Chapter 11 – Whispers in the Divine Hall
The first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, washing the village in pale gold. While most were still asleep, Ashton's eyes opened sharply. His breathing was steady, but his chest burned faintly — the familiar ache of his Mana Heart.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, his long silver hair hanging over his shoulders, crimson eyes gleaming faintly in the dark. Closing his eyes, Ashton focused inward.
The infinite loop of Ether around his heart pulsed violently, as if straining against its container.
He guided it slowly, deliberately, circulating the flow with precision. Each cycle burned his veins, but it also strengthened them. His body, once ordinary, was steadily being reforged into something else — something far beyond human.
Sweat trickled down his face. One hour passed, then another. Finally, he exhaled, his body trembling. "Stronger," he whispered to himself. "I must become stronger."
He rose, his joints cracking, and pushed open the hut's door.
The air outside was crisp, the morning still fresh. He walked toward the lake, stripped down, and dove into the water.
The cold stung him awake, washing away the fatigue.
For twenty minutes, he swam back and forth across the lake's surface, his strokes cutting cleanly through the still water.
When he finally pulled himself ashore, his chest heaved, but his mind felt sharper.
Sitting on the shore, Ashton looked at his reflection.
Long silver hair clung to his shoulders, crimson eyes glowing faintly in the early light. "Not bad," he muttered with a small smile, before dressing himself again and heading back.
By the time he returned, the village was already alive with activity. Men carried logs and iron from the caves, women sat together working with animal skins and thread, and children darted between the fields with buckets of water.
Ashton nodded. Progress.
He walked toward the women, who were still struggling to turn boar skins into proper clothes.
A few had already managed crude tunics, but others were tearing the hides by mistake. Ashton crouched beside them.
"Not like that," he said gently, taking the half-finished cloth.
He infused a faint trace of Ether into his fingertips, guiding the thread through the rough fabric. "Let the Ether do the work, not just your hands.
Feel the flow."
The woman blinked, copying his movements. To her shock, the thread bent easily, slipping through the hide like water.
Her eyes lit up.
"I… I did it!"
Ashton smiled faintly and nodded. "Good. Keep practicing. Soon you'll all be making clothes better than what I wear."
He stood, dusted off his hands, and turned toward the north, where the mountains loomed faintly in the distance.
That was where Joseph and the others were mining.
The cave was dark and damp, but the sound of iron striking stone echoed throughout. Sparks flashed as men slammed their crude tools into the rock walls.
Joseph, his face smeared with dirt and sweat, was giving instructions to the others.
Ashton approached. "How is work going, Joseph?"
Joseph turned, wiping his forehead. "Ah! Ashton, sir. We're doing well. In fact, we've already filled one tank with ore."
"One tank already?" Ashton raised an eyebrow.
"That's faster than I expected."
Joseph grinned proudly, though exhaustion showed on his face. "The men are motivated. Since you showed us how to strengthen our bodies with Ether breathing, the work is easier."
Ashton chuckled lightly. "Good. In that case, here." He reached into the small sack slung over his shoulder and pulled out three crude but sturdy pickaxes.
The iron heads glimmered faintly with Ether lines etched across their surfaces.
Joseph's jaw dropped. "These… you forged these?"
"Yes. With a strengthening spell, they'll last much longer than stone hammers." Ashton handed one to him.
"Use them wisely."
Joseph bowed his head. "Thank you, Ashton. Truly. You've given us tools, food, and hope."
Ashton smiled faintly. "Hope is only the beginning. Keep working — and prepare yourselves. The time will come when these tools will become weapons."
With that, he turned and stepped back into the sunlight, his thoughts already drifting elsewhere.
Far away, in the northern lands where mountains pierced the clouds, stood a grand marble hall. The chamber was vast, its ceilings lost in shadow, lit only by torches burning with divine fire.
Ten majestic chairs lined the circular chamber, each occupied by a figure radiating divine authority. The air itself was heavy with their presence.
The goddess of death, Hela, leaned back in her chair, her cold eyes narrowed.
"Something stirs in the south," she said, her voice like a blade scraping stone. "The humans we rule are… changing. They act strangely.
Less fearful. More daring."
Across from her, Athena folded her arms, her golden armor gleaming faintly. "Indeed. Reports claim that villages once docile now resist. They no longer bow as easily. Someone is guiding them."
The hall erupted with chatter. Some gods laughed dismissively, others frowned.
Finally, Hela's gaze swept toward the man who had been silent the entire time. The king of the gods himself — Zeus.
"Well?" she said coldly. "What do you think about this , Zeus? Do you still believe these humans are harmless?"
Zeus sat back in his massive chair, lightning flickering faintly in his beard. His eyes, deep and piercing, scanned the room before finally settling on Hela.
"No," he said, his voice echoing across the hall. "Not harmless. Not anymore."
Silence fell.
"We must investigate," Zeus continued. "If a human rises who dares to challenge the will of the gods… we will crush him before he becomes a threat."
Hela smiled thinly. "Then I will send men to confirm it."
The council murmured in agreement. The decision was made.
Back in the village, evening had fallen. The fires burned brightly, and the villagers gathered together for their meal.
Laughter, faint but genuine, rippled through the crowd. Children smiled with mouths full of roasted potatoes.
Ashton sat among them, silently eating, crimson eyes flicking across the firelight. For a moment, just a moment, he allowed himself to relax.
Then, without warning, his eyes sharpened, glowing faintly red.
He froze, the food halfway to his lips. A faint tremor ran through his chest, the Mana Heart resonating with something far away.
"So," he murmured softly. "They've noticed."
The villagers nearby glanced at him in confusion, but Ashton quickly hid his expression, smiling faintly again.
He set his food down and stared into the fire, his crimson eyes reflecting the flames.
"They're planning something," he whispered under his breath, too quiet for the others to hear. "The gods are watching. But this time…"
His hand clenched into a fist, the flames flaring as if answering his will.
"This time, if they come… we will be prepared."
And for the first time, Ashton smiled not in hope, but in quiet defiance.
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