“Forge Master…
Run.” The words left Vulcan’s mouth a fraction of a second before the workshop ceiling collapsed completely.
Roots thicker than wagon wheels tore through the rafters.
Blue fire and splintered wood rained across the room as the massive eye above Blackstone peered down at Drake with unsettling curiosity.
It was not looking at the villagers.
It was not looking at Gareth.
It was looking only at him.
And Ember.
“Father…” the voice whispered once more.
“You carry Father’s flame.” Every root in the room shuddered with excitement.
Drake’s mind raced.
The First Failure.
The creature forged without a Heart Rune.
The monster that had nearly destroyed the world.
It thought the Origin Forge was its father.
Ember’s claws dug into Drake’s shoulder.
Through their bond came a wave of alarm and anger.
Not Father.
The little dragon’s feelings were surprisingly clear.
Whoever this thing was, it had no right to claim kinship.
Captain Veller recovered first.
“All guild members, defensive formation!” The remaining handlers moved immediately.
The crystal bird took to the air while the transparent lizard released a stream of pale mana that cut through several smaller roots.
It accomplished nothing.
The severed roots twitched.
Then regrew.
“Regeneration,” Vulcan said.
“Expected.” Granite stepped forward with a roar and seized one of the larger roots.
Muscles bulged beneath his stone armor as he pulled.
For one brief moment, it worked.
Then the root pulled back.
Granite was lifted off the ground and hurled through the workshop wall.
“Granite!” Drake shouted.
The stone ape crashed into the muddy street outside, rolling twice before forcing itself back to its feet.
The eye in the ceiling blinked.
“Strong child.” Its attention shifted toward the ape.
“Uncle remembers your kind.” Silence.
Even Vulcan froze.
“Uncle?” Drake repeated.
The creature laughed.
A terrible sound.
Not because it was loud, but because it sounded genuinely happy.
“I remember all of Father’s children.” The roots began withdrawing from the workshop, pulling apart what remained of the roof.
Moonlight poured into the room.
Then Drake saw it.
Blackstone Mountain was moving.
No.
Something attached to Blackstone Mountain was moving.
A colossal shape had wrapped itself around the upper half of the mountain like a serpent around a tree.
Its body resembled intertwined roots and dark wood, stretching for miles.
Golden eyes covered its surface, opening and closing at irregular intervals.
The First Failure.
And Drake could only see a small part of it.
Captain Veller’s face had gone completely white.
“Impossible.” Vulcan’s grip tightened around his hammer.
“Correction.” “No records suggested the First Failure reached this level of growth.” The massive eye lowered slightly, studying Drake.
“Little Creator.” Its voice carried neither hatred nor malice.
Only curiosity.
“Why does Father wear such a small shape?” “I’m not your father,” Drake said immediately.
The creature paused.
Then laughed again.
“Of course not.” “You are much smaller.” Ember growled.
The First Failure’s countless eyes immediately focused on the tiny dragon.
“And there is Brother.” The hatchling’s Heart Rune glowed.
Not Brother.
The feeling that passed through the bond was so strong that Drake nearly laughed despite the situation.
Apparently, Ember had very strong opinions regarding family titles.
The First Failure seemed delighted.
“Brother speaks!” “He is much louder than the others.” Drake slowly lowered the Origin Hammer.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
This was not the mindless horror Gareth had described.
It was intelligent.
Ancient.
And somehow…
Lonely.
The realization unsettled him more than rage would have.
“What do you want?” Drake asked.
Every eye blinked simultaneously.
“To come home.” Silence filled the ruined workshop.
“Home?” “The Forge.” Its answer was immediate.
“I have waited for Father to open the door.” Vulcan stepped forward.
“The First Failure is forbidden entry.” The creature’s tone changed slightly.
“Uncle still guards the door?” “Directive unchanged.” “Oh.” For the first time, the ancient being sounded disappointed.
“I hoped Uncle had forgiven me.” Drake stared.
Forgiven?
This thing spoke as if it had merely broken a tool, not nearly ended civilization.
“You killed millions,” Vulcan said.
The First Failure was silent for several seconds.
“I did.” “And yet Father never came to scold me.” A root descended from the sky and gently touched the ground outside the workshop.
“I waited.” “One year.” “One hundred years.” “One thousand years.” Its countless eyes slowly turned toward the moon.
“I became very lonely.” Drake didn’t know what to say.
How did one respond to a creature older than recorded history admitting loneliness?
Gareth suddenly coughed violently.
Blood splattered across the floor.
The First Failure’s attention immediately shifted.
