Seth's roar blended with the cataclysmic BOOM of the Yegnir as emerald forest-spirit energy detonated against the breastplate. The hammer's head, ancient, living wood reinforced with crystallized world-tree sap and bound in silver runes, pulsed with verdant light that cut through the violet-black corruption like sunlight piercing storm clouds. Yet the demon shell fought back viciously. Black tendrils erupted in greater numbers, thrashing like the limbs of a drowning beast. One coiled around Seth's left forearm, searing through the reinforced glove and biting deep into muscle. Pain flared white-hot, but he only tightened his grip, teeth bared in a savage grin. "You're mine now," he growled. BOOM. Another strike. The Yegnir drank. Where emerald met violet-black, the chaotic energy didn't simply dissipate, it was plundered. Threads of dark power were forcibly drawn into the hammer's living core, purified in an instant by the forest spirit's ancient vitality, then redirected back into the breastplate as stabilizing force. The metal screamed, its surface rippling like molten obsidian. Incomplete infernal sigils cracked wider, then began to realign under the hammer's overwhelming rhythm, shifting from chaotic fractals into precise, domineering runes that pulsed with controlled power. The furnace roared at 10,000°C, a man-made sun contained within rune-etched adamantite. Even with the heat-resistance fields at full power and multiple heat-rune stones feeding supplemental barriers, the sheer thermal pressure began to bleed through. The air itself warped and shimmered. Distant cooling pipes along the ceiling groaned, their outer shells glowing cherry-red before the first rivulets of molten alloy dripped like wax. Aid's voice cut through the inferno, calm but accelerating in tempo. "Warning: Containment fields at 41%. Structural integrity of secondary forging arrays compromised. Ambient temperature exceeding safe thresholds by 2,300°C." Seth ignored it. He raised the Yegnir again. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Each strike landed with tectonic force. The breastplate, once jagged and rebellious, slowly yielded. Its edges thickened and flowed, reshaping under the hammer into a heavy, brutal curvature that spoke of dominance rather than elegance. Layer by layer, the demonic essence was beaten inward, compressed, and bound. What had been wild corruption became fuel woven into the armor's lattice as reinforced, living channels that would one day empower the wearer instead of consuming them. Sweat poured down Seth's bare torso, evaporating instantly in the blistering heat. Burns crisscrossed his forearms where tendrils had struck, but the pain only sharpened his focus. With every slam, the Yegnir's forest energy surged stronger, its green radiance flaring brighter as it stabilizes more of the demon's leftover will. One final, thunderous strike rang out. The breastplate settled on the anvil with a deep, resonant thrum, no longer fighting. Its surface gleamed with a deep, oily obsidian finish shot through with emerald veining. Heavy, imposing, and undeniably alive. Now tamed into a controlled spiral pulsed once in submission. Seth exhaled sharply, chest heaving. But there was no time to admire his work. The chamber was descending into controlled apocalypse. Several black tendrils had escaped the anvil entirely and now whipped across the space like living whips. One slammed into a dormant robotic arm, instantly corroding its joints into slag. Another grazed a support pillar, leaving a smoking scar that ate inches deep into the reinforced metal. The river bot, still faithfully standing by, had its left track partially melted; it listed slightly but continued attempting to maintain position. "Sire" Aid warned, "dungeon core output at 28% capacity. If this continues..." "Keep the furnace hot," Seth snapped, already moving. "We're not stopping." He dragged the breastplate aside with a grunt, it was significantly heavier now, properly weighted for its future role and signaled the rover bots to bring the next components. Arm harnesses first: biceps, pauldrons, vambraces, and gauntlets. Then the leg harnesses, cuisses, poleyns, greaves, and sabatons. All of them still radiated the same malignant aura, now that the core breastplate had been subdued. The demon shell's collective will had been fractured. Seth rolled his shoulders, feeling fresh burns pull across his skin, and lifted the Yegnir once more. The arm pieces proved just as stubborn, but less coordinated. As he began hammering the right bicep guard, chaotic energy burst outward in a directed spike, aiming straight for his blindfolded face. The Yegnir intercepted it mid-air, its head flaring emerald as it absorbed the attack and slammed it back down into the metal. The bicep piece flattened, then re-forged thicker, heavier, with reinforced ridges that would turn blades and claws alike. BOOM. BOOM. Sparks of violet and green exploded with every impact. Molten droplets flew, some landing on Seth's shoulders and chest, searing fresh marks. He didn't flinch. The spiritual energy of the Yegnir flowed through his arms like liquid strength, mending minor damage even as new wounds appeared. It was symbiosis, the hammer