The alleyway was narrow and silent, save for the distant hum of the Cerian Sun's glow bleeding between rooftops. Nyxia's footsteps echoed softly as he approached the heavy iron door at the end the door that led to him.
He hesitated for a breath, then pushed it open.
The familiar clang of metal striking metal filled the air rhythmic, heavy, resonating through the chamber like a heartbeat made of thunder. Sparks danced across the floor as molten light revealed towering shelves of weapons and artifacts each one humming faintly with power.
Nyxia swallowed, his voice uncertain.
"Uh… hey. It's Nyxia. You made me Shadow's Requiem and Ebon Wrath and Noctem's Veil. I came here for maintenance."
The hammering stopped.
The figure at the forge turned slowly, his eyes glowing faintly through the heat shimmer. His expression was unreadable, cold as tempered steel.
"…What did you say?"
"Zalthorion told me to come to you for maintenance, sir," Nyxia replied, trying to sound steady.
For a long moment, silence hung heavy between them. Then, the man Varkos the Eternal Smith laughed, the sound deep and metallic, like a furnace groaning to life.
"In my entire existence, boy, I have never performed maintenance on my creations. They are perfect. Indestructible."
He stepped closer, the air around him rippling with heat. Then, with a faint smirk, he added, "But since Zalthorion told you to come… I'll bite."
He held out his hands.
Nyxia, wordless now, unfastened his weapons one by one Shadow's Requiem, Ebon Wrath, and Noctem's Veil and placed them into the Smith's waiting palms.
Varkos' eyes narrowed, the faintest spark of curiosity flickering within.
"Let's see what that god thinks needs fixing," he murmured, turning back toward the forge.
Nyxia stood still, watching as Varkos examined his weapons the molten glow of the forge casting jagged shadows across the Smith's face. For a long moment, the only sound was the faint hum of energy pulsing from the artifacts laid before him.
Then—
SLAM!
Varkos' massive hands crashed down onto the anvil, the sound echoing like thunder through the forge. Nyxia flinched, stepping back slightly.
"There seems to be… a problem!" the Smith roared, his voice like steel grinding on stone.
"A… problem?" Nyxia asked, confusion lacing his tone.
Varkos turned slowly, his eyes burning white-hot beneath his brow. He reached for his hammer the same one that had forged godly weapons and artifacts and leveled a glare at Nyxia.
"Yes," he snarled. "The problem… is you."
Before Nyxia could react, Varkos hurled the hammer. It screamed through the air, and Nyxia dove aside just in time the weapon embedded itself deep into the stone wall, sending spiderweb cracks racing outward with a rumbling boom.
Nyxia barely had time to recover before the Smith was upon him faster than any mortal could see. Varkos' massive hand closed around Nyxia's throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.
"My children cry in pain!" the Smith roared, his voice shaking the forge. "You who were chosen to wield them deny them their purpose!"
Nyxia gasped, his boots kicking against the air. "W-what are you talking about?!"
"They were born for battle!" Varkos bellowed, tightening his grip. "Forged to fight, to drink deep of the struggle between life and death! They do not care for your morals justice, evil, none of that matters to them. They only crave to be used! Yet you… you've let them sleep!"
He slammed Nyxia against the wall, then turned and wrenched his hammer free from the crater it made, molten dust spilling from the wound in the stone. His grip on Nyxia never faltered.
"I hear their cries every night," Varkos said darkly. "They whisper in agony because their wielder fears his own strength."
He raised the hammer high, its head glowing brighter with each heartbeat.
"Your punishment," he declared, "is to train until their cries are silenced. Use them wield them until the forge of your soul burns as hot as mine!"
Then, with a roar, Varkos brought the hammer down.
The impact split reality itself a blinding crack of molten light tore open a rift behind Nyxia. Before he could speak, Varkos hurled him through it, along with Shadow's Requiem, Ebon Wrath, and Noctem's Veil.
As Nyxia vanished into the burning void, Varkos' final words echoed after him, deep and unrelenting:
"Do not return until my children stop screaming."
The rift sealed with a thunderous boom, leaving only silence and the soft, fading hum of the Eternal Smith's forge.
Nyxia hit the ground hard. The world was nothing but light—blinding, endless, and burning like the heart of a star. He couldn't tell which way was up or down. His body felt weightless, his ears rang with silence that was somehow deafening.
