Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

The smell of moss, mold, and the vestiges of history was sucked into his bulbous nose as he sniffed for treasure. It was not the scent of treasure he smelled, but prey. Unexpectedly, he already got visitors, when he wasn't even able to properly settle yet.

His hand tightened around the handle of his trusty pike and the heavy impact of his steps echoed through the overgrown city as he sprinted forward with a deranged smile. Yet, his enthusiasm was curbed when he saw, that they were not humans. Had his nose gotten rusty?

"What is that? A goblin? A gnome?" one of the big green oafs asked slowly.

"It's too small, even for a goblin!" his companion answered.

He scowled at these brainless creatures. Where was the fun if they didn't know fear? How could there be the thrill of a chase, if they didn't run? But there were two. It was good that there were two. At least one would be fun.

"Anyways, let's kill it. What's its level?" the first bloke said, readying his oversized axe.

"It's-! Akh!"

Before he could really answer, a rusty blade directly pierced his heart. The rough leather armor and thick skin were like paper before the dilapidated weapon. The massive orc sank to his knees, unable to utter another word.

He rejoiced, seeing the horrified expression on the other miscreant's face.

"Yeah, just stay there and watch in horror," he thought to himself as he climbed on the fresh corpse and took off his cap.

Fresh power flowed through his body, reinvigorating his flesh and blood, as the lifeblood soaked into his cap, giving it a fresh crimson sheen. He enjoyed the warmth and power, as he put it back on.

"Kukukuk!" he cackled, watching the second brute try to run away.

Yes! This was it. That was the reaction he was supposed to have. Fear, panic, and the fruitless attempt to run from him. A hapless prey not knowing that it had no chance to escape, this was what he was living for!

The staccato of his iron boot on earth and cobble behind the panic-stricken orc, were the harbinger of his death. He did not manage to even run half the way back to their camp before his blood also drenched the cap of his murderer.

With the rush of fresh power coursing through his veins like a drug, sparks of magic jumped across his claws. It was time to make himself at home.

…

---Storm Wall, Central Mountain Range South West of Delta---

A group of adventurers covered in thick jackets arrived at the ramshackle mining operation. The buildings were roughly built huts, made of wooden planks and barely held together by a handful of nails and spit.

"You guys look through the huts for the workers." a man wearing a thick parka without any armor instructed them to spread out.

He himself walked up to a building of better quality. It held the overseer's office, as well as the quarters for the guards. Unlike the makeshift huts, it was a proper house able to withstand the hard winds and cold climate so close to the border of the storm.

It had been weeks since the last delivery of and the mining company finally asked him and his team to come look after several messengers who did not return. He came with a high-level party, everyone being in the late lv.70s and equipped with a mix of epic and rare items. They had no problem reaching this deep into the mountains.

"Johnson? Are you here?" he called out as he entered the building through the unlocked door.

Nobody answered and didn't seem like anyone had been there for some time. The inside was cold, all doors stood ajar and many of the windows were open. Snow was piling inside the rooms. There was no sound but the howling of the wind.

"Johnson?" he called again as he walked further in. His steps on the wooden floor sounded unnaturally loud in the absence of any other noise but the wind. Hearing a creaking that was not caused by his boots, he stopped and listened.

"Johnson?" he asked a little hesitant.

"Shh! Stop being so loud. You will alert them," someone whispered hurriedly. Following the voice he found a trap door at the end of the hallway. There was just a narrow gap wit a pair of eyes looking at him. With lighter steps, he walked over to the trapdoor.

"Who are "they"?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"I don't know. It began with workers vanishing in the mine and when some of the guards went to look, they vanished, too. People refused to go in the mine since then, but it didn't stop! Like shadows in the night, they came and people started disappearing one by one. I've been hiding down here ever since!" he spoke quickly and quietly.

He grimaced. His mission was to look for the missing deliveries. Management suspected Johnson to have some deals with others, or the mine to have been taken over by their competitors.

"That means there was nothing mined at all for the past weeks?" he asked disgruntled.

"What are you talking about? Of course not! How are we supposed to mine anything without workers? The last of the guards took off with the rest of the stock to get help, but nobody ever came," Johnson explained from his hiding spot.

He cursed. Was he supposed to return empty-handed? There was no way he could face his boss without any of the ore.

"Boss, we looked through all the huts, nobody is here," a man said as he walked up from behind.

There was no getting new ore without "workers" either. Humanoids captured from the Pathworks were not cheap, nor easy to catch. To think that there was not only no ore, but they had even lost their "workers".

"Any signs where they could have gone?" he asked, trying to keep his cool.

"None, we could find. No footprints, packed things, blood, or signs of a fight. It's as if they were spirited away."

"Tsk, Johnson, come out from there, we need to have a proper talk. Worst case, we take you with us and return for now," he told the man hiding to come up, but there was no answer from below. The trapdoor was closed.

"Johnson?" he stepped closer to the place the trapdoor had been. It slowly lifted again, but this time two lights could be seen in the gap.

"New subjects located. Beginning harvest," a mechanical voice said from below.

"Affirmative." he heard the same voice from behind.

Before he could turn around, the world went dark and he lost consciousness from an impact on his head.

...

"Is this really okay, Rayki?" her voice wavered in the face of the portal.

His warm hand caressed her cold face. His expression didn't change despite his flesh rotting at the mere touch.

"Do not worry, my love. The man who gave us this chance, even now I can feel my connection to him. As long as we pass this portal, we can find him. I'm sure he can help you, too."

A tear, like ink, ran down her cheek, as her cold heart quivered. How much she had yearned for this warmth, how much it hurt to see her simple presence hurt the man she loved so much. After all she caused, did she even deserve this chance? He gave her a warm smile.

"Haha, I can read your thoughts like a book now. Despite being known for your wisdom, you are worrying again," he pulled her into a tight embrace, ignoring his flesh rotting away.

"This chance, we both yearned for, it's providence! Don't worry about the past. Focus on the present and look forward to our future."

"Rayki..." she finally reciprocated his hug. Her finger dug into his clothes, unwilling to let go.

With no thought of ever letting go of each other, the two stepped into the Pathworks.