Hidden deep beneath the world’s crust, The Forge is not a place of creation — but of correction. Here, the Smith reshapes what the world cannot forgive.

You return here after each death. Not to rest… but to be reforged. Pain becomes potential. Blood becomes currency. Choices made in life echo louder in this chamber than on any battlefield.

It is ancient. Alive. Watching.

Within these smoldering walls, your deck evolves, your body mutates, and the story of your shame unfolds — one scar at a time.

This is where your story begins — though not for the first time.

The Graveyard is no battlefield. It is a memory made solid, where the air tastes of rusted blood and the soil rejects the living. Here, the fallen do not sleep — they remember.

Each enemy you face is a shade of a forgotten decision, a remnant of someone you once were… or might still become.

The wind carries whispers. Some warn you. Others accuse. All of them know your name.