Then—
A voice echoed in his skull.
"Hey, you idiot. Pick us up. Hurry!"
Nyxia groaned, his hand clutching his head.
"Eon? Is that you…?"
A different voice replied this time rougher, older, full of irritation.
"No, you dumbass! Pick us up or you're going to die!"
Still disoriented, Nyxia blinked through the haze.
"Wha who the hell are you guys?"
A third voice chimed in, similar to the first but laced with sharper edge and fury.
"We're your fucking weapons! Now pick us up! The barrier Father gave us is about to fail!"
That jolted him. He forced himself to crawl toward the faint shapes lying nearby three glints of metal waiting in the dust. His fingers brushed cold steel.
Shadow's Requiem. Ebon Wrath. Noctem's Veil.
He grabbed them, instinct kicking in despite the dizziness. With a breath, he twisted Noctem's Veil into dagger form and strapped it to his chest, then gripped Shadow's Requiem and Ebon Wrath one in each hand.
He rose slowly, knees shaking, eyes darting around the void. His breathing steadied. The light around him began to crack, splitting apart like glass under pressure.
Then it shattered.
The brilliance faded into a battlefield of ash and stone. Smoke coiled through the air. A small horde of red-skinned goblins stood before him, their jagged blades dripping with embers. They stared at him hesitant, uncertain.
Nyxia didn't wait. He spun into motion, arms crossing, both guns roaring in rhythm.
Bang-bang-bang-bang!
Bullets tore through the first line of goblins, dropping them before they could scream. The rest hesitated then roared as their blades ignited, flames licking the steel. They charged.
Nyxia ducked, sidestepped, and weaved between their slashes, returning fire with brutal precision. Two fell, headshots clean and final. Only two remained, snarling as they lunged together.
Nyxia aimed one gun at each—
Click.
Click.
He froze. "What—?"
The first voice barked in his head:
"Hey! Remove the canister in the cylinder, genius!"
The second voice followed, calm but annoyed:
"We'll reload automatically once you do. Move!"
Nyxia ducked under another sword swing, flicked both guns upward, and watched as the canisters fall out with free six empty shells rattling out before vanishing into mist. Fresh canisters shimmered into existence in their place. With a practiced motion, he snapped the cylinders back and twisted his wrists, leveling the barrels again.
The goblins barely had time to realize what happened.
Bang. Bang.
Both fell, smoking holes in their skulls.
Nyxia exhaled, chest heaving, the glow of his weapons reflecting in his eyes.
"Good," the older voice murmured. "Now you're listening."
"Keep moving," said the sharper one. "This is just the first wave."
"Yeah," the first added, more cheerful but no less urgent. "Let's make some noise."
Nyxia looked around, tension fading into grim resolve as the air rippled again more shapes emerging from the mist. He spun both guns, clicking them into place.
"Fine," he said, half-grinning despite himself. "Let's dance."
Shadows began emerging from the stone corridors. Dozens more red-skinned goblins surged out, their shrieks merging into a warcry that rattled Nyxia's bones.
And behind them came something worse.
A Hobgoblin. Twice the height of the rest, its muscles knotted like steel cables, eyes burning with molten hatred. It hefted a massive warhammer wreathed in flame, dragging sparks as it charged. The ground trembled beneath its steps.
Nyxia's heart pounded, but his grip stayed firm. He lifted both weapons Shadow's Requiem in his right, Ebon Wrath in his left.
"Alright," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Let's do this."
Both guns flared five consecutive shots from each, lighting the air with streaks of burning silver. Some rounds tore through several goblins at once; others ricocheted off armor or bone. The horde kept coming.
"Dammit!" Nyxia hissed, spinning both guns in frustration. The canisters ejected with a metallic clack, spent shells vanishing midair in bursts of light.
"Change it to a higher caliber!" he barked.
The voices in his head replied almost in unison.
"How high?" the first one asked, almost teasing.
"Define 'higher' before we blow your arms off," the second muttered dryly.
Nyxia's jaw tightened. "Enough to go through all of them!"
A moment of silence then both weapons began to hum. Their frames shifted, barrels expanding, runic markings glowing along the metal. The air around them distorted from sheer kinetic pressure.
