The tale of Yama's kingship is one of the oldest and most well-preserved legends of Helheim. The tale of a white-as-snow Deva, walking into the pure anarchy of Helheim, alone and unafraid. On his back was his banner. In his soul, a burning desire that no one could understand.
During the first days of his campaign, Yama made his way into the sibling land of his people, the home of the vile and evil: Naraka. It was said that Yama stood outside the tower-sized doors of that fortified land, banging ceaselessly on its doors so loudly that everyone in that ten-thousand-square-kilometer area could hear him. Everyone who did got fed up with it and formed a monstrous mob of creatures from countless nightmares, ready to put down the source of their irritation.
When the gates were opened, they gawked, mocked, and laughed at the sight of one pallid Deva staring them down. When the gates were closed, every one of them was beaten, bruised, and humiliated. More flooded the streets, amassing into an army bearing down on him. None stood a chance against him.
Those who fought him had only a few things they all agreed on.
He couldn't be hurt. The golden armor imbued in his skin made him unbreakable.
He couldn't fall. His iron will refused the notion of hesitation.
It was as if the sun shone from his back as golden rays sprouted and pummeled everything in sight.
His golden Banner cleaved, smashed, and tore through everything in its myriad forms.
No one could defeat him.
Yet, despite the violence, despite the decimation that followed in his wake from the gates to the fortress' center, not one life was taken. Any who stepped into his path, denying him what he needed, was moved but never killed. The few too weak to face him were ignored.
At the end of that one-God army one-sided assault, Yama sat on the throne of the beaten no-name monster that was his predecessor and tore down his banners. Every being in that fortress bowed to their new pale and pallid ruler. Many feared what the first decree of this monstrous conqueror would be after his brutal one-day takeover.
"Bring me every single piece of written word you have, and I mean everything," He declared, his silver eyes staring down his newest vassals and servants.
They moved faster than they ever did before, delving deep into abandoned libraries, forbidden catacombs, and upturning everything they could to deliver the mountains of written words for him.
He absorbed it all. He let the land continue to run itself as he spent day after day reading without end. No one could remember a time he left the throne or even ate.
On the last day, he called in his vassals and servants and made two declarations.
"I have read everything here. Now, you will rewrite everything and prepare it for my return," He declared.
"Everything?" An Asura whispered.
"I'm not dumb, and you're not deaf. Do it." He rose from his throne, placing Yamāyudha on his back, which stood out against his brown and red-stained dirty robes. "Have it all ready for my return, exactly how it was all written." He walked away from the throne, cutting his way through his hesitant subjects.
"W…Where are you going?" An emaciated spirit asked.
He stopped. "How many Regions exist in Helheim?"
"…There have to be dozens. Maybe hundreds?"
"Then you won't see me for a while. Get to work." Yama started walking and began the next chapter of his campaign. "Oh. One other thing." He turned back to them. "Just because you live in Helheim does not mean you can allow this place to fall to pieces. Fix it, or I will fix you when I get back." He turned away and departed.
Jörð Arena
Yama twirled his banner between his fingers, feeling familiar weight and sturdiness. Memories of the ever-looming, starless canopy of Helheim flowed back into his mind and down his spine as a small surge of lightning.
Georgios spun the standard in his hand, the soft friction of leather and rubbing against metal bringing back his days on the battlefield and the wailing roar of a once monstrous opponent.
Their locked stare became the endpoints of an axis they walked, circling each other.
"Yama," Georgios said.
"You have time to waste talking?"
"When I have something to say." Georgios stopped spinning the banner. "You have your reasons, just like Hilde, and you now understand her 'why.' Knowing that, I can't see you as 'evil.'" He stopped walking. "But you scolded her!" A white aura slowly emanated from his body. "She doesn't need me to fight her battles, and she got you back for it…but still." He sighed.
Chills ran down Yama's spine, and he gripped both hands on Yamāyudha.
"I'm kind of a brother to her! And that part of me just can't let you slide for that."
Yama saw something form behind Georgios: A specter from bygone ages with slicked-back silver hair in a white three-piece suit, wielding a bident. Yama's gaze sharpened, and he lowered his stance.
Georgios pushed his strength into the stone floor. Modus Tres: Hastam. It cracked and broke under the strain and fired off behind him as he burst forth. He thrust the impromptu spear towards Yama's center mass. Yama braced and placed his fortified banner in front of his body, blocking the thrust. His feet lifted off the ground, and his shoulders nearly folded into his back as he flew back.
