With the relic fragments secured and the hidden figures temporarily neutralized, Sion gave the order.
"We're done playing shadows. Time to arm up."
Lilith melted back into the darkness, her job complete for now. Nyx, still pouting from being left out of the chaos, eagerly followed as they slipped deeper into the Midnight Veins, toward a far more dangerous corner:
The Bloodsteel Smith's domain.
---
The Bloodsteel Smith — Forge of Cursed Steel
Nestled in a dead-end tunnel choked with ash and soot, the forbidden blacksmith worked in near silence. No fancy storefront. No welcoming glow.
Only the rhythmic hammering of metal on anvil, and the faint, nauseating smell of burned mana and blood.
The Bloodsteel Smith was a towering, scarred man with molten-red eyes and hands calloused from shaping enchanted weapons forbidden by every legal guild.
Chains of severed magical contracts dangled from the walls. Racks of swords, daggers, and warped armor pulsed faintly — each piece whispered with residual curses or deadly enchantments.
The moment Sion entered, the blacksmith's eyes flicked up, narrowing with practiced wariness.
"Not many walk in here looking that pretty," the smith rumbled.
"Fewer walk out alive. What do you want, boy?"
Sion's cold expression didn't waver as he held out the relic fragments and faintly glowing Void-touched Shard.
"Can you forge with this?"
His voice was low, dangerous.
"Or… weaponize it?"
The smith snorted, inspecting the items with practiced care. His molten eyes gleamed with faint amusement — and caution.
"Void-touched? Dangerous. Illegal. Beautiful."