Li Feng's ascent slowed.The molten sky fractured into shards of light, and from their edges, the Forge began to move.
It wasn't a structure. It was alive.
The rivers of molten energy coiled upward, braiding into arms, torsos, faces—thousands of them—each a memory of the Wardens who had come before. They reached for him, whispering in perfect unison:
"Stay. We were all you once."
Li Feng struggled upward, every motion dragging the weight of galaxies with it. The air was thick with static, the heat singing his nerves raw.
Below, the furnace roared—a voice of iron and storm.
You would leave the Forge? You are the Forge.
The foundry's form condensed. The rivers folded inward until a single shape towered before him—colossal, humanoid, its surface alive with burning script. Each word was a name, every name one of his predecessors.
Its eyes opened—two event horizons swallowing light.
You think you are the first to defy me, Warden?
Li Feng's breath caught. The voice wasn't sound but pressure—a vibration that cracked thought itself. "I'm not defying you," he managed. "I'm remembering who I was before you found me."
There is no 'before.' There is only the forge, the fire, and what is made of them.
Chains of light burst from the void, wrapping around him. Each chain whispered fragments of temptation: Power. Freedom. Immortality.
He felt his resolve fray. His heartbeat synced to the furnace's rhythm. For an instant, the boundary between them vanished—he was the hammer, the flame, the act of creation itself.
And then—something inside him pulsed back.A heartbeat not of the Forge.The Mirror Key.
Its reflection cut through the furnace's glow like a blade of calm.
The chains melted away, dripping into nothingness. The great figure recoiled, a scream of metal on eternity.
The reflection! You carry the wound that unmade us!
The Forge's form began to distort, faces screaming, names burning out one by one. Its voice became a chorus of panic:
You cannot survive without me. The hunger will hollow you. The silence will finish what I began.
Li Feng steadied himself, light tearing from his hands. "Then I'll learn to live with the silence."
He drove the reflection's light into the Forge's core.
The world convulsed—machines folding into stars, stars collapsing into ash. Everything dissolved into pure sound, like glass breaking across every frequency at once.
As he fell through the chaos, fragments of memory rained around him:K-23's voice.The first trade.The promise of the Emporium.
And behind it all, the Forge's dying whisper, fading into echo:
Even gods hunger, Warden. Even gods must feed.
Then—darkness.
And a single pulse of silver light, marking the path back to the waking world.