Georgios burst forward once more, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran. He skidded to a stop just below Yama. He thrust upward, blocked by Yama's banner. Yama shot upward.
Yama scowled as a pair of long golden arms shot out from behind his back and stretched towards the wall. They bit into the wall and reeled him in. He aimed and planted his feet on the vertical surface as a set of fingers flowed out of the soles of his feet, piercing and gripping the wall. He stared down, fighting a grin.
"Yama's…standing on the wall! It's like the rest of the world is off-kilter to him!" Heimdall yelled.
Georgios leaned forward. Hilde, you've been training your grip?
To wring necks. Why?
We're climbing. Get ready.
He sprinted towards the wall.
"And Georgios is running towards the wall?!" Heimdall yelled.
Georgios bared down on the wall. He jumped, slamming both feet into the wall as Brünhilde's fingers jutted out his soles and stabbed the wall. He leered up at Yama and raced towards him.
"Georgios is now sprinting up the wall! It's as if the laws of the universe are kowtowed by these two's desire to kill the other!"
*A quick study…*Yama thought as Georgios thrust at him. Yama parried the thrust to the right and swung Yamāyudha back at Georgios' neck. But you're in my world, now. Georgios ducked under the swipe, pulling his banner back. He fired a volley of blinding fast strikes at Yama, but each was parried. I fought things that would make Gods shit themselves on sight! I fought them on their turf and WON! No battlefield is unfamiliar! Yama swiped at Georgios, who parried it. Yama started walking down the wall, swinging Yamāyudha with one hand, dodging and returning blows. Georgios responded in kind, slowly stepping back and to the side. You already made the first mistake!
Georgios swung down with a crushing blow. Yama parried it out with Yamāyudha's pommel, stepped forward, and swung down. Georgios' eyes widened.
Why is he faster?! He thought, stepping to the right and spinning, twirling the banner as Yama cleaved away a section of the wall, sending out debris. He swung at Yama's neck, who ducked under it as Georgios regained his stance. Aaaaaah…Well, that's obvious. High ground and gravity. Sneaky!
Yama turned around and rushed up, releasing another flurry of slashes. Georgios blocked and parried each blow, feeling the weight behind each strike flow up his arms. Yama smirked a little.
Guess everything up to now wasn't a fluke! He thought. She picked you not just because you're an Enlightened! You're a natural, and even battle-tested! Yama swatted the banner away, and two fists fired out of his stomach, crashing into Georgios' chest. Brünhilde's head and back poked out of Georgios' back, her face grimacing. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled herself back in. But you're still out of your depth! The fists flowed back into his body. He twirled Yamāyudha as all but one leather buckle securing it to the staff came undone. The solid edge rippled out into a long piece of shining gold and red. Yamāyudha: Pasha! He whipped the fabric at Georgios, ensnaring his left arm and neck. "Lucky I can't snap your neck like this!" He yelled. "But I can do—" He twisted and pulled, uprooting Georgios. –THIS!"
He twirled Georgios up and down, using gravity to make the downward drive spin faster. He lurched to the side, pulling Georgios out of the spin, upward and overhead, face-first into the wall. Brünhilde shook out of his body, but faded back in. Yama lurched in the opposite direction, pulling Georgios out of the wall and flinging him down to the floor dozens of meters below. The banner unfurled as he descended, snapping off.
As he spun, Georgios closed his eyes and took his banner in both hands, pointing it between his feet. Brünhilde flowed out of his shoulders, waited, and struck her palm against the pommel, nailing the banner deep into the wall a few meters above the ground. It bent down as Georgios twirled around.
"Nice aim, Hilde!" Georgios yelled, coming to a stop. "My turn!" He twirled and placed his feet on the wall, feeling Brünhilde's grip tear into the stone. He stepped back, bending the pole. "Those blows hurt like heck, Yama!"
"Then come up here and do something about it!" Yama yelled, whipping Yamāyudha across the wall, slicing clean through and sending debris down. "If you can!"
Georgios felt Brünhilde's grip open, and the pole snapped up. The banner unfurled out of the hole, dislodging the pole so that it and Georgios could fly. He twirled the banner in his hands, feeling it contract in his grip as the banner snapped and bent around the pole's truck. One side formed into a square head while the other formed a curved spike. Modus Quinque: Malleus.
Georgios' feet clung to the wall as he sprinted up. He swung his makeshift hammer at the oncoming boulders. Each one shattered into pieces with a single swing.
