Chapter 16
I'm just on a roll people!
As always, thank you to my awesome editors who gave a look over for this chapter. I do apologize for the previous chapter. I had accidentally (still not sure how) uploaded the wrong file version previously. I will be fixing that in a couple of days as I'll be away from the computer for a time.
Well aside from that, enjoy the chapter!
Kintsugi Chapter 16:
Reaching Olympus was a rather…interesting process. The realm of the Gods did not exist in the mortal realm, yet it existed in the same space. It was visible in the world the same way a mirage was, unless you were able to traverse the space between the mortal world and Olympus.
Flying to the mountain was a strange trip. In many ways, it was a far shorter journey than it should have been.
The initial burst into the sky caused the winds to slam into his face. Yet, once they reached the clouds, the winds settled, becoming a small breeze between the two of them. A few moments later, the realm of Mount. Olympus.
It wasn't normal, obviously. Some sort of divine intervention was at work on this particular trip. He could feel it, wrapped around him and pushing him towards Olympus overall. Hephaestus was normally teleported and now he could see it from afar.
It settled above the mountain it called home, situated as if on an invisible rockbed. Temples of all sorts were littered across a bed of clouds, lightning churning from point to point. The clouds were a fluffy white, and the lightning trailed lazily. Fantastically enough, atop the clouds was soil and vegetation, filled with flowers of all sorts. Some of life and others of death, like nightshade.
Things were calm, if unorganized.
Yet, as he landed at the foot of the familiar meeting place, he was greeted with the same vegetation that he had seen not two days ago. The swell of Demeter's divinity was higher now, yet far more pleasant. The flowers turned to him, greeting him with a scent that was foreign even to his long memories. It was a tart scent, one that wafted into his nose and gave a pleasant trill in his chest. He could see why people enjoyed smelling flowers.
There was no one to greet him as he walked through the marble structure. He twitched a bit, feeling the divinity that made up this disgruntled dimension. With a twist, it all spun away…or did he spin away?
Hephaestus wasn't entirely certain how this worked, only that it did. His analytical brain detested that he achieved a result without understanding the process. The rooms shifted and churned until he found his place, his temple.
The forge.
It was empty, save for the large pit fire in the middle burning away just as he left it. His sour expression melted seeing the familiar form draped in a toga and shawl with a veil. He bowed.
"Lady Hestia."
She turned her head, the poker she was using to tend to the flame dispersed.
"Nephew. Welcome back. Here to stay, I hope?"
He sat beside her, down on the marble floor she was sitting on.
"For a time. I plan to forge the rest of the symbols. Is Zeus available?"
Hestia shook her head.
"Unfortunately, not. But he has heard his name, he will find you when he's ready."
He nodded, standing up. He held a hand out to Hestia. It took a moment for her to register what it was he was trying to do. A hesitance, before she quelled her questions and paranoia and took it. Helping her stand, he nodded to her.
"I'll only be a minute, but I will be adjusting this room in full now."
"Adjusting?"
He rolled his shoulders, closing his eyes. He would build them, piece by piece, in the future. Yet, for today…for today, he would embody the divine he housed in its entirety.
"Trace. On."
Hephaestus shivered a bit, feeling the weight of his words echo through this chamber. The room shuddered, Zeus having relinquished all authority in this space, transferring it to Hephaestus. His magic surged, creating a furnace, bellows, anvils. Countless tools shimmered into reality at his behest…but there was more.
His very divinity was expunged, saturating into this part of Olympus. He coughed, feeling it drain his divinity at a voracious pace, he grunted a bit more as he shouldered through it. It was a strange feeling, having his energy drained in such a manner.
While he wasn't exhausted when it ceased, it was an unwelcome distraction. He opened his eyes and stared.
"...What?" he muttered.
What had once been a smallish place had effectively turned into a large manufacturing facility. It wasn't modern in any sense. The walls were still marble, as was the floor. This mishmash of tools, devices, and various other facilities was too diverse to be efficient on an industrial scale. Yet, the marble was grey now, rather than the blinding white it had once been.
The bellows still remained, yet the tools he had conjured were all organized, the machinery he had done, the oil basins he had created, they were all seated neatly in a corner far from him, in rows of work tables. He turned to Hestia, a quizzical look.
"The state of Olympus is a reflection of those who reside in it. Your authority is represented here. It is molded to fit you."
He stared. It was nice enough looking, but he certainly didn't imagine this.
"I…see. But, I had those placed specifically–"
They all shivered, churning as it struggled to move. He focused divinity into his eyes and almost chuckled. There was a poor wind spirit, heaving at moving the heavy machinery. It must have used the transitional state of the room to move it at first, but now it was static and heavy.
"It's quite alright–"
The spirit turned to him, screamed, and jolted.
He blinked. Hestia gave a quiet chuckle.
"They're rather shy. They don't like to be looked at, Nephew."
"I…see."
Well, that worked out for him really. There was a lot he conjured, in the interest of saving time. The upper half of his toga fell away as Ifrit lifted off his shoulder. Her talons accidentally sever the cloth by the barest touch, again.
He didn't bother fixing it up, instead turning to lift and move everything. Liberal use of reinforcement and alteration to ensure nothing was twisted or damaged as he moved them. It would have been redundant for EMIYA to do all this, but it was necessary. The memory of Dionysus' weapon churned a bitter taste in his mouth. He needed to outpace his divinity, he needed to know that he could go beyond the quality that the power helped elevate him to.
"HMM!"
Another machine moved. The process took time, having everything situated in what he considered to be the most optimal placements. Lathes, milling machines, and even grinding machines.
If there was one benefit to the realm of Olympus, it was that he didn't have to worry about technologically advancing their society by a thousand years by accident. The issue of fuel and how to power these devices was also solved rather easily.
