BOOM.
Another strike rang out, deep and resonant, a sound that seemed to ripple through the waters of the Sea of Thalassara itself.
Aurelfins, thousands of them, coiled tighter around the Living Forge. Their iridescent scales shed motes of gold and blue light, casting a gentle radiance across the depths. Achilles worked not as a butcher, but as a forger. He drew their willing essence into the forgefire, shaping it with a care that belied the terrible heat.
The hammer rose.
It fell again.
Each strike compressed and tempered their radiant life force, collapsing it inward, molding it toward a singular purpose.
A weapon took form.
Not crude.
Not heavy.
Elegant.
A trident-spear hybrid, veined with swirls of gold and azure. The shaft gleamed, alive with inner light, while the three-pronged head was forged from pure condensed Aurelfin scales, honed to crystalline sharpness. It pulsed, as if breathing, as if waiting.
