Good to his word, his father put him to work for the rest of the day. There was an area set aside for martial training adjacent to the smithy, and Uzca saw a few of the others who had just been through the gifting practicing with various abilities as he worked.

Among those eager to show off was Bezben. Uzca's cousin had been granted a powerful gift from the warrior and demonstrated it for Uzca that afternoon. A shimmering spear of light manifested above Bezben's head and buried itself in the ground a dozen feet in front of him. Bezben grinned, but he was breathing hard afterward.

"I was just able to activate it after lunch," he said, panting. "It hits pretty hard, but it exhausts me, and I can't do it until I'm not out of breath again."

"I would be careful about using that too much in these first few days, Bezben," Renza said. "You'll end up passing out. The gifts draw something vital out of you until you grow with them."

"What do you mean, Uncle?"

"When I first got my gift, I could still be burned. It took time and practice before it was innate. It still drains me, though. When I went into the Holstein farmstead when it burned down last year, I couldn't even go near the forge for days."

Uzca hadn't known that. It always seemed like gifts were just the ultimate divine power. Certainly no one ever spoke of the imitations of their own gifts.

"So what should I do?" Bezben asked. The seventeen-year-old could be an insufferable pain in the ass at times, but he was always polite and respectful to Renza.

"You can probably use it a few more times, but give it a few hours before using it again. Eventually, I expect you'll be able to use it a few times before you start to feel winded."

"Thanks, Uncle Renza!" Bezben turned back to Uzca. "What's your gift, cousin? The same as your father's?"

"I'm not sure. I can't use it yet."

"Hmph, well, let me know when you can! Maybe we can spar!"

Uzca was good at wrestling, which was a traditional sport in the village. His strength and compact frame made him a formidable opponent for pretty much anyone in the village. Bezben was tall, like Menza and Renza, but hadn't bulked out as much as either man yet. Even with the height and reach advantage, Bezben had never come close to beating Uzca in the ring. But with a magic spear to attack him, Uzca might be hard-pressed to win. Not that he would turn down a chance to beat his cousin at any opportunity.

"Sure, Bez. I'll let you know."

The boy nodded and left the forge, returning to the martial fields to watch some of his peers use their own gifts. Uzca just shook his head at his cousin and refocused on his own work.

Today, Renza was on the bellows in the supporting role while Uzca worked the anvil. His father also fit together some finished pieces, binding them with leatherwork. That was the area Uzca was weakest. Sewing leather pieces together was just more annoying than hitting things with a hammer.

"That spear will be a formidable power. He'll likely succeed his father as village guardian if he learns to use it properly," Renza said.

Bezben's father, Menza, was the village's first elder and guardian. He had a gift that gave him great strength for a short time. He was impossible to beat in the wrestling ring. Uzca challenged with some regularity. Half the time, his Uncle would casually toss him out of the ring. His son had inherited the need to show off.

"I think he'll just learn to use it to show off."

"You're probably not wrong about that."

The day passed without any progress on his gift, and one day turned into two days turned into three. Three days and still, the power felt like it needed more time. People around the village were beginning to gossip, and his father worried the merchant cart might arrive before he was ready to leave. He needed to get his new power and, if it could help protect him on the road, learn to use it before he left.

When he woke up on the morning of the fifth day after speaking with the god Rethkam, he felt strange. His gift had awakened, but not all the way. He knew what the power he could access was now, as surely as anyone with a gift did, but there was more that still wasn't ready.

When he walked out of his bedroom and into the kitchen, his father practically jumped out of his chair.

"Oh dear," he said.

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"What? What's wrong?"

"Your gift awakened?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Occasionally, there are...side effects."

His father ushered him quickly to the wash basin outside, where they had set up a dirty mirror for shaving. He grumbled and tried to find a clean rag to wipe the soot from the forge off, finally getting it halfway clean.

"Look!"

Uzca looked into the mirror, and where he once had a full but unremarkable head of brown hair, he now had silver grey hair, like dull metal. He touched his hair, and it felt normal. It had just changed color.

