Ten years had passed since the day he had lost his arm and gained something far more complex in return.
The cramped workshop tucked away in the lower districts of Blockline had become his new home, one filled the choking smell of glowing coals, the constant strikes of hammers upon metals, the billowing heat that emanates out of the furnace and the peculair aura of negative emotions that semmed to drive everyone away from the surroundings.
The forge belched smoke through a crooked chimney, its flames fed by materials that would have been considered refuse anywhere else. Bone and flesh fragments from grotesque creatures, twisted metal debris, liquid ooze extracted from the weird creatures, metallic residue left behind by those entities, all these were utilized molded by his accurate hammer strikes, quenched by the peculair aura emanating from him and his surroundings to create a finished product.
