ϯհε ϖσɾʆδ σƒ ϯδσɓαδ

թɾσεʆίί

"Descended from above is the mother of all creation, Maia. Descended from her is Hyperion. Created by Hyperion is the Hammer of Heat."

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"I wish you were dead!" The tall soul shouted.

"Dumbass, we are dead!" The slim soul said.

"You know what I fucking mean."

"Would you two stop? You're both supposed to be working." The supervisor said.

"Fine." The tall soul went back to his work station.

Alright." The slim one slumped in his chair.

They were in the Forgery of Proelii, one of the regions in the Tieracle. All the souls in the room besides the supervisor were forced to work there for the rest of eternity. While the ruler of Proelii and their staff were off frolicking at the Waterfall Palace, these poor horrible souls spent their days burning. Every day their skin would burn off as they touched their hammers and chisels. Every night as the Tier sun would set, their skin would heal slowly. Set for an eternity of burning day after day.

The supervisor watched these souls during the day, making sure conversations like that one scarcely happened. Most conversations were souls arguing with each other over stupid little things. It was the beginning of the day, so none of their skin had come off yet, but it was scorching hot to the touch. The supervisor watched one of the souls closer to them as they hacked away at a hot piece of metal.

With each hit, sparks went flying. Most of these sparks landed on the floor or work-desk. A couple landed on the soul and the souls next to them. Screams of agony filled the Forgery as the sparks burnt through their already hot flesh.

"And the fun of the day begins." The supervisor smiled to themselves as another spray of sparks shot into the air. Another round of gut wrenching screams quickly followed the first.