The temple does not understand your strange intention, but the darkness before you shivers as if amused. Your lantern throws a thin gold blade across the corridor, and the faceless statues seem to lean closer, their empty heads aimed at your hands. No workshop lies here, only broken saints, cold stone, and the faint pulse of something deep below the floor. If you truly mean to forge a weapon, you will need metal, fire, and a way to survive long enough to find them.

The corridor splits around a collapsed wall, one path descending into a wet undercroft, the other climbing toward a chamber where incense smoke still curls from unseen cracks. Somewhere beneath the temple, that single bell sounds again, softer this time, like a warning spoken through earth. The air tastes of ash and old prayers, and your lantern trembles as though an unseen current passes through the ruin. You must choose whether to seek strength in the depths, test the upper halls, or try to bend the temple’s relic magic to your purpose.