The morning sun cast long, silhouetted shadows in the stillness of the quiet village of Eldoria. Gone were the echoes of revelry from the festival. Luca Darnell stood before his forge, the clink of metal upon metal a familiar comfort to his whirling thoughts. The dark form of His symbiote and the veil of deception he had built to camouflage his unease kept his mind again and again.
Aiko approached Luca, who sat deep in contemplation of his work. The only sound was a ringing of metal on metal as he hammered a glowing sword on the anvil. Every strike was right, calculated, as though he shaped not just steel but his fate. The smell of newly baked bread wafted into the air as Aiko reached him.
"Hey, tiger," she teased, holding out a basket of bread. "What's going on?"
Luca didn't turn around just yet, focused on the sword. "I'm a protector now," he said much too seriously. "I need the perfect sword for the job."
Aiko leaned over his shoulder to get a glimpse of what was being shaped beneath his deliberating hands. "Wow," she whispered, awed. "That's nice work, Luca."
Luca stopped and turned to her over his shoulder. "Not too close," he said in a hushed tone. "Hang back a bit."
Aiko smiled sheepishly, taking one backward step. "Gomen gomen-can't help my curiosity."
Luca finally set the hammer down and wiped the sweat off his brow. He took the basket from Aiko and pulled one of the still-warm breads out. He took a mouthful of the soft, heat, and savored it. "This is really good, Aiko. Thanks."
She flashed him a bright smile. "You're welcome! I'm going to head out, but let me know if you need anything, okay?"
Luca nodded, waving as Aiko turned to leave. "Goodbye," he called after her, finishing the last piece of bread.
When she was well away, Luca went back to work. He took up his hammer again and resumed the steady, ringing blows. The form of the sword started to take shape, and after some time, Luca plunged it into water to cool it. Steam hissed forth sharply from the heated metal. He drew the sword out, catching his breath at the way the light danced across its polished surface. It was lovely-shining, keen, and ready.
He swung it a couple of times, feeling the weight and balance. A satisfied smile tugged at his lips. "Yes," he said to himself, "this will do."
A few seconds later, the village chief's voice thundered across the square to address all who had been gifted with a Symbiote. Luca sheathed his sword and joined the assembly. There were over ten of them present, all standing in a semicircle around the head.
The village chief stood tall, commanding attention. "I've called you here to explain how this world works," he started off, his voice strong and clear. "Each of you has been blessed. You are protectors now. Your connection with your Symbiote is the key to harnessing its power. As of now, you are on 0% of your Symbiote's power."
There was a murmur throughout the crowd.
"A normal person," the chief continued, "can use up to 5% of their Symbiote's power. A talented one can use up to 20%. And a chosen hero. can use 50%. But nobody can use any more than that. Symbiotes come from another dimension, and it's completely impossible to use all their power here in this world."
But in the legends, it says a hero will be chosen who can use the full potential of their Symbiote. But what does it mean?" spoke one youth among them, raising his hand.
The village chief nodded reflectively. "That is an excellent question. The prophecy does say born in this world, meaning one who can utilize his Symbiote's whole potential-which, as far as we understand, refers to 50% of its powers. Anything beyond that. is impossible. "
The girl lifted her head, stepping forward toward the center. Her voice was filled with curiosity. "How are we ever to use this power?
The chief smiled. "Of course, you'll have to speak with your Symbiote. Build the bond." He looked around at the sea of protectors, his expression solemn. "No more questions now. Go forth and bond with your Symbiotes."
As the crowd started to go their separate ways, Luca continued to stand a little longer, staring at his hands. He clenched them into fists, feeling the weight of what was ahead. "Here goes nothing," he whispered to himself as he went off into the distance, the mind racing with possible scenarios and uncertainties.