There was an incredibly tall being standing by a forge the size of a building. Wearing a leather apron adorned with large tallic structures and quite crude stitching, it looked rough and crude, yet raw and strong, as if it would never falter.
Each plate probably weighed a mountain, considering how they swayed under each swing and clicked together to… well, there were no doubts at all about it, for IT was no giant.
The noises—forging or creation of so sort—were far from bells ringing, setting records of dawn or wars waging across the skies. It certainly did many things to everyone and everything was alluded by this being.
Set with gems, additional tools around the waist, and plates as large as an actual giant—which hardly suggested the physical factors of this colossal figure—it was a monuntal sight to Murai and breaking, scornful Lisa. Holding a huge hamr with a dense wooden handle, the sheer exertion of force and focus under every swing gave no ti for hesitation.
The sa went for the two observing and panicking intruders, since every swing rushed mana away, creating sound and echoes of quite a peculiar force. It wasn't a field Murai tended to think about.
It wasn't ant for them, yet both of them took it for sothing else. Then, the one doing the swinging was no different. From the face and tremors, the world of this room was changing, and this figure was enjoying and crashing this order while enjoying every freaking swing and second.
Lisa was briefly entranced by this display after feeding her courage the wrong appeal. Then she lost her wits and control over her sona felt like one giant lie. She broke, casually dropping to the ground and feeling like a pond of mud. Her huffed screams and trying to catch herself weren't working. Murai didn't even blink at her.
Every mont carried a world-bending Authority.
Every single soul quivered.
Dense clusters, laws, and whatever else fueled their aspects changed and scurried as far away from this figure as they could. Mana found no marks in the air, so it proceeded to the ground, the other room, or those silly little creatures that surely weren't worse than 'him'.
It was no wonder Lisa's body turned to mush, and everything soon turned feeble, regardless of who she truly was or could be. Soon, she was like a ghost, pale and stupid, or weak and judged by one thing which could take anything, her included, for terrible ideas and evil forms.
anwhile, Murai kept going step by step ahead, watching every hit reach that scorching core of blazing colors, with boundless flas and fla essences littering it. Many of them escaped upwards, to the figure that either breathed them one at a ti, or puffing them to smoke.
Each felt like the Everflower, but that wasn't as obvious as it should be. For once, Murai couldn't tell shit from the star and didn't feel mana at all. It was more purer, rugged, and true.
But he didn't turn stupid, so they either were a cause of that core, manifestations of this figure, or a flashy yet simple part of the hamr. He wasn't sure of it after his eyes worked worse than ever, and his feelings over his body started to wane.
Everything altered, retreated, and moved on the go, under every swing and loud noise. Then they would scatter and try to return to rejoice in the forging and looping of creation, and fighting between the sky and the earth.
It was impossible to participate, practice, and realize what Murai was even watching. His current eyes weren't enough. His prevailing mind trembled due to the confidence and changes he gained in that Resonance Realm, but here?! After that, and the shaking fall? After…. eting Razmund once more?? Not everything was like the rest. So things were eternal or eventually negligible. He was watching yet another, but a different kind of asshole, was he not?!
Was it a fine to call this a work of a God? Hardly. No, let's scratch that off from the face of the cosmos and call it utterly stupid. If this were a God, then his hoodie was a bunch of sewn lines ant for shitting. This wasn't ideal, or even a slight godly intervention.
It was stinking of deeper problems, and the links and marks he didn't ever want to consider moved once again. The last ti was too much for him, so what if it was he who got closer? It wasn't fine. They weren't fine. Hell, he wasn't ever fine.
They were at the crossroads and in an absolute, irregular hideout. Kidnapping was an unlikely answer to any of that, and tampering with Chaos Space wasn't optimal as well. Murai traveled in Chaos Space for long enough and felt a few such disturbances to realize its likelihood.
It all led to that portal; to Levandis and a bunch of shitheads around the Battleworld that tasted his shitty Cursed Living for the first ti.
That portal did send him sowhere real, and he should be accepting it the sa way as air, since there wasn't much of it here, was it? Everything fell down, like a sense of reason and the grace of ti.
