Cosmic Lord: The Error Awakens
Chapter 145: The Forge’s Confession

Chapter 145: The Forge’s Confession

Dusk settled over the western valley, bathing the main forge in a warm orange glow as sparks flew from Thora’s hammer, shaping iron into tools etched with the First Code’s healing runes. Kael El stood just inside the forge’s open walls, the heat prickling his skin, watching Drayce sharpen a militia spear with a distracted hand. Stormforged Blade rested against a workbench, shard-pommel humming faintly, like a pulse caught in the firelight. EX: Dragonflame Reaver lay sheathed at his hip, his cloak loose over a simple tunic, Lyra’s fierce spirit and Rhea’s gentle love steadying his concerned heart. His flirty smirk was absent, replaced by a furrowed brow, masking a quiet worry—Drayce’s sudden withdrawal, the healing runes’ delicate balance, and the valley’s growing demands pressing on his soul. He brushed EX: Gold Dominion, golden veins threading faintly through the forge’s stone floor, molten but steady, echoing the shard’s calm pulse.

Day 137, dusk. The forge burns—my blood listens. His dark eyes followed Drayce’s unsteady hands, pride a steady ember despite the tension—hundreds lost, the Code tamed, the valley’s hearths thriving. My empire’s strength—thousands strong, lands blooming—but hearts test strength. The Nexus was gone, a ghost buried, but his blood murmured: Kael’s reign holds. He leaned against a pillar, the healing runes—mending wounds, easing pain—etched on Thora’s tools, their glow soft but sure. Hold? I mend.

The forge hummed with activity—Kin smiths and survivor apprentices hammered and carved, guided by Thora’s steady voice, while Vren oversaw the rune-etching, his red shard dim but secure. Rhea, Lyra, Mara, Tila, and Yna were elsewhere, tending fields or council duties, but Drayce’s militia, now 1,700 strong, relied on his fire, and his faltering sparked concern. A survivor apprentice, Jory, had whispered to Kael: Drayce had frozen during a drill, muttering about a "ghost" from his Nexus days, a betrayal he’d never shared. The healing runes promised to mend the valley’s sick, but Drayce’s crisis threatened the militia’s resolve. Blood listens. His blood stirred, heavy with a new truth: Devourer, you are the valley’s anchor. The shard pulsed—vision: the forge, sparks fading, Drayce’s truth spoken, unity strong: Devourer, your blood heals us. His blood warmed, the forge steady—heals? Thora paused her hammering, wiping sweat from her brow, voice low. "Kael, Drayce’s off—my Kin see it. He’s gold, but something’s eating him. Talk to him, you’re his lord." Her eyes flicked to Drayce—concern lingered.

Kael’s gaze softened, nodding. "Eating him? I’m the storm, Thora—but I’ll hear him out." But Drayce’s distance worried him—what’s haunting him? Vren looked up from a rune-etched blade, voice calm. "Kael, he’s steady, but pain’s deep—runes heal bodies, not hearts. Ask him, not as lord." His eyes were haunted but sure—trust held.

Jory, the apprentice, approached, voice nervous. "Lord, Drayce—he’s my captain, but he’s... lost. He mumbled about a ’Koren,’ someone he failed. Help him, please." His hands trembled—hope flickered.

Kael’s jaw tightened, shard humming—vision: the forge, Drayce’s eyes down, a truth shared, the valley steady. He crossed to Drayce, voice low. "Drayce, you’re my blade—militia’s gold, Jory’s captain. But you’re slipping. Koren—who was he? Speak, brother." His blood stirred, EX: Gold Dominion flaring—golden veins pulsed through the forge, warming the air, Drayce’s hands pausing.

Drayce’s eyes flicked up, gruff voice cracking. "Brother? Kael, you’re lord, not my kin. Koren... he was my partner, Nexus days. I betrayed him—left him to hunters to save my skin. Saw his face in the drill, like the runes woke him." His spear clattered to the bench, hands shaking—guilt’s weight.

Thora’s hammer stilled, voice soft. "Betrayed? Drayce, you’re our fire—my Kin trust you. Runes stir ghosts, but you’re here. Tell Kael, let it out." Her hope glowed—trust held.

Vren’s voice was steady, rune-blade set down. "Ghosts? My crew haunts me too—runes amplify, Drayce. Share it, or it festers. Kael’s no Nexus." His hands steadied—trust burned.

Kael’s heart clenched—vision: the militia, faltering, Drayce’s truth binding them, Vara’s voice: Hold them. He knelt by Drayce, voice rough. "Nexus is ash, Drayce—you’re mine, valley’s gold. Koren’s gone, but Jory’s here, militia’s here. Tell me—what happened?" His blood steadied, EX: Vitality Reaper flaring—energy flowed, Drayce’s shoulders easing, Jory’s eyes wide.

