Chapter 62- The First Soul Forging.
The goblin’s soul hovered above Leo’s palm. It was a fist-sized green ball that gave off a sickly light and pulsed weakly, like a heart that was already dying.
Leo stared at it while he reviewed the information he had just received.
Soul Fire... Refinement.... Weaving... Binding.. Soul Smithing.....
The steps were clear in his mind, but the practical work still needed testing.
He looked at the goblin soul and muttered, "Sorry, little guy. You’re going to be my test subject."
He summoned the Soul Fire again.
The silver flame rose from his palm without any heat. Instead it produced a steady, chilling cold that sank into his skin. The flame felt weightless and translucent. It looked nothing like the roaring gold of the Eternal Flame that usually filled the forge.
Leo tossed the hovering ball of goblin soul onto the silver flame. There was no sound and no smell of burning.
The energy inside the soul writhed for several seconds. The leftover will of the creature and its basic instincts burned away in thin streams. Death energy peeled off in grey ribbons that drifted upward and faded. The green ball of soul burned completely.
What remained was a pattern....
The pattern was a jagged knot of hard green threads.
It was dense, messy, and full of sharp angles. It looked like a claw made of threads—uneven, barbed, and aggressive.
A sickly green sheen still clung to every strand, and the whole thing pulsed in short, hard beats that matched the rhythm of a creature that had lived by sudden violence.
Leo exhaled. "Is this the goblin’s nature? I can still feel the greed, the hunger, and the panic from the parts that burned away."
He had mixed feelings about the thing sitting in his hand. It felt both ugly and beautiful at the same time.
The refinement step was finished.
The pattern had formed completely. It rotated slowly in his palm, stable and waiting for the next step.
Leo laid the dagger he had been working on earlier onto the anvil. The metal was already warm from previous work.
He took a deep breath and focused.
He placed the pattern over the blade. It hovered just above the surface and looked ready to fade at any second. He quickly used the Soul Fire to hold it in place.
Then he began pressing the pattern into the metal with the flame. He raised the intensity as high as he could while he pushed down.
He felt the pattern resist. It was as if the stubborn personality of the goblin was still fighting him. He pushed the flame Intensity higher by another notch.
Jus as he did, Something went wrong....
The pattern shuddered.
Fine cracks appeared across the threads.
The strands started ripping apart.
The claw of green light vanished.
The threads faded one by one.
Within seconds the entire pattern was gone, leaving only empty air above the metal.
Leo stared at the space where the pattern had been.
[Ding!]
[Soul Dissipated — Refinement Overburn]
[Soul Lost — Goblin (Faint) ×1]
"Hahaha... idiot." Surtr’s finally broke the long silence, his voice thick with old amusement. "You overdid it. Patience, boy. That soul was never meant to take a full strike."
Leo’s face tightened. "You should have said something before I burned the soul."
"I didn’t know either," Surtr answered. "That fire is different from anything I use. I can’t burn souls, so how would I know the limits? Are you an idiot?"
"Okay, got it. Stop talking. I need to focus so I don’t ruin the second soul too," Leo said.
Surtr made a sound of clear disdain. "Tsk. Tsk."
After he calmed down, Leo summoned another goblin soul. It looked almost the same as the first one—same size, same sickly green light, same weak pulse. He decided to try again.
The refinement went smoothly this time.
The pattern formed without the earlier violence. It looked similar to the previous one but was not identical. The angles were slightly different, and the barbs sat at new positions. Leo kept the silver Soul Fire at a steady, constant intensity and let it press the pattern onto the metal slowly. He did not rush. He waited for the process to finish.
The threads loosened as they began reaching toward the metal. They looked ready to scatter into nothing, so he gripped them with his will and forced them to stay together.
The threads followed his command. He formed a hammer out of Soul Fire and started hammering the pattern in. The threads began entering the metal’s lattice structure.
Leo kept the metal heated with the Eternal Flame so the gaps in the lattice would open wider and accept the soul threads.
He hammered with the soul fire while driving the goblin’s soul threads down with pure will, trying to dominate them completely.
The threads stretched thin under the pressure and began to tear. The green light broke apart in his hand and scattered into the air like dying sparks.
[Ding!]
[Soul Binding Failed]
[Soul Lost — Goblin (Faint) ×1]
Two souls gone.
Leo slammed his fist onto the table hard enough to make the tools jump and rattle.
"Fuck!"
Anger burned through his chest. It was aimed at himself, not at the souls.
He forced the words out between clenched teeth, "Any idea, oh great ancient flame? Surtr?"
"Hmph. How would I know?" Surtr’s voice carried pure amusement again. "Wait... actually, I do know. You’re a complete idiot. That’s the problem. No solution for that one. Hahaha."