The sound of it made sense until those swings echoed, giving Murai the belief that this shithead was feeling sorry and wishing for peace. Sotis, the sharpest tool felt the dullest under the wrong use. It was the sa with hamrs or anvils, while emotions hit him like a hamr and travel through Resonance.
Enduring, Murai's confidence hit rock bottom when his mana completely dissipated, his hoodie almost beca a rug, and his feathers kept quivering like leaves in the storm. Even his Brightlife died down, now looking like a shivering speck of dried grass in his mana space.
The mana was worse. It left his cores in a terrible shape, and lines of mana behind his every step looked as if he was shedding skin. It was like a streak of clouds and rivers due to his overall ambiance, mana, and Brightlife, which would rather choose to escape than do this stuff.
Still, one thing prevailed. The Brightlife died off until it once more simred him from inside, feeling the thuds and mana that rushed at him when the swinging's tis stabilized, and it adapted. It was unwilling to succumb to this maddening authority, as Murai was.
A little seed in the middle of nowhere, though not alone, it fought. There was even that weird foreign Artificial Core, which wasn't supposed to be there, still, motionless, and affected by the intent of a strange sovereign. It wanted to devour it, use it, and knock on its door, yet those hits liquified it regardless of Murai's Will etched onto his Core Defying Fusion Technique.
He forgot about that process. Just a smudge of his Will towards it remained, almost like a phantom, so it didn't turn into a feed or collapse under boundless streaks.
His body dropped first. There was no helping it, as there was a point in letting masters of their craft work in silence. Murai rather tensed up his intent, observing this art of forging as if he would never witness it again. In a shocking turn, it was true. The second change would never co.
It was lancholic the way it occurred to his soul, making his head feel strange. Like that Resonance. Then it changed, and feelings shifted to disdainful realization, bordering on anger, or how wrong losing his mind was.
The soul at least prevailed, which was welcod. Murai might be a little weakling duck at the mont, but that ca with considerable caveats and watchful acts.
Strange vibrations were altering his feathers, and the laws of this place were influencing his core and everything in the area. His tiny legs were the first victims, though Murai crawled forward, trusting and using his beak, body, or wings. In all this ti and monts of pain and emptiness, hundreds of hits reached that anvil, and Murai's eyes never missed any.
Unlike Lisa, who lost her eyes in half of his attempts.
By this mont, Murai viewed and pushed his curiosity at that gigantic figure. There was no indication of its origin. No na. No face. Just a giant congloration of tall, human aspects. Humanoid… well, there was that and this. Smoke, mana, and the shaky mass of this whole forge were off the chart.
He should open his damn third eye or sothing, because there were quite unlikely scenarios speaking, writing, and even flying like a duck. It made no sense until they did. He lived with it, after all.
It shouldn't be under a single judgnt of the current Epochs. It was nothing weak like a giant, either. Those were small in comparison, yet even a godly giant could splatter a weakling like him with a vibration force of their quenched fists or simple stomps.
The fact that Murai was alive ant only one thing; this wasn't threatening, and the change and mana and this Authority was challenging for a reason. It was a simple idea following the previous Gate, for he had acquired this portal and traveled through that Chaos Line. It wasn't a normal one, and he did end up here. One ought to be rewarded and given nice things for it. The mories of the Epochverse deed it justified.
Those ores and crafts scattered around this room could be for that, though he couldn't judge them. As an oblivious newcor, he found no way to test them or his own manners.
Weirdly enough, the core wasn't changing in the slightest. It was eternal and firm, shaking the room and letting sparks fly everywhere, but every one of them either ca back, bounced, or left before returning.
Like Murai and his magical effects and problems.
Mixtures of all kinds of Fla Essences and boundless Laws of Creation and Forgery were like stars and fluid mixed into one. Like fluttering birds and insects, they sought the origin of their creation. Every swing challenged that hamr and sky. Obviously, all of this was within the eyes of their maker, swaying in the air, dancing for as long as possible.
Bang!
Relentless.
Bang!
