As Hephaestus journeyed through the wild lands beyond Olympus, he felt a strange presence in the air—an echo of something ancient, something dying.
He followed the pull of his instincts and soon came upon a massive willow tree, its bark scorched black, its branches thin and lifeless. The ground beneath it was littered with splintered wood, as if the tree had once been mighty but had suffered a terrible fate.
Then, he saw the remnants of divine energy flickering along its cracked trunk—Zeus' thunder.
This was no ordinary tree. This was once the Titan-Willow, a sacred tree that had stood since the days before Zeus' reign. In the brutal war against the Titans, Zeus, in the heat of battle, had unleashed a divine thunderbolt upon his enemies. The bolt struck the tree instead, wounding it beyond recovery.
Yet, it had lived—barely.
For centuries, it had stood in silent agony, its divine nature keeping it from fully perishing. But now, as Hephaestus watched, the last remnants of its life faded.
And at the very heart of the tree, he found something even more tragic.
A Stillborn Nymph
Inside the hollow of the tree, curled within the core of its dying form, was a small, unmoving figure—a nymph, a spirit meant to be born from the tree's soul. But because the tree was struck before it could fully mature, the nymph never truly came to life. A child that had never taken its first breath.
For a moment, Hephaestus simply stood there. He had been cast aside by his own kin once. Left crippled, unwanted. He understood the sorrow of being abandoned before having the chance to prove oneself.
"No."
He clenched his fist. This nymph would not be forgotten. This tree would not be lost to time.
Hephaestus carried the massive tree trunk back to his forge inside the serpent monster's cave, his mind racing. Wood was not a common material for divine weapons. It lacked the weight of metal, the resilience of stone. But Hephaestus saw potential—a weapon that could move like the wind, strike like lightning, and never break.
First, he burned the wood down to sacred ash.
The remnants glowed with power, filled with the last divine sparks of Zeus' thunderbolt.
Then, he shaped the ash into a spear—long, elegant, yet unyielding.
The essence of the Titan-Willow lingered within it, making it both flexible and durable.
Finally, Hephaestus took the stillborn nymph in his hands. His heart was steady. His soul was firm. He would give her a purpose.
With a deep breath, he fused the nymph into the weapon.
The moment the fusion was complete, a divine tremor shook the world. The sky rumbled, the ground shivered, and the air seemed to come alive. A new race had been born.
From the spear, a soft glow emerged—a delicate, almost ethereal form. The nymph, once lifeless, now hovered beside the weapon, her body made of light, her hair like flowing willow leaves, her eyes filled with newborn wonder.
She looked at Hephaestus, and for the first time in her existence, she breathed.
The world cheered.
The gods, the spirits, even the forces of nature felt the birth of something new. A being that had never existed before—a Weapon Spirit. A soul born not from the land, not from the sea, but from the very heart of a weapon or item.
And Hephaestus, standing before his creation, gave it a name.
"The Pelian Spear."
A weapon like no other. A spear that danced with the wind, struck with the might of thunder, and carried within it the first soul of its kind.
Hephaestus held the spear in his hands, feeling its warmth, its presence.
"You were never meant to be forgotten." He spoke softly. "Now, you will carve your name into history."
The nymph-turned-weapon spirit smiled. And the Pelian Spear was born.
---
Hephaestus wandered far beyond the lands known to the Olympians, his journey taking him into a valley filled with death due to Hades during the Titan War.
The air was thick with silence, and the earth itself seemed drained of life, as though something had ripped away its essence.
It was here, in this lifeless place, that he found it.
The Broken Scythe of Kronos
Embedded in a jagged rock, a shattered scythe stood defiant against time itself. Its once-magnificent form was now a ruin—half its blade missing, its handle weathered, its divine aura nearly gone. But even in its broken state, the weapon still held tenacity, as though it refused to be forgotten.
Hephaestus recognized it instantly.
This was the weapon of Kronos, the Titan King who had once ruled the cosmos.
A weapon that had cleaved time and space itself, wielded in the war against Uranus and later turned against Zeus before its master's fall. A weapon born from the world itself—a rarity among divine arms.
Now, it was in tatters.
Yet, Hephaestus saw potential.
"Your time as a scythe has ended," he murmured, placing his hand on the cold, fractured weapon. "But your journey is far from over."
Hephaestus's attention shifted to the rock that held the scythe. It was unlike any stone he had ever seen—a dark, shimmering ore that seemed to shift as if refusing to be fully seen by mortal eyes.
Hephaestus felt the pull of the void within it.
This was no ordinary stone.
It was a meteorite born from the collapse of a dead star, infused with spatial energies as it drifted through the endless abyss.
"A metal that embodies space itself…" he whispered. "This shall be my arsenal."
Hephaestus took the rock and extracted its power, shaping it into a gateway, a storage space beyond mortal understanding. A divine armory that would forever keep his creations within reach.
With his hammer, he shaped the meteorite into a grand, ethereal gateway. Not a door, not a box, but a shifting construct of infinite depth.
With a flick of his wrist, the gate hummed to life—inside, a cosmic void stretched endlessly, ready to hold every masterpiece he would forge.
This was the Gate of Hephaestus. A forge's arsenal. A craftsman's treasury. A divine workshop without limits.
But Hephaestus was not yet finished. He turned back to the scythe, now stripped of its space-warping power. It could no longer slice through the cosmos, but he saw a new purpose for it.
Space had abandoned it, but the land had not.
From his collection, he took a rare metalwood, a fusion of divine iron and sacred trees that had stood for millennia. With careful hands, he reforged the broken weapon, reshaping its essence.
It would no longer be a scythe of destruction.
It would become a tool of creation.
Thus, a Hoe was born—a divine farming tool, capable of plowing any land, even barren wastelands, restoring life where there was none.
A weapon repurposed. A cycle completed.
And as Hephaestus stood before his new creations, he could only smile.
"You will not be forgotten," he whispered. "None of you will."
---
Weapons Created :
1. Gate of Haphaestus - A weapon that has space to store Weapon.
2. The scythe of the earth - A new divine weapon made from the scythe of Cronus but instead of Soace it now draws it's strength from the earth.
3. The Pelian Spear - The forst weapon with a weapkn spirit.