They moved as he wished. A thought and they just worked, feeding off his divinity. No, a more accurate analysis revealed that his divinity moved the machine as he intended, rather than the machine feeding off his power.
If he didn't know any better, he'd say it was technomancy or something.
"...I don't actually have technomancy, do I?"
With another machine resting on his chest, he paused, thinking on the matter. It was filed away for later experimentation and he went back to work.
Bit by bit, each machine, table, tool, and raw material was moved to its appropriate space. While it may have looked organized, the tools were a mess, situated at random across the tables. It was mindless work, which worked for him.
Hestia remained seated by the great fire in the middle of his forge. He wasn't entirely sure what it was there for, but fine. He realized that his ability to manipulate the reality around him was rather limited, as expected.
It swelled and churned, but it was rather automated in this pocket of Olympus. He scowled, trying to force his will in his divinity. It reached, connected, and did nothing.
He shrugged. He was no stranger to labour.
He lugged two basins, one over each shoulder, and moved them closer to his anvil and bellow set up. He planned to quench his creations in a variety of chemicals to check their reactions.
There was also the Smelters and Furnaces he kept at the back of this now massive space. He smiled, nodding.
"Better."
He felt the air shimmer a bit, an intruder. He turned and blinked at the rather unexpected guest.
"Oh. My apologies for my appearance, Lady Aphrodite."
He bowed, covered in a bit of grime. She felt…different. Far different from the other Gods. She moved through the room with grace, her hair a constant shift of length and color. Sometimes her skin was white, black, between, or beyond.
Her appearance settled, being a tanned-skinned woman with honey blonde hair. Her eyes shimmered in the light, the specks of gold in brown bringing a mesmerizing quality.
"Just checking what's going on. Haven't felt Olympus twist like this for a good long while."
Her words were drawled, like a finger dragging under your chin. She looked at him, but did not turn away as he stood. He brought the upper half of his toga and repaired the clothes at his shoulder.
"I'm sorry for any disturbances."
Her face was perfect, simply perfect in that casual sort of way. There was no make-up, just dimples and an angel's face wrapped by beautiful brown curls. Her eyes were a kaleidoscope now, a pinkish hue glowing behind them, shimmering quickly back into the specks of honey brown.
"No, it's alright," she muttered, looking around.
He waited a moment, waiting for her to do something. When no action was taken, he turned to the first of his many workbenches. His metallic feet clanged with a clear ring as he moved to it.
"If you would like," he asked, "I can start making your symbol."
Aphrodite blinked, turning to face his back, an unseen smile on her face. What it was filled with was unknown, but she answered with that same slow drawl.
"Don't worry about that. I don't need it."
He shrugged, uncaring of her dismissal. Less work for him. A clear chuckle echoed around the walls as he took a gemstone from within his reality marble and placed it on the bench. A project for another time, but if he was still setting up, might as well have it in the open for appearances at least.
"You're adorable," she said sweetly.
He cringed a bit. She talked to him like he was a baby…though…
"If the myths are to be believed," he thought, "she may be the oldest Olympian by far."
She was also the most mysterious…and still here. He stared at her. She smiled. He gave a flat smile in return, looking around.
"So…anything else I can help you with?"
She tilted her head, reaching closer. She pursed her lips, making a show of rubbing her jaw. Her scent was tantalizing, which was precisely why he ignored it.
"...I felt poor Zoe," she said simply.
He sighed. So there it was.
"I'll apologize for that. I didn't know she wanted–"
"Yes, you did," she chuckled.
He blinked.
"...Oh," she muttered, "no one is that dense. You ignored it, assumed otherwise, but you knew deep down."
Hephaestus hated to admit that she had something of a point, though she was a bit off. EMIYA's memories were a slew of Casanova-like behaviour. The man wasn't a horn dog by any measure, but he was no stranger to the tango of the flesh. Yet, his freshest memories of his life were isolation.
The phantom pain that surged in his neck made sure he wouldn't forget such a thing, how decades of his life were spent alone with no one to talk to.
The only reason he knew speech at all before EMIYA was due to what he could spy out his window and analyze from the Cyclops. To say Hephaestus was rusty was an understatement. Much like the other parts of his earlier life, he kept second-guessing everything he knew. Just because he had the memories didn't mean that he was an identical copy of the other.
Though sometimes he wished he was. The annoyances, the rage, the discontent, all of it weighed on him in a way that didn't affect EMIYA. He felt in every fiber of his being that Zoe was indeed interested. Hell, all the nymphs on his island were interested, or at least would not say no. Yet, the little voice in the back of his head would hammer on.
"Impossible."
"Wasn't going to happen."
"A little delusional."
He distinctly remembered feeling attraction to Demeter for a moment, embarrassing as it was. At least he agreed with the voice at that time.
With Zoe, it was the same thing. It felt like EMIYA himself was screaming in his ear.
"Another Rin," he would have muttered.
He of course ignored it. It couldn't possibly be true. He knew better now, after Kassandra. If the Greeks had a word for Tsundere, he certainly didn't know it. Besides, Zoe was not his type to begin with, a brief assertion of said type reeling through. The mere thought caused Aphrodite to shimmer. She grew a tad taller, fuller, and more developed. Especially in the front. Her face a lot like Demeter's.
He blushed horribly, sighed at the way Aphrodite smirked.
"I heard this was automatic," thought Hephaestus, staring at Aphrodite's new form, "I call bullshit."
He could almost hear the way Styx choked at the mental sound of his swearing. If Aphrodite could hear his thoughts as well, she didn't show it.
"Always so tense," she chuckled, "I was wondering who would make you erupt. Wish you wouldn't keep me in suspense like this!"