Yama could not fight the grin forming on his face as Georgios tried to reach him. Six golden arms shot out from his back and dug into the wall. Dharmaraja: Gana. They scurried up the wall, pulling Yama along as he whipped Yamāyudha down, dislodging more debris. Now I get it…why you're getting my blood boiling!
Georgios tore through the debris.
As both Fighters ascended the wall, Yama saw the silver-haired specter behind Georgios.
You're like that bothersome Hades!
Yama scaled to the top of the wall. His golden arms hoisted him above the wall's edge and, frantically, scuttled along it, away from Georgios. He whipped Yamāyudha as he raced away, cleaving away at large portions of the
He's trying to keep away from us! Brünhilde yelled. Coward!
Georgios smashed through the last few boulders and reached the wall's parapet. He turned and blitzed after Yama.
Difference between being a coward and playing the long game! Georgios retorted as sections of the wall walk and parapet slid and fell out of place. He jumped and skipped across the pieces as he made his way. He's being smart! We can't rush in recklessly!
That's what you were doing earlier!
Georgios smiled. And he expects it!
Brünhilde chuckled. Got a plan?
Georgios cleared another severed piece of the fortress, slowly gaining on Yama.
This time I do!
Jörð Arena
Game Master's Box Seats
"Hmmm," Hades mumbled. Zeus and Hermes both glanced at him before focusing back on the match.
"Feeling nostalgic?" Zeus asked.
"Slightly. Yama did something back when we fought." Hades rested his chin on his right hand. "But he's far more skilled now. Odd."
"Odd, Lord Hades?" Hermes asked.
"What need could he have that would make him push his abilities so far? He's the strongest God in Tartarus, and there's never been a prisoner within it who could hope to match him. I daresay his only equal in Helheim is me."
"True," Zeus answered, stroking his beard. "He's not the type to fight for the sake of it."
Jörð Arena
Human Bleachers
"What a monster…" A young dark-skinned gentleman in a priest's cassock said. He turned to his left, nudging a burly, older caucasian man with a thick white beard and mustache, wearing fur-trimmed, red cold-weather gear. "Did you think someone like that existed up here?"
Augustus Tolton
First Black Catholic Priest of the United States
&
Saint Nicholas of Myra
The Wonderworker
Santa Claus
"It pains me to say I hoped, but our knowledge of the Divine is limited," Nicholas said, watching the Fighters race across the massive fortress. "And there are points in scripture where moments the Divine met with Humanity…and it was terrifying. Maybe we're seeing what they saw."
"The ferocity of the Heavens can frighten even the vilest Devil," Boniface said behind them, his axe resting on his right shoulder. "Terror isn't evil; why it's felt sometimes is. Yama made an entire cosmic plane feel that terror. And you can see it in his bearing." Boniface breathed deeply. "He, like us, is on a mission. And sometimes we must become monsters to put down monsters."
Jörð Arena
Amidst the slowly crumbling fortress wall, Georgios enacted his plan as he made his next jump. As the section of the roof he landed started to fall, he extended the banner's pole and jumped to the left for stable footing. He twisted the pole and slammed the spike into the falling rubble, hooking it.
Holy crap, this thing is heavy! Georgios thought, trying to stay upright. He flashed a wicked grin as he lurched to the left and lobbed the wall's dislodged piece up. He turned the pole back around, grasped it in both hands, and took a stance that made the Sultan of Swat tense up. So is this! He inhaled.
"SWING FOR THE FENCES!" George Ruth yelled from the stands.
He exhaled and swung his makeshift hammer. Every joint, muscle, tendon, and bone of his body was in perfect sync to swing with such force and speed that the wind whipped around him. It collided with the lobbed-up boulder, a chunk of solid stone nearly five times Yama's size. It cracked and chipped before exploding into dozens of rocks flying straight towards Yama.
You let the momentum of battle cloud your judgment! Yama thought as the rubble flew his way. Even with the rule change, Kavacha makes me invulnerable! His golden arms bit down on the wall around him, holding him in place as he was bombarded. Another mis— Among the oncoming rubble, something sharp and heavy slammed into his chest. A spectral head and torso matching his own flung out of his body, with a large gash across his chest. What?!
Just a few seconds earlier, hidden by the stone hail, Georgios began his plan's second phase. As his swing was reaching its end, Georgios stepped his right foot forward and spun. The head and spike of the hammer unfurled before quickly folding and snapping into place, forming a curved, sharp axe head. Modus Primus: Securis! He spun on his right foot and placed his left foot back down, turning his swing into a throw. The axe flew amongst the rubble and found its target. He then broke into a lightning-fast sprint.
