Xerxes' lungs burned as he threw the last few strikes at the earthern dummy, sweat trickling from his body, despite the cold.
Zoron's voice rose, "Let it be natural, young one. You must be able to strike and maintain your output consistently. Do not let it fluctuate at a whim. Make it fluid. Make it precise."
Xerxes grunted, but still heeded his advice. He needed every piece of criticism he could receive. The battle he was going into was no easy one.
Nevertheless, it was clear he excelled in one area, timing.
"I can feel the timing aspect," Xerxes admitted between breaths, "But the others...it doesn't come as easily." He sighed and glanced back towards the tribe.
They were moving, preparing and organising themselves quite well, considering they all learned about the extent of their fates.
It wasn't an easy thing, acceptance. Yet the Gem'rafh had reached it all the same. Xerxes recalled being distracted by the commotion a few hours earlier.
Some giants did not wish to fight any more, there were those who burned for blood, and those who simply wanted something that resembled a future. In the end, they had agreed on one thing.
Amento was better than chains. It could even become a home.
Moonshard was also being harvested now, though the process was beyond Xerxes' understanding. When the giants carved into the ore with their bare fists, their eyes shimmered briefly with radiant gold, as if something ancient recognised something equally old.
But amid the progress they had achieved, one thing remained unclear.
The interrogation and that absence gnawed at Xerxes.
Luckily, it didn't take long before Kaylun and the other elder, Ishkar, returned. Yet, the looks on their faces weren't what Zoron and Xerxes were hoping for.
Zoron addressed it immediately, "Ishkar, Kaylun? What were you able to gather?"
Ishkar ran a slow hand through his ashen hair before speaking. "Everything proceeded as expected… in regard to our immediate objectives."
But, if everything was going well, then why did they have such sour faces, Xerxes thought.
Kaylun was next to speak, "Our people are ready. The Moonshard is secured. The interrogation was… successful." He hesitated. "But what we uncovered is the real concern."
Xerxes felt his stomach tighten, "What did they tell you, Kaylun?"
They first explained everything they already knew, but the words that followed caused the giants to draw in sharp breaths.
"They're searching for the cursed god of Amento."
The sheer name 'cursed god' sent chills down the elders and Xerxes alike.
It seemed like everyone knew the danger, but Xerxes didn't. He asked aloud, "I thought the gods fell silent after the Great War of Succession?"
"That is true," Ishkar replied, his eyes narrowing. "But cursed gods are not 'gods' in the truest sense."
Xerxes stiffened. "Then what are they, and what's causing Orpheus to be bold enough to take one on?!"
Ishkar exhaled slowly. "They are humans… or near enough. They are from the lineages of the 'gods' that reigned before the Great War of Succession. Now, they wouldn't even hold a singular percent of god blood within them, but even with that..."
His voice became grim, "Their powers mature over time, and when it does, they rival even what you humans call 'Aspects'."
He held his chin, muttering, "But it's still an anomaly, I didn't expect cursed gods to have finally acquired maturity in their blood in this time?"
Xerxes' chest sank slightly.
Is Ishkar really telling the truth? I don't doubt him, but gods...humans. Didn't humanity stand against the gods and reign supreme?
Xerxes shook his head, as he couldn't focus on the matters of the past. Instead, he was focused on a keyword.
"Maturity..." he echoed.
Secondly, 'maturity'? Was it possible that the abilities of a 'god' would awaken at a certain age, in a similar way to mana?
The pieces began aligning themselves with horrifying clarity.
"The reason why Orpheus can go after the cursed god..." His voice faltered. "It's because it's a child?"
Kaylun nodded reluctantly. "Yes"
Zoron added, "That would explain why he needs the young one's artifact. You mentioned it to me, boy, it was an artifact that allows you to track down anyone."
Sharpening his voice, he continued, "To be blunt, if everything we have gathered so far is correct, then Orpheus needs the child as a top priority. Why I say this is because he desires to craft a weapon that mimics Luminare's craft, but to do so, one needs the strength to support that deal of power."
Xerxes finished, with a bitter expression, "So he needs to kill the child and take the soul fragment, then and only then will he be able to craft that weapon."
The giants and Xerxes stood gathered in silence for a moment. They all knew what this meant.
Despite having narrowed down Orpheus' plan, it broadened the responsibilities and sacrifices they potentially needed to make. They had to achieve three things.
The first was keeping the 'keys' to the weapon safe. Thornfum, Airi and the ore.
The second was ensuring the giants survived this next onslaught that was coming.
And the third was locating the cursed god so that Orpheus couldn't get his hands on them.
Zoron cleared his throat, "I admit, it does make the plan more complicated, but I'd rather tackle this news now, rather than later. We can not waste any more time. Prepare to march."
They didn't linger.
Soon after the discussion, the giants entered into strict circular formations, keeping the strongest on the outside and the injured on the inside - with the Moonshard ore.
It felt disheartening for a few of the Gem'rafh; they had been living in this tribe for centuries, but they were now leaving it behind.
Xerxes simply looked back, with the mass of giants surrounding him, as he reflected on what he was leaving behind.
All that Xerxes wished for was for this to be the final stand against Orpheus,for him to move on and finally recognise his goal of getting back to Layne, once and for all.
He exhaled and peered in the direction of Baratheon, "Catch up quickly, everyone."
Among the chatting giants, Zoron stepped forward with his brother, Ishkar, their weight pressed into the snow, and they stood at the front.
Zoron decided to take the lead of the speech. Nothing could be coated down in the slightest.
"Listen to me," he called, his voice carrying far, which made conversations halt. Giants turned towards him, all with mixed expressions. Some were with fear, confidence and hope.
"We stand at the edge of something that will not wait for us to be ready."
He swept his gaze across them.