She talked like they were old friends. Giggled as if this was an old conversation they've had once before. As if she knew everything. His eyes widened as he turned to her. How much of her knowledge stemmed from the limited omniscience the gods were capable of? What if she were able to read his history like he could read a blade's?
Her eyes shone even further, a more mature glance taking place. It was as if she went from a ditzy girl to a sharp, mature woman within a breath. What had once been breathtaking was now almost overwhelming in terms of beauty and desire. Her hair grew longer, her hair less curly.
"Like I said," she drawled, "adorable."
She reached into his personal space, her head just under his chin.
"I could help you know?"
"I'm good."
She blinked at his immediate response. No matter his inner turmoil, that didn't change what he knew.
"I…believe you have a point," He admitted, "about desire. But that's not the sort of thing I'm after, nor do I think it appropriate considering the difference in my station with others."
The idea that others lusted after him for power and authority was…more nerve-wracking than he admitted. He wanted connection, craved it even. Yet, with EMIYA's memories, he was well aware how physical affection can house neither love nor admiration, merely selfishness. There was also a difference in power.
How many would shower him with affection, fearing for their lives. How many would surrender themselves, if only for fear of being smited? His authority over the nymphs of his land was also another concern, another avenue of consent.
Aphrodite senses none of these thoughts, looking at him confused as ever, watching him with his thoughts reeling through.
"At least she can't read my thoughts."
"You should just fu–"
He shut the voice of the flaming river out of his mind. He didn't need that right now.
He was ready for anything. A sneer, a distasteful reprimand. Yet, all he received was a small smile. She retreated a tad, resting her arms beneath an impressive bust.
"I understand."
At that moment, he knew she did. She was a free spirit, open and welcoming in her affections as vast as they spread. Yet, she was true to it as well.
"I mean no disrespect," He stated, "truly."
"I know," She said.
She waved goodbye, turning and walking away. He knew for a fact the way her ass swayed was entirely purposeful and for once, did not look away. He knew she was smirking either way.
"...Weird," he muttered.
He turned, eyeing Hestia, who just stared at him.
"...do you just sit and watch?" He muttered.
"...most don't realize I'm here."
"That does not help you," He muttered.
She actually looked away, blushing a bit.
"You're always welcome here," said Hephaestus.
What he didn't say was that there was no chance he was having any sort of relationship conducted in Olympus…or Greece if possible.
"They all like to stick their noses where it doesn't belong,"he thought.
Now was the time to finish things up. He began to materialize different metals and crystals from his reality marble. He only got so far before one of the wind spirits started giving him loads of materials. It took him but a moment to realize that these must have been Skilros' before he got…ejected.
He thought of the Goddess of Love as he fiddled for a moment, mindlessly playing with a gemstone in his hand. Much like Artemis, she had more depth than he ever anticipated. Artemis was always a bit of an airhead back in Chaldea, yet here she was sharp and ferocious. Wild as the nature she embodied, stern like a mother to her children.
"I need to make sure my assumptions don't direct me elsewhere," he thought, "lest I be put unawares."
Aphrodite wouldn't be his last visitor today, but he arrived only a bit later, while he was in the middle of ensuring a few machines worked properly. He was in front of the smelter, taking time to create a new batch of Celestial Steel. This time, it was made from raw natural ingots, rather than the ones he formed within his reality marble and traced into existence. The sweltering heat waved across the room, but did little to hide the echo of footsteps that occurred behind him.
Kneeling at the front of the oven, he adjusted a few more ratios and allowed it to continue its process. The mechanical structure needed no electricity to feed out the ingots he needed. So he turned, believing this electrical energy to be Zeus.
Instead, he stood eye to eye with another. Crimson eyes that screamed of war and bloodshed, madness and battle.
"...Lord Ares," nodded Hephaestus.
He wore no helm, revealing a rather boyish face. Beautiful and youthful, not at all what one would expect of a God of War. They stood roughly equal to each other, only Ares being slightly shorter at 6'3.
His short black hair curled around his head, dangling across his eyes.
"Finally here, hm?"
His voice rasped, as if scarred from heat or battle, possibly both.
"That I am."
They stared at each other, silent. Hephaestus studied every detail, staring at the most foreign concept that neither he nor EMIYA ever knew.
A brother.
His brother.
He still couldn't wrap his mind around it, but he could see bits and pieces of Hera in the way Ares stood, though he looked nothing like Hera and almost everything like a shaggy-haired Zeus. The way the curls fell around his eyes, shadowing his crimson eyes, led to a far more sinister gaze than the relaxed expression would indicate. The paleness of his skin was almost alabaster, making the sight of his red eyes all the more demonic.
His brother…the God of War.
Hmm.
Ares tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. A fist, faster than anything Atlas could throw, landed firmly in Hephaestus' hand. The room rattled from the impact, his arm trembling slightly at the exertion, but not moving.
Ares gave a bloody grin, his eyes narrowing into glowing slits. He gave a knee to his leg, his face twisting into a grimace as it collided with metal. Hephaestus grabbed him by the collar of his armor and heaved him across the room.
Ares landed with the grace of a cat, smiling away as he stared at Hephaestus, especially at the way Hephaestus gripped his side, bloody as his hand covered the gash. Ares smiled even wider at the way the wound healed in a burst of flame.
The smile almost seemed to spread further, if that was possible, at the defiant expression he held.
"Explain yourself or leave."
Blades of countless make saturated the room, his golden eyes narrowing.
"I don't care which."
Instead, he got a laugh, a joyous laugh filled with pride and bloodlust.
"I heard you threw Dionysus down, wanted to see for myself if that was true. He may be small, but that crazy wine maker isn't a pushover." Ares snorted, "Mostly."
He rolled his neck, the muscles popping with a thunderous crack.
"You made me worried, brother. Thought you lacked a spine."
