None of these supreme beings that exist around us are benevolent. Each is entirely self-serving, their fickle personalities and fantastical whims both determining if countless others live or die.

Our Zeus, by whose aegis the Empire of New Rome derives its existence, is no exception. Simply look at the great cratered wastes of the Lakelands and all the evidence you need is clearly apparent. Would a benevolent god leave scorched earth in His wake? Would a benevolent god demand the enlistment of firstborn sons to feed his war machine? Zeus has done both.

Our gods are conquerors, walking cataclysms that demand our fealty in exchange for our continued existence. We willingly give it to them, no matter the cost, because we know no other way to continue. It's no matter how many of our sons die in their wars, or how much of our Earth is ruined, so long as we get to selfishly continue.

-William Hart, post-system thinker and heretic, The Cruelty of the Gods

* * *

It took two additional days from that evening discussion with Delta for me to be walking normally, and he'd left on the first. On his recommendation, I decided to take up knitting as my hobby of choice. It was deceptively hard with hands of my size, even without the enhancements of the System. The yarn was just so tiny, and my hands were just so clumsy.

On the third day, I rejoined morning conditioning with the garrison at Alewife. I was met with many celebratory hoots and hollers as I entered the outdoor training yard. Confused, I asked the one nearest me what was going on.

"It's made its way around the mess hall how you saved Kent," he explained. "We're just showing our appreciation. It's not often you get to hear a story of good old-fashioned heroism."

Seeing the look of confusion on my face, he added. "The one who was going to be crushed by the Horror."

My face reddened with embarrassment. That made considerably more sense to me. In truth, I hadn't given the other man any thought since the events of the beach.

"So he's alright, then? No lasting damage?" It felt right to inquire after him.

"He's alright physically speaking, at least. I don't know if the Centurion is ever going to allow him on another hunt again."

That was probably a good thing, I thought. The hunt I'd been on was an unforgiving place. There was very little room for anything except strength, which Kent had lacked. But I didn't give those thoughts a voice. I simply shrugged.

Our conditioning session today was led by none other than Grady himself. He wasn't in the worker's clothes that I'd come to associate with him, but instead an engraved leather tunic. It looked like it'd be horribly uncomfortable to exercise in. The Centurion Commander of Alewife was a bit of an oddity regarding dress.

"I want a warm-up lap of the perimeter of the compound, and then everyone back here for some unarmed sparring. Make it snappy." Grady barked, and then we went off running.

Doing drills together, be them combat or otherwise, creates a bond not unlike other, more-real forms of suffering. Alewife is no exception to this rule. I felt myself gradually warming up to the soldiers who suffered through it with me.

After making it through an extended run, something that someone of my build would never find enjoyable, we returned to the training yard where Grady stood waiting. I sat on the ground, figuring it'd be quicker to catch my breath.

"Everyone, split into pairs with someone of similar physical ability. We don't need any blowout bouts or a dramatic stomping. That's just bad practice."

I looked around in dismay as everyone around me quickly paired up, but I was left unapproached. Grady gave the order to begin, and I still stood there alone. He noticed.

"Ghul, you're with me. These cowards don't want to tussle with someone who can wrestle a spineback, even if you are just a novice."

I nodded, "Sounds good, sir."

I wondered just how far the word of my deed had traveled. Not even a tenth of the men at Alewife had been there, but seemingly they'd all heard of it.

I'm not sure if I impressed this upon you when describing his conflict with the turtle, but Grady was an extremely lethal combatant. His technique in battle was masterful, and that combined with his System enhancements and abilities made him a force to be reckoned with.

"We're going to go until one of us voluntarily taps out, or is forcefully downed. To keep it fair, I am going to refrain from using any of my abilities. You don't need to do the same."

It wasn't like I had any abilities to use, beyond [Empower], which could be useful in a fistfight, but was more intended for weapons. Plus, it was only at the first rank.

"How will I know when it's appropriate to tap out?" I didn't think I had any real shot of victory.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Only when it's absolutely necessary to prevent permanent harm. I don't want any freebies. On a related note, avoid striking my head I'll return the same favor unto you."

Headshots were off-limit, got it. I didn't feel great about stepping into the ring with Grady, but I'd been trounced enough by Delta to have virtually no ego remaining. I rolled my neck and cracked each of my knuckles on autopilot, each of them making an audible popping noise that rang out through the training area.

Grady raised an eyebrow. "You might be big, but you aren't all that."

I grunted in response. I hadn't meant anything by the motion, but it wasn't like I could prove that to him.

We stood about five meters apart, opposite each other. We were on a patch of dirt that had been the training grounds for so long the grass had been crushed out of existence. Like Delta, he waited for me to make the first move. Delta could get away with it because his attributes and experience made him so far superior to me in every way that attacking him was like a man going after a mountain. Grady was not Delta. I knew it was a friendly bout, but I was resolved to make Grady work for his victory.

Like Delta said, what was the point of having this strength if I couldn't use it?

I approached him whilst lowered into a boxing stance, arms raised defensively. I played like I was going to swing at him, and then, when I got close enough, I sent a kick flying toward his shin. He moved fast enough to avoid it but it'd caught him off guard. He stumbled backward ever so slightly, his footing unsteady due to the sudden shift.

