"That is his will," Cael reiterated, his voice barely a breath. As they continued their arduous crawl, David, ever the inquisitive one, whispered, "What if someone looks?"
As if in direct response to his question, the clang of metal against metal intensified, becoming deafening. Cael's voice trembled as he whispered, "No one watches his craftsmanship."
A sudden flashback gripped Cael, transporting him back to his childhood. He saw his uncle, a figure of immense age and wisdom, his face etched with the weight of centuries. He remembered a conversation they had before Cael embarked on his first journey. His uncle had spoken of the deity of the mountain, of his relentless forging, and of the terrible consequences of witnessing his work. "I couldn't bear it," his uncle had said, his voice filled with a deep weariness. "To live for thousands of years and experience nothing… it's a fate worse than death."
The memory shifted to a specific night. As a child, Cael had bowed his head and crawled alongside his uncle, his father, and some of the traveling guards, adhering to the ancient tradition. But a rebellious thought had crept into his young mind, an irresistible urge to look up. He had stood, defying the tradition, his young voice ringing out in the night. "Heed me time, stop!!! Thou art so beautiful!"
The sight that greeted him had been both terrifying and awe-inspiring. The deity of the mountain loomed in the sky, a colossal figure whose face was the night sky itself, swirling with stars and nebulae. He wore a mask, its features stern and impassive. In his massive hand, he held a hammer, glowing red with intense heat, and with a mighty swing, he brought it down upon an unseen anvil.
The sound was deafening, an earth-shattering clang that reverberated through Cael's eardrums, causing them to burst. The light emanating from the deity's skin was blinding, a pure, incandescent radiance that seared his retinas. He instinctively tried to look down, to shield his eyes from the unbearable light, but it was too late. The souls of those who had made the same mistake, those who had dared to witness the deity's forging, reached out from the abyss, their spectral hands grasping his jaw, forcing his face upwards, compelling him to witness the full horror of the divine spectacle.
The hammer rose again, poised for another strike. But before it could fall, the man from Cael's memory, the one who had survived for a thousand years, had already died on his feet. A man who had endured countless battles, witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations, a man who had cheated death for a millennium, was instantly obliterated by the mere sight of the deity's forging. The first strike, the echoing clang, was enough to extinguish his life force. He simply crumpled to the ground, his body lifeless.
David, witnessing the horrifying demise of the thousand-year-old man in Cael's flashback, was visibly shaken. His eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and awe. They continued their trek in silence, the image of the deity and the man's sudden death burned into their minds. They crawled throughout the rest of the night, driven by a primal fear of the unseen power that permeated the region.
When morning finally arrived, the red sky gradually fading to a pale grey, they stood up, their bodies stiff and aching from the long crawl. The constant clang of the deity's hammer continued to echo through the air, a constant reminder of the divine presence. They resumed their journey, walking now instead of crawling, the landscape still littered with the remnants of the previous night's chaos.
The scene then shifted to the adventurer who had fought the Wendigo. He had been tracking the scavenger leader, following the faint trail of dark magic left in his wake. However, the trail abruptly ended in a patch of disturbed snow, the surrounding area distorted and warped, indicating some form of spatial anomaly. There was no sign of the scavenger leader, only the lingering residue of dark magic. The adventurer, realizing the trail had gone cold, reached up and cut the band that held his long hair in a tight bundle, letting it fall freely around his shoulders. He then performed a quick hand sign and vanished in a flash of light, teleporting away.
He materialized instantly on the hillside where he had left the younger hunter, the one with braided brown hair. The younger man was still standing in the exact same spot, his expression a mixture of boredom and impatience.
"I've been waiting for you for a whole day," the younger man complained, stretching his arms. "And by the way," he added, wrinkling his nose, "change the theme of the whole rainbow light thing. It's…gay."
The adventurer raised an eyebrow, a look of genuine confusion on his face. "Who the fuck told you rainbow is gay?" he asked. "I don't know… I thought it was like… a sign of covenant or agreement or something, right?"
The younger man shook his head slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. "You wear sandals and earrings most of the time – except for today, of course. You hang out with men, drink wine, not beer, have a rainbow light theme on default… and you tell me you're not gay?" He raised an eyebrow, pausing for dramatic effect.
"Fuck you," the adventurer retorted, rolling his eyes. "I'm heading to the bar."
The younger man grinned, completing the sentence with a playful jab, "To drink wine."
The adventurer simply scoffed and teleported away again, presumably to the aforementioned bar. The younger man, left alone once more, resumed his activity: fishing. However, he wasn't fishing in a lake or river. He was fishing from the very top of a mountain, seemingly unfazed by the sheer drop below. He seemed quite high up, the air thin and crisp.
Suddenly, something extraordinary began to emerge from the clouds. It was a boat, a sturdy vessel complete with a mast and a single, tattered sail. A lone figure stood at the stern, calmly paddling the boat as it floated through the air. The sky around the boat rippled and distorted, as if it were water, waves and currents visible in the air itself. The boat descended gracefully, finally hitting the "deck" of the mountaintop with a soft thump.
The figure on the boat was striking. He was clad in gleaming armor made of steel and titanium, the metal shining and alluring under the morning light. A copper chest plate adorned his torso, a vibrant blue orb embedded in its center, pulsing with a soft light. A thick cape of rich, dark fur billowed behind him, adding to his imposing presence.
With a casual flick of his wrist, a large, iron spike materialized in his hand. He drove the spike into the rocky surface of the mountaintop with a single, powerful strike. The spike penetrated the stone like it was butter, securing itself firmly in place. He then took a thick rope, which was attached to the boat's bow, and tied it securely to the newly placed spike.
He turned to the younger man, who had been watching the entire spectacle with a mixture of awe and amusement. The armored figure gave him a friendly nod and a broad smile. "Quite a nice morning to be fishing for sky fish," he said, his voice booming and cheerful.