Nyxia flicked the cylinders back into place and took aim.
He fired.
BOOM.
The sound was deafening like thunder tearing through a cathedral. The blast ripped through the front line of goblins, shredding flesh and bone in a storm of gore and heat.
BOOM.
The second shot followed, louder, meaner. Heads exploded, torsos caved in, limbs tore free as the force ripped through the advancing mob.
Nyxia staggered backward, his arms screaming in pain, every joint and bone protesting. It felt like his entire skeleton was fracturing under the recoil. But he didn't stop.
"Come on," he growled through clenched teeth, blood running from his nose. "Come on!"
He fired again each shot a burst of fury and survival instinct. The ground around him erupted with every pull of the trigger. Goblins fell in waves, yet still they came.
The Hobgoblin roared, flames roaring higher as it swung its warhammer down like a meteor. Nyxia rolled aside just in time the impact detonated the ground where he stood, scattering molten shards of stone.
"You're pushing the limit!" the older voice barked.
"Good!" Nyxia shouted back. "I'm not dying here!"
He slid across the cracked ground, spinning as he emptied both barrels into the Hobgoblin's chest. The creature staggered, roared and Nyxia reloaded mid-spin, canisters snapping into place like clockwork.
The Hobgoblin raised its hammer again, molten fire dripping from it. Nyxia aimed, both weapons glowing white-hot.
"Let's end this," whispered the calmest of the voices.
"Yeah," the first added, excitement pulsing through the link. "Time to sing."
Nyxia pulled both triggers.
The explosion lit the world in white. When the light faded, nothing was left but ash, smoke, and Nyxia kneeling, panting, both arms trembling from recoil, his weapons still smoking in his hands.
Nyxia's breath came in ragged gasps. His arms still ached from the recoil, smoke curling from the barrels of Shadow's Requiem and Ebon Wrath. He stared at them for a long moment before muttering,
"…How the hell can you two talk to me? In my head?"
There was a pause then the calm, resonant voice of Shadow's Requiem answered.
"We felt our father's anger… his resentment toward you."
Nyxia blinked. "You mean Varkos?"
"Yes," Ebon Wrath replied, his voice deeper, heavier like distant thunder.
Nyxia frowned. "Why would he hate me?"
Shadow's Requiem answered before the other could.
"He doesn't hate you exactly. He hates what you've done or rather, what you've not done. He cares nothing for profit or reputation. He forges weapons to be used, not displayed. To him, letting them gather dust is an insult to their creation."
Ebon Wrath added quietly,
"And while you've wielded us… it was little. Too little for what we are."
Nyxia's shoulders sagged as the words sank in. "…Yeah. Guess I can't argue with that."
Before he could say more, something stirred against his chest. Noctem's Veil, still in dagger form, began to tremble then a new voice erupted inside his mind, loud and emotional.
"Waaaaaah! When will you use me? Why do you always play with my brothers and never me? Let me bathe in the blood of your enemies! Please, I'm begging you!"
Nyxia groaned, rubbing his temples. "Great. A crying dagger."
"Hey!" Noctem's Veil snapped. "I'm versatile! I can be anything! You've got options, genius!"
Ebon Wrath muttered dryly,
"And yet he uses none."
"Oh, shut up!" Noctem wailed again. "You two get all the fun!"
Nyxia sighed, ignoring their squabble as he began moving forward. The bright void had faded into a stone labyrinth walls carved from blackened rock, slick with condensation. It felt like being inside a mountain's heart. Faint red light seeped through cracks in the ceiling, and every sound echoed forever.
He walked cautiously, keeping low, the voices bickering softly in the back of his mind. Finally, after what felt like an hour, he reached an incline that opened into a vast chamber.
He crouched behind a jagged stone outcrop and peered over.
Below was a camp.
Dozens of purple-skinned goblins shuffled about, their movements organized, disciplined unlike the rabid horde from before. Torches burned in hollowed skulls, casting sickly purple light across the cavern.
Five Ogre warriors stood like living mountains, crude armor strapped across their bodies. Three Hobgoblins patrolled the perimeter, barking orders. Around forty standard goblins moved in formation, some carrying jagged spears, others guarding a cluster of ten archer goblins stationed near crude barricades.
