When one awakens to magical powers, they experience a phenomenon known as the synesthetic mindscape. For some, it is a night sky filled with a torrent of falling stars. For others, it’s an impossible bouquet of countless fragrances. Some even hear the world around them being vacuumed into a single, silent point.
These sensory manifestations occurred indiscriminately, following no discernible rules. I was no exception.
The faint sound of waves brushed against my ears. It was the only thought that came to mind the first time I encountered my synesthetic mindscape.
Had it been the crackle of a forge fire, I might have understood. But this sound, this endless tide, had absolutely no connection to my class as a blacksmith. Worse, unlike others, I heard the waves periodically, and each time they left me with more questions than answers. Despite innumerable hours spent hammering steel, stoking the furnace, and crafting entire arsenals, I never found an explanation.
Only now, as the world teetered on the brink of annihilation, did I understand. The waves were the sound of the world’s demise.
The distant rumbles, once powerful enough to wipe out entire districts, were fading. The roars that could have burst the eardrums of millions had grown faint. The battle between the Tidal Scourge and Soulfire of Defiance was finally coming to an end.
Even if I wanted to watch, my fractured neck made it impossible to turn my head. My spine was shattered, rendering my lower body numb and useless. Blood welled up in my throat, a grim testament to the state of my internal organs. It was a small miracle I had enough strength left to cough it out; otherwise, I would have already drowned in my own blood.
“I should have just died…”
I wouldn’t have blocked that attack if I’d known it would leave me paralyzed and in such searing pain.
As I entertained the futile thought, I leaned against my broadsword, exhaling slowly to ease the agony.
A grotesquely contorted head rolled to a stop before my eyes. All three of its horns had been pulverized. Its four irises, once a gleaming blue, were now warped as if from unspeakable torture. The head’s condition was a testament to the painful end the Tidal Scourge had met.
“Serves you right, you asshole,” I sneered, examining the grisly trophy.
After all his bragging—how he was the strongest of the six Heralds of the End, how he would personally bring about the end—it was ironic that he was slain by the very humans he so despised. I wanted to laugh, but I was afraid a single harsh breath would make me cough up what was left of my life.
As I held my breath, fighting a grimace, the three who had slain the Tidal Scourge returned.
“Would you look at this guy.”
“Anyone watching would think you killed the damn thing.”
“Exactly. Playing dead the whole time.”
“See? I told you. He was just waiting for us to do the dirty work so he could steal the glory.”
They descended on me like a pack of hyenas, all because I had managed a faint smile. I was used to it.
“Hah… listen to you all,” I said with a smirk. “If it weren’t for the arsenal I forged for you, you’d have been stains on the battlefield long ago.”
“Wow. What a load of bullshit.”
They glared, their expressions a familiar mix of exhaustion and contempt.
I smirked back. They hadn’t changed one bit since the day Soulfire of Defiance was first gathered. Seeing my expression, they let out a collective, weary sigh.
“Forget it. What’s the point in bothering a dying man?”
“Yeah, he’s always been full of it.”
One by one, they collapsed to the ground.
“So, are any of you going to make it?” I asked. They sat with their backs to one another, a silent refusal to meet each other’s gaze.
“I’m done for. My organs are shattered.”
“Same. Got hit with some curse. The bleeding won’t stop.”
“Ugh. Don’t think I’ll make it either. Stabbed through the heart.”
“So this is how it ends,” I said, sighing at how calmly they discussed their own deaths.
Though the Tidal Scourge was the last of the six, his colossal, cataclysmic waves had already swept away ninety percent of the world. With the Aegis Spire—the pillar that had upheld our world—now collapsed, Mortal Realm would soon plunge into the Infernal Chasm, annihilating whatever was left on its surface.
“Haah…” We had won the battle, but we had already lost the war.
“You three should have helped me sooner,” I muttered.
I’d known this was a possible outcome before I’d even assembled Soulfire of Defiance, but the reality of it was still a bitter pill to swallow.
The three Rogues before me had always been fence-sitters, pledging allegiance to neither humanity nor the Devouring Void. They moved only for their own interests, as selfishly as they pleased.
If only I’d had them from the start… It wasn’t that they were the strongest, but their unique talents allowed them to accomplish feats others couldn’t dream of. If they had just joined the fight earlier, countless heroes wouldn’t have lost their lives in vain. We might have even had a different outcome.
“Be grateful we helped you at all.”
Frenzied Blade Kang Ji-Hoon.
“Don’t complain just because you’re weaker than us, you jerk.”
Ruinous Tempest Isabella Rossi.
Winter's Fang Rohan Kumar.
“You bastards…” I chuckled. Even at death’s door, they wouldn’t back down an inch.
I wanted to hurl a mountain of curses at them, but what was the point? They were already beyond hearing me.
