The golden spark lingered between his fingers for three days. Adrestus practiced with it in secret, away from the villagers of Drys, away even from Lysandros. He would find a quiet glade in the forest, raise his hand, and will the lightning to come. Sometimes it obeyed—a thin crackle of gold that jumped from his palm to a tree trunk, leaving a scorch mark the size of his thumb. Other times it refused, lying dormant in his chest like a sleeping animal. He could not predict it. He could not control it reliably. The blessing of Zeus was not a tool; it was a guest, and it did not always feel like staying.
Lysandros noticed his absences but did not ask. The Thessalian had learned that Adrestus had secrets, and that prying was not welcome. Instead, he focused on the practical matters: rebuilding the village, training the surviving men in basic self‑defense, and spreading the story of Krokos's fall to every traveler who passed through. The story grew with each telling. The silver‑cloaked warrior. The slayer of the bandit king. The man who rode a winged horse—no, a unicorn—and killed forty men with a broken spear. Adrestus did not correct the exaggerations. Fame was fame, and the system rewarded it.
On the fourth day, the cyclops came.
It was not the cyclops of legend—not Polyphemus, not the son of Poseidon—but it was close enough. A one‑eyed giant, fifteen feet tall, with skin the color of old stone and a single horn growing from its forehead. It had wandered down from the mountains, driven by hunger or madness, and had already destroyed two farmsteads before the survivors fled to Drys. The villagers gathered at the edge of the settlement, clutching hoes and axes, their faces pale.
Adrestus stood among them, his bow in his hand, his quiver full. He could feel the lightning stirring in his chest, restless, as if it knew what was coming.
"Get everyone inside," he told Lysandros. "Lock the doors. Don't come out until I call."
"You're going to fight that thing alone?"
"I'm going to shoot it from a distance. That's not fighting. That's pest control."
Lysandros did not laugh, but he herded the villagers into the longhouse and barred the door. Adrestus climbed onto the roof of the building—the same roof where Zeus had appeared to him—and nocked an arrow.
The cyclops emerged from the tree line, its single eye scanning the village. It sniffed the air, caught the scent of humans, and roared—a sound like collapsing stone. It began to lumber toward the longhouse.
Adrestus drew the arrow to his cheek. He had killed a hydra. He had killed a fire salamander. But those were monsters he had studied, whose weaknesses he had known. The cyclops was new. Its hide was thick, probably resistant to normal arrows. Its eye was vulnerable, but small and moving. And he had something else now. Something borrowed.
He willed the lightning into the arrow.
The golden spark jumped from his fingers, crawled along the shaft, and gathered at the arrowhead. The wood began to smoke. The arrowhead glowed white. Adrestus released before the arrow could burn his hand.
The shot was not perfect. The cyclops shifted at the last moment, and the arrow struck its shoulder instead of its eye. But the lightning did its work. The golden electricity exploded against the giant's hide, sending arcs of light across its chest. The cyclops screamed—a high, animal sound—and stumbled, its muscles seizing.
Adrestus did not hesitate. He nocked a second arrow, willed the lightning again, and released. This time, the arrow flew true. It struck the cyclops's eye dead center, and the lightning followed, burning through the jelly and into the brain. The giant stood frozen for a heartbeat, then collapsed face‑first into the dirt, shaking the ground.
Silence.
The villagers emerged from the longhouse, staring at the corpse. Children peeked from behind their mothers' skirts. Old men crossed themselves in the old way. And then, slowly, they began to cheer.
"Sky‑Touched!" someone shouted. "He's Sky‑Touched!"
The name spread through the crowd like fire. Sky‑Touched. Blessed by Zeus. The lightning warrior. Adrestus climbed down from the roof, his hands still smoking, and accepted their praise with a calm nod. Inside, he was already summoning the system.
```
[SYSTEM UPDATE – Age 19]
Public feat detected: Killed a cyclops using Zeus's lightning blessing in full view of villagers.
Witnesses: Approximately 60 survivors and refugees.
Fame increase calculated.
Popularity: Hero → Hero (increased recognition within region)
Fame Coins Earned: +1
Total Fame Coins: 9 (previous 8 + 1)
Title Unlocked: "Sky‑Touched"
Effect: +10% Speed, unlocks Lightning affinity (improved control over electrical abilities)
NEW STATS:
- Strength: 31 → 33
- Speed: 34 → 38 (+10% from title)
- Agility: 39 → 41
- Magic: 15 → 18 (lightning affinity)
SKILL LEVELS (raw proficiency):
- Spearmanship: Journeyman (Level 20)
- Swordsmanship: Journeyman (Level 19)
- Hand‑to‑Hand Combat: Journeyman (Level 25)
- Marksmanship (Bow): Apprentice (Level 20 → Level 22) (cyclops eye shot)
- Riding: Journeyman (Level 16)
- Lightning Manipulation (Zeus's Minor Blessing): Untrained (Level 1 → Level 4) (practical use in combat)
BATTLE EXPERIENCE:
- Combat encounters survived: 9 (added cyclops)
- Significant battles: 4 (hydra, bandit fortress, fire salamander, cyclops)
- Monster kills: 5 (boar, harpy, hydra, fire salamander, cyclops)
- Human opponents defeated: 16
- Lethal human kills: 16
- Near‑death experiences: 3
- First use of divine blessing in combat: YES (lightning arrows)
System note: Title "Sky‑Touched" grants permanent speed bonus and improves your connection to electrical forces. Your lightning manipulation is still borrowed from Zeus, but repeated use is building familiarity. Evolution remains possible. Current cost to evolve: 3 Fame Coins. Outcome unknown.
Warning: The villagers now call you "Sky‑Touched." This title will reach Zeus. He will interpret it as loyalty. Be careful.
```
Adrestus dismissed the screen and looked at the cyclops's corpse. The golden lightning had faded from its wounds, leaving only blackened, smoking flesh. He had killed it with borrowed power. It had been effective, but it had not felt like his.
Three Fame Coins, he thought. I have nine. I could evolve the blessing now. But what would it become?
He did not know. The system offered no answers, no previews. The outcome was a mystery—a leap into darkness. He was not ready to leap. Not yet.
Lysandros appeared at his side, staring at the giant corpse. "You shot lightning from a bow."
"I shot an arrow that had lightning on it."
"That's the same thing."
Adrestus almost smiled. "If you say so."
The villagers were already gathering around the cyclops, knives out, ready to harvest its hide and bones. A cyclops's horn was worth a small fortune. Its hide could make armor. Its teeth could be carved into charms. The people of Drys, who had lost everything to bandits and monsters, would not let this gift go to waste.
"Sky‑Touched," Lysandros said, testing the name. "It suits you. But it also ties you to Zeus. Everyone who hears it will think you're his champion."
"I know."
"Is that what you want?"
Adrestus watched the villagers work. The sun was setting behind the mountains, painting the sky orange and red. Somewhere above the clouds, Zeus was probably watching, smiling, thinking his new champion was falling into line.
"No," Adrestus said quietly. "But it's what they need to believe. For now."
He turned and walked back to the longhouse, the golden spark still flickering between his fingers. The lightning was a tool, a leash, and a mystery. He would use it until he understood it. And then he would decide what it should become.
---
End of Chapter 13