(PS: Please support me on patreon there 135+ chapters there and there also my new GoT: The True Dragon Fanfiction of Game of Thrones
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Atlas walked with a steady, rhythmic pace, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path leading away from the harbor. His mind, however, was miles away. All his focus was turned inward, analyzing the humming vibration of the weapon strapped to his hip. The fusion of the Isu alloy and the Orichalcum handle was stable, but the energy output was higher than he calculated.
He was so deep in thought that he didn't hear the soft footsteps behind him.
Back at the docks, the group—Barnabas, Kassandra, Phoibe, Alexios, and Lukas—had just arrived, fresh and clean from the bathhouse. They spotted Atlas immediately, his silhouette retreating toward the darker edge of the island.
Barnabas cupped his hands around his mouth, filling his lungs to shout. "OY! ATLA—"
Smack.
Alexios's hand clamped over the captain's mouth instantly.
Barnabas made a muffled protest, eyes bulging, as Alexios dragged him behind a stack of crates.
"Shhh!" Alexios hissed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He released the captain and peered around the corner. "Don't ruin it."
Lukas crossed his arms, looking at Alexios with exhausted resignation. "What are you doing now? He's just walking."
"He is sneaking," Alexios corrected, grinning. "Atlas never just 'walks' anywhere at night. He's up to something." He rubbed his chin, looking toward the dark path leading away from town. "Let's follow him. Secretly."
Kassandra raised a skeptical brow. "You want to spy on him?"
"It's not spying, it's… tactical observation," Alexios said. He pulled a few coins from his pouch and jingled them. "I bet ten drachmae he's going to an Oikoi."
Kassandra's eyebrow climbed higher, clearly intrigued despite herself. "A brothel? Atlas?"
"He's a man, isn't he?" Alexios whispered loudly. "All that stress, saving people, fighting wars… he probably needs to blow off some steam."
Barnabas smoothed his beard, nodding sagely. "There is no shame in visiting an Oikoi. A sailor knows the needs of the flesh well."
Lukas rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful, but he shifted his weight, clearly interested in the outcome. "I bet he's just going to meditate or something boring. But fine. I'm in."
Phoibe tugged on Kassandra's tunic. "What's an Oikoi?"
Kassandra patted her head quickly. "A place where people… hug. Aggressively. Come on."
The five of them moved like shadows—or at least, Kassandra and Alexios moved like shadows. Lukas and Barnabas were more like quiet boulders, and Phoibe skipped along, trying to match their stealth.
They trailed Atlas past the edge of the town, through a small grove of olive trees, until the trees gave way to the open expanse of the eastern beach.
There were no buildings. No lights. No Oikoi.
Only the endless dark sea, the moon, and sand.
Atlas stood alone in the middle of the beach, staring at the waves.
Lukas smirked, leaning against a tree trunk. "Looks like you lost the bet, Alexios. Unless the crabs are running a business I don't know about."
Alexios waved his hand dismissively, avoiding the subject of payment. "Shh. Look. Why is he just standing there?"
The group fell silent, watching.
Down on the sand, Atlas reached to his hip and pulled out the compact, dagger-sized weapon. He placed it gently on a dry rock. Then, he began to undo his armor.
He unclasped his heavy bracers, dropping them with a dull thud. Next came the chest plate, followed by his tunic. Finally, he sat and pulled off his boots, digging his bare toes into the cool sand.
Standing there bare-chested under the moonlight, the scars of his battles—both from this world and his old one—were visible silver lines against his skin.
Alexios squinted at the object on the rock. "Wait. That weapon, it looks familiar."
He turned to his sister. "Kassandra, isn't that your spear? The one Mother gave you?"
Kassandra narrowed her eyes, focusing on the weapon. "It… it is. He borrowed it earlier to fix the handle. But…" She frowned. "Why is it so small? And why does it look brand new?"
"Maybe he shrunk it?" Phoibe whispered loudly.
"Hush!" Lukas cut them off, finger to his lips. "He's starting."
On the beach, Atlas rolled his neck, stretching his shoulders. He picked up the weapon. It sat small and unassuming in his hand. He gave it a few test swings, the blade cutting the air with a high-pitched whistle.
Then, his thumb pressed the hidden mechanism on the handle.
Schwing-Click.
The group gasped.
In a blink, the weapon expanded. The shaft telescoped outward, locking rigidly into place, transforming from a dagger into a full-length infantry spear. The gold and black metal gleamed dangerously in the moonlight.
Atlas didn't stop to admire it. He dropped into a stance.
