I plunged my hands into the magma to retrieve the shield and the agony was instant. My skin burned beneath the searing heat, pain screaming through every nerve. But I swallowed the cry, steeling myself with sheer will. I would not be broken by fire.
Gritting my teeth, I pulled the shield from the lava, glowing white-hot, like a rye stalk beneath the noon sun.
"Lay it on the anvil," Hephaestus commanded. "Now we'll forge the base."
I obeyed, placing the shield upon the anvil. But with what would I strike?
A hammer appeared beside me, as if conjured from the air.
"Take it," he said simply.
The hammer was enormous easily three hundred kilos if not more. I tensed every muscle, gripped the handle with both hands, and lifted it overhead, empowering myself with will. As I raised it, the hammer shrank in size but its weight remained unchanged. Now it was no longer unwieldy, and I could wield it with one hand. Difficult, yes but possible.
I swung and struck the metal.
A ringing note sang out, and sparks burst in all directions. I struck again. And again. The rhythm filled me.
"Strike evenly. Keep the tempo," Hephaestus said. "If it helps, set the rhythm to a song or to the beat of your own heart."
I listened to my heartbeat. Steady, deliberate, it echoed in my mind. I aligned my strikes with it. Each blow resonated not only through the metal but through me. My will flowed into the forge, shaping the form to obey.
"I see you have talent," Hephaestus noted, watching. "But your strikes are scattered. Don't stray too far from the last. Keep them close. Let the metal distribute evenly."
The shape began to take form a smooth, circular blank. By then, the shield had cooled to a dull red.
"Add heat," Hephaestus said calmly.
I lifted the shield and returned it to the lava.
"Feel the temperature. Don't fear it," he continued. "Command the flame. You have the strength."
I obeyed, focusing inward. My will sank into the fire, and I no longer saw it as an enemy. The flame no longer burned me. It responded to my touch like a beast tamed by force. Even my hands no longer felt heat.
"That's enough. Retrieve it," Hephaestus said.
I drew the shield forth and laid it again upon the anvil.
"Patience is the key to mastery. You cannot rush the craft. Every detail, every step must be respected. Now give it shape."
I focused once more, calling to mind the image of my shield. My strikes became precise measured. The metal seemed to respond to my intent, aligning with my will. Slowly, the blank began to take form.
"Now let's improve it. Make it worthy. You're forging under my guidance, after all. A shield must be more than 'impressive'," Hephaestus said. "Take that ore. Shape it into a three-pointed star."
I summoned my strength and focused wholly on the task. Under Hephaestus's sharp gaze, I began forging. Slowly, the star took shape.
"Now merge them. See the result," he said.
I placed the forged star at the center of the shield and the metal shimmered faintly beneath it. The shield came to life. No longer just shaped iron, it was now a work of art.
"We finish it now. One last strike," said Hephaestus, reclaiming his hammer.
It blazed in his hands, fire licking along its form. He raised it and delivered a single, heavy, precise blow. Sparks erupted like stars. Into that strike, he poured all his divine power.
"Wear it. Witness your creation," Hephaestus said, handing me the shield.
What stood before me was no mere shield. It was an extension of my arm of my will. Not only stronger than before it was part of me.
I strapped it to my forearm and immediately sensed the change. It was heavier. As I moved my arm, the shield folded in on itself becoming a bracer. The weight vanished. I flexed, thrusting my arm forward and the shield snapped back into form. Its mass returned instantly. A marvel. A true artifact.
*
The Great Shield of War – +10 – ∞ Defense. Durability is bound to the strength of your spirit. Forged from your own will and essence, tempered in the flames of Tartarus. So long as your resolve is unbroken, no blow shall shatter it. Born for war it lives only in battle.
Effects:
Bracer Form: The shield transforms into a bracer, granting +4 defense in compact state.
Aggressive Guard (Active): You may absorb incoming attacks and reflect 30% of the damage.
*
"It was magnificent. To forge something like this on my own… it would've taken me years of toil and countless failed attempts.
'I'm impressed. More than worthy. Now let's see how it holds up under a real strike,' Hephaestus said, raising his hammer and bringing it down with divine force.
