Chapter 12 – The Calm Before the Storm
The evening meal lingered in the air, the scent of roasted roots and wild herbs clinging to the quiet night.
One by one, the villagers drifted away from the fire pit, laughter softening into yawns, conversations fading into silence.
Their bodies, hardened by work yet still unaccustomed to such full days, surrendered easily to exhaustion.
Children were the first to collapse, carried into homes by mothers with weary but gentle hands.
The men followed soon after, their voices hushed, sharing final words before vanishing into their new houses.
Even the women who had stayed late to finish stitching garments could no longer fight sleep.
The town—yes, Ashton thought, it could finally be called a town—grew still.
In his own home, Ashton lay flat upon the wooden bed the villagers had made for him. The ceiling beams above him caught faint moonlight through a small slit in the wall.
His hands rested upon his chest, but his mind refused to rest.
"They already know mana breathing," he murmured, crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
"But that alone isn't enough.
The demi-humans were only the beginning. If the gods send their pawns, these people won't stand a chance…"
He thought back to the novels, manga, and games of his past life—memories he once considered useless. Techniques, ideas, fragments of strategy swirled in his mind.
A spear, he decided. Simple, but effective. "If I teach two… just two people well, they can spread the knowledge to everyone else." His lips curled in a tired but satisfied smile.
"And with the iron we've mined, we can forge a hundred spears.
That will be enough to give them fangs."
He also considered smithing. Someone had to carry that torch. He couldn't do everything forever.
"Weapons, armor… ether-forged blades.
I'll need someone I can trust to shape the future with fire and iron."
The thoughts lulled him, like waves of strategy rocking him into sleep. At last, his eyes closed, and he drifted away with a faint smile.
The next morning dawned with clear skies and the smell of dew upon grass. Ashton rose as always before the others, heart already beating to the rhythm of the Ether Heart Technique.
Pain and refinement intertwined with every breath, yet the growth was undeniable. His mana circulated smoother, denser, more controlled.
After his morning training, he went to the lake, letting the cool water embrace him.
For twenty minutes, he swam across the surface, cutting ripples through the reflection of the rising sun.
He surfaced with a long breath, droplets cascading from his silver hair, then rested upon the shore. The quiet before the day's storm always brought him peace.
By midday, he had visited the cave where Joseph and the miners worked tirelessly. Iron filled their crude containers—more than Ashton expected.
Their bodies were stronger now, not just from ether breathing, but from labor itself.
He offered Joseph new tools, enchanted pickaxes that shimmered faintly with runes. Joseph bowed deeply, gratitude heavy in his voice.
Then Ashton returned to the women. Their work with hides and cloth was progressing. Stitches grew cleaner, garments sturdier.
He corrected their mana usage, showing them how to strengthen the fabric without tearing it apart.
The women listened intently, determination on their faces.
It was afternoon when he gathered those willing to train. His eyes swept over them, searching not just for strength, but for will.
Two stood out—a boy and a girl.
Dino, a wiry young man with sharp eyes and a stubborn jaw, stepped forward without hesitation.
Siph, a quiet girl with dark hair, stood straighter than the rest, her gaze unflinching despite her small frame.
"You two," Ashton said, his voice carrying authority that silenced the crowd.
"You will learn directly from me."
Confusion rippled through the group, but no one argued.
He handed Dino and Siph each a spear. "Watch carefully. This isn't about strength. A spear is an extension of your life.
Hold it wrong, and you'll die before you strike."
The days passed swiftly. Ashton drilled them tirelessly, correcting every stance, every thrust, every guard.
At first, their bodies fumbled, their strikes unsteady. But within days, they grew sharper. Dino's natural aggression blended with discipline.
Siph's patience sharpened into precision.
By the end of two days, Ashton entrusted them with more.
He gathered them in private and spoke softly, as though revealing a secret. "This is the Ether Heart Technique.
Not everyone can withstand it.
But you two… you are my chosen. If you endure, you'll surpass human limits."
The training was brutal.
Both writhed in pain as ether carved itself into their hearts, shaping new vessels for power.
Ashton stood by, guiding, reassuring, forcing them to hold on when their bodies screamed.
At last, drenched in sweat and trembling, both succeeded. They had become something more.
"You are my direct subordinates now," Ashton declared. "Teach the others what you've learned of the spear. Spread strength, but this technique… this remains ours alone."
The village changed rapidly over the month that followed. Fields grew orderly, homes sturdier.
Workshops rang with the sound of hammer against iron as Kiran, the newly appointed blacksmith, forged under Ashton's guidance. Spears gleamed, shields took form, and armor began to line the racks.
Children carried buckets of water with discipline, women produced stronger clothing, and men drilled in formation with their spears.
No longer a helpless village, this place now pulsed with life.
When Ashton walked through its streets, people straightened, hope shining in their eyes.
He had become not just their leader, but their symbol.
Far away, in a hall of white marble and gold, ten thrones loomed.
Upon them sat gods, their presence suffocating, their voices sharp.
Hela's lips curved into a cold smile. "The humans are changing.
The ones who prayed to us are silent now.
They have found something else to cling to."
Athena's brows furrowed.
"Arrogant mortals. To stand tall without gods is folly. If they are not corrected, rebellion will spread."
Chatter erupted, divine voices colliding like storms. At last, all fell silent, gazes turning to Zeus.
The king of gods rested his chin upon his hand, his expression unreadable. After a long silence, he spoke.
"Hela. You will send your men. We will investigate this… leader of theirs."
Hela's smile widened. "As you command."
Back in the village, night had fallen. The townsfolk rested, unaware of the storm gathering.
In his office—a small wooden room lined with parchments, crude maps, and spears stacked neatly in the corner—Ashton sat in silence.
Dino stood at his side, ever vigilant.
Suddenly, Ashton's crimson eyes shimmered faintly.
His breathing slowed. He looked past the walls, past the forests, beyond the horizon itself.
A thousand kilometers away, shapes moved. Men clad in armor, banners bearing divine sigils, marching with purpose.
Ashton's voice was calm, but the edge beneath it was sharp. "They'll be here tomorrow."
Dino stiffened. "Enemies?"
Ashton's faint smile returned.
"The gods have sent their pawns.
But this time… we are ready."
His eyes burned with resolve. No fear. Only fire.
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