His bloodlust fell, a casual air again, as if he didn't try to knock his head off.
"Happy to be corrected. So, ready for my symbol?"
He stared at his brother blankly.
"...You're serious?"
He only got a smirk with a raised brow.
"Fine," Muttered Hephaestus.
"That's the spirit," He snarked, "besides, whatever you're cooking in that…"
Ares stared at the furnace and smelter, narrowing his eyes. He could feel the monstrous heat even from here.
"What is that?"
"A smelter," said Hephaestus, "it refines raw metals into usable form."
"Whatever you have in there is powerful. Is that the metal you made Demeter's tools with?"
He nodded, getting a dangerous gleam in return.
"Good."
"I take it, you know what you want?"
The lord of blood and war merely conjured a weapon. It was a large two-handed Xiphos. It was boring in many ways and definitely not the most efficient weapon he knew of.
"You're certain?"
Ares tossed the conjured blade to him, Hephaestus noting it was heavier than expected.
"I tend to resort to my hands for the most part. A solid sword is all I need for the most part. Though that crazy owl will probably want some specific monstrosity."
The mention of Athena made Hephaestus rather uncomfortable. He still doesn't know much about the clinical Goddess.
"Fine. Give me a few hours and yours will be done."
Ares turned to leave. In some ways, Hephaestus was relieved, yet also felt the conversation was too short. The air suddenly became moody as Ares mulled over his words. His older brother stared at him, gauging him.
"...I."
The words struggled to form for the god. He sighed, staring at Hephaestus more.
"I'm…happy you're here. I guess."
The man gruffly walked away, making Hephaestus stare at the archway. The Gods seemed to prefer walking in Olympus, for whatever reason he didn't rightly understand.
"Hmm."
Much as he found the punch annoying…there was a sense of connection between them, fledgling as it was. He was…happy. Time would tell if it was mostly his imagination. Instead of mulling over the complexities of his emotions and whether it was healthy, he got to work.
The ingots that were formed from the by-product of the smelter were refined. Divine metals were strangely quick to form and condense when needed. Yet, once cooled, it was nigh impossible to reheat.
It was little wonder that the cyclops, for all their prodigious gifts, couldn't figure out the secret to Celestial Steel. It had little to do with knowledge and more ability. The moment it set foot out of the heat, the metal would cool and already be too strong to work with for normal smiths.
Only Hephaestus was physically strong enough to hammer the metal and burn a flame hot enough to temper the metal again and again.
Hephaestus reached into the smelter, grabbing the goopish material that had yet to settle. Alteration to the raw material accomplished two things. The first was allowing them to grip the damn thing and move it. The second was to feed the Celestial Steel the divinity it needed to form. This is what made it unique to Hephaestus, as the nature of his divinity ensured the metal was free of any singular quality.
He brought it to an anvil, but not before directing the wind spirits to fill a basin. Skilros was a collector, and for all his gripes, the thief was at heart an artisan. The cyclops had a store of oils. The two basins were filled, though the spirits knew not what they were composed of.
He wasn't a fan, but he had learned to spread his divinity and, by extension, his structural analysis spell.
The entire process was watched, with Hestia sitting at the archway, out of Hephaestus' way. Yet even Hestia was uncomfortable. Not because of the heat, but because of the Olympian that stood leaning against the archway.
Hestia looked up from her seated position, staring at Athena. She pursed her lips, eyeing the voracious look she held, as if she was devouring everything she was seeing. Perhaps, in a way, she was. Athena was a Goddess of Knowledge, possibly the only Goddess of Knowledge known to the Olympians. There were others that specialized, that was true, but none that were overtly pure knowledge like Athena. Apollo supposedly was, but his carefree nature didn't belie that sort of domain. Athena was like a rabid dog, chewing at every piece of knowledge she could get.
That or Hestia simply didn't know of them, hermit that she was. Athena's owlish expression turned to her, the steel grey eyes boring into her aunt with abandon.
"Aunt," She said simply.
She then turned to continue watching.
Hestia sighed. The poor boy.
He was dead.
Hestia still watched. Nothing much to do in her case. He lifted his hammer, the force smashing into the metal shook the room. The sound echoed and reverberated like a clanging bell. It was a static rhythm, his face cooled into a spaced out expression…no…not spaced out.
He was absorbed entirely into the task. Then his voice echoed, layered with divinity. The song was sung with a gruff voice. It wasn't for ears to hear, for it wasn't a song for men or gods, but steel.
She had noticed earlier that Hephaestus had mixed some kind of mixture in a bowl hours before. The spirits brought it to him, and he had them put it to the side on a table closer to his right.
His song didn't end, but the blade remained cherry red, surrounded by his power. He held the bowl, dipping a brush into the mixture. He caked the edges, leaving the middle in the open. She narrowed her eyes, watching him go to the first bath, quenching the metal within.
As he removed the blade, the center was now cooled, a shimmering pearlish white. However, the outer edges remained caked in the strange mixture. He placed the metal back into the furnace, splashing the coals beneath it with a red mixture.
She recognized it as blood. Where he got it, she could only assume it was supplied by the spirits once more. She knew of Skilros before, how he collected strange regents. It bubbled, shifting something within the metal.
He withdrew the metal, now cherry red once again. He lifted his arm, slamming the hammer again, shattering the caked edges. The sparks flew, the spittle of the mixture with them. The shape of the sword became even more apparent, but he stopped after a few more blows. She could feel the way his magic intertwined with the metal, strengthening it beyond what she thought was possible.
She had heard the way Demeter had bragged about her tools. The apologies were abundant to Hestia after she had made good with her daughter, but the bragging was still intertwined. Celestial Steel as it was called. It was not the equal of Adamantite, but it was still superior to their older arms.
