The Mortal Forge
Scene 1
"Volk! Hurry up before that crazy uncle leaves again!"
I fixed my toga while trying not to fall on my face.
The roads twisted between the houses, narrow enough that every turn became a fight between elbows, shoulders, and bare feet slapping against stone. My friends rushed ahead of me, laughing and shouting as if the entire city had become a race.
Everyone wanted to reach the crazy uncle first.
Everyone wanted his lessons.
Mostly because I had beaten Alexisos.
That one fight had changed everything.
For years, Alexisos had been the boy everyone avoided. Bigger than us. Meaner than us. Always showing up with older boys whenever he wanted to remind someone where they stood. Then I beat him, and suddenly everyone decided whatever I had learned was worth chasing.
Even if they had not listened when I told them he never taught me how to fight.
We traveled all the way to Zeus's temple.
That was where I usually found him.
Woden.
Asleep from stolen wine.
Except this time he was sitting upright against one of the temple pillars, drinking from his waterskin like the world had already disappointed him before morning finished.
"Volk! This is him, right?!" Kelopos shouted before I could stop him. "Hey, mister! Teach me how to punch harder!"
My ten friends swarmed him immediately.
Woden kept drinking.
No reaction.
No irritation.
No surprise.
Only after they finished yelling over each other did he look at me.
"I'm sorry," I said, pushing my way through them. "They saw me beat Alexisos."
Woden laughed softly.
"More children who wish to be warriors."
His hairless face tilted slightly as the heavy scent of alcohol rolled from the waterskin.
"But you did not tell them I never taught you how to punch. Or how to fight."
"They wouldn't listen."
"What?"
"Then how am I supposed to fight?"
"Volk!"
They all started yelling at once.
I backed up slightly toward Woden as their anger turned toward me.
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear.
"See, Volk. When you do what you want because you can, you must also be willing to eat the cost and squash the backlash."
I stared at my friends.
They looked at me like I had tricked them.
Maybe I had.
Not on purpose.
But maybe that did not matter.
Woden spoke louder.
"Even friends will take and take if allowed."
That silenced them.
His eyes drifted over the group before settling back on me.
"Remember this. A sword is forged in fire. You might not understand what a sword is yet, but when you see one, you will understand what it means to be forged by the world."
None of us fully understood him.
But his words landed anyway.
They always did.
"Come on, Volk," Kelopos said, reaching for my hand. "If he won't teach us, I'll just ask my dad."
Some of the others were already leaving, deciding the trip had been a waste.
I looked at Kelopos's hand.
Then pushed it away.
His face twisted.
Woden sighed behind me.
"A forge is offered when you reveal your own. Yet the standards of the forge depend on who is smithing."
His voice softened.
"Is it yourself, Volk? Or someone else?"
My chest tightened.
Just yesterday, these boys had cheered for me when I beat Alexisos.
Now they looked ready to leave me behind because I had not given them what they wanted.
"I only jumped in to defend them," I said quietly.
The words nearly stuck in my throat.
Woden took another drink.
"As the world teaches us, sometimes it is best to focus on yourself and those directly attached to you."
He looked toward the road where my friends were scattering.
"Defend your mother. Not another boy your age who is afraid to fight back."
His gaze sharpened.
"Defend your sister. Not the woman who leads you into war."
I did not understand all of that.
Not then.
"Once defense is mastered, there is offense. Then you must learn when to attack and when indirect action is better. Fighting exists on many levels, Volk. In the mind. In the body. In the field before blood is even spilled."
He passed me the waterskin.
I hesitated before taking it.
One sip.
Fire burned my throat.
I coughed so hard my eyes watered.
Woden laughed loudly enough for the temple priests to glare at him from a distance.
"Good. A boy who can handle drink will always be a destined warrior who touches the Stars."
"I didn't handle it," I coughed.
"You didn't drop it."
He took the waterskin back, grinning.
Then he started drawing in the dirt again.
The game he called tic-tac-toe.
A game of lines.
Corners.
Center.
Traps.
A game that always ended the same when both players understood it.
Yet Woden kept playing.
And somehow, I kept learning.
Scene 2
"Remember," Woden's voice echoed in my head, "when facing an opponent you cannot fully grasp, standing between offense and defense can offer more than either alone."
I raised my hands as the veteran warrior shifted forward.
I took half a step back.
His next step was larger.
I matched him by stepping forward this time.
His fist shot toward my head.
I raised my shoulder and folded my hand toward my temple, leaning into his arm before the attack could fully begin.
The blow lost its path.
My knee drove into his stomach.
My left hand followed, catching his chin as it lowered.
