The forge had burned for three days straight.
Even the night air outside Korvan shimmered from its heat. The villagers had stopped wondering how Hunnt could endure it — they simply accepted that the forge obeyed him, not the other way around.
Inside, sparks drifted like golden fireflies. The rhythmic pulse of the hammer echoed again and again, steady as a heartbeat. Hunnt stood at the anvil, gauntlets blackened with soot, his eyes reflecting the dancing flames.
This time, his focus was not on fury, nor speed, nor strength.
It was on endurance.
Seren's image lingered in his thoughts — the way she had stood before Vulcarion Basal, shield raised, refusing to step aside even when death towered over her. Her courage had not been reckless; it was rooted in something deeper — the instinct to protect, no matter the cost.
For someone like her, he would need to forge something immovable.
Something that could defy the fury of dragons themselves.
Hunnt laid out the materials one by one upon the blackened steel table.
Furnace Core. The heart of molten energy drawn from the magma veins beneath the volcano.
Ashen Wing. Burnt feathers of a fallen aerial beast, light but resilient.
Obsidian Spine. A hardened fragment of Vulcarion Basal backplate, dense beyond measure.
Ignivar Talon. The claw of the Crimson Tyrant — sharp enough to carve through solid basalt.
He studied the four pieces quietly, his thumb brushing across their surfaces. Each one carried its own voice — heat, weight, balance, edge. Together, they would become Seren's legacy: a shield and lance bound by fire and will.
Hunnt inhaled deeply.
The hammer rose.
CLANG.
The air split apart as molten sparks flew, scattering like embers in a storm.
Armament Haki coated his arms again, veins of black steel weaving across his skin. His strikes grew sharper, deliberate — not fueled by rage, but by concentration.
The Furnace Core melted first, its molten essence spilling across the anvil like sunlight turned to liquid fire. Hunnt tempered it with shavings from the Obsidian Spine, shaping a dense alloy capable of absorbing heat instead of deflecting it. Each blow embedded his will into the metal, reinforcing it from within.
He whispered under his breath, between strikes.
"This one's for you, Sentinel of Flame."
Hours bled into each other.
When the sparks finally dimmed, a weapon lay half-formed on the anvil: a lance of shimmering crimson and black, veins of molten gold running along its length. Its surface pulsed faintly, alive with heat, but never too hot to hold — proof of perfect balance.
At its base, a broad, curved shield was already taking shape — heavy, layered, and reinforced with bolts at the rim. Unlike any ordinary hunter's shield, this one was designed to anchor.
Hunnt began fitting locking bolts along the bottom edge of the frame.
They would drive deep into the ground when deployed, anchoring the shield like a fortress. Once locked, the user could brace against any impact — even the direct fury of an Elder Dragon's breath — and stand unbroken.
It was more than a shield.
It was a vow.
---
Hunnt quenched the metal in oil. Steam erupted upward, coating him in mist. He didn't flinch. His hammer moved slower now, more deliberate. He traced the fine engravings of the Eternal pattern along the lance's handle — a triangle and clenched fist, barely visible unless the light struck it just right.
For anyone else, it would seem like a simple decoration.
But to the Eternal Wanderers, it was unmistakable:
the Eternal Mark, symbol of unity and resilience.
When he pressed the emblem into the lance, the metal glowed faintly — not red or orange, but gold. The fire's light curved inward, as if bowing to the mark itself.
Hunnt whispered softly, "Your courage deserves a name."
He rested his palm upon the weapon and spoke:
"Aegis of the Infernal Wyrm."
The name carried through the forge like a whisper of wind over fire.
It wasn't loud, but it carried weight — a promise sealed in steel.
---
With the weapon complete, Hunnt turned toward the second half of his task — the armor.
He spread the blueprint across the worktable, tracing the outlines under the flicker of flame. It was nothing like the Obsidian Sentinel or Ashwing Vanguard. This set had to withstand direct elemental force — not just blows, but fury itself.
Furnace Aegis.
The armor of a Dragon Knight.
Hunnt began with the Ignivar Talon, grinding it into a powdered resin that would be fused into the alloy. The Ashen Wing fibers were woven into the underlayer, giving the armor flexibility without sacrificing protection. The plates were molded from Obsidian Spine, heated and quenched again until they shimmered with a faint red sheen.
As each piece cooled, he layered them together — chestplate, gauntlets, greaves — and sealed the joints with molten lines of Furnace Core alloy.
The armor glowed faintly in the half-light of the forge, as though alive with a constant inner fire. Its surface shimmered between crimson and black, each movement catching the light like shifting embers.
Hunnt brushed the dust from the chestplate and leaned it against the wall beside the lance.
Together, they radiated a presence — not as weapons of war, but as symbols of unyielding will.
He exhaled, resting the hammer on his shoulder.
"Three done," he murmured. "Only one more to go."
---
Hunnt walked across the forge, setting the lance and armor beside Kael's Wyrmflare Tempest and Ashwing Vanguard, and Alder's Obsidian Dragonheart and Obsidian Sentinel.
The rack was nearly full now — six pieces of brilliance forged through sweat, will, and fire. Each one reflected not just its intended wielder, but Hunnt himself — fragments of his spirit, his memory, and his purpose.
The Aegis of the Infernal Wyrm gleamed faintly even in the dim light, its bolts locked into place, its core humming with stored heat.
It was a masterpiece of protection — immovable, unbreakable, and utterly resolute.
He ran a hand across the armor's smooth edge and smiled faintly.
"Seren," he whispered, "you'll make this shine brighter than I ever could."
The flames behind him dimmed slowly, the forge breathing one final sigh of warmth before falling into silence.
Hunnt hung his hammer by the wall and looked over the growing collection of arms and armor.
Kael. Alder. Seren.
Each one of them would soon take up their piece of destiny.
And when they did…
The world would remember what it meant to stand as an Eternal Wanderer.
Hunnt turned to leave, the glow of the forge flickering against his back.
Outside, the stars shimmered faintly over Korvan Village — silent witnesses to the creation of legends yet to be born.
The Furnace Aegis and Aegis of the Infernal Wyrm stood together under the faint light, waiting.
Not yet wielded.
But alive.
Forged for the guardian who would stand when all others fell.