It went for minutes. Seconds. Hours? Days? Chaos Cycles? It was hard to say how a fra of ti made sense, since the arts of certain kinds were not common in their strength and ambition. There were dilutions and spaces in the cosmos capable of creating paradoxes and cuts in spaceti.
This figure obviously didn't create them or use them. It was fine up to perspectives instead, and then… it stopped hamring when the muse was over, and essences no longer felt his tearful, forging equilibrium. The figure decided to see the work, feel the amount of his failures, and judge the outco.
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Built from intense, rging muscles, it was unknown how many fibers or lines of impulsive flesh and revolutions they went through. It was a work of an unmistakable, massive Titan!
Right.
Not the smaller or diluted ones. Perhaps the Titans known to mankind and space weren't really right.
This one fell on that word like a hollow man and followed up on it to the extre.
Lisa felt the world on her shoulder and the word "Titan" in her heart seize her spirit at the sa ti. She fought back against them more than for herself. eting it was not in her soul. Not in the slightest. The treasures, the history set things straight and wrong. They turned to mushy dust alongside her, but everyone kind of persisted in one form or another.
They weren't dying, extinct, or perishing. She was here, encountered a so-called paradox that shouldn't exist. There was nothing right about it, but she shouldn't be judgntal since she was also here, with Murai in her feeble grasp, of all things.
She couldn't recognize this specific Titan, but... No. It wasn't right to call it that. It was simply too big, and the patterns were way too outrageous. Instead, it was fine to call it the oldest kind of Titans, because the head was inconceivably cool and full of fleshly, physical patterns, almost resembling a dull yet blazing sun of orange and light brown beard. Authority of not just one rule was in each eye, and it was impossible to perceive what was within them.
Murai couldn't do it, while Lisa should be glad to find a way to open her eyes and form a full thought. That surprised her more than anything she would ever be willing to admit.
So what of before? Well, she certainly hadn't held her previous life in contempt. This one, on the other hand, was full of issues and acceptance because it was her corner. There were fewer paths now. Fewer ideas about where to go was her own paradox.
There were no shortcuts, turns, or jumps. There was an endurance she adopted for several reasons.
This one was wrong. Very wrong.
Murai collapsed with his body the mont the shakings stopped, and all that glitter and madness halted in their dances. The air and the world kept trembling and quivering his soul space, ensuring his focus remained and fueled his interest.
His beak hit the tallic ground that was part of this unshakable forge. Even Lisa winced in pause, trying to reconnect her spirit to her sona and form a single thought about the terrific aftermath this stoppage created. It was like the previous pond in the Last Island, but rather than being a construct, this was a direct cosmic-tier cleansing done by...
As if fearing her own soul tearing and returning, her own body collapsed again as she imagined the Titan, his na, and act. Her voice tried to say sothing, but her soul refused.
"He stopped... The creation cursed this process, and mories of laws refused to elaborate. What a pretty failure." Murai whimpered in his collapse, yet was still very much alive and looking. His eyes were as stubborn as his Will, while his Robust Spirit felt captivated by this challenge and almost t its match. It was not yet ti for that. It had lost.
There were limits to what was right, and this did not hit him as deeply. Even though his limbs no longer made sense to him, Murai discovered what was going on at the sa ti as Lisa, way back behind him.
He felt a strange sensation rushing throughout his body, making him feel as if he were the one facing that hamr. From mana to body, it felt as if he was turned upside down. It was neither comforting nor unpleasant, regardless of whether he moved or not.
This rigorous processing hit their foundations and depths. In a way, it assembled a trial, forging bodily techniques or concepts of forced evolution and transformation.
Baptism was the most suitable word, right beside…. well, insanity. Murai didn't think such things were possible because of his conditions, and they did make him feel heavier than he would have otherwise.
The colossal Titan was yet to look at them. His form of flesh alone was dense and heavy, so his actions and the way he moved were quite peculiar.
Titans, as a whole, were a mighty race, steeped in historical legends and secrecy, bound by layers of mystery stemming from the origin of the Epochverse. From their height and patterns, all of them stood tall and alone for longer than any regular race or species imagined. For countless eras and cycles, their descriptions bled and were integrated into all Epochs. One should be humble before them and know that depth has its ebb and flow.
