Chapter 640: Forging A Womb Of Devil
Author’s Note: Nameless Death said he would use the Womb of Devil to create an [Akashic Record] for his System. It has been renamed to [Heavenly Records] to avoid confusion with earth’s Akashic Record.
…
Nameless Death turned back toward the main forge and exhaled.
He had everything he needed.
The materials. The knowledge. The time.
Nameless Death stood up and walked toward the center of the forge.
Just as he reached the main crafting table, the door opened behind him.
Leonora entered, brushing a few strands of loose hair away from her face.
“Oh, you’re awake,” she said, sounding mildly surprised. “Did you complete what you wanted to with the meditations?”
“Yes,” he replied with a small nod. “Is there any contact from the Supreme of Water?”
“No. Nothing yet.”
He didn’t respond to that, just gave a soft hum of acknowledgment.
It wasn’t surprising.
The more he learned about the Supremes, the more he understood how twisted most of them were—each in their own way.
Some were passive-aggressive (Supreme of Void). Others were distant, or unreachable (Supreme of Darkness), or simply so dangerous that there was no knowing what was going through their mind (Supreme of Shadows).
The Supreme of Water was clearly not exempt.
He let the thought go and raised his right hand.
The shadows around his palm twisted slightly, then began to gather, condensing into a compact cube of black energy.
A moment later, the energy stabilized into a tangible object: a strange-looking box with glossy edges and unfamiliar markings glowing faintly on its surface.
Leonora tilted her head, frowning slightly.
“Is that a….”
“Yes, it’s a gaming console.”
“…What?”
“There are games inside. They are games from a different universe. I created this since I thought you might like them.”
Her eyes widened.
“You’re serious?”
He nodded again, still focused on fine-tuning the console’s interface.
“I saw them in Cole— a Heavenbreaker’s place.”
Without saying anything more, Leonora walked up and gently took the console from his hands.
Her fingers brushed the smooth surface. Her expression shifted from curiosity to surprise, and then to something close to childlike excitement.
“…Thanks,” she said quietly. “I’ll… go check it out.”
She turned and left, her pace quicker than usual.
Nameless Death didn’t say anything, but he allowed himself the smallest smile.
Maybe it would help her relax, even just a little.
With that out of the way, he turned his attention to the next step.
The creation of the Womb of the Devil.
To do that, he needed a special metal.
One that could withstand the stress of his techniques and remain stable even under constant Concept-based resonance.
That’s where his Metal Elemental Affinity came into play.
Among the ten elemental affinities—Crystal, Obsidian, Amber, Diamond, Quartz, Gold, Silver, Iron, Copper, and Mithril—it was the last one that would fulfill his need.
Mithril.
It was a strange element.
Flexible yet sturdy.
Reactive yet incredibly stable.
And more importantly, it could be transmuted into countless derivative metals.
He reached out with his affinity and conjured a chunk of pure Mithril.
The silvery-blue metal glowed with a soft shimmer.
Under his guidance, it began to transform—first into Voidsteel, a metal that resonated with spatial frequencies, and then into Ashenite, a mineral that could store memories without degrading them.
This was the uniqueness of metal affinities.
Each acted as a base, but every base could be transmuted into a near-infinite number of specialized metals.
Metal users weren’t just manipulators of raw ore; they were alchemists, smiths, and sculptors of matter.
Nameless Death examined the newly formed metals, then moved to his tools.
The preparation was complete.
All that remained now was the forging process.
He began creating the cube—the Womb of the Devil.
He had all the knowledge for it, and he had been taught by the demon about the blacksmithing process.
And yet, Nameless Death found it difficult to put it into practice.
Again and again, he failed to align the inner Runes (Magic Circle drawn on object).
The spatial stabilizers collapsed under pressure.
The core containment ring snapped at the slightest misstep.
Sometimes he’d miss a microscopic fold in the metal, and the entire structure would destabilize.
He had to scrap the entire thing before starting again.
The demon had warned him.
Even the master dwarves of the Ilantea Empire—renowned as the greatest blacksmiths across the stars—had needed centuries of collaboration to create a single Womb of the Devil.
Nameless Death was far less experienced than them.
But he had something else.
He had the Nine-fold Time Resonance World and his Shadow Core Concept.
With the nine Cores, he deployed nine individual time dilation Worlds.
Then he fused them using Resonance.
The result was terrifying.
Time didn’t just slow, it nearly stopped for him.
He lived for millennia in every fraction of a second.
And the Shadow Core Concept was equally important. It was his fail-safe.
Every time he made a mistake, he would recreate a new cube, but this one had yet to be ruined by the mistake.
He simply used his Shadow Core Concept for it.
Just like in a game, he saved his progress. If the forging process failed halfway through, he could reload the previous version by creating a unbroken cube and try again.
It was a cheat-like power.
Of course, none of this came for free.
The energy cost was monstrous.
So, he would take frequent pauses.
During those times, he would meditate.
Sometimes he played a few rounds of games with Leonora during his recovery phase.
One day, as they sat beside the forge, Leonora pointed at the half-built Womb and asked,
“If you can create anything you understand, does that mean you could build a game I came up with?”
Nameless Death blinked, surprised by her words. “I can try. Tell me about the game.”
And so, they did. She explained the concept. He created the mechanics. A new game was born.
That was how Nameless Death’s life began to change.
Work. Rest. Play. Repeat.
He lost track of time.
How many months had passed? Years? Decades?
In the real world, probably just months.
But in his own perception, he had lived through tens of billions of years inside the forge.
He didn’t keep count of how many times he had failed.
It didn’t matter anymore.
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