It was not the dragonsteel which gave way, and neither did the physical impact of her blows impart any change. Empowered by the Forgemother and Skinless One in concert, each of her blows altered reality itself, hammering the Butcher’s very existence into what Zelsys perceived as its true, ideal form. With each strike, all sources of the blade’s power grew, each different source of arcane might resonating and amplifying the others. There was not a single remotely scientific system that could explain what was taking place, for it was fundamentally not possible under the normal laws of the world. Here, in the heart of Eldartha, near the Foundations of the World, by the power of two Old Gods, the antediluvian laws of kalpas long past were brought into effect for just long enough to create a blade whose existence defied explanation. Its existence would conform to the laws of the world, but there would be no recreating it by any diluvian means, mundane or arcane.
Eventually, after the passage of what felt like an eternity, the Brass Stake began to crumble… And she was nowhere near done. There was still time. Time enough to ignite the Conqueror’s Mantle, to dig as far down as she could reach, and then to dislocate her own shoulders so she might dig deeper.
Zelsys gathered her strength, drawing in a breath, gathering as much Metallum as she was able without regard for her own safety, feeling it rush up her legs and into her chest, then down her arm and into the Brass Stake. Tendrils of iron grew from her hand and over the stake, while her joints and flesh stiffened with terrible creaking, and for a moment, she felt as though she had frozen.
Then, she felt it. The Butcher’s presence, the blade resonating in her hand as its spirit reached out and made contact with the First Thundergod.
Ignition.
In an instant, brilliant white light surged all throughout her body, shining from within her chest, her Silver Conduits burning beneath her skin. Like the rising sun reflected off of the ocean, the brilliant glow danced across the chamber’s walls for a moment. Then, all at once, layers and layers of metal slag-scale burst away from her with the force of a fragmentation bomb. In the same moment she brought the Brass Stake crashing down. The bronze and iron antlers which had grown upon her brow branched out to a span wider than her arms, each tremendous mass made up from construct-metal weighing in the hundreds of kilos. She barely even noticed the weight.
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
It was here. Across the abyss, at the edge of the pit, sitting there. The Skinless One’s figure, watching her cross-legged, resting his chin upon a balled fist, a grin of broken teeth spread wide over his eyeless visage. He nodded in rhythm with her hammer-strokes, as if counting down.
In the far land blessed by the guiding light and nourishing water of Karga, an accomplished Fog-sailor suddenly found himself perturbed by… Something. Something far in the distance, a stir in the Sea of Fog. Deep in a meditative trance, half-submerged in the Sea of Fog in pursuit of inspiration, he was given it plainly.
Indeed, far in the north, he saw it. The blazing form of glory, a form whose faint echo he had witnessed before, when he was yet blind and foolish, thinking that the echo surely could not be that far from the source. How wrong, he had been, on that day, when the G-Kaisers set loose the god-shard in their forge.
That fog-sailor, gripped by profound inspiration, plucked a brief sequence of chords upon his sitar, and spoke that which flowed through his soul.
“A flame that burns so bright, to lighten the darkest night sky…”
Elsewhere, far from Kargaria, in one of Grekuria’s splinter-churches to Iusticia, a pious vicar felt himself struck by that same divine inspiration.
“And through the years gone by, the righteous path, turn the page we’ve just begun. We forged allegiances with the strong and true, unite, defend the meek and small…”
Indeed, just as visible as it was within the Sea of Fog, so too could any living soul upon the continent witness the feat. The Forgemother, manifested in her full glory far into the night sky, into the very atmosphere backed by four counter-rotating rings of talismans, brought her hand down upon Eldartha, time and again. A display utterly beyond what was necessary, one born from the goddess’s own pride in this particular creation. Though limited in the scope of free will, defined by her archetype as the Old Gods were wont to be, a craftsman’s pride held a prominent place as part of the Forgemother’s identity.
So it was that the Forgemother made this feat clear for all to see, caring not for the consequences of that act.
Scores of artisans, from poets, to musicians to metalsmiths, found themselves under the influence of an Old God, struck by sudden inspiration. Besides every living soul in Borea, a scant few witnessed and heard the Forgemother in her full glory; those particularly enlightened, or those in especially receptive areas.
Many more would bear witness in their dreams, and many still would find this inspiration coming to them in fragments over the course of weeks as its ripples reached them.
These words and thoughts were not those of the Forgemother, but of the human who wielded her as a tool. They were no more the Forgemother’s than a sword was the product of a hammer; true in a sense, but undeniably guided by the smith’s hand over all else.
They would speak of flames able to banish deepest darkness, of the will to do eternal battle for all that is right. An undying will to expunge the vile things of this world, to act as beast-butchering fangs in the place of those who have none of their own, and to grant fangs to those who require them.
Forevermore, the rebirth of this blade would be sung of, spoken of, recorded in history books, chiseled into stone and metal alike. Ere it could even be wielded, already it will have passed into legend.
Akaso
If you’d like to read ahead, consider heading on over to the Patreon! You get up to 20 advance chapters for both Retribution Engine and Cherno Caster.
I’d also greatly appreciate it if you could rate my story, maybe even leave a review or advanced review!
For a link to the discord, check the synopsis.