"Some of you will fall on the path ahead. I will not dress that truth in comfort. The enemy will be far more dangerous, oppressive and unpredictable. But hear this! If you die here, it will not be in chains, it will be an honourable death. And if you live, it will be as Gem'rafh who chose their future, who carry on the light from our ancestors."
A low rumble spread through the crowd.
It wasn't particularly cheerful, but agreement and acceptance for the future.
"Amento isn't salvation," Zoron stated matter-of-factly. "It is a chance. A place where our children might grow without collars, where our strength isn't stolen but praised and finally."
He raised a clenched fist.
"Where we can win. So march with me through the storm. Gem'rafh, let us fight!"
Finally, a roar rolled through the giants, and they all began marching. They were tightly packed into a formation.
They trudged through the snow for hours, and nothing stirred.
The morale of the people was rising, the only noise that resounded wasn't the clashing of metal and fists but rhytmic footfall against the snow.
Even Xerxes began to believe, briefly, that Orpheus had potentially miscalculated.
But without his artifact, Xerxes couldn't be so sure.
Suddenly, Kaylun halted.
The shift was subtle. He didn't shout any warning or raise his fists, it was just the way his massive frame stiffened that concerned Xerxes.
"What is it, Kaylun?" Xerxes murmured, his voice almost lost to the wind.
Kaylun did not answer. He stepped forward instead. One by one, others followed his gaze, eyes narrowing as they peered through the blizzard's rampaging veil.
At first, Xerxes thought Kaylun had gone mad.
But then he saw it. A silhouette moved in the storm ahead. It was large, broad, unmistakably familiar in shape.
A Gem'rafh.
"That's why you're so stunned. Of course, there would be more of your people. Orpheus had slaves scattered everywhere; some must have escaped." Xerxes said aloud, but it seemed like he was only talking to himself.
Kaylun then muttered, "No..the only remaining Gem'rafh are here."
Then, Xerxes realised why everyone was horrified.
"HELP ME! HELP ME! SHE SCREAMS!"
The roar tore through the blizzard. It echoed again, closer now, and something about it made Xerxes' skin crawl. It didn't sound right.
It didn't feel right.
As the figure stumbled closer, Xerxes' breath shuddered. It wasn't a Gem'rafh. Not truly.
Its proportions were wrong, limbs stretched slightly too far. The bones in its body protruded through the skin, staining it with crimson tinged with shades of purple and green.
It wasn't fluid like the Gem'rafh. It was erratic, and suddenly, Zoron's hand rose sharply. "MEN, CHARGE!"
The order barely left his mouth before the storm erupted.
Not one.
Not two.
Dozens.
Tens, no hundreds of silhouettes burst from the blizzard, all surging forward at once, their voices overlapping into a shriek.
"HELP ME! HELP ME! SHE SCREAMS! The cries were identical.
Xerxes felt his stomach drop, but he immediately needed to act.
He drew fire into a palm, wind in the other. He forced them together and compressed the mana, then bellowed. "Tier 4 mana, Tier 5 wind! Hellstorm!"
Tens of arrows formed behind Xerxes, crackling with flames, then, he controlled the release, propelling them through the snow, melting and incinerating everything in their path.
But the 'Gem'rafh' didn't stop moving, they didn't feel the pain of his flames.
"Damn it! Everyone, get ready!" Xerxes bellowed.
The outer rank of fighters immediately raised their fists, and the erratic creatures drew closer. And with a vicious clash, battle ensued all around them.
The Gem'rafh met the head on, and the ground shook beneath Xerxes' feet.
It's nothing like Orpheus' previous soldiers, Xerxes thought while straining his senses to focus on everything around him, cutting down creature after creature.
"What the hell is happening?!" Xerxes roared, as he struggled against a horde of creatures.
He barely had time to register the answer before danger slammed toward him from the right.
A massive shape lunged through the storm, and Xerxes turned too late, distracted by his thoughts.
A thunderous impact struck, but it wasn't towards Xerxes. Instead, the creature had fallen by Ishkar's assistance.
Their eyes met briefly, understanding passing between them.
"That damned human," Ishkar growled, already moving back into the fray, attempting to defend anyone in this chaos.
"Orpheus is here. These creatures resemble us, but they are not us."
But Xerxes didn't answer.
Something else had reached him. He couldn't possibly know why it was now.
It seemed his mind was straying elsewhere, and he found himself stumbling on a memory because of the pungent smell that was filling the battlefield.
Rosy, Earthy and Bitter.
His mind recoiled to Aliya's lab. The rows of herbs lay out carefully, as she explained each one. Back then, he was about to touch a plant, but she immediately scolded him.
'Do not touch this one, I saved you for the second time, there, child! If you touch the homogeny flower, it will warp your body. But even worse, once you lose your mind because of the poison, if the residue reaches another person's blood, then they will also get infected.'
Xerxes' mind snapped back to reality. The smell was everywhere, and its residue was...everywhere.
"DON'T LET THE POISON REACH YOUR BLOOD!" Xerxes screamed, panic clawing through his voice.
But even as the warning rang out, he knew it was too late.
The bodies of the original Gem'rafh started trembling violently, veins lit beneath their skin, and their eyes glowed with brighter radiance.
Animalistic gasps escaped their throats, and Xerxes was in awe.
Too many have been struck.
Too many are changing
And somewhere beyond the storm, unseen yet unmistakable, Xerxes felt it.
He slowly turned, finally feeling 'fear', and there he was. Orpheus, but in his arms was something that made Xerxes stumble back.
"Help me! Help me!" Orpheus mimicked, laughing with malice in his chuckle.
In his arms was a child. She was covered in tattered rags so that Xerxes couldn't make her out, but he didn't need to sense it, to feel it.
The immense magical pressure.
Orpheus had her.
The cursed god.