SOUL FORGE CHRONICLES
Chapter 1 — The Winter of Ashenveil
Winter in the Ashenveil Ridge was brutal.
Wind carried snow down from the Northern Glacier Mountains, blanketing the entire Thornwood Territory in cold, silent white. The tall trees that usually stood proud now bowed wearily, their branches bent under the weight of endlessly accumulating snow.
On the outskirts of the territory, far from the warmth of the castle and the homes of the nobility, stood a decrepit wooden shack that could barely be called a shelter. Gaps between the wooden planks let the wind pass freely, and the thin roof could barely hold the weight of snow piling on top.
Inside that shack lay Aldric.
He curled up on a pile of dry straw, wrapping himself tightly in his thin, worn-out clothes. His body trembled, and his breath formed small white clouds with every exhale.
"Hh... So cold."
Aldric closed his eyes for a moment, then forced them back open.
"As a transmigrator, I'm really living a pathetic life."
A month ago, he had arrived in this world through a traffic accident that had taken his life in his previous world. He had awakened in the body of a peasant boy named Aldric — the son of Old Aldric, a poor farmer under the rule of Baron Varek, who governed Thornwood Territory.
Old Aldric had been a hardcore drunkard.
Under the care of that perpetually drunk father, young Aldric had known only two things every day — hunger and beatings. His emaciated body, ravaged by years of malnutrition, couldn't even resist the blows of a grown man in a drunken rage.
To make matters worse, the drunkard had traded every valuable thing the family owned for cheap liquor. Nothing was left.
The good news was that the drunkard was now dead — frozen in the snow three days ago.
The bad news was that the last grain of food in the shack had run out yesterday.
Cold, starving, and still bearing the wounds from the drunkard's beatings — Aldric curled up in the straw, feeling as though his life could slip away at any moment.
"Don't sleep! Don't sleep at all!"
Aldric forced his eyes to stay open, continuously encouraging himself.
"You're a transmigrator with a cheat code! How could you possibly die in a place like this?!"
Yes — Aldric had not arrived in this world empty-handed.
When he first entered the body of young Aldric, he had discovered something strange deep within his soul. A forge that dwelled in the very depths of his consciousness — warm, pulsing, and full of mystery.
The Soul Forge.
What it did, Aldric still didn't know. Not a single clue had surfaced in the past month.
But for someone who was nearly drowning, even a strand of straw was a lifeline. The forge gave him a glimmer of hope to hold on.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
In his half-conscious state, Aldric seemed to hear a knock at the door.
He furrowed his brow. Who would visit on a day this cold?
BANG!
With no response from inside, the person outside kicked the door open. A rush of icy wind burst in, making Aldric shiver violently.
"Aldric! Are you still alive?!"
Aldric's consciousness snapped back to reality. He struggled to rise from the pile of straw.
He recognized that voice — Sir Gareth, the territory affairs officer, the chief steward of Thornwood Territory.
"Sir, my father passed away a few days ago. But I am still alive. Please tell me whatever you need of me."
Sir Gareth frowned, examining Aldric from head to toe. He pulled out a handkerchief and covered his nose.
Understandably so. Aldric's appearance was truly horrifying.
His hair was long and matted, his face black with grime, his clothes were stained, and the wounds on his body had darkened and festered from prolonged neglect. Compared to Aldric, even a street beggar would look clean and presentable.
But a flash of surprise crossed Sir Gareth's eyes when Aldric bowed respectfully.
After years of dealing with commoners, he was well accustomed to their roughness and rudeness. Though he often corrected their manners, the results were almost always futile.
Yet this boy — even at death's door from cold — had still managed to bow correctly.
Something stirred in Sir Gareth's chest.
Even in the worst of circumstances, a person must never lose their dignity.
"Good boy," said Sir Gareth, his tone softening. "I'm glad you're still alive. Come with me."
"Yes, Sir."
Stepping out of the shack, thick clouds covered the entire sky like a grey curtain blocking the only free source of warmth for the poor — the sun.
A cold wind blew fiercely, and Aldric shivered hard. His thin shirt was utterly useless against the cold.
"You there! Take off your cloaks, now!"
Seeing Aldric's condition, Sir Gareth turned and ordered the guards accompanying him.
One of the guards froze. In weather this bitter, removing his cloak for a smelly peasant boy made absolutely no sense to him.
"Sir, one child more or less doesn't matter much. The territory is so vast, who knows how many children the sorcerer needs—"
"Silence!"
