?"
"The Forge protocol signature is unmistakable. Someone wields a power not born of this world."
The woman's smile was cold.
> "Then the game begins."
---
Back in Grayfall, Ashen practiced for hours, cycling through ideas.
A shield of heat. A whip of iron dust. Even wings made of wind.
Each time he focused, the energy responded. It didn't care about laws or limits—it followed only the shape of his imagination.
But it drained him.
By nightfall, he was on his knees, panting, covered in sweat.
> "Not bad," he muttered. "But I need to train my mind, not just my body."
Then he heard a voice. Not Inventor's.
A soft, young voice—curious, cautious.
> "Are you… the one who called the flame?"
Ashen turned fast, startled.
A child stood at the edge of the ruins. Barefoot, wearing a cloak too large for her tiny frame. Her eyes glowed faintly red—like embers.
> "Who are you?" Ashen asked.
The girl smiled, nervously.
> "I… I was born here. In the ashes."