But it was the figure in the center that drew Nyxia's gaze
A tall goblin in dark robes, its skin veined with glowing runes. It held a gnarled staff topped with a crystal pulsing faintly with Void energy.
"Well," Shadow murmured, calm as ever, "this looks promising."
"Promising?" Ebon rumbled. "That's a small army."
Noctem chimed in, voice dripping with excitement. "JACKPOT!"
Nyxia exhaled, leaning against the rock, the faintest smile tugging at his lips despite the tension.
"Guess training's not over yet."
"No," Ebon said darkly. "It's only begun."
Nyxia crouched low behind the rocks, scanning the camp below. The goblins' torches flickered lazily in the damp cavern air. He began forming a plan in his mind, whispering under his breath.
"Alright… summon the shadow soldiers, distract the ogres, flank the archers—"
Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed through his skull, like being smacked by a steel frying pan.
"No!"
"Fuck you! You're not using your damn shadow soldiers!"
Nyxia winced, rubbing his temples. "Oh, for the love of—why not?"
"Because that's cheating," Noctem's Veil barked. "Fight like a man, not a shadow puppeteer!"
He sighed deeply, mentally counting to ten. "Alright, fine. We sneak in. Quiet. Take them out one by one—"
Another mental slap.
"NO! Go to the gate. Announce yourself, you fucking pussy!"
"Noctem…"
"In fact—"
The dagger on his chest shuddered violently, transforming in a flash of black smoke and steel until a massive greatsword slammed into the stone floor beside him, its edge humming with dark energy.
"—I'm not changing forms again until you use this to kill them. Every. Single. One."
Nyxia just stared at the sword, his expression deadpan. "…You're insufferable."
"You love me."
He groaned, dragging the oversized blade behind him like it weighed a ton. The steel screeched against the rock as he trudged toward the goblin camp, muttering curses under his breath.
Up on the battlements, a pair of archer goblins spotted him first. They elbowed each other, snickering, watching the strange human lugging a weapon nearly twice his size.
"Pathetic," one of them grunted in their gutteral tongue.
Nyxia stopped in front of the gate, lifted the sword with one arm, and rested it casually across his shoulder. The blade still hummed, hungry. He looked up at the camp.
"Alright, you ugly bastards," he called out, voice echoing through the cavern. "You've got my attention. Come get me."
The laughter from the goblins turned to angry snarls. The robed one ignored him, focusing on its staff but the Ogre commander roared, pointing its burning hammer toward Nyxia.
"Kill the human!"
Three Hobgoblins charged down the slope, each armed with monstrous weapons. The first's warhammer burned with fire, the second carried a jagged cleaver dripping venom, and the last hefted a greatsword taller than Nyxia himself.
Nyxia exhaled, rolling his neck. "Here we go again."
The first Hobgoblin swung its hammer down with a roar. Nyxia dodged aside, boots skidding over stone. The second thrust its blade forward, poisonous mist trailing from its edge. Nyxia jumped twisting midair.
He brought Noctem's Veil around in a single, brutal arc.
The flat of the greatsword struck the Hobgoblin's head with the force of an explosion. Bone, flesh, and red mist erupted outward like a burst watermelon, the sound echoing through the cavern.
The other goblins froze for a split second, staring. Even the archers hesitated.
Nyxia landed in a crouch, steam rising from the sword's surface.
"See?!" Noctem howled gleefully in his mind. "That's what I'm talking about! Do it again!"
Nyxia straightened, glaring up at the remaining two Hobgoblins.
The remaining Hobgoblins roared, their weapons raised high as they charged. Both swung at once, but Nyxia ducked low, feeling the poisoned air whip past his face. In a single motion, he leapt onto one of their blades, using it as a springboard.
Before either could react, he launched himself upward Noctem's Veil gleaming darkly in his grip and brought the blade down in a clean, vicious arc. The strike tore through both their necks, spraying him with hot blood as their bodies collapsed in unison.
Nyxia landed amidst them, crimson droplets spattering across his armor. He exhaled slowly, tightening his grip on the greatsword as Noctem's Veil purred in satisfaction.
"See?" the weapon hissed in his mind, almost gleeful. "Doesn't that feel better than hiding behind shadows?"
