Two days after awakening his bloodline, Shisui and Kurou journeyed deep into the Myogon Range, a place spoken of in whispers—the resting ground of Arch-energy-forged weapons and ancestral spirits of warriors.
Their destination: the Temple of Steel and Soul, a hidden monastery built into a dormant volcano.
As they entered, the scent of molten ore and incense greeted them. Inside, master blacksmith monks sat around a great forge—a living anvil pulsing with Arch Energy. The forge was alive, its heartbeat synchronized with the earth.
An old monk approached, his beard charred at the tips, his eyes glowing softly with soul-inked tattoos.
> "So this is the heir of Iron Tempest," the monk said, his voice metallic and deep. "I am Master Hotetsu, Keeper of the Soul Anvil."
Shisui bowed respectfully.
Kurou nodded to the monk. "He needs a weapon. Not just forged—but bound."
Hotetsu nodded slowly. "Then he must bleed. And he must call to the metal himself."
Shisui was led to a circular chamber, bare except for a shallow pool of liquefied Arch-infused iron sand.
> "This is the Soulbind Crucible," Hotetsu explained. "You must summon the iron from within yourself… let it answer your will. Not just as a tool—but as a partner."
Shisui knelt beside the pool and extended his hands, channeling his Arch Energy and focusing on the magnetic pull within his blood.
The liquid metal began to rise. First a ripple—then a stream.
Then came visions: of his mother, wreathed in a storm of iron, standing alone against a corrupted army… of chains, weapons, storms—all drawn to her call.
> "I… want to protect like she did," Shisui whispered. "But I'll go further."
The metal surged upward, wrapping around his arms.
Hotetsu shouted, "Now—shape it!"
> "Rail Fang: Spinal Blade Formation!"
From the metal rose a curved, segmented blade, like a living spinal fang—modular, adjustable, and responsive to magnetic control. Its spine shimmered with runes of Arch magnetism.
> "It is not a sword," Hotetsu murmured. "It is an extension of your soul."