After all, no one had managed to work with Adamantite yet. It was impossible.
She blinked, wondering why Hephaestus randomly sneezed in the middle of his forging and singing. A plume of fire exited his mouth at the sudden exertion, making him blink. His lack of focus wasn't enough for him to notice the two pairs of eyes watching him.
Hours passed this way. He quenched again and again, tempering the blade over and over. She almost turned her attention elsewhere when he decided to finally use a different tool. It thrummed with power, primordial power.
Hestia felt her eyes almost bug out at the sight of Pontus' energy. It was a spike of some sort, sheared in the pressure of the oceans. Unlike what it may have seemed, the energy of the chisel was a searing red, rather than the typical blue as one might think. He placed the tip at the center of the blade, inscribing runes.
It was a rather shaky process, Hephaestus using ancient Greek sigils not unlike Hecate to achieve whatever his goal was. The large smile on his face as he quenched the blade for the last time signified that he succeeded. He was covered in sweat, his breath leaking fire as he smiled.
"This exertion," he thought, "this is what I was after."
A hard day at work. It was like it expunged all of his stress in a single go…well, sort of. It still lingered in the back, but the total absorption into his work was a nice relief from the roiling thoughts, a way to quiet the rampant thinking. He smiled down at the blade, smiling at the now steel-grey hue. The handle was wood, worked and covered with the leather of some creature Skilros had killed a time ago.
Inscribed in the middle was a series of enchantments. Rather than build the sword to fit the divinity, Hephaestus decided to experiment. He created a weapon that would adjust in response to the divinity it absorbed from the recipient. How this would play out, he didn't know, making it all the more exciting.
This was his greatest work yet and he had far from implemented all the tools and knowledge at his disposal. To be fair, he was not expecting Ares, so he wasn't able to set up everything, but it was good overall.
He placed the large two-handed blade in the shop, resting on one of the workbenches. His shoulders clenched as he stretched his muscles, getting the soreness out of them. He felt good, human even.
"You've imbued the metal into a phasic state," the voice whispered in thought.
He jumped, turning to face Athena. Her eyes were alive, twinkling as she worked out his process.
"Yes," He muttered, "in a way. It is currently in flux, the runes stopping the completion of the process. Once Ares stores his divinity within, the blade will truly be his."
Not to mention take on the properties of Ares' divinity. Normally, he'd direct the process. Creating the symbols of the Gods proved both simple and aggravating.
On the one hand, they were merely focuses, symbols that were able to process more of their might into the physical world without the laws restricting them. As such, additional abilities or specific attributes were completely unnecessary.
Yet, it was also aggravating as that meant anything like a noble phantasm was just redundant.
She blinked, turning to him. The way her now blonde hair framed her face made her eyes draw him in deeper, even as he tilted his head slightly to look into them.
"You're certain that will work?"
He just smirked, the snark starting to bubble up.
"No," He chuckled.
He had a process that worked. Now was the time to experiment. If it didn't work, he'd just quote Ares' impromptu attack and recreate it.
She blinked, staring at him, her head twisting sideways like the owl that rested on her shoulder, literally. The bird tilted its head just like its master.
He blinked at it. It blinked at him. He raised a brow, it copied the movement.
"You're different," she stated.
"Am I?"
"Less burdened. Your revenge is complete."
She paused, seeing something in his microexpressions.
"No, advanced but not complete."
She stood, taller than him. He had noticed it, but it was more apparent now just how Amazonian the Goddess of War truly was, standing at an impressive 6 '8. Her hair danced and filled her face around her and while she retained a feminine shape, only a fool would look at her and assume weakness of any sort. She was chiseled, muscles tight and ready for any sort of conflict.
She stood, her toga short around her knees. She smiled, turning to him.
"You're still hunting."
"Yes," said Hephaestus, "but I assume Artemis told you that."
"Ah, so you're aware. Good, this makes the conversation easier."
She turned to him.
"You have questions."
The statement rang in the silence between them.
"Yes. Why is it you wish to speak to me?"
She blinked, as if she didn't understand why he'd ask that.
"What do you mean?"
"I am a new god to the Olympians, just as you are. Yet, I can't see why you'd want to discuss anything with me. You're not the personable sort."
"Think," she stated.
He wondered what she was one about.
"No," He muttered, "I'd rather be told straight."
The smile that was on her face was hollow. It was filled with the absence of any emotion, like a habit that was given to her, rather than an emotion she had for herself.
"I wish to study you."
He blinked.
The owl sighed, actually sighed. It looked at him with something akin to pity. Why the hell was her owl so emotive?
"I'm good," He said.
She frowned, the first hint of genuine emotion.
"Why? I only wish to analyze how a deviant like you is able to survive."
He stared at her blankly. The owl on her shoulder pecked her. She turned to it, listening to something. She blinked.
"Ah, I meant deviant as literal, not insultive. You shouldn't exist."
"Apparently," He muttered.
"I mean that entirely. How you are composed has no precedence whatsoever."
"I gathered."
"I don't believe you do," she stated robotically, "your composition of both divine and mortal traits exhibits a combination of factors that should not be able to work in conjunction."
She gestured.
"Hence, deviant."
"Your point," He sighed.
"I'm interested in the way that your existence is a mixture of divine and mortal fragments. Perhaps it is the secret to creating Demi-Gods without a human parent."
He stilled, turning to her.
"There are demi-gods?"
She shook her head.
"Just a term that I have created. Theoretically, the combination of divine and mortal elements through procreation has always been possible."
She paced around him, eyeing his forge. The tone she held was so flat and direct, Hephaestus was left wondering if she was even conscious of her words.
"The malleable nature of humans makes it possible for them to house seeds of divinity, growing them into their own ability. I offered such a hypothesis to my father, he thought my thinking quite adorable."