So what of this forge and eting? There was a place and ti for everything, and Murai felt awestruck and livid for vastly different reasons than he ought to keep.
He examined the large forge, the anvil, and an ample furnace bigger than this Titan. It was in the very center of this huge, circular room with no windows. The furnace was raging with undying flas, like a prison for more dancing concepts, which was giving this entire place an unfathomable aura. Not the heat, however, which Murai found odd. He would imagine being roasted if it weren't for his soul and interest, or… was it even a right thought?
By all ans, nothing like them should be alive in this room at the mont.
Unless the grand design was weak or peak, not pushing for death, or the maker was civil, it made no other sense. Murai didn't believe any of those possibilities.
It should be well beyond his current, uncomfortable level, so Murai controlled his emotions and sensed his surroundings. His Sonar failed imdiately and puffed like airless breath. Not that he was shocked by it, as his current mana and sensations were all over the place.
But it was returning shockingly well, even with very few links within him, for his mana was still behind his steps and crawling, while his body took it rather poorly.
The Titan was doing the sa thing: observing his goal and wondering where things went wrong. With many layers of flesh and skin, nothing would break or run rampant under his creation, processing, and eyes.
For the others, let's say unaccounted invaders that shouldn't be here, things within this room might be disasters or gifts waiting to break, finish, or change.
As for this Titan, he was a male variant known for imnse strength, far at the peak of the most powerful races in the Epochverse. Coupled with a rough beard that was thick and parting under his chin, there were even beads and glinting spheres within for style or so purpose. Each hair was quite robust and intertwined in styles of forgotten dwarven races that had not survived the previous shift.
That alone was rare to see in a Titan, who were known for their skin and tattoos, or for a physique that tempered with everything or pushed one statent to the existential extre. This one was rugged and old. He resembled an old master blacksmith at the end of his ti and life.
Of course, if the blacksmith was a hidden legend with life within him that was impossible to quench. That one was a joke. It was too much to ask Titans to die naturally, and any guesses and claims ended up sounding childish or silly.
This Titan's strength and arms were big for the rest of his more slender, almost frail build. That part was scandalous, but it was true that his proportions weren't right, even if he was enormous. At the bare minimum, he was at least fifty ters tall in Murai's twisted view.
"Origin Titan..." Lisa managed to voice her anger and frustration. She was clearly flustered beyond her regal lives. It was because of the truth her kind knew, for the word Origin had boundless anings.
This was about the predecessors of a whole titan race, which followed told history and untold rits touching on progenitors, bloodline founders, or patriarchies of beastly, original sequences. The hidden portion was about primordial terms. The ones who forged the stars and called big shots of the fabled tales before the First Epoch truly began.
Those were them.
And 'he' was them.
The one before her was clearly alive, breathing, living, and... doing sothing. Creating?!
"Oh, freaking Levi, what have you done...." Lisa whispered and overca one massive block. She changed her mind about breaking and cursing and barely managed to reforge her body and trap her last remaining wit with her soul. That required a lot of calming down before she hurried to check on Murai, who was still on the ground, collapsed but otherwise fine in his head.
For minutes it took her to reach this step, not once did Titan look at them or consider their presence, voices, or reality.
"Are you alright?" she asked in a shaky voice, lacking the usual substance and clarity of her perspective. She tried to appease Murai's shaken and clearly crushed magic.
All those reverberations remained in hazy mories, or like shadowy paints all over them and behind them. Lisa grasped them alone because she could. Murai didn't until they finally quivered and felt the world returning to its forr glory.
Like drops, his mana returned in inverted swings. Following a foreboding presence of world-forging techniques, there were arts and endearing purposes in this mana, which followed emotional rollercoasters, heeded by almost no witnesses.
It was no gift for sure. There was no way an Origin Titan would be eloquent enough to gift anyone anything, let alone to them. Lisa was wary of this nonsensical situation and wondered if there was a way out of this place. She saw no other portal, so this must be the very trick Levandis got to her, and let her face the reality with her own eyes.