For a brief moment, the veteran's balance broke.
Then he shoved me back.
My head rang.
Still better than being knocked out by a First Order warrior.
"Twenty seconds!"
I jumped back.
Too slow.
A kick slammed into my chest, forcing the air from my lungs.
His hand reached for my leg.
I pushed off him before he could grab me, only for his foot to hook mine the moment he stepped in.
The world flipped.
My back struck dirt.
His fist came down.
I rolled out of the way.
"Ten seconds!"
He tried to pin me to the ground.
I slapped his hand aside.
Every second felt like it might be the end of my last trial.
Then his hand caught my arm.
He dragged me back down and landed several punches against my body before I managed to turn with the impact. When he shifted his second hand to strike harder, I answered in kind.
My fist hit his ribs.
He grunted.
Real pain.
That gave me enough room.
I forced him off me, scrambled on top of him, and began raining punches down.
"Trial over!"
I heard the words.
My body ignored them.
My gut screamed that if I stopped, he would kill me.
My next punch was caught by warriors pulling me off the examiner.
I fought loose immediately and swung at the new enemies.
A staff cracked against my head.
The world flashed white.
I hit the ground and finally stopped.
Pain crawled through my skull, ribs, and arms as I took one slow breath.
Then another.
"This brat has bite," one of the warriors said.
Laughter followed.
Two of them lifted me and shoved me back into line with the rest of the test takers.
"Kelopos!"
I glanced left.
The boy from all those years ago was gone.
The man who replaced him stepped forward with confidence, light-brown hair tied back, lean body held straight like he had already imagined the cheers.
I tried to focus on his fight.
My head still rang too badly.
Movements blurred.
Steps I tried to track only turned into a bigger headache.
"Failed!"
I looked up.
Kelopos was on the ground.
A hand was offered to help him up.
He slapped it aside and stood on his own before walking off the field. He would have to return next year.
This was our first time taking the Warrior Trials.
Only a few passed each year.
Everyone wanted to become a city warrior first. Then, if they were good enough, they would attempt the Trial of the King's Army in Bacchus's Kingdom.
Bacchus.
The Patron God of our kingdom under Zeus.
His armies went to war with the followers of Apollo and Ares often enough that champions were born from every border conflict.
"Alexisos!"
My old bully stepped forward.
He still towered over everyone our age.
The fight was quick.
Brutal.
Clean.
"Pass!"
I was not surprised.
Some of the older warriors nodded to him like he already belonged.
"This group is done. Those who passed, go get food and rest. The rest can head home."
Alexisos turned and looked at me.
Then he smiled.
Not cruelly.
Not like before.
He waved for me to come with him.
The examiners were already calling the next group.
I followed.
Enemy yesterday.
Comrade today.
That was the first lesson the city taught better than Woden ever could.
Scene 3
"Volk!"
I jumped back as Alexisos charged forward with his club.
The weapon slammed into the Warrior of Apollo trying to strike me from the side, cracking against the man's ribs hard enough to send him stumbling.
I picked up the sword issued to every warrior under our god and slashed across the chest of the soldier behind Alexisos.
Another man swung wildly in panic.
I kicked him into the group assaulting our city.
"For Apollo!"
Their roar shook the street.
Our city's army had already marched to meet Ares's followers on the battlefield alongside the Kingdom's forces. Only a few squads had been left behind to defend the walls.
Now the city burned.
"Alexisos!" I shouted. "We need to leave!"
I looked around.
We were the only two still standing from our squad.
Smoke choked the streets.
The outer wall had already been breached.
"Our duty is to fight!" Alexisos roared, charging forward.
A hand caught him.
Not grabbed.
Caught.
Then threw him backward like his massive body weighed nothing.
A wall of orange flame rose across the breach, cutting off the incoming Warriors of Apollo.
"You should listen to your friend."
The voice froze me.
Familiar.
Older.
Impossible.
The man standing before the fire was no larger than me. Average height for a human. Toga loose. Waterskin at his waist.
Yet the force he had used on Alexisos belonged in stories.
Legends.
"Wouldn't you say so, Volk?"
My throat tightened.
Woden turned slightly, orange light reflecting across his face.
"After all, a man's duty and a warrior's duty are not so different."
He raised one hand.
"Defend your sister. Not the woman who leads you to war."
The old lesson struck harder now.
Because now I understood.
"Go find your family, boy. I will hold these warriors back until you can escape."
Before I could answer, he raised his palm toward us.
Pressure hit.
Alexisos and I were sent flying through the city.
We crashed into a house deep inside the inner district.
For a moment, I could not breathe.