"I bet," thought Hephaestus.
Athena continued, her face blank as she kept speaking.
"Yet, you are without a father, born only from your mother."
"...a literal deviant," He muttered.
By her logic, he went against the very basics of nature as they understood it.
"Your existence details the truth, that God and Mortal can mix in ways outside the standard parameters."
This world was different enough, so he had to ask.
"Standard? How certain are you without proof of concept?" He muttered.
She just drilled her cold eyes into him.
"Why do you think I told my father?"
He blinked, then he chuckled. It exploded into full laughter, spilling out without end.
"...I do not know why you are laughing," She muttered, "I don't like it."
"I'm not laughing at you," Smiled Hephaestus, "just laughing with you. You were funny, Athena."
"I don't see how my words could carry such comedic effect. Please refrain from adding your interpretation to my language."
He quelled himself, still mentally laughing alongside the other rivers. Apparently, Zeus' reputation was well known even in the underworld.
"Please, remain on point," She stated, "I wish to study the phenomenon that is your bodily construct."
She walked around him, analyzing every piece of data she could scrounge.
"Your physical shell handles divinity completely, without any expected degradation."
He stilled, losing sight of Athena as she paced outside his view. He spun around, eyeing the way she fiddled with something on his workbench.
"What?"
She tilted her head again, the owl looking like it would rather be anywhere else. She looked quizzical, as if she couldn't comprehend how he didn't know what she was talking about.
"Mortals cannot process divinity; as such, they are effectively immune in normal concentrations of the energy we naturally excrete."
A shard of her divinity washed over Hephaestus' arm, making him shake it off. She got what she wanted apparently, staring at something in front of her in the distance.
"Demi-gods however can, in theory. This would postulate they can interact with divinity in some way."
She shooed away whatever she was staring at, turning to him.
"This interaction I believe comes from two sources. Themselves and their divine parents. The natural energies a Demi-God creates have no negative bearings. Yet, their parents' energies could overload their biological systems. In the best case, a slow degradation."
"The worst?" He muttered.
"Most likely," she corrected, "they detonate, just as a nymph would."
Oh.
"How long would this process take?" his curiosity got the better of him.
"Months of constant exposure. It would linger in the body for quite some time before naturally being broken down."
"How long would it take for them to break down this divinity?"
Athena smiled, enjoying the engagement it would seem. That or she was faking it again.
"Similar time frames. I hypothesize that the more exposure they have, the less divinity they can resist. Eventually, it would cascade into a slow decline."
He narrowed his eyes. He didn't really think she was entirely accurate. She'd been around for only a short time, yet seemed to have blitzed knowledge into her brain. Then again, she seemed entirely focused on him again now.
Her narrowed focus and constant prodding made him lose what little smile he had.
"I'm not being dissected."
She blinked.
"Dissection…you mean to say that I would physically dismantle you?"
"Yes."
"I have no need to bring harm to you. The myriad of ways that you would twist that against me makes such an action illogical."
"A…fair point," muttered Hephaestus.
Before he could stop her, she placed a hand on his arm. He shivered, feeling the way her divinity poked at him. It was uncomfortable, but not painful in any way. Like someone dragging their fingers on your back.
"That is the extent of what I would do to you. I merely wish to learn how Hera managed to do this."
He looked around, feeling the way she distorted the word. He didn't have to worry about their conversation getting out at least. He pieced the words together, coming to a conclusion.
"You wish for your own children?" he ventured.
She shrugged.
"I have little interest in the matters of the flesh. The mind is more my sphere. With that said, I'd rather know how to do it and not need it than not have it if I do need it."
The pragmatism echoed in Hephaestus, for he felt similar to Athena. The idea of kids danced, the fantasy of it filling his head for a moment. In truth, he would rather like to know if he could have kids before he was certain if the desire was genuine.
"Fair enough."
He didn't want her to study him, if he was honest with himself. Yet, there existed the possibility of a future that EMIYA had never considered. Children, a family of his own. It was worth that, at the very least.
"Fine," he muttered.
"Excellent."
"But you are to share what you learn."
"Of course,' said Athena.
She started immediately, placing a hand on his chest. If before it was like a hand scratching your back, now it is like a shower of freezing water washing over him. He didn't cringe, though he could swear he felt her "fingers" diving into the crevice across his core.
It was a strange feeling, more a mental confirmation than an actual physical sensation. He felt something being drawn from him, turning to see her lifting blood from a small incision that she had made.
True to her word, he didn't feel any pain. He paid close attention to her, making sure she took none of it for her own. Instead, she created a blade. His blood floated in the air, suspended in her divinity. It was complex, whatever she was doing, her divinity restless in the way that it probed and prodded his blood.
She took the blade, cutting her own hand. For the first time, he saw golden blood. It was literally liquid gold, a small ball of it floating beside his own crimson orb. It was moment before she tried anything.
With a gesture, one of the invisible wind spirits gave her a…
"Is that a stick?" he asked.
She ignored him. She placed the tip of the stick into her own blood. The wood splintered a bit, shuddering at the life force within it. It grew and expanded before dispersing into white ash, unable to contain it.
A second stick was given to her. She put the tip to the edge of his blood. It burst into flames at the sheer heat and contact.
"Interesting," she muttered.
The cold feeling disappeared.
"I'm done for today," she stated, "I have a number of points to focus this data with."
A shimmer, and a new Athena formed only to disappear. Hephaestus nodded, making sure to remember he would check in soon about her progress.
The Athena that remained did not move.
"I take it you would like your symbol?"
"That is correct."
"Very well. Do you have a preferred shape?"
"I do. A spear. I have arrangements that require such a weapon in hand, preferably one that I can control as needed."