She never imagined a hideout of this caliber would get involved with Levandis, who was clearly linked to this shit, but sothing else was also possible, or…. it was right there. Waiting.
Maybe Levandis was forced to bear this link. Maybe she didn't even know about it.
This must be new, or worse.
However, it was still before Lisa, so it was bound to her will and voice to care about it. Was there a change? A possibility to gain strength, aning, and wisdom out of this unlikely scenario and eting?
Again, the rules of the Challenger and Gates reminded Lisa to calm down, until they, too, broke and made her realize that nothing was fine anymore. Screw the rules. Screw that which was fine, since this long eclipsed traditional imaginations and orders of any kind of tricksters.
Murai jerked his legs and shook as he got up like a flower t with an ongoing wind and surging river. Shaking his head after mana ca back to him in tides, Brightlife jerked within too, and his senses throbbed back on track. His vision and change were like a switch after altered mana jerked his feathers, hoodie, and reignited his Brightlife and Beast Core alike.
"This art...." Murai began and stepped towards the Origin Titan, who still observed his work. He ignored Lisa, who floated behind him, and said sothing he didn't catch.
Murai fell to his belly again within a couple of steps and hit the ground with his beak.
"Listen..." Lisa caught up to him and spoke above his head. "Think twice before acting, you hear ? This is not a normal circumstance, let alone a ti to play a ga with yourself or . It could end terribly, really fucking quickly, so get a grip and don't make a single fucking mistake. Got it?"
"Not a big deal," he pushed this ssage to Lisa's head, not knowing if he should quack like a duck or look at her in his steadfast sense.
"Not a big deal?" the Titan suddenly said, speaking like thunder and shaking them once again. Lisa was surprised to hear his voice and intensity without breaking like before. At last, his interest had piqued its perks, though he was perhaps pretending not to see them from the start. It was almost a certainty, since Lisa assud their exposed existence before this Titan ant trouble.
Murai watched as this colossus turned his head and attention towards them. He watched those… eyes? Huge fists and a disheveled face and tone marked a different vision that his bare back Murai had watched for a while.
He was also huge as hell, so Murai wasn't comfortable with his sight or insight.
What was he even watching?
"I asked a question." The Titan demanded, hefting his hamr.
Silence.
"Well, it is an interesting proposition to see a duo of.... things coming here for…. what?"
A question?
"Things..." Lisa muttered, quivering in her body again, and was genuinely starting to feed on insanity. A single swing of that hamr would turn her apart or change her in ways she didn't want to imagine. Everything could fall apart. She would be broken into.
The Titan sensed her imminent threat and voice, and his one eye blinked at her. "Not just anyone is curious after getting a hundred ters within my hamring range, yet you got much closer. Fortieth ter, in fact. Your souls have not crumbled, and all the mana and rising tides of your flesh ca from realms of positives and lies to truth and creation. In return, turned and mixed back together is the sa way as it was before, but perfected, or…. well, it certainly is wonderful how mana does it now, after so many cyclical forces of modification. It hadn't done that before, in… forevers, but this one is nice. I am sure it is fine, and depending on what can be transford, flesh and magic can beco wonderful tools of creation. Right. There is a flesh forge for a reason. Body? Soul forge... Mana forge? How many forges of creation there used to be... I wonder?"
Neither Murai nor Lise could shed a comnt or a thought between them. The thundering voice and aningful Presence of this Titan ca from no scant place. It was no sun. No black hole.
It was deep and profound, sounding as if the universe got a voice. Every word ca with purpose. Every syllable carried a strength of his bewildering race, shaking, and carrying a stuff of legends.
And it continued.
"Well, body is one feature that is the easiest to forge, and quite peculiar bodies are before my hefty eyes. Both are enduring a lot of songs at the sa ti. It seems there are many gifts and remarks to consider. Oh, that is certainly not within my anticipators. I reckon this eting has not been arranged under my guidance, let alone my will. That is sinful. Chaotic. What is happening with you, this Titan wonders?" he continued and scratched his head, forgetting about his hamr or core, or what he left on the anvil.
He was about to et quite a peculiar characters and actors, none of whom were small for his forr station.
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