Sunlight slanted, illuminating the base of the imposing mountain where Thor knelt in an uncomfortable yoga pose. Sweat beaded on his brow, and with each strained breath, his belly pulsed with heat. Despite the discomfort, his focus wavered. A sharp clang echoed as the old man, Hephaestus, slammed his twenty-inch hammer onto Thor's back.
"Focus, warrior! The Dragon's power sleeps within you, waiting to be awakened. No more idle thoughts!" Hephaestus barked, his voice surprisingly strong for his frail frame.
Thor gritted his teeth, forcing his mind back to the task at hand. He visualized the Dragon's energy - raw, potent, and primal - swirling within him. With each inhale, he tried to draw it inwards, channeling it towards his core. It was like trying to grasp smoke; the power danced just beyond his reach. Frustration gnawed at him.
"Old man," he finally rasped, voice hoarse, "what is the meaning of this? I thought you were supposed to train me to fight, not sit here meditating!"
Hephaestus chuckled, a deep rumble that seemed to emanate from the earth itself. "Indeed, youngling. But true strength lies not just in muscle, but in mastery of oneself. The Dragon's power is a wild beast, and before you can control it, you must first learn to control yourself."
Thor scowled, unconvinced. But the day wore on, punctuated by the rhythmic clang of the hammer and Thor's grunts of exertion. Hunger gnawed at his belly, but Hephaestus remained impassive.
"I don't need food," the old man finally said, catching Thor's questioning gaze. "I am not what you seem to think I am."
Intrigue flared in Thor's eyes. "Not human?"
Hephaestus' lips curved into a cryptic smile. "Perhaps. Now rest, warrior. Tomorrow, we continue."
The night was predator-free, an unsettling silence blanketing the valley. Sleep came fitfully for Thor, his dreams filled with swirling flames and the elusive Dragon's power.
The next day, fueled by newfound determination, Thor tackled the exercise with renewed vigor. This time, he managed to hold the heat in his core for a grueling ten minutes, yet transformation remained out of reach.
"Tell me," Hephaestus said, his gaze sharp, "was your mother a mage?"
Thor nodded. "She was powerful, even feared by some. But my father… he was a simple human, like me."
Hephaestus opened a shimmering portal at his hip, his hand disappearing into the otherworldly void. He pulled out a vial filled with an iridescent liquid. "Drink this," he commanded.
Thor hesitated, eyeing the potion with suspicion.
"It won't harm you," Hephaestus said, his voice firm. "Trust me."
Thor downed the potion, a tingling sensation spreading through his body. It felt… strange, like awakening from a long slumber.
"Humans... and some mages," Hephaestus explained, "don't possess magic cores, making true mastery difficult. But the potion will forge one within you. Now, channel the Dragon's power once more."
Hope flickered in Thor's eyes as he closed them, focusing on the heat in his core. This time, the Dragon's power felt different, more accessible. It pulsed in response to his will, a surge of raw energy coursing through him. He roared, and in a blinding flash of light, he transformed.
As the final embers of light faded, Thor stood transformed, obsidian armor gleaming like a second skin, his fiery axe crackling with power. A triumphant smirk played on his lips. "Wasn't… hard," he muttered, flexing his hand around the fiery weapon.
Hephaestus chuckled, a dry rasping sound. "Do not be so quick to boast, young warrior. Yesterday's mental discipline proved key, but true mastery demands more. Now, attack me with all your might."
"You got a deathwish, old man?" Thor's grin was laced with playful defiance.
"Brat," Hephaestus countered, his gaze steely. "Old, perhaps, but still your master."
With a roar, Thor charged, his obsidian axe a burning meteor. Hephaestus, seemingly unfazed, raised a single finger, the tip meeting the fiery axe with a resounding clang. Sparks flew, but the attack was effortlessly stopped.
Thor stared, jaw agape. "You… you're strong," he stammered. "Stronger than any I've faced."
Hephaestus ignored the question, his voice firm. "Again."
The training continued, a whirlwind of furious blows met by seemingly impossible blocks. Time blurred as Thor attacked, again and again, each attempt met with the old man's unyielding finger. Frustration burned in Thor's eyes, but with each clash, his technique improved, his movements flowing with newfound purpose.
Finally, with a sigh, the transformation flickered. Thor crumpled to his knees, human once more, exhaustion etched on his face. They fought each other for two days. Two days of relentless combat had yielded scant progress; his transformation now lasted a meager twelve minutes.
"Rest, warrior," Hephaestus said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Nightfall approaches. We leave for Skullfang then."
Thor nodded, weariness pulling him into a restless sleep. As the moon cast its silvery glow over the valley, Hephaestus gently roused him. Together, they ascended the treacherous slopes, darkness their only companion.
After a few hours of traveling, dawn painted the sky a fiery orange as they reached the imposing Skullfang Fortress. Skarn, a cruel sneer twisting his gargoyle features, awaited them at the entrance.
"You came," he rasped, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Didn't expect you to honor the bargain, mortal."
Thor's gaze burned with righteous fury. "Where are my friends? Where is Lyra?"
"Safe, for now," Skarn mocked. "But your answer? Will you serve the Skull Lord?"
"Never!" Thor roared, his voice echoing through the valley. "I will never kneel before the one who stole my world!"
A cold smile stretched across Skarn's face. "Pity. Then force will have to suffice."
The air crackled with anticipation as their eyes met. Dawn had arrived, ushering in a battle that would decide the fate of many.