Yama's torso ignited with pain where the axe struck him. I…was cut?! No, my soul was cut?! HOW?! Georgios closed the gap and stopped a meter in front of Yama. His eyes widened when he saw the impromptu axe in Georgios' hand. He…he threw his banner…and caught it as he ran to me?! Georgios swung the axe at Yama's stomach. Yama jumped back as Yamāyudha slithered back towards its pole. The leather buckles clasped around the pole and spun the banner, forming a golden sphere at the pole's top. Yamāyudha: Gada! He swung it from the right, forcing Georgios to jump back.
Georgios sucked air through his teeth. Damn it. Georgios thought. I thought he'd be too thrown off to react. Even when facing something unfamiliar, he's cool under pressure. He flicked the banner out, extending it as the flag went limp. It then wrapped and folded around the pole, forming a double-edged blade. Modus Septem: Gladius.
Yama may have torn through Helheim like a natural disaster, but he wasn't reckless. Brünhilde responded. He had no way of knowing his powers could stop everything down there, so he always fought every battle like he was going to die.
That's…kind of cool, but also sad. Georgios looked at his banner. Cracks were running up and down the shaft. Hilde…
I know.
Yama raised and placed Yamāyudha on his right shoulder while his left hand tapped his sternum's center above his armor. His hard gaze vanished, and he slowly breathed through his nose.
How long…how long has it been since I felt such pain? How long has it been since my body burned with this sensation? I can't bleed…but my body remembers it. I remember it. He started gracefully twirling Yamāyudha in his hands before letting it roll off his neck, torso, and arms like a swimming serpent. I remember…seeing you all suffer far worse pain to save us… The scene of Yggdrasil's imprisonment and the death of nearly every Primordial God played in his mind again. Golden energy flowed from every pore across his body, encasing him in golden armor. My pain is nothing compared to yours, but still, let it give me strength and the will to win…. Yamāyudha stopped in Yama's right hand, and he tapped the pommel on the ground. He then brought his left hand to his chest, touching his index finger and thumb together. May this pain grant wisdom. Dharmaraja: Yaksha.
Many of the Gods watched in awe. Yama, the esteemed first King of Helheim, the God whose name became connected to darkness, death, and the chaos of that realm… shone like the morning sun.
Several of the Underworld Gods, without any hint of premeditation, bowed and softly clasped their hands. Their first King, and the one who became a savior to many, had returned.
"Georgios. Hilde," Yama said softly.
Georgios turned his attention back to Yama.
"I have never used this form. It was molded and prepared for a battle I prayed would never come." He took Yamāyudha in both hands. "To use it now…feels wrong."
"Things don't always go how we want them," Georgios said. "All we can do is be ready for the worst and sure as hell hope it's enough." Georgios gripped his sword in both hands and stepped his left foot forward.
Yama allowed a slight smile before his stoic stare forced it away. He saw something in Georgios' eyes and felt something tug at his heart. "You do understand, don't you?"
"More than anyone."
Libya
Silene
Over a Millennium Ago
The Golden Legend: a collection of Hagiographies written by Jacobus de Voragine, in which the tale of Georgios, or more commonly known as Saint George, is codified. In this tale, Georgios of Cappadocia rode into the kingdom of Selene, intending to protect the land from a vicious and poisonous dragon. It was said that he appeared just before the beast could devour the king's only daughter and defeated it. He brought that beast, weakened and humiliated, before the king, and without issue, slew it in return for the kingdom devoting itself to God and giving the reward to the poor.
However, despite the best efforts of bards, archivists, and historians, the truth of that epic, yet one-sided story, faded into the fog of history. Why? Maybe the idea of one man standing up to and slaying a vile, evil monster with nothing but Divine Grace and his faith was too admirable to recount the truth. Or, sadly, the truth is far more terrifying, far more horrific. So much so, anyone who saw what happened that day, be it the king, his people, or even his daughter, would rather write and hear a tale of heroism than of a slaughter.
Out on a prairie in Silene's outskirts, a cohort of Roman soldiers moved in formation. Georgios was on horseback, fully equipped in armor with scutas, pilums, and spathas ready for combat. Holding onto him was a young woman of dark complexion and raven hair wearing a single deep green dress. Her scared brown eyes scanned the centurios behind her, each leading eighty armored men equipped with scuta, spatha, and the occasional pilum, net, and bow. Each Centurios' vitis stood tall and proud as they marched towards a large pond.
