Stirring awake, Anvil felt a mild headache.
Sitting up slowly, he let his thoughts wander as to why he was feeling a headache to begin with until the memories came rushing back.
"Ah, that damned demon." Anvil thought as he rubbed his bruised face.
His mind recaptured the moment he saw the figure with three horns, who quite literally dragged him to hell.
Everything he did felt futile in the end. Nothing could stop his eventual defeat. Never before had Anvil felt such difficulty against an opponent.
"Well, other than that man." Anvil thought.
It was none other than Broken Sword who had defeated him mercilessly. Whether it was sparring or when they had just ambushed him in the Underworld. Truly, his aspect was suited for combat, and his technique with his sword was unrivalled.
To say that man was a sword saint would be to underestimate him.
"Hah, although it's always the sharpest swords that snap the easiest," Anvil said aloud this time.
When Smiling Heaven was taken by the Nightmare Gate, Broken Sword lost himself. His pursuit of strength turned into a desperate wish to save the person he loved. Broken Sword was ready to not just risk himself but the entire world as well for Smiling Heaven.
"Typical outskirts rat, you just don't know how to behave yourself. That's not what she wishes for you or your child." Anvil thought.
Letting his thoughts continue, he thought to himself that there was never a day that went by in which he regretted slaying his old comrade.
The man had a forbidden lineage, as they would later find out, and with the Immortal Flame being as popular as it was, regardless of whether people knew he was a Supreme or not, he would get worshipped.
That was enough to decide that he needed to die.
Letting those thoughts go, he thought about his new and latest problem.
"It seems like he carries the Divine Lineage of the Shadow God. To think that someone like him would appear now." Anvil thought.
It was so late and a shocking development. Shadow aspects were incredibly rare, with few people possessing the power. Unfortunately, there were no shadow aspect users in the Sword domain. They avoided his domain like the plague.
"They either joined the government or joined up with Ki Song." Anvil thought.
Hell, even the House of Night had an awakened or two that were privy to shadows. Although they typically look for people with aspects related to travel or water, it wasn't exclusive.
However, there was no frustration in Anvil's heart at this fact.
The most important question finally entered his mind. The one he wanted to ask himself ever since he woke up. It was just that he wanted to search his mind for information about shadows since it seemed like he was in the Demon's home, and that was his aspect.
The source element in the air was completely different as well. For a moment, he had thought that when he was dragged through a gate, he entered a different area of the Shadow Realm, but that wouldn't be right. In the distance, before he had passed out, he could see where the shadows ended over the horizon. So he knew they were somewhere in the Dream Realm.
The real question that had been bothering Anvil resurfaced.
It wasn't who the Demon was, where they were, why he was here or how he got there. It was one simple question.
"What does he want?" Anvil thought.
All other questions, like how he how the demon would achieve his goal, would be second. When one knows about someone's goals or aspirations, it typically becomes easier to figure out how they would get them.
Then there was his blade. There was nothing Anvil cared more about than his blades, and for the first time in a very long time, his craftsmanship was tested and the results? They were terrible.
"That accursed Nightmare Spell. To think it could create such a powerful weapon. What kind of Cursed abomination did that man kill for the Nightmare Spell to give him such a powerful memory?" Anvil thought.
Completely unaware of the fact that Sunny didn't currently have the Nightmare spell or that it was actually him who created the blade, all the credit went to the Nightmare Spell.
Anvil summoned a memory.
It was one used to communicate with his subordinates.
It took a bit of contemplating but after a few moments Anvil decided that no one was allowed to know of this person's existence. There were many reasons and lately it seemed like with Anvil's luck, spreading a person's name could be terrible.
Two of his cohort's members needed to be wiped from the media and had nearly all the information on them barred from the world to start forgetting about them. The Dreamspawn's power grew with those who knew his name, and Broken Sword's worship could literally lead to the end of the world with the Forgotten God's awakening.