Hephaestus mouthed an arrangement, wondering what it was she was doing. In the end, his curiosity was quelled, deciding not to worry about it. Thankfully, the smelter had been left running, enough shards of the Celestial Steel to be made into a spearhead. The wood was rather easy, considering his own little stockpile…though that would be the last of it. He grimaced slightly. He'd have to make time to bring material into his reality marble to transmute when he can. As convenient as it was to have enough divine wood to craft the symbols, it took years for it to properly 'ferment' inside his world.
The blank wood, free of any outside divinity, formed within his hand.
"An interesting application. Wood that was formed with your power alone? Weaving of this level is rather uncommon, no?"
He blinked, turning to face Athena, his confusion plain. He looked to the owl on her shoulder, the little bastard staring at him.
"She's here to stay. Deal with it," it seemed to say, its exhausted blank look drilling into him. Ifrit cooed from the rafters above him, making the owl blink. It stared at the azure phoenix plucking at her plumage. It fluttered off Athena's shoulder, joining Ifrit.
Athena blinked, staring at the bird of legend.
"A phoenix, quite a find. They supposedly combust if approached by Gods, is that true?"
"For the most part," said Hephaestus, "I was rather surprised by that myself. She just doesn't like to be touched."
"Understood."
At first, he thought the owl was distressing Ifrit. Yet, what he felt between the familiar bond was far different from what he expected. The poor bird was dumping its stress on Ifrit. He disconnected from her for a moment, not willing to indulge in the idea that Athena's owl familiar somehow had more human emotions than the Goddess before him.
That and it was apparently stressed out.
"You're not leaving, are you?" asked Hephaestus.
"No."
"Fair enough. It will get hot."
"I am aware."
She shouldered through the torrent of heat that suddenly expelled from Hephaestus' form, his muscles relaxing minutely from the way he contained his power instinctively.
"It would appear that you are different in composition," muttered Athena, her own power forming a shroud against the heat. She admired the way he chose a different hammer, the shape narrower for the blade that was being made.
"How so?" muttered Hephaestus.
She followed him as he began collecting materials and other tools for the spear.
"Your body can contain the divinity you expel."
"Oh?"
"It is not free form. You do not have to worry about exposing your children to divinity."
"It's that much of a concern?"
"No, merely an observation. Whatever points of difference I can analyze will only help my study of you."
A fair point. It wasn't long before he had all the tools he needed at his disposal and reached inside the smelter. It was a smaller blob of the divine metal, but there wasn't as much metal needed in this instance.
"So," stated Athena, "to what would you propose be the focus for your first lesson with cloth?"
"Preferably fireproofing them," he muttered, annoyed at the way he had to constantly repair the current toga he was wearing.
"An achievable goal. Yet, what of your future ones, those without standard concerns?"
Before he got started, he turned to her, a smirk on his face.
"Will we be talking the entire time I'm forging your symbol?"
He blinked at the utter seriousness of her expression.
"Of course."
"Yet, if I fail and need to focus to finish it?" he stressed.
"Then you will do so again, until you are able to do so. Failure in this case only extends my time with you. A win-win either way."
There was no romantic connotation there, though the wording was certainly rife with it. Hephaestus shrugged as he began to heat the metal further, smirk still in place.
"Didn't know I was so sought after," he joked a bit.
"Of course you are," she said, "you have a brain."
"Apollo is smart," stated Hephaestus, "do you not share a domain."
"Perhaps his alternative self does, but not his current one."
"Wait, what?"
She started to delve into the details of others as they worked. The hours it took to properly forge her spear were filled with enlightening conversation. One minute she was discussing the merits of mineral oil versus acidic liquids for quenching steel and the next, they were discussing philosophy.
Then Politics.
Then Infrastructure.
Then Craftsmanship.
Even War.
All of it and more, the conversations were endless. It itched the analytical part of Hepahestus' mind like no other, his bulk of history and insights doing the same for Athena. Yet, even for him, things must end and her spear was ready. It was a no-nonsense weapon, seemingly indistinguishable from a standard spear. Yet, as she held her symbol in her hands, it shimmered, glowing with countless runes that he wrote in, to allow Athena a variety of different ways to vent her divinity through it. Hers was arguably the most complex of the symbols, but no less powerful.
"Thank you," she whispered, "for both the weapon and the conversations."
"Anytime," Hephaestus said.
He found he meant it too. She was an emotionless robot sure, but she was smart and straightforward. More importantly, she challenged him. Made him think in ways he didn't need to nowadays.
"I wish to see your island one day," she said, "though after my own matters as it were."
"I'll make sure to send an invite, along with the rules of conduct for the visit."
"I would expect nothing less," she stated clearly.
The sky rumbled as thunder echoed in the world.
"Zeus has returned," muttered Hephaestus.
"Yes. He's back far sooner than I anticipated. He must have finished rather quickly."
Hephaestus had to close his eyes to keep his face level. He almost started laughing when Phylegetheon joined, her rancorous howling almost inciting a small chuckle. Even Acheron and the others were snickering a bit.
He didn't blame them, lack of social interactions and all.
"What's your excuse then?" snarked Styx.
"I'm in the same point, or did you forget?"
"...right."
He stalled a bit, his mouth turning downwards just like the mood within him.
"Styx?"
She didn't respond, as such Athena's voice filled his head.
"Come along, Hephaestus. Bring the other project for Lady Hera."
Ah, that.
The glowing orb he held in his other hand was a gift to Hera. He'd heard tales of Hera's own ability to weave, as such he kept her symbol as a core, one that she could surround with any shape or item she desired and achieve the same result. The intersected lines glowed a searing white against the backdrop of the gold encasing the steel within. It was every bit the focus, every bit as efficient, and every bit as powerful as the others. Yet, there was no denying the lack of ingenuity in its design. Flat and uncaring. A spiteful part of Hephaestus shuddered in delight at the slight, yet he was mostly numb to it.
