The darkness melted away, not into the searing bite of the forge's dying breath, but into a warmth that curled around Rein like a lover's sigh.
It was heavy, sweet, like sinking into a vat of honey laced with spiced wine.
His chest, moments ago crushed under splintered wood, felt whole again, though his pulse still raced with the memory of pain.
He blinked, vision swimming, and as the world sharpened, he nearly choked on his own breath.
Before him lounged a woman—no, a goddess—on a throne carved from ivory and gold, its edges gleaming like they'd been dipped in starlight.
She was impossibly perfect, her skin glowing with a pearlescent sheen, as if moonlight had been poured into human form.
Her curves were a sculptor's fever dream, exaggerated yet graceful, her breasts straining against a gown of liquid silk that clung like it was in love with her.
The fabric, a deep crimson that shimmered with every breath, was slit high along one thigh, revealing smooth, endless legs that ended in delicate golden anklets.
They chimed softly as she shifted, the sound sending a jolt straight to Rein's groin, unbidden and undeniable.
Her hair cascaded in silver waves, shimmering like molten starlight, pooling over her shoulders and down her back.
Her eyes—amber, molten, predatory—pinned him in place, their slit pupils narrowing with a mix of mirth and menace.
Above her head floated a crown of flame, not quite a halo, flickering lazily in time with her heartbeat.
It cast dancing shadows across her face, highlighting lips painted the color of ripe pomegranates, curved into a smile that was equal parts promise and threat.
Her laughter rolled through the air, low and throaty, a sound that vibrated in Rein's bones.
"Oh, Rein Akabane," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed cruelty. "What a ridiculous way to die. Crushed under your own filthy forge, of all things. I've watched mortals fall in wars, choke on plagues, even expire in the throes of passion."
Her smile widened, sharp and wicked. "But you? Flattened by a beam like a poorly nailed shelf. Utterly, gloriously pathetic."
Rein scrambled to his feet, or at least tried to—there was no real floor beneath him, just a smooth expanse of nothing, cool and unyielding like polished marble.
Ash still clung to his tattered tunic, and his scarred forearm throbbed faintly, a reminder of his mortality.
His heart felt raw, but his mouth, as always, was faster than his sense.
"That's fucking harsh, lady. You let me get roasted like a tavern skewer, drag me to… wherever this is, and now you're kicking me while I'm dead? What kind of goddess gets her jollies mocking a guy who just ate a rafter?"
Her amber eyes sparkled, delighted by his audacity.
She leaned forward, the neckline of her gown dipping low, revealing the swell of her breasts—two perfect, molten moons that made Rein's throat go dry.
"The kind who sees no point in dressing truth in velvet," she said, her voice a velvet blade.
"Your world was a cage, Rein Akabane. A dull little town, a father who saw you as a tool, and a life spent hammering iron for people who never saw you. A waste of steel, sweat, and—" her gaze slid down to his lap, her smirk sharpening—"untapped talent."
Rein shifted, suddenly hyper-aware of the heat pooling in his gut.
He forced a grin, leaning into the bravado that had always been his shield.
"Talent, huh? So you've been peeking at my work. Flattered, goddess. But if you're gonna tease, at least tell me what I'm working with here. What's the deal?"
She reclined, crossing one long leg over the other, the silk parting to reveal more thigh than any mortal man could handle without losing his mind.
The anklets chimed again, a sound that felt like it was wired straight to his nerves.
"I'm offering you a chance," she said, her tone both invitation and warning.
"Your world stifled you, mocked your… unique craft. In my world, it could thrive. A place where desire isn't whispered in shame but celebrated as art. Where your filthy little toys—" she lingered on the word, savoring it—"could be revered. But only if you prove you're worthy of it."
Rein's jaw tightened, but his grin held, a spark of defiance in his hazel eyes.
"A second shot? Hell yeah, I'm in. I'm not done hammering—steel or otherwise. Send me back to a forge, let me build something real. I'll make you a whole damn gallery of masterpieces."
Her lips twitched, amused, but her eyes were unrelenting, like a cat toying with a mouse.
"Wanting is cheap, smith. Mortals always want. I need proof your perversion has purpose."
She snapped her fingers, a crystalline sound that cut through the air like a blade.
Between them, a battered wooden box materialized—his box, the one he'd kept hidden beneath the workbench, its edges worn from years of secretive handling.
The lid creaked open, and out spilled his treasures: the brass plug with its winking gemstone, the velvet-lined cuffs etched with hearts, the spiraled rod that promised wicked delights, and a dozen other creations, gleaming like forbidden fruit on the not-floor.
Rein's breath hitched. His heart kicked up a notch, equal parts pride and embarrassment.
"You… kept the collection, huh? Didn't peg you for a fan."
The goddess's smile turned feral.
She rose from her throne in a fluid ripple of silk, the gown slipping from one shoulder to reveal a collarbone that begged to be kissed, skin pale as moonlight and just as untouchable.
Her breasts, barely contained, shifted with each step, and Rein's eyes betrayed him, lingering a beat too long.
She stopped mere inches away, towering over him, her flaming crown flaring brighter.
Her perfume hit him like a drug—honey, spice, and something darker, like the promise of a night you'd never forget but might not survive.
"Use them," she whispered, the words a command wrapped in silk. Her voice was low, intimate, but it carried the weight of a queen's decree. "Show me your craft isn't just the fevered scribblings of a lonely boy. Make me feel it."
Rein's mouth went dry, his pulse a drumbeat in his ears. "You… you want me to—"
She leaned closer, silver hair brushing his cheek, her breath warm against his ear.
Her nipples, visible through the sheer silk, were already hard, a detail that made his knees weak.
"Make me cum," she said, each word a dare, a challenge, a blade held to his throat.
"Forge pleasure as well as you forge steel, Pornsmith. Prove your hands are as clever as your filthy mind, and I'll give you a new world to conquer."