“Grandfather is dying.” Every person in the workshop froze.
“How do you—” “I remember him.” The answer cut Drake off.
“He visited me many times.” Drake slowly turned toward Gareth.
His grandfather looked exhausted.
And guilty.
“What does it mean?” Drake asked quietly.
Gareth closed his eyes.
“When I was younger…” “I spoke to it.” The entire room went silent.
Captain Veller looked horrified.
“You WHAT?” “It was imprisoned.” “It was alone.” Gareth’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“And despite everything…” “…it was still a child.” Drake felt as if the ground had vanished beneath his feet.
His grandfather had spent years speaking to the First Failure?
The creature lowered another root.
It stopped several feet from Gareth.
“I liked your stories.” The old blacksmith smiled weakly.
“And I told you not to eat people.” “I stopped for nearly eighty years.” Captain Veller looked ready to collapse.
“EIGHTY YEARS?!” The First Failure sounded oddly proud.
“Grandfather praised me.” Drake pressed a hand against his forehead.
Nothing about this situation made sense anymore.
The ancient world-ending horror was apparently Gareth’s pen pal.
Vulcan’s blue flames dimmed.
“Records omitted this information.” “I know,” Gareth admitted.
“I may have forgotten to mention it.” Captain Veller pointed accusingly.
“YOU FORGOT TO MENTION THAT THE APOCALYPSE CALLS YOU GRANDFATHER?” “That does sound somewhat irresponsible when you say it aloud.” The First Failure’s laughter shook the mountain.
Drake couldn’t believe what was happening.
Three chapters ago, his biggest concern had been repairing a village furnace.
Now he was listening to the world’s oldest monster discuss its feelings.
The creature’s mood suddenly shifted.
Its countless eyes focused on Ember.
“Brother has a Heart Rune.” The workshop grew quiet.
“Yes,” Drake said carefully.
The First Failure was silent for a long time.
Then, softly— “I always wanted one.” Those six words changed everything.
Drake looked up sharply.
There was no deception in its voice.
Only sadness.
The First Failure slowly withdrew several roots.
“I asked Father many times.” “He always said I must find my own.” Its attention returned to Drake.
“Can Little Creator make me one?” Every heartbeat in the room seemed to stop.
Vulcan’s hammer slipped slightly in his grasp.
Captain Veller actually laughed in disbelief.
“No.” “No, absolutely not.” “We are not giving the ancient world-ending monster a soul!” The First Failure sounded hurt.
“Why not?” “BECAUSE YOU’RE THE ANCIENT WORLD-ENDING MONSTER!” “Oh.” A pause.
“That is fair.” Drake stared at the mountain-sized creature.
Somewhere, deep down, he knew this was a terrible idea.
Possibly the worst idea in human history.
And yet…
He remembered Ember.
The tiny dragon born incomplete.
The fear in its eyes before the Heart Rune.
The relief afterward.
What if Gareth had been right?
What if the First Failure had never truly been evil?
What if it had simply never been complete?
The thought terrified him.
Because if it was true…
Then the greatest tragedy in history wasn’t that the First Failure existed.
It was that no one had ever tried to save it.
The ancient creature looked at him hopefully.
“Please?” Drake opened his mouth.
Then immediately closed it again.
“No.” The First Failure deflated.
Its roots drooped visibly.
“Oh.” “I’m not saying never,” Drake added quickly.
“I’m saying definitely not today.” The creature brightened slightly.
“Tomorrow?” “Absolutely not tomorrow!” “Next week?” “Stop negotiating!” Ember chirped approvingly.
Apparently, the hatchling was enjoying watching someone else be confused for once.
The First Failure’s countless eyes suddenly turned toward the horizon.
Its tone changed immediately.
“They’re coming.” Vulcan stiffened.
“Who?” “The ones who hurt Father.” For the first time since its appearance, genuine anger entered its voice.
Far beyond Blackstone, seven pillars of light rose into the night sky.
Red.
Blue.
Gold.
Silver.
Black.
White.
And violet.
Vulcan’s flames dimmed.
“The Seven Orders.” The First Failure’s roots tightened around the mountain.
“They always come when Father returns.” Drake looked toward the distant lights.
“What are the Seven Orders?” Gareth’s expression became grim.
“The people who ended the Age of Beast Blacksmiths.” The First Failure spoke one final sentence before the chapter’s end.
“Little Creator.” “Take Grandfather and Brother.” “I will buy us some time.” And for the first time in ten thousand years…
The First Failure unfurled its full body beneath the moon.
— To be continued…