On that day, kael walked towards the city of Elaris, tunnel through tunnel.
The forge master's hall was an old structure of black stone, its roof spewing sparks and smoke into the evening sky.
Inside, the heat was near suffocating.
Rows of apprentices hammered molten steel, their rhythmic clangs echoing like war drums.
Kael approached the front desk where an old man, his beard singed from years spent too close to fire.
Without a word, Kael reached into his pouch and dropped a hefty leather sack onto the counter.
The weight of two thousand gold coins landed with a dull thud. The forge master raised his brows.
"Young man," the smith rumbled, "this much coin… you're not here for an ordinary blade, are you?"
Kael placed his sword upon the counter.
Then he revealed the glittering cluster of seventeen demon cores, each one glowing with dark essence that made the apprentices nearby stumble back nervously.
"I want these fused," Kael said.
"All of them. Into this sword."
