Steel clashed against stone, and the forge burned like a sun beneath the earth.
Vaelrik moved through the smoke-filled chamber, his breath ragged, every step shaking with the weight of heat and violence. All around him, the world roared, not with voices, but with the screams of metal, the hiss of chains, the crackle of unnatural fire.
The fortress beneath the hills had become a crucible.
Skarn tore through armored foes on the far side of the forge, claws raking deep into plate and flesh. Sparks erupted with each impact. Valgrin's flame swept the shadows, clearing a path with gouts of searing heat. Zephyrion dove from the high arches, wings trailing lightning that split the stone.
But none of it could silence the sound of the beast's agony.
It sat chained atop the iron throne, its form barely recognizable. Metal had been fused into its flesh, welded by cruel hands. Tubes pulsed along its limbs, draining something luminous from within. Its face was masked by steel, bolted in place. And still, it lived.
Vaelrik reached the base of the throne, eyes locked on the beast. Its body trembled. It was not dead. It was waiting.
Forge fought beside him, chains whirling, striking down foes with brutal precision. He stepped close, eyes narrowing.
"They remade it. This was no forge for weapons. This was a slaughterhouse."
Vaelrik clenched his fist, the Sovereign Brand burning on his palm. He could feel it, the beast's soul flickering beneath layers of torment. Altered. Warped. But not yet gone.
A voice rose behind them.
"You cannot crown what no longer lives."
The enemy commander stepped forward from the shadows, clad in dark robes stitched with symbols Vaelrik did not know. In his hand, he held a shard, a jagged fragment of metal, glowing faintly.
The fragment pulsed.
The Brand flared in response, pain lancing up Vaelrik's arm. He staggered. The fragment... it was not a weapon. It was a piece of a Sovereign Brand.
Stolen.
Forge snarled. "They have torn crowns to pieces."
Vaelrik rose, eyes locked on the commander.
"You desecrate what you do not understand."
The commander smiled, sharp and thin. "We take what we need. Dominion is not earned. It is seized."
He raised the fragment. Energy surged from it, wild and unstable. The chained beast shrieked, its body writhing. The metal fused to its flesh glowed white hot. The throne pulsed with light, draining the beast faster.
Vaelrik moved.
Tempest Fang flashed in his hand. He crossed the chamber in a heartbeat, the blade cutting through the haze. The commander lashed out with the fragment, and the two forces collided.
Light exploded between them.
Vaelrik drove his shoulder forward, slamming into the man, forcing him back. The fragment cracked. The commander screamed, his hand burning, the stolen Brand faltering.
Vaelrik struck again. The blade hit home, slicing through cloth, through armor, through bone. The commander fell, eyes wide with shock, blood pooling around him.
The fragment clattered to the stone.
Vaelrik stepped over it. His focus was on the throne.
The beast sagged, its breath shallow, chains trembling. The Brand pulsed, not in hunger, but urgency.
Forge approached, eyes grim. "It is barely alive. Crown it now or lose it forever."
Vaelrik raised the Brand. He pressed it to the beast's chest.
Light erupted.
The Vaulting opened.
Chains shattered. The throne cracked. The beast collapsed, its metal bindings breaking away. From the light, a new Edict took shape.
But it was not stable. Not clean. The power twisted, flickered, fought itself.
Vaelrik gritted his teeth. He reached into the Vaulting, forced the Edict to take form.
A massive shield formed in his hand, forged of metal and energy, pulsing with power.
Edict Gained: Forgemaul Bastion
Channel damage. Convert force into strength. Shield becomes weapon.
The Vaulting closed.
Vaelrik turned to the beast. Its eyes opened, dim but aware. It whispered one word.
"Earth..."
Forge stepped close, chains slack. "This is Earth. Your world. But it was used. Not to crown. To imprison. Beasts were sent here. Bound. Forgotten."
Vaelrik stood in silence, the shield heavy in his grip.
His world had been a prison.
Smoke lingered in the forge chamber long after the battle had ended. The wounded lay scattered among the rubble, the air thick with the scent of blood and metal. Vaelrik stood at the center, surrounded by silence. The newly crowned beast knelt before him, still breathing, though barely. Its eyes flickered with dim light, as if trying to remember itself.
Skarn approached first, silent and watchful. He sniffed at the wounded beast, then looked to Vaelrik. There was no growl, no challenge. Only a slow nod.
Valgrin circled once and landed with a heavy thud. Steam hissed from his scales. Zephyrion descended next, wings folding as he watched the beast with piercing light.
Forge moved beside Vaelrik, eyes locked on the creature. "It is not whole. Whatever they did... it remains."
Vaelrik stepped forward, kneeling before the beast. "Do you have a name?"
The beast opened its mouth, but only a whisper came. "Karnyx... once."
Vaelrik nodded. "Karnyx, you are free. The crown is yours now."
Karnyx looked down at his chained limbs. The bindings had fallen away, yet the wounds remained. The Sovereign Brand pulsed faintly, and Vaelrik reached out, placing a hand on the beast's shoulder.
A wave of energy passed between them. Faint memories surged into Vaelrik's mind. Images of this world, of Earth, altered by chains and fire. Karnyx had been bound here. Like many others.
Forge stood still, face unreadable.
Vaelrik rose. "This is not just war. This is reckoning. My world was twisted into a prison. Now it breaks."
Forge nodded. "And others will come. Not to crown. To bind again."
Vaelrik looked to the shattered throne. "Then we end that. Every beast, freed or crowned."
A sound echoed through the chamber. A horn. Far off, but growing closer.
Skarn growled. Valgrin turned to face the corridor. Zephyrion's wings twitched.
Karnyx rose slowly, his breath steady now. "Another beast. Bound. Near. I feel it."
Vaelrik's eyes narrowed. "They will try to break it too."
Forge stepped forward. "Then we strike now. Before the chain tightens."
Vaelrik nodded. "Prepare. We move within the hour."
The beasts gathered. The Brand pulsed. The war for the Writhe was far from over.