It was not the dragonsteel which gave way, and neither did the physical impact of her blows impart any change. Empowered by the Forgemother and Skinless One in concert, each of her blows altered reality itself, hammering the Butcher’s very existence into what Zelsys perceived as its true, ideal form. With each strike, all sources of the blade’s power grew, each different source of arcane might resonating and amplifying the others. There was not a single remotely scientific system that could explain what was taking place, for it was fundamentally not possible under the normal laws of the world. Here, in the heart of Eldartha, near the Foundations of the World, by the power of two Old Gods, the antediluvian laws of kalpas long past were brought into effect for just long enough to create a blade whose existence defied explanation. Its existence would conform to the laws of the world, but there would be no recreating it by any diluvian means, mundane or arcane.
Eventually, after the passage of what felt like an eternity, the Brass Stake began to crumble… And she was nowhere near done. There was still time. Time enough to ignite the Conqueror’s Mantle, to dig as far down as she could reach, and then to dislocate her own shoulders so she might dig deeper.
Zelsys gathered her strength, drawing in a breath, gathering as much Metallum as she was able without regard for her own safety, feeling it rush up her legs and into her chest, then down her arm and into the Brass Stake. Tendrils of iron grew from her hand and over the stake, while her joints and flesh stiffened with terrible creaking, and for a moment, she felt as though she had frozen.
Then, she felt it. The Butcher’s presence, the blade resonating in her hand as its spirit reached out and made contact with the First Thundergod.
Ignition.
In an instant, brilliant white light surged all throughout her body, shining from within her chest, her Silver Conduits burning beneath her skin. Like the rising sun reflected off of the ocean, the brilliant glow danced across the chamber’s walls for a moment. Then, all at once, layers and layers of metal slag-scale burst away from her with the force of a fragmentation bomb. In the same moment she brought the Brass Stake crashing down. The bronze and iron antlers which had grown upon her brow branched out to a span wider than her arms, each tremendous mass made up from construct-metal weighing in the hundreds of kilos. She barely even noticed the weight.
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
It was here. Across the abyss, at the edge of the pit, sitting there. The Skinless One’s figure, watching her cross-legged, resting his chin upon a balled fist, a grin of broken teeth spread wide over his eyeless visage. He nodded in rhythm with her hammer-strokes, as if counting down.
In the far land blessed by the guiding light and nourishing water of Karga, an accomplished Fog-sailor suddenly found himself perturbed by… Something. Something far in the distance, a stir in the Sea of Fog. Deep in a meditative trance, half-submerged in the Sea of Fog in pursuit of inspiration, he was given it plainly.
Indeed, far in the north, he saw it. The blazing form of glory, a form whose faint echo he had witnessed before, when he was yet blind and foolish, thinking that the echo surely could not be that far from the source. How wrong, he had been, on that day, when the G-Kaisers set loose the god-shard in their forge.
That fog-sailor, gripped by profound inspiration, plucked a brief sequence of chords upon his sitar, and spoke that which flowed through his soul.
“A flame that burns so bright, to lighten the darkest night sky…”
Elsewhere, far from Kargaria, in one of Grekuria’s splinter-churches to Iusticia, a pious vicar felt himself struck by that same divine inspiration.
“And through the years gone by, the righteous path, turn the page we’ve just begun. We forged allegiances with the strong and true, unite, defend the meek and small…”
Indeed, just as visible as it was within the Sea of Fog, so too could any living soul upon the continent witness the feat. The Forgemother, manifested in her full glory far into the night sky, into the very atmosphere backed by four counter-rotating rings of talismans, brought her hand down upon Eldartha, time and again. A display utterly beyond what was necessary, one born from the goddess’s own pride in this particular creation. Though limited in the scope of free will, defined by her archetype as the Old Gods were wont to be, a craftsman’s pride held a prominent place as part of the Forgemother’s identity.
So it was that the Forgemother made this feat clear for all to see, caring not for the consequences of that act.
Scores of artisans, from poets, to musicians to metalsmiths, found themselves under the influence of an Old God, struck by sudden inspiration. Besides every living soul in Borea, a scant few witnessed and heard the Forgemother in her full glory; those particularly enlightened, or those in especially receptive areas.
Many more would bear witness in their dreams, and many still would find this inspiration coming to them in fragments over the course of weeks as its ripples reached them.
These words and thoughts were not those of the Forgemother, but of the human who wielded her as a tool. They were no more the Forgemother’s than a sword was the product of a hammer; true in a sense, but undeniably guided by the smith’s hand over all else.
They would speak of flames able to banish deepest darkness, of the will to do eternal battle for all that is right. An undying will to expunge the vile things of this world, to act as beast-butchering fangs in the place of those who have none of their own, and to grant fangs to those who require them.
Forevermore, the rebirth of this blade would be sung of, spoken of, recorded in history books, chiseled into stone and metal alike. Ere it could even be wielded, already it will have passed into legend.
Akaso
If you’d like to read ahead, consider heading on over to the Patreon! You get up to 20 advance chapters for both Retribution Engine and Cherno Caster.
I’d also greatly appreciate it if you could rate my story, maybe even leave a review or advanced review!
For a link to the discord, check the synopsis.
