Under the brazing heat emitting from the furnace of forge, the blacksmith continued diligently in his work unaffected by the concept of heat around him.
He relentless hammered on a semisolidified molten metal. His immediate environs was adorned with metal trinkets and works of metal descent.
While the blacksmith continued on his forge, a young lad, not a year older than eighteen stood by the corner. Watching with a distant glint in his youthful eyes.
While they worked, two shadowy figures appeared from the darkness and revealed themselves once they were in the shack.
" Lespitus, friend, are the tolls of life hard on you. " Myron said in a cheerful voice. The blacksmith looked up. His face wrinkled by labor and suffering, his bald hair reflecting nothing but the flames orange light.
Still continuing his work he replied, " Myron, I pull through by the teachings of Plitus. "
" Hahahaha, you still follow that rebel's philosophy, pray the general doesn't overhear your statement." Myron said rounding up his pleasantries.
The blacksmith lowered his gaze to continue earnestly on his work. A moment of silence hung on the air, before the blacksmith said again. " So what do I owe the visit. "
" I am here to bond a slave. " Myron replied blankly. A hoarse grunt bellowed. " Artupie, retrieve the binding cuffs, and chains. " With that order the young boy left to a tent beyond the shack.
" I believe, you normally received a hoard of up to fifty slaves on every expedition you attend. " Lespitus asked, " Since they all die, I don't see the option of you bonding a slave that would die anyway. "
Myron chuckled and explained." This one is extremely special, he is my key to creating an immortal elixir. " The blacksmith looked at Myron, then at the orange haired boy behind him.
" I can't see his face clearly but he looks too beautiful to be a slave. Ahhh, fate and it's vices. Also has the bloodline of Tiw, are you sure he didn't descend from the heavens. " Lespitus asked again.
" In the morning we shall see what he looks like, now, I need his unwavering loyalty. " Myron replied. The blacksmith faced his work again and added, " He would make a fine warrior, I see the God of War's physique in him. "
" He was of the barbarian God of war, Tiw, now he shall be of the Varethian God of war, Mars. " Myron added, studying the boy besides him.
" I wish my son could be like him, all the lad do is nothing but disappoint me immensely. " The blacksmith said, his voice burdened by regret. Myron chuckled lightly.
" His just a child, friend, they grow, they develop. Your son might not be as useless as you preach he is." Myron replied heartily, " he looks strong, strong enough to carry on your trade."
The blacksmith scoffed, " Stronger yes but exceedingly more stubborn. "
Silence donned on the shade, nothing could be heard but the whispers of the bitting wind. " Varethia is falling. " Myron informed with a deep sense of regret in his voice.
" Its Dominion is immensely vast, and unknown to its people, it has already been split into two fractions, The west and east. " Lespitus explained.
" With the attacks of the Barbarian tribes, The Gothic states and The Othridian Empire. Varethia would only last a few more decades." He added.
Myron sighed, " A few more decades might just be a contradiction. This reclaim would be the last battle I am involved in for the sake of Varethia. "
As they talked, the boy, Artupie walks in with a sack of clanking metals. He drops the bag and retrieved, a neck and wrists cuffs; all connected by metal links.
" Leave them their boy and begone with you. Tomorrow you resume your assistance, get some rest. " Lespitus said to his son. " I would stay father, I wish to experience the bonding of this slave. " Artupie replied.
The old blacksmith dropped his sledgehammer and glared at his son, the man's expression was nothing but unreadable.
" Fine you can stay, you may stay as long as you please. " He grumbled inaudibly, then said aloud, " Cast the binding tools into the furnace, if you wish to stay. "
Obliging, Artupie did as he was instructed while the men continued their chat. " I heard the east is being renamed. " Myron said. " Lespitus chuckled asking, " What in Jupiter's name are they going to call it. "
" The Dravonic Imperium."
" Is that the level of conflict Varethia has with its self, the seven princes, senators and even the emperor are killing themselves for a vast kingdom of vanity. " Lespitus commented.
" Disheartening!!! " Myron sighed, " I hear the east is in a better shape, I head there once this expedition is finalized. "
" Good luck brother. We owned by the empire view freedom as a forgotten dream. Cause no matter how we sort, we can't out run, The Dominion. " Lespitus said wistfully.
Silence once again claimed a stay as no one said a word. Each man left to wander the troubled sea of his mind.
" It's ready father." The lad called out and the old yet burly blacksmith rose from his stool. He walked over to the furnace and picked up a dirty pair of leather gloves, which were hung on some nails.
Opening the lid of the furnace, a curl of intense heat was released. The blacksmith waited for a moment before retrieving links of red hot iron.
" Get the lad sitted. " Lespitus said, his hoarse voice grim. The ignorant boy stood completely still, his eyes shut as if he had fallen asleep while standing.
Myron and Artupie sat him on a stool yet he didn't react, but followed like a puppet. The blacksmith walked closer and knelt to the boy's sitted height and the other men did same.
" Out stretch his left arm. " He ordered; was done almost instantly. One of the heated cuffs was clipped on his wrist. Immediately vapor rose from his wrist and the boy's still face grimaced slightly.
The smell of burning flesh assaulted the nostrils of every human present, blacked blood soon seeped out and ran along the metal links.
" His other arm." Lespitus said and the boys right arm was stretched. The same process was repeated and the same effects followed.
However the boy's face was visibly contorted, even the nigh darkness. The blacksmith held the neck cuffs and connected the metal links to the hand cuffs.
After that he clipped it on the boy's neck, then hell was freed. His amber eyes snapped open and his head flew backwards, then forward. All in an attempt to headbutt the blacksmith.
However before that could happen. The metal cuff tightened. Air was given no passage into his body. Eerily it seemed as if the entire oxygen had been drained from his being and he was asphyxiated.
Not only could he not breathe, he also couldn't move, no matter how hard he tried, he had simply lost the power of motion. He shut his eyes again, attempting to absorb the pain.
However he couldn't concentrate as a strange chant was sang to his hearing. Unknown to him, blood flowing from both his wrists and neck, meet at a point and cascaded.
The blakened blood suspended on mid air, then fabricated a normal looking piece of parchment paper and quill. The men stopped chanting and Myron took the paper and quill which hovered before the boy.
" Write the name of your new slave and write, his purpose to you and rules he must follow. " Lespitus instructed. Myron did what his was told. " Now swallow it. " The blacksmith added.
Hesitant, Myron crumpled the paper and shoved it into his mouth. Bearing through its bitter taste, he forced a swallow.
Moments crawled like an eternity. The redness of the hot iron faded and ran through the veins of the boy. A loud scream tore through the nightly stillness.
The metal links and cuffs dropped to the ground. The boy fell on his back clawing at his face and neck with his nails. His veins, all now visible were being burnt infinitely.
Heating his entire body momentarily the pain was soon left to fade, he opened his eyes. His veins and arteries now burnt to ash and still burning eternally.
[ Title Received : Prisoner Of War ]
[ Primary Name : Risen From Ash ]
[ Mortal Name : Jaxon Myron ]
[ Status : Battle Slave ]
[ You have successfully unlocked The Ashen Calamity System ]
[ The System Interface would be active when the host can understand a dialect ]
Myron looked over at the boy's docile state, then said. " Rise Jaxon. " As if connected to puppeteering strings, he rose. Myron smiled darkly looking him in the eyes, " Your path is settled, Jaxon, you shall be the incarnation of immortality. "