The Heart of the Mountain
The wind howled across the desolate peak, carrying whispers of a god long dead. Hephaestus stood upon the summit, his eyes scanning the barren stone beneath him.
This place was no ordinary mountain.
It was born from the corpse of Uria, the ancient god of mountains, slain in the brutal conquest of Uranus, the first King of the Gods. Time had reduced Uria to mere legend, his name buried beneath the weight of history.
Yet his essence remained.
And at the heart of this forgotten place, Hephaestus saw it.
A stone, unlike any he had ever encountered. A heart-shaped rock, pulsing with a deep, silent power.
It was beautiful. A perfect fusion of solidity and potential. Its surface gleamed with a mineral never before seen, shifting in colors between deep obsidian and shimmering gold as though it contained the very soul of the mountain itself.
The moment his fingers brushed against it, his soul stirred.
Visions flashed before his eyes—infinite possibilities.
He saw weapons of unparalleled strength, buildings that could withstand the test of time, machines and wonders beyond the imagination of the gods.
And then, deep within his soul, something awakened.
X-Construct.
A power born from the fusion of his craft divinity and a tiny portion of a power buried in the fragments of his past reincarnations, a divine understanding of materials and structure, allowing him to replicate, refine, and elevate any substance he touched.
This stone was worthy.
Hephaestus smiled, gripping the heart of Uria in his hands. His first creation after Nirvana would be a tribute.
A protector for the mountains, a shield forged in memory of the fallen god.
Forging the Shield of Uria
The forge Hephaestus built atop Uria's corpse was unlike any before it. The fire no longer came from his own divinity but from the lingering embers of Nirvana, a flame that transcended Olympus itself.
He worked tirelessly, molding the heart-stone with his divine hands. Each strike of his hammer resonated with the deep echoes of the mountain, the very land seeming to hum in response.
Slowly, the shield took form.
Shape: A massive, curved tower shield, its surface sculpted with ancient, craggy ridges resembling a living mountain. The central ridge was elevated, almost like a peak, symbolizing the strength of Uria.
Material: The heart-stone had fused with his forge, transformed into a metal that was neither stone nor ore, yet held the unbreakable resilience of both. It shimmered between black-gold and deep silver, shifting like a living thing.
Engravings: In its center, Hephaestus etched the story of Uria, a relief of a great titan-like god standing against the heavens, his form merging with the land itself. The carvings glowed with an inner light, whispering the power within.
Straps and Grip: Designed with perfect ergonomic balance, the inside was fitted with divine leather from a beast long extinct, ensuring it would never slip from its wielder's grasp.
And then, as Hephaestus completed his work, the shield awakened.
The world trembled.
The sky above Olympus darkened for a brief moment, as if the world itself had taken a breath. Across the divine realms, gods, titans, and primordial beings paused, their senses tingling with the arrival of something new.
A weapon had been born. Not just any weapon—one forged by a god who had walked away from Olympus, who had cast aside fire in pursuit of something greater.
In the heart of a forgotten mountain, atop the remains of an ancient god, Hephaestus stood, his work complete.
Before him rested the Shield of Uria, a creation unlike any before it.
The moment the shield took its final form, the world reacted.
The mountains rumbled, rivers momentarily changed course, and deep beneath the earth, veins of unknown minerals shimmered in resonance. The very concept of protection had evolved, forever altered by the forging of this artifact.
From his forge, Hephaestus felt it—a ripple through reality itself. This was not just a weapon; it was a declaration.
He had given form to something greater than divine metal, greater than craftsmanship alone.
The essence of the earth itself had become his anvil.
The sky trembled as deities far and wide turned their eyes toward the mountain where Hephaestus stood.
On mount Olympus. Zeus - The King of Olympus sat upon his throne, feeling the shift in power. He looked toward the horizon, where storm clouds gathered unnaturally. "Hephaestus... what have you done?"
Ares - The god of war smirked, gripping his spear tightly. A weapon had been born, one that could shape the battlefield itself. "Heh… Looks like the smith isn't just making trinkets anymore."
Athena - The goddess of wisdom and war examined the shift with calculated intrigue. "A shield… not a sword. He chooses defense over destruction. Interesting."
Hestia merely smiled, tending to her hearth. She felt the warmth of her nephew's work and understood. "You always were more than fire, Hephaestus."
Gaia – The primordial mother of the earth stirred from her slumber, her voice a whisper through the winds. "A weapon has been born from Uria… and it sings to me."
And in the depths of Tartarus, where ancient beings slumbered, a few opened their eyes.
Hephaestus ran his fingers over the shield's surface, feeling the unbreakable resolve within.
A towering fortress in the shape of a shield.
Indestructible as long as it touches the Earth.
An immovable force against all who dare challenge it.
A living connection to the land, summoning stone and mountain as its wielder commands.
----
Hephaestus continued his travels, his footsteps echoing through the rugged terrain. The world was vast, and he sought materials beyond Olympus' reach—elements that even the gods had yet to lay their hands upon.
As he moved through a deep valley, the air grew thick with a chilling mist. A massive serpent-like beast—scales like blackened ice, eyes glowing with unnatural hunger—lunged at him from the shadows.
With a swift movement, Hephaestus raised the Shield of Uria, the divine metal shimmering as it absorbed the creature's crushing bite. Sparks flew as fangs scraped against the indestructible surface. Seizing the moment, Hephaestus swung his hammer, the force of his strike shattering the monster's skull in a single, earth-shaking blow.
The beast's corpse collapsed, and silence returned.
Hephaestus inspected the remains before dragging them into the creature's lair. A cold wind greeted him inside, and there, at the heart of the cavern, stood a single flower-like plant. Its petals were translucent, glowing with an ethereal frost. Each breath Hephaestus took felt like inhaling winter itself.
As he reached out, a vision surged through his mind—images of weapons that could command ice, a tool so fine yet so deadly it could pierce even the strongest of armor.
He set up his forge within the cave, using the frostflower as the catalyst. The serpent's bones became the frame, the frozen essence of the flower fused into the very core of the weapon. The heart of the serpant become a beautifull gem at the bottom of the needle.
When his work was done, he held in his hands a masterpiece:
"Glacienne" – The Needle of Eternal Frost
A needle-like weapon, slender yet unbreakable, shimmering with icy light.
Its tip instantly freezes anything it pierces, no matter how strong.
The weapon is so light and swift that it moves like a falling snowflake, yet carries the power of a winter storm.
As he gazed at his creation, the world shuddered once more, as if recognizing the birth of another legendary artifact. The first weapon of ice had been forged.
Hephaestus smiled. This was just the beginning.