Nyxia wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve, muttering, "You're insufferable…" before turning his gaze toward the ogres and the robed goblin now glaring at him.
Nyxia froze as the robed goblin lifted its staff and slammed it into the ground. Glowing runes flared to life, racing along the stone floor until they reached the fallen Hobgoblins. He watched in disbelief as their mangled bodies twitched, and the one whose head had exploded began to regrow it flesh knitting, bone reforming. The others' severed heads reattached with a sickening snap.
"Oh, come on!" Nyxia shouted, raising Noctem's Veil just in time to block an arrow that shattered against the blade.
The reanimated Hobgoblins lunged again, while the archers loosed volleys of poison-tipped arrows. Nyxia weaved between them, his movements sharp and desperate, until he unholstered Ebon Wrath and took aim. One shot rang out the robed goblin barely dodged, but its staff wasn't so lucky. The bullet struck true, shattering the artifact in a burst of corrupted light.
"Yes!" Nyxia grinned only to roll aside as a flaming warhammer slammed down where he'd stood, cracking the ground. He leapt, twisting midair, and brought Noctem's Veil down with a roar. The impact split a Hobgoblin clean in half, blood hissing against the heated stone.
Another arrow whistled toward him. Nyxia dropped the sword, letting it embed into the ground, and ducked under the shot. The next Hobgoblin swung wildly with its greatsword; Nyxia caught its momentum, drove a punch into its stomach, and as it fell to one knee, he vaulted up using its leg as a springboard. His fist collided with its face, sending it sprawling.
The warhammer-wielding Hobgoblin swung again Nyxia rolled instinctively, the weapon smashing into its ally's skull instead. He rose, panting, eyes darting toward the robed goblin as it began to chant once more. Runes flared again targeting the fallen Hobgoblins.
Then Ebon Wrath's voice echoed in his mind.
"Hey, user. Those Hobgoblins you marked them. They're yours. Make them disappear."
Nyxia gritted his teeth, dodging another arrow.
"And how am I supposed to do that?"
"Just think it. You've got the power I just seem to know more about it than you do."
He exhaled sharply and focused. The shadows beneath the Hobgoblins began to ripple, then surge upward like black liquid. In moments, the darkness swallowed their corpses whole along with the living one still struggling to rise.
The surrounding goblins froze, stunned.
Nyxia took the opening, yanking Noctem's Veil from the ground.
"Change form," he muttered.
The sword trembled in protest but obeyed, its heavy shape shrinking and refining into a sleek longsword.
"Tch… fine," Noctem grumbled in his mind. "Let's finish this, then."
Nyxia spun Noctem's Veil in his hand, the blade humming with dark energy as he charged. Arrows whistled toward him, but he didn't slow each swing of his sword split them clean down the middle, fragments clattering harmlessly at his feet.
The first wave of goblins barely had time to shriek before his blade swept in a wide arc, heads tumbling like leaves in a storm. He moved through them like a shadow, each slash precise, each motion almost playful a dance painted in crimson.
Then the ground shook.
A massive warhammer came crashing down, missing him by inches and exploding the stone floor in a burst of dust and debris. Nyxia rolled aside just in time for another blow, then another. He dodged each strike, heart pounding, until a sharp metallic hiss cut through the air.
The last swing wasn't a warhammer. It was a blade broad, jagged, and easily the size of Nyxia himself.
He slid backward, boots grinding across the stone as the towering Ogre roared, its single eye burning with rage. At the command of the robed goblin, it lunged again, the greatsword cleaving downward with terrifying force.
Nyxia barely managed to evade, the weapon slicing through the ground and leaving a deep scar of molten stone in its wake.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he muttered, eyes narrowing as he readied his stance.
◇◇◇
The Ogre gripped its blade with both hands, its molten breath spilling through gritted teeth. The human stood before it small, soaked in blood, unmoving save for the rise and fall of his chest.
At first, the Ogre thought it saw emptiness in those eyes. But as their blades met again and again, as the human deflected every strike with mechanical precision, something far worse gleamed within glee.
Every clash of steel sent sparks flying across the stone chamber. Every parry felt heavier, faster, sharper. The Ogre's muscles strained, its confidence fading into fear.