He couldn't bring himself to form the steel ball into anything worthwhile or impressive. Athena thankfully dredged up the tact to not say anything, though the squint in her eyes when he made it seemed to scream the words she wanted to say.
Yet, it was done. He couldn't teleport the same way the other Gods could; the whole inability to disperse into energy was an impossibility for him, as Athena adamantly told him. Twice.
This was a rather calm walk, nice even. The walls of Olympus shifted and churned in their instability.
"I detest this," said Athena.
He looked around, nodding with her.
"I agree."
"I plan to design Olympus overall with input from the others, making it a cohesive whole."
"Oh?"
Athena nodded.
"The project has interested me for quite some time. Anything you wish to add?"
He smiled, shaking his head.
"The outer layer of my forge can be whatever you wish it," he stated.
She eyed the black toga on his torso, ideas of her own dancing in her storm grey eyes. Like rolling clouds, it shimmered and rolled just as turbulently.
If one looked long enough, they could find the slivers of blue, like lightning, dancing in the sea of grey. The corridor they walked through ended, bringing them into the throne room. The vegetation had died out, replaced white bright white clouds shivering with lightning above them once more. Zeus was seated at his throne, Hera beside him, laughing away with a serving Nymph.
"Is that right?" he smiled.
His dark skin clashed with his bright eyes, lighting up his expressions even more. The sound of Hephaestus' steps echoed in the throne room, no matter how lightly he walked. Like night and day, Zeus smiled while his wife frowned.
"Nephew!" he called, "Daughter! It is good to see you both. Welcome welcome, come. I've heard you were looking for me."
Zeus smiled even further at his daughter's symbol of power, the spear radiating strength.
"I see you're almost done," said Zeus.
Hephaestus knelt in front of Hera, his eyes dulling as he stared at the ground.
"For you, Queen."
Before she could utter a word, he already began explaining.
"The core remains to fit any sort of design you wish to incorporate into the sphere. It can adjust in size if need be for whatever you desire."
Hera sighed, collecting the orb.
"How thoughtful," she said hollowly.
He backed away, turning to Zeus. He was entirely uncaring of the plight in front of him, smiling away.
"So, what is it?"
"I've come to make a request, if you are able to grant it."
Hera bristled, almost ready to say something. Zeus just leaned forward.
"Oh? Let me hear it."
"I seek an audience with Hecate."
Athena blinked and Hera's face was cooled into an impassive expression. The room went quiet, his utterance of her name unmolested. Zeus blinked, his expression becoming strained.
"Oh," he muttered.
"I seek an audience with one of her students," he explained, "but I wish to extend courtesies properly."
"Unlike someone," he thought.
Zeus mulled over the request. His core was still visible even now. It roiled with discontent. He obviously didn't want to do it.
"I can request it…but Nephew, I'll be honest, she will likely reject a meeting."
Hephaestus smiled.
"Just tell her I can fix what I sent her."
Zeus blinked, leaning forward.
"Did you…Did you give her a dysfunctional symbol just for this reason?"
Rather than answer, he decided for Zeus to come to his own conclusions. So, he smirked. Zeus chuckled.
"Clever Nephew clever!"
Zeus sighed, a grimace forming down.
"Fine, fine," he muttered, "...Hecate."
A second later and Zeus' eyes were glowing slightly, his own consciousness dispersed. His eyes shifted slightly, before turning to him.
"She says to come to the island in 4 months, she'll be free then."
To a God, 4 months was a rather short time. Besides, he needed the break.
"Very well," said Hephaestus after a pause.
Zeus smiled.
"Fantastic…don't make me do that again."
At his confused look, Zeus smiled, rolling his eyes.
"You're an Olympian!" he declared, "you can arrange your own meetings!"
"Just as long as you don't disagree with it?"
"You get it," chuckled Zeus.
Hephaestus bowed.
"I understand. By your leave, my lord."
Zeus waved him off, turning to Hera to have a silent conversation, their lips moving with no sound. Athena turned to him, nodding. As they separated, Hephaestus turned, looking through each corridor.
"...Where the hell is Apollo?" he thought.
An urge filtered in his chest…one he actually heeded. He didn't want to go to Apollo. He wanted to go home. He walked out of the throne room, Ifrit screeching behind him. She grew in size, her Azure flames wrapping around him. They rocketed beyond the horizon, screaming through the air. Hephaestus emerged on the back of Ifrit, her wings wide and free. His heart was heavy, but for the moment, the rush of the wind hitting his face hit something sweet.
As if responding to his desires, Ifrit soars past the clouds, the sudden sun bathing him in its warmth.
His arms wide open, he let himself enjoy the feeling of the wind, Ifrit steadily getting faster and faster.
When he opened his eyes, all he saw was the horizon in the vast distance. He smiled, seeing Lemnos directly below him, far as it was. He could feel his island, his home. Ifrit dive bombed, wrapping her wings around them as they spun down as a pillar of flame.
He landed rather softly, all things considered, deposited back at his home. She rested on a familiar tree, ruffling her feathers after the flight. Her tail had grown larger, peacock-like feathers having sprouted. He could feel her changing, growing as he did.
The sound of hooves thundered through the forest in front of him.
"Heph!"
He sighed, turning to Kassandra.
"Yes?"
"We got a problem!"
"...of course we do," he snarked.
He rolled his shoulders.
"What is it?"
"A lava giant!"
He blinked.
"Seriously?"
Was it too much to ask to have a seat for a minute? He sighed, hopping on Kassandra's back as she gestured to him.
"Shit," he thought.
Another day at home, it would seem.