Georgios silently raised his right hand, and the Centurions stopped. He turned back, silently signaling to his men, and they moved. Several of them fanned out, grabbing quivers full of hooked arrows, rope, nets, and bows. Others took positions at the front, lining their shields and spears in a curved formation around the western side of the pond.
One of the Centurios walked over to Georgios and nodded. Georgios returned his nod and gave a nervous smirk. The centurios huffed and smiled. "Sir," He asked in a hushed voice. "Do you think this will work?"
"Not sure, Tiberius. Never fought a dragon before," Georgios whispered. "However, we've fought large beasts before. Hopefully, this won't be too different."
"If it is?"
"Then we hope what we have is enough." He looked to the young woman sitting behind him. "Are you ready?"
She nodded. She slowly slid off the horse and started walking to the pond. Both Georgios and Tiberius watched her go as weights slowly sank in their stomachs.
"Sir, this feels wrong. We're putting that poor girl at risk."
Georgios nodded. "We are. But it's Diocletian's will that we do whatever is necessary to bring our neighbors into the empire." Something sparked in Georgios' soul. "Their princess is going now. Do you know what that means?"
"…We know there were others, Sir."
"Yes. Sheep, villagers…and children." Georgios' inner fire started burning. "Children," He whispered. "How many were put in that thing's way before she herself came here? How many of them walked to their deaths, praying someone would save them? How many parents watched their children, nearly an entire generation, walk to their deaths?"
A chill raced down the Centurios' spine. "Sir?"
"This…will not stand, Tiberius." Georgios' hair stood on end, and he looked out to the pond past the girl, seeing ripples flow across the surface. He could feel a fire burning in his heart and soul. Tiberius saw his eyes light with fury. "Such vileness deserves the worst kind of death." He looked back at the Centurio, nodded, and Tiberius departed back to the formation.
The centurions watched as the young woman walked towards the pond. What met her was witnessed by the Centurions closest to the pond's shore. As the ripples intensified, something massive and covered in dark green scales appeared beneath the water's surface. It broke through the surface, its horned and beaked head rising first from the water. Its long neck rose after and arched out of the water, followed by its massive body and long, spindly limbs ending with webbed and clawed feet. It crawled onto the shore and bared its orange, snake-like eyes down on the maiden. She looked up and felt all hope pour out of her feet as her body froze. The only thing she could muster was a slight whimper as tears flowed. It looked past her and saw the Centurions ready.
Then, Georgios saw something that turned his inner fire into a roaring inferno. It scanned the armored forces ready to attack it. The dragon inhaled deeply…and smirked.
You bastard! Georgios thought. You're no beast! He raised his spatha. "It knows the joy of killing! Remove hesitation from your hearts and KILL IT!" He kicked his horse, and they raced ahead.
Arrows and Pilum soared out from behind the shields towards the dragon. It blinked slowly as it looked up towards the oncoming barrage. It looked back down at the maiden as Georgios raced towards her, then back up in time for its face and neck to be riddled. It roared with pain as Georgios leaned to the side and scooped the princess in his left arm and pulled her up, racing away from the flailing dragon as blood rained down from above.
It flailed and fell forward, the earth shaking from its fall.
"It's down!" Tiberius yelled. "Move into bind it! Shields and spears ready!"
The walls of shields and spears marched as the creature flailed and blew fire. The centurions felt the heat flow through their scuta and sear their arms, but they marched forward, keeping the flames back.
The dragon paused its fury, and the Centurions rushed in, smashing their scuta against its face and spearing its eyes as the others threw ropes and nets over its body. Others stabbed and cut at its limbs, severing the tendons around the ankles and ensnaring the limbs with ropes. The centurions, nearly four hundred eighty strong, swarmed on the dragon like ants. Stabbing, cutting, and binding it with every ounce of energy they could muster. It continued to flail, roar, and blow fire, but it was too late. Its blood flowed onto the grass, its eyes were blinded beyond recovery, and it was bound to the ground. Wounds covered its entire body, and slowly, its roar began to fade into a whimper, and its flailing waned into twitches and shakes.
Georgios jumped off his horse and stomped over to the dragon, his grip on his spatha so tight it could crush a lesser man's windpipe. He stopped at the point where the jaw met the neck and swung down, slashing through. Blood flooded out, and the dragon…stopped.
He scanned it for a few seconds, then looked at his men around him and standing on the new corpse. He raised his spatha…and roared. All of the Centurions roared.
In the distance, the princess sat on Georgios' horse, hope slowly breaking through her fear. She turned the horse back to Georgios and his men. He turned to face her and waved.