A vein pulsed hard on Leo’s forehead. He opened his mouth to snap back, but Surtr’s tone shifted without warning, turning flat and serious.
"Cool down and think... You forced it too hard. That was a low-level goblin soul...fragile as hell. You hammered it with full force like it was ordinary scrap metal. Maybe stop treating the soul like a piece of scrap metal you’re used to beating into shape."
Leo thought Surtr was inventing excuses, but the advice still made sense. He sighed, rolled his shoulders, and decided to try one more time.
He switched to a fresh dagger and started the process over from the beginning again.
This time the refinement moved slowly on purpose. He fed the Soul Fire in thin, even layers.
He burned only what needed to die—the sentience, the panic, and the death energy—while leaving the core structure intact.
The claw pattern emerged whole and barbed, still pulsing with that same short, aggressive rhythm.
He was more patient than in the first two attempts. The flame finished its work and the soul pattern appeared again. It was similar to the earlier ones but not the same. The threads sat at slightly different angles, and the overall shape carried a different weight.
Leo confirmed that every soul carried its own distinct imprint.
This was his last try for the day. If it failed, he would stop and come back later with a clearer head.
He gently pressed the pattern down into the metal.
The green threads began reaching for the surface on their own. Leo guided them carefully, keeping his will steady so they would weave into the open lattice instead of scattering.
He formed a hammer of pure Soul Fire in his right hand. The silver flame took shape, weightless but solid enough to strike.
Clang!
The first blow landed clean and controlled. Silver light sank into the pattern, driving the threads deeper into the grain of the metal the way ink soaks into dry paper.
Clang!
The second blow followed. Then the third. Each strike was deliberate and complete. The goblin’s claw sank into the steel strand by strand, never rushing, never tearing.
Leo kept the Eternal Flame low beneath the anvil. Just enough heat to hold the lattice open, never enough to scorch the fragile threads.
When the pattern had settled fully into the metal, he raised both flames together and reheated the dagger with careful, even intensity.
He pulled out his Starfall hammer and continued working. The Soul Fire kept the threads soft and workable while the Eternal Flame widened the lattice gaps so the threads could fill them properly.
Sweat ran down his back from the heat, but his hands stayed steady.
With every hammer blow, Leo felt the soul pattern and the metal joining.
His forge sight tracked the entire process in clear detail.
At first, the soul threads remained clearly visible, glowing green against the dark steel. Then they began weaving and binding with the metal itself. The green light dimmed as the threads sank deeper. Eventually the threads vanished from sight. They had fully merged into the steel.
He took the dagger off the anvil with tongs and quenched it in the trough.
Steam rose in a sharp hiss.
The blade cooled. He laid it back on the anvil and waited. When he touched it again, it felt different—alive in a way ordinary metal never did.
The dagger had a curved blade shaped like a fang. It was short and wicked-looking. The sickly green sheen had settled into a cold edge that caught the forge light.
The goblin’s claw had taken steel form. It still pulsed faintly with the same short, aggressive beat under his fingers.
Leo picked it up. The grip fit his hand perfectly, as if the weapon had been waiting for him.
[Ding!]
[Soul Forging completed]
[Goblin Dagger — Crafted (Uncommon)]
[Soul Skill Ingrained: Claw Strike]
[A quick clawing slash. One strike of the dagger turns into three fast swipes. Minor chance of bleeding. Deals 150% damage.]
It had worked.
Leo turned the dagger over in his hands, studying the edge and the way the green sheen sat in the metal.
He wished he could practice the entire process inside the Inscriptional Realm, but he could not form a proper soul pattern visualization without knowing in advance what the refined shape would look like. That made safe practice almost impossible.
He had only two Unique Vivid-rank souls left for the boots and the armor.
He needed to succeed with both of those on the first try. There would be no second chances.
Now that he had finally managed to bind a soul into steel, the next step was clear: gather the remaining materials for the rest of the set.
With that settled, Leo decided to head to Hugh’s.
....
Leo exited the Eternal Forge dimension without using teleport.
He stepped out into the familiar stretch of woods and took the path he had walked many times before.
The ground was soft underfoot. The trees stood quiet on both sides. He reached the outskirts of Ironhaven in a few minutes.
The city looked the same as always—crowded streets, merchants calling out prices from their stalls, and groups of new players moving in every direction with fresh gear and uncertain steps.
He arrived at the old smithy. The sign above the door still read Hugh’s Smithy in faded, worn letters that had survived years of weather.
The building itself looked aged and solid, the stone walls darkened by smoke and time.
Leo pushed the door open and stepped inside.
....