A long and **awkward silence**, thick with uncertainty, coils between Dawn and the Titan, **pressing down** like an unseen force.
The Titan's voice, once fluid and harmonic, is now **weary, hesitant**—a ghost of itself. His whisper carries a weight he cannot shake.
*"I'm sorry, Dawn... but I'm telling you the truth. And I really do want the best for you."*
*"I know... I can feel it."*
But it does nothing to ease the storm raging within him.
*"It's just... a lot to think about. The thought that I can't even control my own destiny is horrifying."*
*"Yeah... I know how that feels."*
His voice darkens, turning **melancholic**. His gaze drifts upward—toward the ceiling, beyond the walls, beyond everything—as if searching for something unseen, something lost.
*"It's a lot to take in. I mean... you were just a normal sixteen-year-old barely a month ago. And now—you're being linked to demons and gods. Everywhere. It's overwhelming—I don't blame you at all. But we need to keep going. If you stop—bad things will happen. A lot of bad things."*
The unspoken dread lingers in the air, suffocating.
*"No matter what... I always need you to look forward. Not just for me. Many people need you to continue to look forward."*
*"I get that... but what was so special about me? I was just a kid—unlucky. My parents died when I was ten, and then—I lived most of my life as a street rat."*
*"To be honest… there are many things I know. And many things I can't tell you. But this?"*
The Titan exhales, slow. Heavy.
*"This is one that I genuinely don't know. I don't know why you. But they chose you anyway, and there's nothing we can do to change that."*
Silence again. But this time, it **crushes**.
*"Alright then—explain it to me. How does this forging thing even work?"*
*"Forging has surprisingly simple rules,"* the Titan begins, his voice measured, deliberate, tinged with something almost reverent.
*"There must be around two or three rules, to be more precise."*
**Rule #1:** You must have access to **essence**—your own essence—and the ability to project it outside your body, allowing it to interact with certain materials. Yes, you are limited to certain materials, depending on your state or your power level.
*Example:* As a Sleeper, the most you can mold and forge is an **Ascended Soul Shard**. As you grow in power, that might change. But as you are right now, that's your **absolute limit**.
**Rule #2:** You need the **obvious material**—a Soul Shard. The rank of your creation, or your forge, will depend on the rank of your Soul Shard.
If it's a **supreme rank**, and you attempt to create a memory, then that memory will also be supreme.
If you're trying to **elevate its tier**, then you would need anywhere from **one to seven** Soul Shards of the same rank, respectively.
**Rule #3:** Your **imagination** is the limit.
In this world, countless forces **twist** perception, **bend** sanity, **shatter** creativity.
Some will **limit you**. Others will **expand you**.
If you **can't even visualize** or **imagine** what you're trying to make, then you're **simply not cut out for being a forger**.
Dawn listens, his pulse steady, but something **shifts**—something **tugs** at his soul.
A flicker—an apparition—a flame **forms before him**, **small, humanoid**, as if whispering something only he can hear.
*"Master. Me help. Trust."*
His little flame **stirs**, **flares**, restless.
The Titan reaches in, fingers brushing against the depths of his soul—pulling forth a **smaller Soul Shard**.
*"This is a Soul Shard of an awakened devil. This is what you're going to be using to practice."*
Dawn's hand hovers before the **tiny flame**, surrendering control.
Fire **licks his skin**, but never burns.
Brilliant. Radiant. **Controlled.**
*"I trust you, Flame. Go ahead, partner."*
The fire **responds.**
Luminescent streaks of **orange flame spiral off Dawn's body**, reaching—**grasping**—toward the Shard.
A bond forms.
A connection.
Deep, ancient, **primal**.
Then—**a voice**.
*"Mold. Master. Imagine."*
Dawn's mind sharpens—his thoughts morph into something simple, **sturdy**—a **spear**.
His essence **twists**, reaching—melding—applying the image from his mind's eye **into the Shard**, letting **Flame take control**, guiding its movement.
The Titan watches—**stunned**.
His brow lifts, **subtly, thoughtfully**.
*"To think someone with such raw potential towards forging would be born in the Realm of War… Not only that, but his aspect also helps. I chose right for this kid."*
His gaze **pierces** through the haze of power, noting every **success**, every **failure** the small flame encounters—**analyzing, calculating**.
*"Crude,"* the Titan muses, *"but effective."*
*"This flame operates purely on instinct. But once it learns—once it masters itself—it will be a truly formidable force."*
A grin slashes his lips, his eyes burning with a **brilliant luminescence**.
Minutes pass—**essence drains**—and the flame **finally retreats**, seeking **rest** in Dawn's soul.
His eyes open.
Before him—a **pristine white spear**—sturdy yet plain.
Dawn exhales, chest rising, falling, **breath heavy, ragged**.
*"I'm almost out of essence… How do you even do this?"*
*"Practice."*
The Titan leans forward, eyes gleaming.
*"And the fact that I just have way more essence than you."*
*"You felt it, right? That connection to the Shard?"*
*"Yeah… I did. It was weird—it felt… spiritual. Mystical, even."*
*"Exactly."*
*"Forging must tether itself—just like when you lose yourself, you look for your **true name** to find yourself."*
*"A forger must do the same—with the **materials** he works with—so that he can **shape them** into something **real**."*
*"It seems your little flame is quite adept at looking inward."*
*"That is a **rare boon** for any forger."*
The Titan's eyes **darken**—his voice lowers.
*"Now, tell me—if you could create **anything**—an attribute, a memory, an echo—what would it be?"*
Dawn exhales, considering.
*"I'd probably make some type of weapon memory… A katana. A better version than the one I have now."*
The Titan's grin **widens**—a flicker of **amusement**, something **dangerous**, something **unknowable**.
*"Interesting."*
*"The most I can help you is with preparing to make an ascended weapon."*
*"So—how about we forge your first memory?"*
For the **first time**, amusement flares in the Titan's expression—his sly grin deepens—his presence shifts.
Dawn feels it.
The Titan looks like a **cursed Titan** for the first time.
author's thoughts: fell free to comment and tell me how your liking the story it's my first real attempt at writing