Then, with a furious roar, it raised its greatsword and slammed it down with all its strength. The weapon bit deep into the floor too deep. The blade stuck fast. The Ogre pulled, grunted, roared again but it wouldn't budge.
Pain erupted through its leg. It looked down and saw nothing just a shredded stump, blood pooling beneath it.
The Ogre fell to its knees, breath ragged, ready to accept death. But death didn't come.
It looked up, confused, only to see the human no, the thing slaughtering its kin. The other Ogres, its brothers, tried to defend their Master, but one by one they fell, their bodies collapsing into heaps of steaming flesh.
The goblins screamed and scattered. Some fled, others fought, and those who stayed were torn apart. The human carved through them like they were made of paper impaling three at once on his blade before tearing them upward, splitting them open like ripe fruit.
Arrows flew, and he shot them down mid-air, the air echoing with the crack of his guns.
The Ogre could do nothing but watch, trembling, as the last of its family fell.
And then he saw his Master the robed goblin raise a shaking hand, muttering frantic words of power. The human was faster. He stepped forward, grabbed the Master by the throat, and drove his blade through its chest. The goblin's staff clattered to the stone, the light in its eyes dimming to nothing.
The Ogre roared, dragging its broken body toward them, desperate to protect its creator. It swung its massive arm but the human was already there.
A sharp pain exploded at the front of its neck. It stumbled. Something cold pressed against its throat.
It realized what it was a scythe.
There was a brief moment of weightlessness as the human's boot pressed against its spine, a pull, and then the world spun.
The Ogre's last sight was of its own body kneeling beside the human bloodied, silent, and still.
"Forgive me… brothers… Master…"
And then, darkness.
◇◇◇
Nyxia stood over the headless stump of the Ogre, chest heaving, blood dripping down his arms.
The thrill of combat still burned in his veins his heartbeat like thunder in his ears but as the adrenaline faded, exhaustion took its place.
His legs buckled.
He hit the ground hard.
Through the haze, he heard Ebon Wrath's calm voice whisper in his mind,
"Go to sleep, you idiot. You need it."
And for once, Nyxia didn't argue. His eyes closed, and the world slipped away.
◇◇◇
In Nyxia's Mindspace
The chamber of his subconscious shimmered with faint violet light, walls made of shifting glass and shadow. His weapons now walked in human form avatars born of steel and will.
Noctem's Veil, tall and restless, wandered the endless living room. Its black hair shimmered like liquid ink, and its eyes glowed faintly red. It knelt beside a floating coffee table and lifted something small an amber geode, pulsing faintly with inner light.
"Hey guys," Noctem called out, voice echoing with a trace of mischief. "I found this glowing rock thing. What should I do with it?"
Ebon Wrath, lounging in a worn armchair, didn't even look up as he assembled a spectral revolver click, click, click.
"Just leave it on the table. Probably important. Probably dangerous.
Noctem shrugged, placed the geode gently on the table, and flopped onto the couch with a sigh.
Across the room, Shadow's Requiem stood by the window, gazing out at the endless void that surrounded the space. Beyond the glass, the silhouette of Nyxia's monstrous form wandered aimlessly through the fog a beast that didn't know it was dreaming.
"It's wandering again," Shadow murmured, a hint of pity in its tone. "Doesn't even realize it's in it's own head."
Noctem turned lazily, resting its chin on one hand.
"Do you think he even knows I can change into any melee weapon?"
Ebon chuckled, flicking an invisible round into his gun's cylinder.
"Maybe. He did ask you to become a longsword. At least Father left a hint."
"But really who uses dagger, sword, and then ask for a scythe? Bit dramatic, don't you think?"
Noctem scowled.
"Oh, shut up. He probably thinks I'm stuck to only a dagger, sword, and scythe."
Ebon leaned back, a wry grin forming.
"Please. At least you get a hint. Father made us capable of shifting into any firearm type and yet here we are, stuck as revolvers because he hasn't figured it out."
Noctem's eyes widened.
"Wait what? You mean you two could've been machine guns this whole time?!"
Ebon spun the cylinder and snapped it shut, smirking.
"Technically, yes."
The room fell into a quiet hum of amusement. Noctem tossed a pillow across the space in mock outrage.
Shadow shook his head, half-smiling as the monstrous silhouette beyond the glass lifted its head, sensing something.