Holy shit, the magic sword my father gave me is so awesome?!
That was Kevin's first thought after hearing Scathach explain the truth about Flagrak.
Oh my god, my father is so awesome!
And naturally, that was his second thought.
After Scathach finished her explanation, she glanced at the stunned faces of Kevin and Cu Chulainn. Their wide-eyed shock was so genuine that she couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief.
"You really didn't know?" she asked flatly, raising an eyebrow.
"Nope." Kevin groaned, his body still too weak to move. "Not a clue."
"I thought it was just a fancy sword," Cu Chulainn admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.
Scathach rolled her eyes but said no more. If Ruger, the god of light and the sun, hadn't shared this crucial detail with his sons, there was probably a good reason for it.
The truth about their father's status was staggering. Ruger wasn't just a powerful god—he was a first-class deity, a leader among the Tuatha Dé Danann. His designation as the next ruler of the gods made him a figure of immense influence and authority.
But this lofty position came with restrictions, shackles that limited how far he could intervene in mortal affairs.
Kevin, reflecting on this revelation, realized something important. Ruger had done everything he could within the bounds of divine law. He had placed Kevin, an anomaly without a destiny, in close proximity to Cu Chulainn to provide guidance and protection. He had repeatedly tried to dissuade Cu Chulainn from becoming a warrior, disguising himself as bards, druids, and prophets to deliver warnings.
But Cu Chulainn, ever the defiant spirit, had ignored them all.
Kevin's thoughts turned to other legendary heroes who had suffered tragic fates, like Achilles. He realized that gods, for all their power, couldn't simply rewrite the destinies of mortals. Ruger, as the future leader of the gods, was especially constrained.
"He's done everything he could," Kevin thought, a newfound respect swelling within him. "Even putting up with me and my crazy decisions..."
The group traveled through the night, their divine horses carrying them swiftly across the Lask Kingdom's borders. At dawn, they finally stopped to rest, ensuring no one was pursuing them.
"Poor King Fergal," Cu Chulainn mused, leaning against a tree while poking Kevin's cheek playfully. "Twice humiliated because of you."
Kevin glared at him weakly but lacked the strength to retort.
"You're lucky he admires you so much," Cu Chulainn continued, grinning. "Most kings would've killed you after the first rejection, let alone the second."
Before Kevin could muster a snarky comeback, Emer returned with a bundle of water-filled leaves and handed them to Scathach.
"How long will he be like this?" Cu Chulainn asked, watching Scathach feed Kevin the water.
"At least half a month," Scathach replied coolly. "And thanks to his reckless use of Flagrak, his magic reserves have been permanently reduced by half."
"That's rough." Cu Chulainn gave Kevin a sympathetic look, which Kevin answered with a death glare.
"This is your fault, you know," Kevin croaked.
"My fault?!" Cu Chulainn scoffed. "How? You're the one who swung that oversized death stick without knowing what it could do!"
"Enough, both of you." Scathach sighed, handing the empty leaves back to Emer. Her expression suddenly sharpened, and she turned her gaze toward the horizon.
"Someone's coming," she said.
Cu Chulainn and Emer followed her gaze. Emerging from the golden morning light was a tall, handsome man with striking blue hair and a warm smile.
The moment Cu Chulainn saw him, he froze. The resemblance was uncanny.
"Father..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.
For the first time, Cu Chulainn stood face-to-face with Ruger. Though they had never met in person, the blood bond was undeniable.
"Father," Cu Chulainn said again, louder this time, his voice tinged with both awe and defiance.
Ruger nodded, acknowledging both his son and Emer, who quickly bowed in respect. He waved her off with a kind smile and turned his gaze to Cu Chulainn.
"Child," Ruger said softly, his voice filled with both pride and sorrow, "are you truly determined to walk this path?"
"Father," Cu Chulainn replied, meeting his gaze steadily, "you've disguised yourself as bards, druids, and prophets to dissuade me. I know the king's orders to keep me from becoming a warrior were your doing.
But I have never wavered in my purpose."
Ruger sighed, a heavy weight in his chest. "I know."
Finally, he turned his attention to Kevin, who was still too weak to stand.
"And you," Ruger said, his smile returning. "How's Flagrak treating you?"
"Ruger" Scathach interjected, arms crossed, "you neglected to explain what that sword truly is."
Ruger chuckled sheepishly. "An oversight, perhaps."
Scathach rolled her eyes but said nothing more.
Ruger knelt beside Kevin and began channeling his divine energy into him. The process lasted from morning until late afternoon, gradually restoring Kevin's strength.
While Ruger couldn't undo the permanent loss of Kevin's magic reserves, he ensured that his son would recover fully in time.
With Ruger's departure, Kevin and Cu Chulainn wasted no time returning to the Kingdom of Ulster. Their journey was swift, fueled by urgency and a sense of foreboding.
When they arrived, their worst fears were confirmed.
The Kingdom of Connacht had declared war on Ulster.
Queen Maeve had united two other major powers, forming a massive coalition army. Her declaration was clear:
She would conquer Ulster, claim the sacred bull, and take Kevin and Cu Chulainn for herself.
"Looks like the war's started," Cu Chulainn said grimly as they approached the castle gates.
Kevin nodded, his expression hardening. "Then let's make sure we end it."
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