Then I forced myself up and looked around until I found Alexisos groaning beneath broken wood.
My mind kept replaying what I had just seen.
The crazy uncle.
The drunk.
The man drawing games in dirt outside Zeus's temple.
A Demi-God?
No.
Something worse.
Something better.
Something I did not have words for.
"Come on, Alexisos," I said, offering him a hand. "We need to get your mother and my brother. Then we can use the old path from when we were kids."
He stared at my hand.
This had become a ritual between us.
Enemies.
Partners.
Friends.
His face flushed red with anger as he looked toward the wall of flames in the distance.
"Did you know he could—"
"No," I said immediately. "He only taught me a few punches and kicks over the years. If I knew he was one of the Lord's chosen, I would not have been bold enough to ask him for lessons."
Alexisos accepted my hand.
I pulled him up.
We ran.
There was nothing else to do.
The next likely future for our people was death, slavery, or being scattered into other cities as spoils of war.
At least Woden had given us a second chance.
Once I settled Alexisos and my brother somewhere safe, I would journey and see the world beyond these constant mortal wars.
"To a new future."
I pulled the waterskin from my waist.
Wine filled it.
I had carried it for years, waiting for the day I might see Woden again.
I took a long drink.
The fire still burned.
Then I poured the rest onto the ground in the direction of the orange wall.
A final offering.
Then I turned and ran the opposite way.
Scene 4
"Now let's see what my record is going to be today."
I let my tan skin darken as Force and Fire crafted an orange mask over my face.
The flames in front of me dropped.
I limited my strength to the Second Order.
Dangerous.
Stupid, even.
A mistake could kill me if I sealed myself too low.
That made it useful.
I pulled my spear from the tattoo on my neck. The Black Sun mark pulsed warmly as it read my intent.
The moment the flames fell, I rushed forward at peak Second Order strength.
My spear drove through the first warrior.
Then the second.
I let them collapse together while the weapon remained buried through both bodies.
My free hand coated itself in basic Force Laws.
A new idea.
After traveling through several battlefields searching for proper opponents, I had learned how much basic Laws could equalize ranks between mortals.
A mortal with Laws was not the same as a mortal without them.
My fist slammed into the largest man nearby.
Raw Force passed through his body.
His insides ruptured.
An arrow struck him where his heart used to be.
I grabbed his sword and threw it toward the archer.
The result was obvious enough that I did not bother watching.
I pulled my spear free and raised it in time to block a downward club strike.
The weapon shattered on impact.
Poor material.
I swung my spear in response.
His head burst into blood.
A swordsman tried to sneak behind me.
I pierced him before he could complete the thought.
"Haha."
The laugh slipped out.
"This is the only way to live by my nature."
My mind began to slip again.
I forced myself to focus.
Even now, with my strength sealed this low, mortals could still kill me if I became careless.
That was the point.
Risk sharpened the edge.
Comfort dulled it.
And I had spent far too long recovering in beds built by gods.
Scene 5
"Volk, did you hear?!"
Rilk ran into my room so fast he nearly tripped over the threshold.
Alexisos and I had been sharing this house for a little over two years now. After the fall of Bacchus City, we traveled deeper into the kingdom. His mother died halfway to the next city where her relatives lived.
Six months after that, we arrived in the City of Hermes.
A minor city on the edge of Bacchus's and Apollo's kingdoms.
Known mostly for its lack of war.
Which meant, naturally, men like us ended up here pretending peace could last.
"What did you hear today, Rilk?" I asked. "If it is something dangerous again, you can tell Alexisos yourself."
My little brother's face went pale.
Alexisos bullied him more than I did.
"What? No! It's not dangerous. Or I don't think it is."
That was never a promising start.
"The priests of Zeus announced a decree from Lord Zeus," Rilk said. "They are forming a pantheon-wide mortal hunt for this Black Demon of Death that has been sighted on battlefields."
My body went cold.
"I heard Alexisos already signed up."
I was moving before the last word finished leaving his mouth.
"You stupid brute."
I grabbed my cloak and sprinted for the door.
"If it is Zeus's order, then it is not a mortal issue!"
Rilk froze as I gave him one look.
The kind that meant stay put unless he wanted me to handle him personally.
Then I ran.
The City of Hermes was two days away if I pushed hard.
Alexisos was part of the city army now.
And somewhere out there, a man mortals called the Black Demon of Death was being hunted under Zeus's decree.
A drunk uncle.
A battlefield ghost.
A warrior in an orange mask.
Maybe a god.
Maybe something worse.
But whatever Woden truly was—
I owed him enough to run.