It was night, and the air was cold.
In a bedroom inside a run-down neighborhood in New York, a handsome man struggled to get out of bed and slowly walked toward the door. The moment he stepped outside his room, a splitting headache struck him.
"Urgh!"
He groaned in pain and clutched his head with both hands.
Staggering, he leaned against the wall for support.
After recovering a little, he let out a sigh and walked into the bathroom next door. As soon as he looked at himself in the mirror, he noticed the dark circles around his eyes. His expression was one of complete exhaustion.
Both physically and emotionally.
He hadn't been able to sleep for five days.
His body was weak, and he could barely bring himself to eat.
"What's happening to me?" the man muttered before bursting into tears.
He began pounding his fists against the bathroom sink as he squeezed his eyes shut. Suddenly, all strength left his body, and he collapsed.
He fell against the sink, slammed his chin into it, and then crashed onto the floor.
"Ah, shit!" he shouted after hitting the back of his head.
He reached behind his head before looking at his hand. There was blood on it.
His headache had also become much worse. It felt as though someone had driven a sledgehammer straight into his brain.
He grabbed his head with both hands and rolled across the filthy bathroom floor, struggling to endure the pain.
His vision was blurry, but he forced himself back to his feet.
Looking into the mirror again, he noticed red stains spreading across his eyes. The whites of his eyes slowly turned crimson, and he stared without blinking.
Within seconds, both of his eyes had become completely red.
"What's happening to me?"
The man was desperate.
He hadn't been able to go to work for two days because he felt like he could pass out at any moment.
It had all started five days ago, when he suddenly began having nightmares.
Countless nightmares.
On the first day, he dreamed of monsters chasing him.
On the second, he dreamed of swords impaling his body. Every time he closed his eyes, he was pierced again, feeling agonizing pain spread throughout his entire body. It didn't feel like a dream.
On the third day, he dreamed that he was burning.
Heat.
Unbearable heat.
It felt as though he had been thrown inside a blazing furnace. Every time he tried to sleep, he felt his skin melting.
On the fourth day, he dreamed of a hammer.
A gigantic hammer that relentlessly pounded his body every time he fell asleep.
And today, he was still dreaming of the same place.
A dark room filled with deafening metallic noises and scorching heat.
This time, it wasn't causing him physical pain, but it wouldn't let him sleep.
He felt like he was on the verge of losing his mind.
He let out a long sigh before walking back to his bedroom. Picking up his phone, he decided to call 911 and report what was happening.
He had refused to do so because of the medical costs, and he was already drowning in debt.
But he couldn't endure the suffering any longer.
However, the moment he dialed 911 and pressed the call button, an impossibly heavy weight suddenly settled into his hand.
At the same instant, his vision went completely black.
Startled, he squeezed his eyes shut.
Then he heard them again.
The same sounds that haunted his nightmares.
The deafening clang of metal.
'Did I fall asleep?'
That was his first thought.
But when he tried to open his eyes...
He actually could.
Before, he had always been trapped in that unbearable heat and those endless metallic sounds for what felt like an eternity before waking up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't open his eyes.
But now...
He could.
The moment his eyes opened, the man froze in shock.
Right in front of him was a glowing piece of red-hot steel, burning with a vivid orange light.
And in his hand...
Instead of his phone...
He was gripping a heavy hammer.
He stood there speechless.
His eyes darted from side to side.
There were countless other men around him, hammering away frantically as loud voices echoed throughout the room.
The room was lined with massive furnaces, filling the air with unbearable heat.
He could feel the skin on his body burning.
The hand gripping the hammer throbbed with intense pain.
Then...
His hammer slipped from his fingers and hit the floor.
The instant it did, someone approached from behind.
"What do you think you're doing? Get back to work if you don't want to die!"
The man spun around in fright.
Standing behind him was a huge, overweight man, towering over him. He couldn't tell whether the man's enormous frame was muscle or fat, but one thing was certain...
He was massive.
The man held a sword in one hand, looking fully prepared to cut his head off.
Panic surged through him.
He immediately picked the hammer back up.
Without having the slightest idea what he was doing, he began striking the glowing steel.
As the hammer rose and fell, tears welled up in his eyes.
'What is this? What's happening here?'
####
As he continued hammering, Ethan kept glancing around, sweat pouring down his face while sharp pain shot through his entire arm.
Even though he had no idea what he was doing, his body moved with flawless precision.
The glowing, malleable steel gradually began taking the shape of a longsword.
Once the blade had formed, he let out a breath before lowering it into a vat of oil to cool.
The loud hiss of the steel echoed in his ears as he glanced around.
The man had walked away.
'I don't know where I am... but I need to keep doing this.'
Knowledge suddenly flooded his mind, and he instinctively began tempering the blade, just like the other blacksmiths around him.
Time passed.
Eventually, the blade was complete.
The moment he finished and carefully laid the blade on his workbench, the same fat man approached from behind once again.
"Alright, it's lunchtime."
Every blacksmith stopped working at the same time.
Ethan, who had just rested the blade on the bench, suddenly noticed something floating before his eyes.
'Gacha?'