lending its vitality while feeding on the chaos it conquered. The left bicep followed. Then the pauldrons, massive shoulder guards that curved like the carapace of some ancient beast. With each piece, the chamber grew hotter and more unstable. The heat-resistance fields flickered visibly now, blue runes stuttering under the relentless thermal assault. One of the overhead exhaust vents buckled, its grating melting and collapsing inward with a tortured screech. Molten metal began pooling in low spots of the floor plating, glowing angry orange. Aid's reports grew more frequent:"Field integrity 29%… 22%… Structural temperature warnings on northern wall section. Recommend immediate evacuation protocol." Seth laughed, a raw, exhilarated sound. "Not yet. Pour more power into the rune stones. Overclock the furnace if you have to!" Aid didn't hesitate and proceed as commanded. The crucible roared louder, flames shifting from orange-white to blinding blue-white. The temperature gauge shattered its upper display limit. Now came the forearm plates and gauntlets. These were more intricate, demanding precision alongside brute force. Seth adjusted his stance, planting his feet wide as black tendrils continued their assault. One wrapped fully around his waist, trying to crush him. He answered by driving the Yegnir downward with both hands, channeling a focused pulse of forest energy straight through the gauntlet piece. The tendril shrieked and dissolved into harmless emerald mist. The gauntlets took shape as masterpieces of controlled brutality, thick, articulated fingers reinforced with spiked knuckles and internal channels that would one day channel the wearer's own power. When the final gauntlet slammed into place on the anvil, Seth flexed his hand inside it experimentally. It felt like an extension of his will. The leg harnesses were next, and they proved the most physically demanding. The cuisses and poleyns were larger, heavier, and carried deeper reservoirs of the demon's residual rage. The moment Seth began hammering the first thigh plate, the corruption retaliated with a full-scale eruption.A massive surge of violet-black energy exploded outward in a spherical wave. The remaining heat barriers shattered like glass. The river bot was hurled backward, its chassis half-melted, tracks screeching as it skidded across the floor. Secondary automata froze or collapsed as their systems fried. The walls themselves began to glow adamantite alloy sweating molten beads. Seth seated at the center of the storm, Yegnir raised high. BOOOOOOM. The strike was titanic. Emerald light blazed so brightly it momentarily bleached the entire chamber white-green. The thigh plate screamed, its form buckling, then reforming thicker, denser, with reinforced demonic channeling now fully subjugated. One by one, the leg pieces fell into line. Greaves that would turn aside the heaviest blows. Sabatons that would shake the earth with every step. Time lost meaning. Sweat had long since stopped flowing, evaporated instantly. Seth's skin was a map of fresh burns and glazing skin, but his movements never faltered. The Yegnir sang in his hands, its forest spirit energy now visibly laced with thin veins of purified violet, a permanent trophy of the battle. The next piece, the left greave resisted. It thrashed on the anvil like a living thing, black tendrils lashing out in a frenzy. One struck Seth across the chest, opening a deep, smoking gash. Blood hissed as it hit the superheated air. Another wrapped his right ankle, threatening to topple him into the furnace itself. Seth's response was pure, unfiltered dominance. He lifted the Yegnir with a primal roar that shook the failing chamber and brought it down in a single, cataclysmic strike that seemed to split reality for a heartbeat. CRRRRRRRACK—BOOM. The greave surrendered. Its surface smoothed, hardened, and locked into perfect alignment with the rest of the set. The last wild tendrils withered and dissolved, sucked dry by the Greaves voracious hunger. Silence fell, broken only by the dying roar of the furnace and the groan of overstressed metal. Seth stood amidst the wreckage, chest heaving, blood and sweat mixing on his skin. And finally the last piece, the helm. It resisted the longest, rather than flaring out its energy it lingers within it space. One struck from the Yegnir the energy will scatter to the outside and reform within again. Though the energy were depleting but the procedure and process Seth finds annoying, he resulted into pour essential power from the Yegnir to the helm infusing the chaos energy into the helm. The helm became silent, Seth listened to calmness from the helm for a moment and immediately proceed to shaping it with no hesitation into form fitting.
Finished with the helm, he lifted it up to his face length with a picker. He felt dark energy swaying at his left corner, he moved on to touch it, he figured out it was a remaining piece of Vaelrix corpse palm size. He thought for a moment;
*What do I do with you?*
An idea flash his mind as he smiled, knowing how he would apply the final piece. The forge chamber infrastructures were all scorched and melted by the furnace, the anvil had loosed it's touch as the top had deformed into black.