I pressed my advantage, following it up with two short blows both aimed at his abdomen. He dodged one but winced and took the other to the side of his gut. By landing a blow, I'd managed to leave myself largely open to retribution. He brought down his hand in a chopping motion toward my neck, and it connected with the muscle above my collarbone. I knew that it was going to bruise tomorrow but it'd done no real damage.

I shrugged it off and continued fighting. He'd landed a blow on me, but it hadn't done much. He looked confused that I'd been able to do so. I lumbered forward, sending two more quick punches toward him, both of which he elegantly sidestepped. I swung one of my arms wide at him and he fully ducked below it as it traveled through the air. His movements were like a dance around me, far quicker than I could hit and skillful to boot, but his strikes felt weak by comparison. He'd overestimated what it would take to damage me, and because of that, we were locked into a slow battle of attrition.

I took another swipe at him, this time [Empowered]. He dodged it, but my fist audibly whooshed as it passed through the air. He eyed it warily. In response to the extension of my arm, he landed three quick blows on my right side. Each hurt. Each wasn't worth worrying about.

"You're going to have to hit harder than that, Sir," I growled out with gritted teeth. I swung towards him again. And again, it was another miss.

Most of the other bouts in the yard were finished, so, we'd begun to develop a bit of an audience. Our fighting space was encircled by a thin crowd of onlookers watching Grady and I duke it out, neither effectively dealing with the other person.

He shot back at me. "Are you going to do anything other than stand there and take it?"

"No, I just like how soft your fists feel."

I sent two more [Empowered] fists at him. No dice. I wasn't getting anywhere with the strategy of exchanging blows, for every one I'd manage he'd land ten. Even a fool could tell you that was bad math. My train of thought was interrupted when I took two more of his punches directly to my raised arms, ouch. The crowd oo'ed.

I had to change something. To continue like this was stupid, and that fact was getting beaten into me. I was inspired by looking directly at him. I'd make him pay for wearing that ridiculous tunic. It wasn't restricting his motion as much as I thought it would, but the bulk surrounding its shoulders gave me more of something to grab onto. I didn't need to hit him to win, I just needed to get Grady onto the floor. That meant a tackle was fair and square.

I sent a few more punches his way. He dodged both, flittering between my fists like a leaf in the wind. Whatever. I stepped close, uncomfortably close for a fight, and flung both of my arms so wide around him that they encircled his form. To an outsider, it probably looked like I was trying to give the man an oversized hug. He realized what was happening a second too late, and backed up into my already clasped and waiting arms. I squeezed. The crowd went wild.

"What're you doing?" He demanded. Too late.

He struggled against my grip, but my grapple only needed to last for a few seconds. My plan wasn't the most thought-out thing in the world. Grady was in my arms, now what? Naturally, I did the only thing that felt right. I jumped downwards with him still trapped, attempting to slam his body and my own onto the dirt of the training yard. Here's another lesson for you: body slamming someone hurts.

Grady went down, but so did I. I'd put all of my weight behind throwing us onto the floor. Despite popular belief, that isn't something you can just walk off. I groaned. Grady groaned. The two of us had been reduced to a pile of bodies on the floor. The crowd, if anything, seemed confused. A handful of murmurs broke out around us.

"Err, who won?" Someone asked. I didn't have a response. Grady didn't either.

"Terms of the bout were until first down. And both are down? Does that mean it's a draw?" Another voice added. I was more than okay with a draw. In an actual fight, I'd have no shot against him. I'd been going all out; he hadn't even been using his abilities.

Grady was recovered and standing before I was. Someone might've helped him up, I wasn't sure.

"We'll call it a draw." He declared. "That was some creative thinking there towards the end, Ghul. Everyone else is dismissed. Don't stick around."

The yard cleared out. I had the realization that it'd become a habit of mine lately to incapacitate myself to finish a fight, and I wasn't sure what that suggested. Twice is a coincidence, thrice is a pattern. We were left with just the Centurion and I standing there.

"You're fairly tough." He said it like a statement, not a question. I inclined my head towards him.

"We've got something of an exclusive club going on here at Alewife: Prospero, Delta, and a handful of others. Nothing so formal, it's really just an advanced group of training partners. With as much of a beating as you can take, I'm sure you'd fit right in."

I snorted. "I'm not sure Delta and I are the same species, let-alone appropriate training partners."

He laughed.

"Well, think it over. We meet after the bell following dinner most nights. You won't regret attending during the remainder of your time here, I promise."

"I'll think it over. No promises."

Maybe I could stop in one evening and check it out- it wasn't like I was committing to anything. With Delta gone, I had free time.

It was easy to forget that I wasn't long for Alewife. I had an obligation, an enlistment contract, one that felt like it'd been signed by a different person entirely. Two short weeks were all that was left of my tenure at the manner, and then I'd be shipped to the imperial fortress known as the Lobsterhead. I found myself hoping that I'd have another training session with Delta before I went. I left the yard with a lot on my mind, and worried about what my uncertain future held.