Drayce’s voice was hoarse, eyes distant. "Koren and I, we ran from Nexus hunters—outpost, like you and Vara. I... I tripped him, let ’em take him, ran. His scream’s in me, Kael—runes make it louder, like he’s judging." His fists clenched—shame’s scar.

Jory stepped closer, voice soft. "Judging? Captain, you saved me from raiders—taught me to fight. Koren... he’d forgive you. Right, lord?" His hope burned—trust held.

Thora’s voice was firm, hammer tapping. "Forgive? Drayce, my Kin forge for you—runes or ghosts, you’re ours. Kael, bind him, like you did me." Her eyes shone—builder’s heart.

Kael’s blood stirred—vision: the forge, Drayce standing, militia strong, a confession shared. He gripped Drayce’s shoulder, voice low. "Drayce, I’ve run too—Vara’s ghost haunts me. You’re no traitor—you’re my blade, Jory’s captain. Share this with the militia, let ’em carry it. Runes’ll heal, we’ll make sure." His blood roared, golden veins pulsing—the forge glowed, Drayce’s eyes lifting.

Drayce’s voice was raw, nodding. "Share? Kael, I... I’ll try. Militia’s my kin—Jory’s right, I’m here. Runes scare me, but I’m yours." His hands steadied—growth’s spark.

Vren’s eyes softened, voice low. "Yours? Runes’ll be gentle—mending, not haunting. My crew’d want this, Drayce." His rune-blade glowed—trust held.

Jory’s voice was steady, spear in hand. "Captain, you’re my gold—militia’ll hear you, like I did. Lead us." His hope glowed—trust burned.

The forge quieted, smiths and apprentices pausing, their eyes on Drayce. Kael stood, voice clear. "Drayce, you’ll lead—share your truth, militia’s stronger for it. Thora, etch gentle runes, no ghosts. Vren, guide her. Jory, stand with him. We heal together." His blood steadied, the crowd nodding, Thora resuming her hammer, Vren sketching runes.

Thora’s laugh was soft, hammer ringing. "Heal? Kael, you’re gold—Drayce’s iron, my Kin’s proud. Forge on." Her hope roared—trust held.

Vren’s voice was calm, rune-blade glowing. "Iron? Runes’ll mend—Drayce’s heart’s true, Kael’s call is gold. Valley’s one." His trust glowed—hope held.

Drayce stood, spear in hand, voice gruff. "One? Kael, Jory—I’ll tell ’em. Militia’s 1,800—Kin, survivors, enclave fire. I’m no ghost." His eyes cleared—growth held.

The forge buzzed, smiths carving runes, apprentices hauling iron, their voices hopeful. Kael stepped outside, Drayce at his side, the valley glowing under dusk’s light. Snow fell lightly, keeps warm, the square bustling with farmers and hunters. Drayce paused, offering a militia badge, iron and bone, etched with a rune. "Kael, for you—not lord, but brother. I’m back." His voice was steady—new bond.

Kael pinned it beside Thora’s marker, blood stirring—Vara, we’re healing. "Brother? Drayce, you’re the valley’s fire. Lead ’em." His voice was low—trust held.

Rhea approached, flames flaring softly, her smile warm. "Fire? You’re home, love—Drayce’s yours, we’re one." Her hand linked with his—love burned.

The evening deepened, the valley alive with firelight, keeps strong, voices united. Kael stood by the forge, Rhea’s warmth at his side, Drayce rallying the militia nearby, Jory at his shoulder. The square hummed—runes etched, fields planned, enclave blending. His heart lifted—I’m enough, with them.

Thora’s voice echoed, hammer ringing. "Enough? Kael, you’re gold—Drayce’s back, valley’s alive. Forge on." Her hope glowed—trust held.

Veyna’s wolves padded up, her voice calm. "Alive? Wolves see one pack—Drayce’s true, Kael’s gold. Valley’s strong." Her trust glowed—hope held.

Kael’s smile was faint, shard humming—vision: the valley, militia strong, Drayce’s badge heavy, unity forged. He faced the forge, voice a rough hum. "Valley’s ours—runes heal, game shifts. Speak."

Rhea’s voice was soft. "You’ve mended him, Kael—Drayce’s fire, we’re stronger. Lead on." Her hand tightened—love held.

Drayce’s voice was steady, badge glinting. "Stronger? You’re my brother, Kael—valley’s one. I’m yours." His hope glowed—trust burned.

The valley worked, golden veins faint, the keeps warm—Kael’s empire kindled anew, its heart forged in a forge’s confession.