Although Anvil's intuition was in complete disarray. The Demon's mask was almost an invitation for Anvil to want to spread his name and figure out who he was, but if he wasn't mistaken, not only was that a Divine Memory, but it belonged to one of the six demons.
Sending a quick message to his subordinates telling them he would be gone for the evening and to cancel the upcoming transportation, he had to take more refugees from the East Antarctic Center to his citadel, but obviously it wouldn't happen today. Anvil got up from his bed, and after a few strides, he took a glance at himself in the mirror.
The swelling in his face was nearly all gone, but the bruises were discolouring his face, making it look black and blue.
Summoning another memory, this time, Anvil used it to heal himself. It was a Supreme memory of the first tier he had created a long time ago.
Its healing was decent and very good for minor injuries. Making a memory potent enough to heal a Supreme called for him to kill a Great abomination that could heal extremely real. Which he hadn't done yet.
Watching his face heal, Anvil thought about the battle once more with the Demon.
Fear of death and overall fear of anything were all emotions people had, yet Anvil didn't feel any of that when the Demon nearly beat him to death.
There was only a dull disappointment of failing to create the best sword he could ever make. There weren't many emotions left in his barren heart anymore. Lately, it felt as if more and more emotions dwindled away as the years marched on, as Anvil thought back, letting the memories of the past take hold for a moment.
First, it was love that was ruthlessly ripped away from him. He had loved his father, but then, when he failed to return from the Third Nightmare, he started to question whether it was his flaw that killed him. Then Smiling Heaven disappeared, swallowed by a category five gate that destroyed America. That was no coincidence. After that day, he could tell Broken Sword never looked at him the same way.
What was he to say? Smiling Heaven was his childhood friend. They were nearly inseparable during their youth. To say that he didn't love her would be to lie.
Then it was longing that was lost to Anvil. As the days went by, his wife nearly died when he returned from his Second Nightmare. The anguish and fear were all too real that day when he killed the Other that had escaped the Mirror Realm and got close to his wife, but when his wife told him the news, it seemed like more emotions dwindled away.
She was pregnant. The news would have been joyous if Anvil hadn't figured out that it wasn't he who did the deed but his copy. The one who had loved her and cared for her was a copy. The Other from the Mirror Realm below Bastion.
That day, Anvil lost the emotion of longing.
When Mordret was born, everyone celebrated. His wife was elated. Jest came by to congratulate him, and even his brother Whispering Blade, threw a massive party in the Waking World.
However, on that day, Anvil would come to learn something horrifying. The boy's eyes, they reflected the world back on to itself. A cruel reminder of what had happened and of the odd creatures in Mirror Realm. Summoning a blade, Anvil nearly killed the child out of fear, but his wife pleaded with him and begged him not to.
That day Anvil had lost the emotion of fear because with fear, Anvil would kill the boy. In the end, he decided that he would get rid of him somehow. Whether it was selling him to the Dreamspawn for information or for some other things.
The years continued.
The day Morgan was born was a sorrowful day. Her mother had died during childbirth. Anvil's first real child and his wife was dead. Looking around, nobody knew whether to congratulate him or give him their condolences.
Anvil's heart was in turmoil. Although he no longer loved the woman, he had cherished her a long time ago. The sadness of losing one of the only people who still loved him ached his heart. His anger towards Morgan was unlike any other. However, looking at Morgan's vermillion eyes that looked just like her mother's, something else disappeared in his heart.
On that day, both feelings of sadness and anger left him.
Anvil was brought out of his memories as the door to him slowly opened. The shadows seemed to have opened it up themselves.
Then a hand made of shadows waved at him to come forward and urged him out of his room.
Taking one last look at the giant mirror reflecting his face and then glancing at the room he slept in, which was actually incredibly nice.
With a large king-sized bed that was smeared with his blood and a beautiful wooden desk, it seemed like quarters that had been taken care of well. The room was lit up with candles and lanterns surrounding the walls, giving it a cozy feel.
After the last glance, the nearly empty king walked towards and let the shadows lead him off towards his fate as he stepped out of his room and his memories.