Suddenly, he moved.
He spun the spear rapidly, his hands a blur. The weapon became a wheel of gold and steel, humming as it sliced the air. He flowed from one stance to another—striking high, sweeping low, twisting his body with a fluidity that looked more like a dance than combat.
Then, he stopped the spin and slammed the butt of the spear into the sand.
BOOM.
A shockwave of golden energy rippled outward from the impact, blasting a circle of sand into the air and blowing the water back from the shoreline.
"By the gods…" Barnabas whispered, clutching his chest.
Atlas wasn't done. He breathed in, sweat glistening on his back, and noticed a medium-sized wave curling up, rolling toward him.
He didn't step back.
He lunged.
With a roar of effort, Atlas thrust the spear forward, not at an enemy, but at the ocean itself.
The spearhead flared with blinding light. A beam of concentrated force shot from the tip, colliding with the incoming water.
CRACK-HISS!
The wave didn't just break—it was obliterated. A section of the water was blown apart into mist, leaving a hole in the surf for a split second before the sea rushed back in to fill it.
Atlas held the pose for a second longer, then exhaled sharply. His arms trembled slightly from the exertion. The sheer output of the Isu weapon was draining. He retracted the spear with a click, dropped to the sand, and sat down, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Silence hung heavy in the treeline.
Then, the five of them stepped out.
"Holy…" Lukas muttered.
Kassandra was the first to find her voice. "Atlas?"
Atlas turned, startled. He saw the five of them emerging from the shadows—Barnabas looking like he'd seen a god, Phoibe eyes wide as saucers, and the siblings looking stunned.
Before Atlas could even offer a greeting, Alexios broke into a sprint.
He ran across the sand, kicking up dust, and slid to a halt right beside Atlas. He stared at the retracted spear in Atlas's hand, then up at Atlas, his face filled with childish wonder and unmasked jealousy.
"What did you do?!" Alexios demanded, practically vibrating. "I saw that! The light! The boom! The water going whoosh!" He pointed at the spear. "I want one! Make me one!"
Atlas blinked, staring at the grown man acting like a toddler demanding a sweet. He looked at the others approaching, then back at Alexios.
"I didn't do anything to it," Atlas said, his voice dry. "I just put a new handle on it."
"Lies!" Alexios cried. "That is magic! Give me a magic stick!"
Atlas sighed, shaking his head. "It's not magic, Alexios. It's resonance. And you already have one."
Alexios paused. "I do?"
"The Sword of Damokles," Atlas said, pointing to the weapon strapped to Alexios's back. He gestured to Lukas, who had just walked up. "And the Hammer of Jason. They are Isu weapons, just like this spear."
He stood up, brushing sand from his pants. "I didn't give you those weapons just because they looked pretty. I gave them to you because they have the same potential. You just haven't mastered them yet. When you sync with them—when you and the weapon become one—you'll be able to do this, too."
Kassandra stepped forward, her eyes locked on the artifact in Atlas's hand. She reached out.
Atlas handed it to her handle-first.
She took it. The weight was perfect. The balance was unlike anything she had ever felt—it felt alive in her palm. With the new handle, the spear looked majestic, the black Isu alloy contrasting beautifully with the restored gold of the blade.
She gave it a test swing. It cut the air silently, effortlessly.
"It feels… different," she whispered. "Like it's part of my arm."
She handed it back to Atlas. "Show me the trick."
Atlas smiled. He held the spear out. "Watch the thumb."
He pressed the mechanism. Click. The spear collapsed instantly into the dagger she had carried for years. He pressed it again. Schwing. It extended into a spear.
"Stealth and reach," Atlas said. "Now you have both."
Barnabas shook his head, staring at Atlas with pure reverence. "To think… we have a blacksmith of the gods aboard my ship."
Phoibe tugged on Atlas's arm, beaming up at him. "You blew up the ocean wave, Atlas! That was the coolest thing ever!"
Atlas chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Let's not tell the ocean I did that. It might get angry."
He looked at the group—his strange, chaotic, powerful family—and picked up his armor.
"Come on," he said, looking toward the ship. "We sail at first light. And Alexios needs to practice with his sword if he wants to catch up."
Alexios drew his sword instantly, swinging it at an imaginary wave. "Watch out, ocean wave! I'm coming for you!"
Lukas groaned. "Great. Now he's going to fight the water all night."
(PS: Please support me on patreon there 135+ chapters there and there also my new GoT: The True Dragon Fanfiction of Game of Thrones
https://patreon.com/BX_XDS)