Here is where the idea of how Saint George slayed the dragon started. Here…is where more of the truth tears away at the legend.
Georgios felt a monstrous chill envelope his body. The dragon's impaled eye opened wide and started moving. He heard it sigh again.
"Is…," A deep, booming voice washed over Georgios and his forces. "Is this…" The dragon's green skin started melting. Several of the centurions on its back and limbs started sinking into it, while others scurried away. The ropes that bound it sank through its flesh and fell to the ground. All the arrows, pilums, and spathas littering its body dropped to the ground as its blood flowed from the ground back into its body. Its snake-like eyes turned yellow and pupilless, and its flesh turned translucent, letting sunlight pass through. It rose high above the centurions as they backed away. "Is this all you're capable of?" Its sharp features faded into rounded edges, and its mouth now looked like a toothless, gaping maw.
"What…in Hell…" Tiberius whispered. He scanned the creature, catching sight of its liquid, translucent torso. Nausea overcame him, and he crumbled to the ground and vomited.
All of the centurions that sank into its body were melting. Their armor and clothes, hair and skin, muscles and bones, all of it melting in red clouds as their screams failed to escape from their flailing bodies. The creature twitched and clinched, and the centurions exploded, turning its torso red.
"Disappointing," The creature said, forming a toothless grin. "But you will all do."
The Centurions roared and cried. Georgios and his men threw everything they had at the creature. But it was all in vain. Nothing could cut, stab, or crush it as it slithered and crawled along the grass, burning it away as it snatched up every centurion within its reach. Tentacles fired out of its body, impaling the men by the dozens. The dying were pulled into its body, where they suffered their brothers' fate. Others were mowed down and crushed flat before being pulled into its liquid body.
Georgios and a few of the Centurions tried to attack its eyes as it slithered by, but their blades passed through. It turned around and raced towards them. Georgios and the few remaining centurions tried to avoid it, but only Georgios was so lucky. He jumped to the right, while the others jumped left, and it turned towards them, going for the largest grouping. Tiberius and the others sank from the beast's head down its stomach, melting and screaming as they went until they too vanished in clouds of red.
Georgios scrambled to his feet, breathing heavily. He looked up at the creature, seeing its translucent body turn cloudy and red. He scanned the area around them, taking in the carnage. Dead grass and carved out soil from where it slithered. Blood, scraps of armor, and nearly hundreds of weapons were strewn about the prairie as the sun hung high overhead. His gaze met the creature's, and it smirked again.
"Oh," Georgios muttered. We're…nothing to this thing…
"I assume you were their leader?" It asked.
He nodded. Forgive me…everyone. The resolute faces of his men flashed into his mind, but were washed out by their melting forms. Tiberius' stalwart bearing eroded in front of them. He looked back at the maiden, frozen on his horse's back in fear. *We failed you…and everyone back in your kingdom…*Georgios looked up at the creature. I…can at least make sure your stomach aches from this. He leered.
"Better breeding, better eating." Its mouth opened wide and flowered out. It lunged down.
I'll be joining you all soon.
Before it could devour him, something above them, high in the clouds, exploded. Then, it exploded again. Then another. The creature looked and coiled back as something tore through the clouds and rocketed towards the earth like a bolt. Georgios looked up, seeing it fly straight towards him. It was glowing bright white light so intense that he had to squint to look at it.
"Huh?" That was all he could say as it fell. Before it could decimate the earth below it, it froze in mid-air, floating before Georgios.
The creature hissed and roared at the sight of it. Within that radiant glow, Georgios saw a long, jagged pole. It had no edge and no handle, but he felt that if he tried to grasp it, it would cleave his hand in two.
Can you hear me? An older man's voice softly spoke from the floating pole.
Georgios' eyes widened, and his heart sank into his stomach as tears flowed.
"I…can…," He whispered.
Stand tall, take this weapon, and do what your soul roars for.
Slowly, Georgios reached out towards the pole. His hand passed through the glow and grasped it. The light flowed into his body, and he felt it surge through every inch of his body. The creature bellowed out a deafening roar, but Georgios was deaf to it. The sound of bells ringing filled his ears as he took the pole in both hands. The greatest memories of his cohort flooded into his mind.
"What…is this?"
The First Weapon, Ascalon. Are you ready?
A column of light erupted from Ascalon, and his gaze hardened. Georgios looked up at the creature.
"I can't hesitate now. Please help me remember that."
Of course.
"Let's go."