Damon's heart sank for a second. He had a feeling that if this thing burns him, then not even a trace of him would be left behind. It would be as if he had never existed. But thankfully, everything simmered down. He was able to open his eyes and see.

In front of him was an ancient, broken forge suspended over an abyss of fire. Chains of flame erupted from the abyss and twisted around him, but they did not hurt him. A colossal anvil floated, fractured, scorched, part of its form fading into the void.

From within that anvil came a voice. It wasn't loud, yet it carried infinite weight, shaking his very soul.

"Bloodsucker… you do not possess the qualifications to stand in front of me."

Damon stood frozen, unable to move even a muscle.

"I am what remains of the World Anvil, the Forge that shaped creation and unmade gods." The voice rumbled like thunder over molten seas. "You dare feed me your essence?" A low, booming chuckle echoed. "Very well. Since you are here, let us see if you are worthy to wield what was meant for gods."

A blinding surge of heat exploded from beneath Damon's feet, and the forge roared to life. Rivers of molten metal cascaded through the cracks of the broken anvil, forming glowing streams that circled him like serpents of living fire.

The oppressive heat should have seared him to ash but instead, the flames licked at his skin without burning, as if testing his endurance, his very essence.

All around him, fragments of the void ignited with visions. Flashes of divine wars, titans hammering worlds into shape, blades that split stars, and gods screaming as a massive weapon of some sort devoured them.

Damon couldn't see everything clearly. He was only able to see some of it. The forge was showing him its history, its wrath, its reason for existing.

The voice of the World Anvil boomed again, deeper this time. "The forge tests not your strength, bloodsucker, but your resolve. To shape creation is to endure destruction. To forge is to bleed."

Before Damon could respond, chains of molten flame shot upward, wrapping around his arms and dragging him toward the anvil. Every link that touched him sent agony through his soul. It wasn't pain in flesh, but in identity, a hammer beating against the essence of who he was.

Blood Reign's voice faintly echoed from somewhere distant, distorted by the burning void, calling his name but he couldn't reach her. After a moment, he even forgot that she ever existed.

The anvil flared, and from its center, a hammer formed, ancient, massive, yet weightless, floating before him. "Feed me your will, and be forgotten like the rest."

Damon's vision blurred. His body was breaking apart into streams of red motes of light, all flying towards the anvil. He tried to resist but bit by bit, he couldn't even remember why he was resisting. In the blink of an eye, almost the entirety of him got sucked in.

Only a small sliver of him lingered outside not knowing any rhyme or reason. The avail glowed again and this small sliver as well started to fly towards the anvil. However, right at this moment, the small part of him pulsed. A small pulse but strong and steady.

The void powers of the anvil tried to suck him in with full force but nothing was working. This small mote of light continued to resist.

"Hmmm… bloodsucker… you are not ordinary after all…" The voice of the World Anvil rumbled again, its tone carrying something new, curiosity. The molten abyss around Damon shifted, its fires bending toward the sliver of his essence that refused to yield.

"What is this spark? What are you hiding, child of blood and ruin? This is… this is… blood of the primordial flame? Impossible!" The World Anvil trembled.

The small mote of light glowed brighter and then Damon's fragmented soul began to reassemble, crimson motes snapping back together piece by piece. The chains that bound him cracked. One by one, they shattered, sending sparks of golden fire scattering into the void.

The hammer that floated before him trembled violently and then shattered. The World Anvil roared, its molten rivers surging upward like tidal waves. "You might have the blood of the primordial flame but I am the World Anvil! I refuse to yield! You cannot tame me. Now get out of my sanctum!"

Damon couldn't even react before he was kicked out and he once again found himself in the training room. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. His body convulsed as if his soul had been torn apart and stitched back together with molten thread.

Blood Reign and the old vampire rushed to him immediately. "My liege… what happened? Are you alright? I couldn't sense you for a moment…"

Damon couldn't answer her. He was still shaking and trembling inside out. He sat down cross legged and closed his eyes. It took a few minutes but he eventually managed to get a grip and calm down. He wasn't really hurt anywhere. Just exhausted so he was able to regain his composure.

"I am fine. Barely." He answered.

Before anything else he quickly took the piece of scrap metal and looked at it. Surprisingly, he was able to inspect it now.

[Ding! Fragmented Mythical Grade Shoulder Plate]

Description: A fractured piece of armor once worn by the Celestial Blacksmith, the first and only being who could wield the World Anvil without being consumed. Though incomplete and heavily damaged, this shoulder plate still carries traces of the forge's divine fire and the hammer's will that shaped existence itself.

When equipped all stats are increased by 1000.

Effects:

Passive: Ember of Creation: Enhances crafting, and forging efficiency by 50%

Passive: Residual Flame: Absorbs fire and heat-based damage, converting 50% damage into vitality regeneration.

Active: World Resonance: Temporarily channel the will of the World Anvil to enhance any forged item. There is a 50% chance for the grade of the item to upgrade.

Warning: The fragment still remembers its creator and its original wielder. It might or might not obey its new owner.

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