I raised the shield. Runes flared across its surface. The moment the hammer struck, it was as if Hephaestus had hit an invisible wall immovable, unbreakable. A hidden force threw him back.
'Not bad. Quite good, actually. I've seen all I need to see. We're going to Lemnos,' he said, stepping toward the lake of magma.
At first, I didn't understand. Then, without warning, he grabbed me and leapt in. I was surprised but in moments, I realized the heat no longer harmed me. We emerged from the lava and landed on solid ground. I looked up and saw the sky through the volcano's mouth.
'Where are we?' I asked.
'On my island Lemnos. This is my forge,' Hephaestus replied, gesturing to his workshop.
The heat struck like a warrior's blow. At the far end of the hall burned a colossal furnace. Weapons, armor, and tools lined the walls. Artifacts rested on stone shelves, glowing faintly. Everywhere lay instruments of divine craftsmanship.
'No one else is here. You can speak of Pandora,' Hephaestus said.
'I can't say much… but know this: I swear to help her. And to help you,' I said.
'Since childhood, I was cast out by the gods for my deformity. Only my craft gave me purpose. But when I created Pandora… I loved her more than life itself. She meant more to me than anything. And when I realized it, it was already too late. Making her Keeper of the Flame doomed her. There's no worse father than me. One way or another, she's destined to suffer. And if you speak of her… then you know what's to come,' Hephaestus said, slumping into a forged chair, fists clenched.
'I can save Pandora. But I can't promise I can protect you,' I said.
'Damocles… that name. You broke the chains of fate. If anyone can alter her fate, it's you. I trust you,' Hephaestus said, extending his hand, his gaze unwavering.
I took it.
'I'll give everything I have to save her. And I'll do what I can for you too. But tell me… why do you trust me?' I asked.
'Craftsmanship reveals much about a man. I saw everything I needed. Enough talk. We still have work. You must forge the rest of the armor,' Hephaestus replied.
'Then let's begin.'
We started with the helmet. Its base was that of a traditional Spartan helm, but with several refinements. The vision of it had long lived in my mind now I brought it to life in metal. The eye and mouth slits formed a curved 'T'. Reinforcement across the top allowed it to withstand crushing blows. A sharp angle beneath the jaw protected the neck. Ridges and etched patterns gave it elegance and strength. Infused with my will, the helmet began to glow.
We did not neglect my spear either. Its blade was now enlarged perfect for both thrusting and slashing. The butt of the shaft bore a deadly spike, effective for reverse attacks. My gear was now far more refined sleek, precise, deadly.
The rest of the armor followed: a cuirass shaped perfectly to my form. The cloak remained red, though I had considered changing it after all, I was no longer a Spartan. A few final pieces, and the armor was complete.
[image]
'Now you look like a god,' Hephaestus said, allowing himself a faint smile.
'I am a warrior. Nothing more, nothing less,' I replied.
'So be it. Then swear this: no matter what happens to me, Pandora must live,' he said, his voice as firm as forged iron.
'I swear it!' I answered. Then, hesitating, I asked, 'You once said you cared little for the intrigues of the other gods. But tell me, Hephaestus… how often does Athena influence Olympus's decisions?'
'Athena may not be the strongest, but her mind is sharper than any blade. Her counsel carries great weight. Even Zeus often seeks her advice,' he said.
Since arriving in Athens, I'd felt it like an invisible hand guiding me. Hermes. Heracles. Charon. Hades.
But why would Hades speak of leading me to Hecate?
On the surface, it seemed like concern from a husband. But knowing he took her by force casts doubt. Something doesn't add up. My heart feels it some crucial piece still missing, leaving the whole picture incomplete.
'Where will you go now?' Hephaestus asked.
I wanted to answer but I didn't know. My goal was to kill Hecate for my brother's death. But now, uncertainty clouds my resolve. Two gods Charon and Hades spoke of her guilt. Perhaps she is guilty. Perhaps not.
Then why didn't Hades try to kill me?
A puzzle I have yet to solve. But whatever obstacles await me, I will meet them with the tip of my spear and shield in hand. And no force will stand against the weight of my will.