At an unknown location, deep beneath the surface, in a room that seemed like a rocky cave devoid of light and with poor oxygen flow…
Within it, a man stood silently in front of a furnace—the only light source available.
Before him lay a freshly smithed sword glowing with a cyan luster. Around him, tendrils of energy strings erupted into a cacophony of amber, interweaving into the weapon with mystical but precise fashion.
And after a few seconds of the weave settling, the once lackluster blade now erupted with amber and was engulfed in illusionary flames.
The figure heaved in relief, and just as he was about to sit, he froze—sensing something.
"My Will… Someone absorbed my Will?… How is that possible?" the man growled in horror. Even though he could sense that it was temporary—as his existence was slowly retrieving what was his—it was still a terrifying thought.
"I have to go inform the elders… This could be a disaster." The man bolted out of the room with haste.