Where did it all go wrong? I wondered, glancing from the three slumped figures to the darkening sky.
Should I have assembled Soulfire of Defiance sooner? Was it because the Ascended, humanity’s most powerful beings, failed to unite? Or was it because I never understood the true meaning behind the crashing waves in my synesthetic mindscape?
As decades of my life flashed before my eyes, the answer became clear. I was the problem.
If only I had swung my hammer for others instead of for myself. If only I had realized the true nature of my talent sooner. Maybe, just maybe, things would have been different.
“I must be going crazy,” I laughed bitterly. These regrets were pointless. It was all in the past. I had promised myself I would accept any outcome without regret, so I forced the thoughts from my mind and reached a hand to my waist.
My fingers found the familiar grip of my hammer. Letting go of the broadsword, I slowly, painfully, pulled myself to my feet.
Without the sword’s restorative magic, blood began to ooze freely from my wounds. I could have died in peace just sitting there, but I wanted my life to end with purpose.
“These are my masterpieces. I can’t just leave them like this.”
With the last dregs of my strength, I gathered the three Rogues’ weapons and, amidst the desolate ruins, swung my hammer.
Sparks flew, and the head of my hammer glowed a fierce red.
They wouldn’t be perfect, not like they would be in a proper workshop, but with the Soulfire Maul my master had left me, I could at least make them whole again.
One by one, the worn-out weapons were reforged. I firmly planted each one in the ground beside its owner.
“Phew…” Building them graves seemed pointless. The final wave would crash in soon and erase everything anyway.
The tide of annihilation was drawing nearer. I looked down at my hammer. There wasn't much time left.
Is this really the end?
If so, I would rather take my own life than be swallowed by those waves. As the thought crossed my mind, I clutched my chest.
[Extracting bond from subject ‘Park Jin-Woo’]
[The bond with the host is Lv. —.]
A piece of transparent ore materialized in my palm, glowing with a faint, internal light.
Still so dull. I gazed at the colorless ore, forever unchanging.
My unique skill, Crafter of Covenants, allowed me to extract special ores called Nexus Crystals from those I had formed a relationship with. The ore’s element depended on the nature of our bond and the person’s own potential. But whenever I used the skill on myself, it always produced this—a low-quality ore, inferior even to common iron.
If only I had awakened this properly… The regrets I had just banished came flooding back. Sighing at my own weakness, I looked at the empty Nexus Crystal in my hand.
If there’s nothing left inside… at least I can hammer away these regrets. I gripped my hammer one last time and brought it down upon the colorless ore.
Instead of the ring of metal on metal, the sound of waves filled my ears. Was it the impending doom, or just the familiar hallucination of my synesthetic mindscape? Unable to tell the difference, I swung my hammer again and again, a grim smile spreading across my face. Whenever that sound echoed in my ears, I knew I was forging something better than I’d expected.
Ha. I truly am a lunatic, finding delight in my craft while the world dies around me.
Lost in empty laughter, I hammered the ore until the last of my strength was gone.
A plain, colorless dagger lay before me. It was decently forged, well-made even, but that was all. It held no special skills, no imbued powers; it was crafted from my own Nexus Crystal, after all.
The tide was now looming before me. Slowly, I pointed the dagger at my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bodies of the three Rogues beginning to dissolve into light.
What do you say at a time like this? I considered cursing the whole damned world, but then thought better of it, letting out a soft chuckle instead.
The blade pierced my heart as smoothly as if it were passing through empty air. I couldn’t help but smile, satisfied by its impossible sharpness. Who, I wondered, could have forged such a fine blade?
[Weapon ‘---’ synesthetic mindscape has been activated.]
[Activating skill ‘Echo of the First Moment’]
I frowned. That irritating, faint sound of waves was back again.
Am I not dead yet? Was the dagger so sharp I didn’t even feel it pierce my heart? I had to strike again, before the tide caught me.
I felt a dull thud against my chest. Reacting to the sensation, I slowly opened my eyes.
The scene before me was not what I expected. Pungent smoke and scorching flames washed over my face. My clothes were tattered and burned. A blunt hammer was pressed against my chest.
I had seen this place before, but the memory was too distant, too hazy to place.
“Trainee, are you not paying attention?”
Only when the man shouted did I realize he was talking to me. I raised my head. An irritated man with a contorted expression stood before a makeshift furnace, surrounded by teenagers and young adults.
“What is the meaning of this? This is an examination. If you don’t intend to comply, then pack your things and leave immediately.”
The words from the man—the test proctor—sparked my memory. This was the entrance exam for Olympus Lyceum, the institution that fostered apprentices for the Aegis Spire. I had applied for the Metallurgy Department here. I had failed miserably.
This might have just been a bittersweet memory of failure, but there was a much bigger problem.
This memory was from thirty-one years ago.
I had returned to the past.