Firesmith of Lava-Forging

Protective goggles made from black fire crystal. Behind those lenses, fiercely blazing sparks look no different from a flickering flame.

For the Firesmith clan, forging divine weapons is both a mission granted by the heavens and a curse that clings to them their whole lives.

Ever since the Firesmith clan was set free and came into the world of the War Furnace, their talent, revealed at its very peak, began to give off the breath of destruction.

The light of the forge and its blinding sparks: over an endlessly long process of making, the materials are cast into a divine artifact while the smith loses his sight. Foy once found a rare cluster of obsidian fire crystal at the bottom of a volcano and carefully ground it into protective goggles, and from then on the fierce sparks became faint outlines. But the greedy smith still did not escape his cursed fate, and he burned everything to ash in a raging fire.

Foy regards the Antimatter Legion inside the War Furnace as material to be tempered, and he himself is that roaring, rising flame.

“Would it be possible, say, to turn a nuclear reaction into my forge?” Foy searched for a flame that burned to the absolute limit, and burned out in an uncontrolled fusion reaction.

A ring that carries the will of fire, the most noble symbol of the Firesmith clan.

A fire of 900 degrees can bake earth into ceramic, and a flame above a thousand degrees can melt bronze and tin… The more one needs the essence of creation, the more one craves the highest possible temperature.

The creatures of the Legion long to be parted from their material state, begging for the change in substance that only destructive heat can bring.

A veteran smith with practiced skill can fan a flame to an unbelievable level: the flame's blackbody radiation shows a blue spectrum, close to the spectrum of a dying star. The Firesmiths are geniuses at commanding fire, but only the best among them are granted the Ring of Flame Mastery, the mark of a master's craft.

The War Furnace long ago stopped distinguishing between smith and material, and the master Firesmiths tempering the antimatter creatures have themselves become part of the weapon of destruction.

“The forging of a weapon is decided by the heat of the furnace, and the heat of the furnace is decided by the Firesmith.” To the Firesmiths who have mastered the craft of destruction, this is self evident.

An old coat with a torn hem, its embroidery ripped open by a sword cut. Flesh heals quickly, but cloth does not, just like a person's pain.

The nameless man drifted through an endlessly long exile like a soulless corpse, until a tall woman in sunglasses and armor blocked his path. Before the two could so much as greet each other, a sharp sword had already left its sheath, and after a fierce fight the woman smiled and proposed a deal he could not refuse.

And so the nameless man accepted the invitation, took on a new identity, and returned once more to civilization and order.

The nameless man was taken to a tailor's shop, measured and patterned, the cloth cut and sewn into proper clothes… Someone also trimmed his hair and groomed his appearance, restoring the look he had worn years ago. For a moment, old memories came flooding back in a haze. He had once meant to give a jade vase he made with his own hands to an old friend, but by the time he made up his mind, that person was already gone.

He understood it all: this body, this life, this love and hatred… even these clothes, all of it was borrowed.

He wanted to repay every debt of this life, and then breathe his last.

A metal leg, with three dimensional flame patterns wrapping around its surface.

The master of the prison, afraid of losing a forging craft unmatched anywhere in the world, used base methods to bind the Firesmith clan. In those years of captivity, even the Firesmith chieftain was no exception and was left with a crippled leg.

The lord of Destruction freed the imprisoned Firesmith clan, and the mark of Destruction granted the Firesmiths endless power.

After leaving the prison, the Firesmith chieftain could no longer move about freely like an ordinary person, yet he had gained true freedom… no longer locked away because of his transcendent craft. The chieftain poured all his resentment and bitterness into the work, hammering for days on end without ever feeling tired. The stubborn and haughty antimatter beings were forced to change shape beneath those unbroken hammer blows, yielding to the destroyer's reshaping.

Even with no visible prison left, the Firesmiths' madness for forging is no different from a prison of its own.

“Flesh and blood go hand in hand, and forging is destruction as well.” Watching the number of crippled smiths grow larger by the day, the chieftain could not help but sigh with a heavy heart.