Sir Gareth's expression changed drastically at those words.
"Don't ever try to comprehend their wisdom with your narrow mind! If I hear you say something like that again, prepare to be hanged! Now take off your cloak and put it on this boy!"
Aldric, standing to the side, quietly took note.
A sorcerer.
His heart beat faster.
This world has magic!
For the past month, Aldric had been trying to learn about extraordinary things in this world. But Thornwood Territory was too remote, and his status was too low. All he had gathered were vague local legends and stories.
Now it seemed that magical power truly existed.
The guard's thick cloak — still warm from his body heat — instantly made Aldric feel far more comfortable.
"Done dressing? Move quickly!" Sir Gareth barked. "The sorcerer is impatient. If we're late, we'll all be in trouble!"
Following Sir Gareth's carriage, Aldric quickly arrived at Ironmere Castle, which stood magnificently in the center of Thornwood Territory.
The castle's great hall was dim, lit only by torches on the stone walls and the flames of a large fireplace in the center of the room.
Inside the hall, hundreds of children of all backgrounds — rich and poor — had gathered in orderly silence, waiting.
At the far end of the dark hall, a figure in a black robe stood waiting.
"Sorcerer, Baron — all children between the ages of twelve and fifteen in this territory are present," reported Sir Gareth respectfully.
The figure in black slowly moved forward into the light.
"Heh heh heh. Your Thornwood Territory has very few children, Varek."
Beside the sorcerer, Baron Varek — a stout man with a flushed red face — continuously wiped sweat from his forehead despite the cold air inside the hall.
"Yes, Master Mordecai, the harvests have been poor for two years. Quite a few of the people... didn't survive."
"That is unacceptable."
Sorcerer Mordecai patted Baron Varek on the shoulder, and the baron trembled like a leaf in a storm.
"The Academy needs new students every year. If I come to Thornwood Territory again and the number of children is still this low..."
Mordecai's voice grew lower and colder.
"You can hope to spend the rest of your life as an earthworm."
Silence fell over the entire hall.
Sorcerer Mordecai turned to face the hundreds of children standing in wait.
"Good. Now everyone line up. You will come forward one by one and face me for the examination. Don't make me say it twice."
Instantly, the children formed a long line without needing to be told twice. They may not have known how powerful the sorcerer was, but seeing Baron Varek's face — pale as a corpse — was more than enough to tell them what they needed to do.
Aldric took a position in the middle of the line — from there, he could observe everything happening up front.
Sorcerer Mordecai produced a faintly glowing crystal ball from beneath his robe — the Testing Orb.
One by one, children stepped forward and placed their hands on it.
"Nine points Aether Resonance. Failed. Next."
"Eight points Aether Resonance. Failed."
"Seven points Aether Resonance. Failed."
"Ten points Aether Resonance. Borderline pass. Stand behind me."
"Nine points Aether Resonance. Failed."
The examination moved quickly. One by one, children stepped away with downcast faces, and the line grew shorter.
Until it was Aldric's turn.
With nervous steps, he approached Sorcerer Mordecai.
Up close, Aldric could finally see the face that had been hidden in the shadow of the black triangular hat.
Strangely, the sorcerer's appearance was not frightening at all. His hair was grey, his face full of wrinkles, and a single-lens monocle perched on his sunken eyes. Overall, he even looked like a friendly old grandfather.
Yet for some reason, Aldric's body trembled uncontrollably as he stood before him.
It felt like prey standing face to face with its predator.
"Place your hand on the Testing Orb."
"Yes, Sorcerer Mordecai."
Aldric nervously placed his hand on the crystal ball, then held his breath waiting for the result.
Whether he would slowly freeze to death back in that wretched shack, or follow the sorcerer toward a different life — everything depended on this moment.
Light slowly emanated from the Testing Orb.
Something like an electric current flowed from the orb, piercing through Aldric's palm, spreading through his entire body, and finally entering the deepest part of his consciousness.
There was where the Soul Forge dwelled.
And the power from the Testing Orb seemed to touch the ember that had been dormant all this time.
Suddenly —
[The Soul Forge Has Awakened]
A message echoed from within his soul, warm like a fire newly kindled on a cold winter night.
At the same moment, Sorcerer Mordecai raised his head.
The flat expression on his face changed for the first time that night.
"Fifteen points Aether Resonance."
He fixed his gaze on Aldric with sharp eyes.
"Passed!"
— End of Chapter 1 —