Chapter 2 – This Ruined Castle Needs an Exorcist (And Maybe a Furnace)

If there was a contest for “Most Cursed Castle in Fantasy History,” this place would win a gold medal.

And then the medal would explode.

I was standing in what used to be a chapel, now serving as my “workshop.” It had no roof, one wall, and something hissing behind a broken altar. Possibly a ghost. Possibly a raccoon. I wasn’t sure which scared me more.

“You’ll get used to the screaming,” Aria said cheerfully, stepping over a pile of bones that may or may not have been decorative.

“Screaming?”

She gestured to the upper balcony. A floating suit of armor drifted by, groaning softly.

“Oh, that’s Sir Reginald. He’s harmless. Mostly.”

I took a deep breath and rubbed my temples. “Your castle has ghosts, Aria.”

“They prefer the term ‘spiritually persistent.’”

“...Do you even have a forge?”

“No, but we did. It collapsed during the ‘Molten Chicken Incident.’ Long story.”

I decided not to ask.

We found a spot behind the chapel—flat ground, blackened from old fire pits, surrounded by broken archways and some suspiciously tooth-shaped rocks. Perfect forge material.

I placed my hand on the ground. It glowed red-hot.

[Heatless Forge – Activated]

[Location Bound: Forgotten Prayer Yard]

[Primitive Forge Created]

Stone shifted beneath my feet. An anvil rose from the earth, steaming slightly. A magical fire floated in midair above it like a torch fueled by divine frustration.

“I’ll be honest,” I muttered. “This is kind of awesome.”
Aria watched, eyes wide. “You just conjured a forge. No stone, no wood, no tools.”

“It’s a skill,” I said, shrugging. “Apparently I can ‘forge anything.’ Still figuring out the fine print.”

“Fine print?” she echoed.

[WARNING: Using Forge Anything without proper materials may

result in cursed or unstable items. Use responsibly.]

[Liability: Not covered.]

“See?”

I began testing it by crafting something simple—a dagger from scraps. Aria watched the whole time, occasionally making judging sounds like “Hmmph” and “That bevel’s insulting.”

Despite that, when I handed it to her, she stared at it like a kid given a birthday cake.

“...It’s balanced,” she whispered.

“You sound surprised.”

“I am surprised.” She sheathed it immediately. “I’ll add it to my collection.”

“You collect my weapons?”

“I have a taste for artisanal blades,” she said proudly, “especially ones I don’t have to pay for.”

That evening, I was escorted to my sleeping quarters by Kael the Goblin Butler, who gave me a broken lantern and a scroll titled ‘How Not to Wake the Undead.’

My room was a pantry. A very haunted pantry.

But as I lay on the floor using a sack of potatoes as a pillow, I couldn’t help but think:

I’d built my first forge. I’d crafted my first weapon. And for some reason, I wasn’t dead yet.

That’s progress, right?

[Blacksmith Level Up! Now Level 2]

[New Skill Gained: Magic Threadbinding – You can reinforce damaged gear with enchanted materials.]

Also… Aria had smiled. Just once.

For like a quarter-second.

But I saw it.

Somewhere outside, Sir Reginald clanked angrily against a pillar.

I rolled over and pulled my cloak tighter.

This kingdom was broken, haunted, and held together by hope, mushrooms, and sarcasm.

But maybe, just maybe, I could fix it.

One forge at a time.