Chapter 6: The Forge of Flesh and Bone


    Ezren climbed down from the tree, boots landing softly on the damp forest floor. The air was thick with the scent of fresh blood. The wolves lay lifeless beneath the branches, their fur matted with crimson. He canceled the spell from the stakes, mana returning to him. He wasted no time—opening the portal directly on the ground. Then, grabbing the nearest wolf by its hind legs, he dragged its limp body toward the swirling void. One by one, the corpses disappeared into the abyss.


    Stepping back, he closed the portal, then reopened it to his side. Without hesitation, he stepped in.


    Inside the portal, the air pulsed with a sickly warmth, the cavernous walls shifting like living muscle. The eerie glow from the magic circles cast flickering shadows across the grotesque chamber.


    As he stared at the wolf corpses, a memory surfaced—Orin’s voice, calm and clinical as he demonstrated the Soul-Siphon Technique on a corpse. Orin had crouched beside the corpse, fingers splayed like claws, threads of black energy entwining the lifeless form. "All things leave echoes," Orin had said, his voice low. "Even the dead hold traces of what once fueled them. Extract it, and make it yours."


    Ezren recalled how Orin’s fingers had twitched, guiding the mana from the corpse like a puppeteer tugging strings.


    Ezren knelt beside one of the wolf corpses. He mimicked Orin’s movements, dark mana coiling from his fingertips, sinking into the carcass like ink spreading through water. He felt a tug—an eerie sensation, as if siphoning the last vestiges of life itself. His core responded, expanding ever so slightly as the stolen energy seeped into him. Without hesitation, he repeated the process on the remaining two wolf corpses, each time feeling that same eerie, draining sensation. A slow, chilling process, yet disturbingly natural.


    He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and meditated. An hour passed in silence.


    When he finally opened his eyes, his mana was fully restored. He exhaled slowly. This method—if used properly—could make him stronger much faster than natural meditation alone.


    "Graos."


    At his call, the Forgesmith emerged again, his grotesque form coiling up from the flesh-ridden ground.


    Ezren cracked his knuckles. "Alright. Show me what you can do."


    The Forge Master did not hesitate. Tendrils lashed out, piercing into the wolf corpse. A black, web-like pattern of veins spread across their bodies as Graos’ form quivered in concentration.


    "Processing… Analyzing biological structure… Retrieval of sample material… Complete."


    Ezren watched as Graos’ many eyes pulsed with strange intelligence. "And?"


    "Analysis of wolf anatomy: heightened night vision, sharp auditory senses, and enhanced smell. Efficient musculature for sprinting. Passive traits: high endurance and coordinated pack behavior. Weaknesses: brittle ribcage, weak underbelly."


    Ezren smirked. "Good. We’re getting somewhere."


    He ran a hand along his jaw in thought. The possibilities were endless. But for now, he had to take things one step at a time.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Ezren commanded, his voice firm. "Graos, repair them." Without hesitation, Graos’ tendrils lashed out, dragging the two remaining wolf corpses toward the Sinew Pool at the center of the chamber. Their bodies sank into the crimson liquid, the surface rippling and churning as Graos began his work. The process drained 10% of Ezren’s mana. Moments later, the restored wolves were laid gently upon the ground by Graos’ tendrils, every wound mended, every blemish erased.


    Ezren’s eyes narrowed as a thought struck him. If the Forge could restore a corpse to its original form… what would happen if he skinned a wolf and then regrew its fur?


    His fingers tapped against the altar as the idea took shape. A renewable source of pelts—he could strip the fur, restore the body, and repeat the process endlessly. That meant coin. A lot of coin.


    He turned to Graos, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “Tell me—can you recreate the skin or fur of a creature if it''s removed?”


    Graos, ever the calculating entity, let out a low, wet chitter. “The process is feasible. Provided the biological material remains intact, the restoration function can reconstruct missing tissue.”


    Ezren’s lips curled into a smirk. "Interesting." If this worked, he might have just stumbled onto a way to make easy money.


    Ezren wasted no time. "Graos, skin the last wolf and carve out the best cuts of meat," he ordered, watching as the grotesque forge master got to work.


    Graos’ tendrils slithered over the corpse, expertly peeling the hide away in one seamless motion. The slick sound of flesh being separated filled the chamber. “For consumption, the most tender cuts are the loin, ribs, and hindquarters,” Graos clicked, slicing away muscle with mechanical precision.


    Graos obeyed without question, extracting the lifeblood which seeped into the Sinew Pool until the meat was clean. Meanwhile, Ezren turned away, opening the portal. He stepped out into the forest once more, gathering dry wood and kindling.


    He set the dry wood down, grabbed a stick, and pressed it against a flat piece of wood. Normally, starting a fire like this would take effort, but Ezren gathered dark mana into his hand, Branding the stick. With just a thought, he made the stick spin against the wood, like using a bow drill but without the bow.


    Within seconds, smoke curled up, and a faint ember glowed in the dry tinder. Ezren crouched, giving it a soft breath. The ember flared, catching onto the fibers, and soon, flames flickered to life.


    He fed the flame, letting it grow before opening the portal and retrieving the fresh meat. It sizzled as he placed it over the fire, the fat dripping onto the crackling wood.


    Ezren tore into the cooked meat. It was tough and chewy, with a sharp, earthy taste and a hint of bitterness that stuck to his tongue. The crispy, charred edges were the only good part. Without seasoning, the meat tasted wild and plain—good enough to eat, but far from satisfying. "Not bad… but some seasoning would really make this great," he muttered, licking the grease from his fingers. "Next time I hit a town, I''m buying some."