The journey back from Sicily took three days. Adrestus's ribs ached with every beat of Skotadi's wings, and the cut on his forearm—the one from the bandit's knife—had turned an unpleasant shade of red. Infection was a risk, but he had herbs from Thyia's garden and a tolerance for pain that came from years of training. He landed in Drys on the evening of the third day, and Lysandros was there to catch him when his legs buckled.
"You look like shit," the Thessalian said, half‑carrying him to a bed.
"I feel like shit," Adrestus admitted. "But I got what I went for."
He told Lysandros about Hephaestus—not everything, but enough. The forge, the trials, the favor. He left out the strangest parts: the god's cryptic words, the feeling that he was being pulled into something larger than a simple exchange. Lysandros listened without interrupting, his crooked nose and sandy hair somehow looking wiser than they should.
"So the smith god owes you a weapon," Lysandros said. "That's... I don't even have a word for that. That's beyond anything I've ever heard."
"It's not a weapon yet. It's a promise. I can't claim it until I'm ready."
"When will that be?"
Adrestus closed his eyes. "When the spear my mother left me is no longer enough."
---
He spent two weeks in Drys, helping the villagers rebuild. The rescued women had returned to their families. The dead were buried. The bandits who had fled Krokos's fortress did not return—they had spread the story of the silver‑cloaked warrior who killed their king, and the northern mountains grew quieter. Adrestus used the time to heal, to train, and to think.
The system had given him eight Fame Coins. He had not spent any. He was waiting for the right moment, the right upgrade. He knew from the system's notes that some abilities could be evolved—changed from granted gifts into personal powers—but he had no idea what those evolutions would look like. Would the lightning become stronger? Would it change color? Would it take a completely different form? The system offered no preview, no hint. It was a leap into the unknown, and Adrestus was not ready to leap.
Not yet.
What he did not expect was the vision.
He was standing watch on the roof of Drys's only stone building, looking east toward the rising moon, when the air turned gold. The color seeped into everything—the clouds, the rooftops, his own hands—until the world was bathed in a light that had no source. It came from everywhere and nowhere, and it was warm, like a hearth fire on a winter night.
"Adrestus."
The voice was not loud, but it filled his skull. He knew it immediately. He had heard it once before, when Skotadi descended from the sky: the voice of Zeus, king of the gods, father of heroes and monsters alike.
Adrestus did not kneel. He had decided long ago that he would bow to no god unless absolutely necessary. Instead, he stood straight and waited.
The golden light coalesced into a shape—a man, tall and broad, with a beard the color of thunderclouds and eyes that flickered with lightning. He was not fully solid; he was an image, a projection, but the power that radiated from him was real enough to make the stones beneath Adrestus's feet tremble.
"You have done well," Zeus said. "The hydra. The tournament. The bandit king. And now you have earned the favor of my crippled son. I am impressed."
Adrestus kept his face neutral. "I didn't do it for your approval."
Zeus laughed—a rumble that shook the rooftops. "No. You do it for yourself. That is what I like about you. You are not a supplicant. You are not a beggar. You are a man who wants something, and you are willing to earn it." The god stepped closer, and the air crackled. "I have a gift for you. A blessing. My lightning, running through your veins. It will make your spear strike like a thunderbolt. It will make your arrows carry the fury of the storm. It is a small thing, a taste of what I can offer. Accept it, and you will be marked as mine. Not a slave—never that. But a champion. A favored one."
Adrestus understood the bargain. Accept the lightning, and the world would see him as Zeus's man. Refuse, and the king of the gods would find other ways to bind him. There was no third option. There never was with Zeus.
"I accept," he said.
Zeus smiled. It was not a kind smile. "Then kneel."
Adrestus knelt. The stones were cold under his knees.
The god placed a hand on his head. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the lightning came.
It was not pain—not exactly. It was pressure, a force that pressed against every nerve, every muscle, every bone. Golden electricity crawled across Adrestus's skin, sank into his flesh, wrapped around his spine like a serpent. He gasped, arched his back, and felt something open inside him—a channel that had been sealed since birth. The lightning flowed into that channel and settled there, warm and foreign.
Then it was over.
Zeus stepped back. The golden light began to fade. "You are touched by the sky now. Use it well. And remember who gave it to you."
The vision dissolved. Adrestus was alone on the rooftop, the moon cold above him, his body humming with a power that was not his own.
He raised his hand and willed the lightning to come. A spark jumped between his fingers—golden, thin, but real. He could feel it waiting inside him, a reservoir of divine energy that he could draw on. But it felt borrowed. It felt like a leash. He did not know if it could be changed, or how. The system had mentioned evolution, but the outcome was a mystery. Would the lightning grow stronger? Would it take a different shape? He had no answers, only questions.
I will find a way, he thought. I will make this power mine. Whatever form it takes.
He climbed down from the roof and found Lysandros waiting by the fire.
"You look different," the Thessalian said. "Your eyes. There's something in them that wasn't there before."
"Zeus visited me," Adrestus said. "He gave me a blessing. Lightning."
Lysandros stared. "Gods. First Hephaestus, now Zeus. How many gods are you planning to collect?"
"As many as it takes."
He sat by the fire and summoned the system.
```
[SYSTEM UPDATE – Age 19]
Divine blessing received: Zeus's Lightning (Minor).
Source: Zeus, king of Olympus.
Nature of blessing: Golden lightning channeled through weapons or hands. Deals electrical damage. Drains stamina. Can be improved with Fame Coins.
Note: This blessing is granted, not earned. Zeus can theoretically revoke it. It is foreign to your body. It is not yet yours.
Public feat detected? No. The vision was private. No fame increase.
Popularity: Hero (unchanged)
Fame Coins: 8 (unchanged)
NEW STATS:
- Strength: 30 → 31
- Speed: 33 → 34
- Agility: 38 → 39
- Magic: 13 → 15 (increase from divine blessing)
NEW SKILL:
- Lightning Manipulation (Zeus's Minor Blessing): Untrained (Level 1)
SKILL LEVELS (raw proficiency) – unchanged except:
- Magic stat increased, but no change to weapon skills.
BATTLE EXPERIENCE – unchanged.
System note: You have accepted a blessing from Zeus. This will affect how other gods and mortals perceive you. Some will see you as favored. Others will see you as a pawn.
Fame Coins can be used to evolve granted abilities into personal powers. The outcome of evolution is not predetermined. It will be shaped by your will, your body, and the circumstances of the evolution. No two evolutions are the same.
Cost to evolve this blessing: 3 Fame Coins. The result is unknown. It may change color, form, or function. It may become stronger or simply different. Proceed with caution.
Warning: Zeus's attention has intensified. He will expect you to act as his champion. Do not disappoint him openly. Disappoint him in private.
```
Adrestus dismissed the screen and stared into the fire. The golden spark still flickered between his fingers, warm and strange. He had what he wanted—a taste of divine power. But it came with strings attached, and strings could be cut. What the cut would look like, he could not imagine. Blue lightning? Red? A完全不同 kind of energy? The system offered no answers.
Three Fame Coins, he thought. Three coins, and I can try to make this power mine. But I won't know what I'll get until I do it.
He would wait. He would train. And when the moment was right, he would take the leap—into the unknown.
---
End of Chapter 12