"I guess that makes sense," he said. He didn't particularly like the color. It made him look older. That could be an advantage at times, but with his build, no one ever mistook him for a child.

"Why? What's your gift?"

Uzca grinned and held up a fist. With an effort of will, his entire hand turned to the same silver as his hair. The difference was that his hand was metal.

His father grabbed the hand.

"Amazing! What does it feel like?"

"Normal, but it's definitely hard to keep up."

He let out a breath, and it returned to normal skin. The brief change left him a little woozy.

"Alright, let's talk inside and get some food in you!" his father said with a grin.

They talked and speculated about his power. His father guessed he could use a fist as a hammer but that he should try it out on something reasonably soft to start with.

"Does it make you heat resistant? Wouldn't that be something! I would be jealous!"

"Don't worry, Pa, I'm not coming for your job."

"Not yet! But I don't imagine it will be long."

Uzca laughed. "Speaking of, what did Harvon want to talk to you about?"

"Ahh. The boy awakened his gift a few days ago. He can heat things up with a touch. It only gives him heat resistance to things he heats up, but it's still useful. Need to do a quick repair, but the forge is cold? He could heat it up. He can't get up to smithing temperature yet, though."

"Are you going to take him on as an apprentice?"

Renza gave him a forced smile and rubbed the back of his head. "I didn't want to bring it up with you leaving. Didn't know if you'd be upset."

"Why would I be upset? You're going to need some help, I'm sure, and he seems like he wants to learn."

His father's smile shifted to his customary genuine grin. "You're still a good man, son. Remember that, and don't let power go to your head. You had better practice, but remember what I told your cousin. Limit it to once an hour or so. You didn't seem as winded as he did, but your power is like mine—persistent. It's harder to hold active, so it's harder to unintentionally push yourself past your limits. Even so, start small and rest often."

He stood from the table and gave Uzca another pat on the shoulder. "Since you brought it up, I might go have a chat with Harvon's father and then see my brother about when your ride out of town is coming."

Uzca did practice. He discovered that when his skin was metal, he could still feel heat, but it didn't seem like he could get burned. He could technically use his hand as a blacksmith hammer. He would just need to have incredible heat tolerance or hit things very quickly. He could still feel impacts, but he didn't feel pain when he hit something hard.

It took hours to work up the nerve to try to stab himself in the hand. When he did, he cut himself. Not on the hand. That was perfectly fine. No, the knife skidded straight up his arm until it found flesh. He had tried to extend the metal further up his arm to avoid the blade reflexively, but either his control wasn't good enough yet, or he couldn't cover that much area.

The cut was shallow, and he learned an important lesson. Don't try to deflect sharp things. He still had a lot of exposed skin.

He tried changing other areas of skin to metal and had mixed success. His hands, feet, elbows, and knees could gain metal properties, but only one at a time, and anything besides his hands made him dizzy. When he asked his father, he said to focus on his hands but still practice the other spots a few times a day.

After three more days, he took Bezben up on his offer to fight.

He had initially hoped to be able to block the summoned spears with his metal hands, but after his knife experiment, he opted for another route. Since Bezben would no doubt try to skewer him like a pig—with healers on hand, of course—he didn't feel bad about using...unconventional wrestling moves.

"So, cousin, you think your metal gift is enough to handle my spears?"

"I'm not sure, cousin, but I don't intend to find out. Skewers are great for dinner, but it's barely mid-morning!"

Bezben rolled his eyes at the joke.

Menza entered the middle of the ring between them and raised hands for all to quiet. There were quite a few spectators. Most people agreed that the sons of the two most respected men in the village would someday lead it, and this was a good opportunity to see who might someday be the village guardian.

"Alright, you two, we have healers on standby, so don't hold back, but no lethal strikes or headshots of any kind. Are we clear?"

They both nodded.

"Alright," he said, stepping to the side of the ring. "I, Menza, first elder, do witness this bout between Uzca, son of Renza, and Bezben, son of mine. We hope this bout honors the gods and lifts our combatants to new heights! Now, fight!"

A spear instantly manifested in the air above Bezben, and he pointed at Uzca. He had to direct the spears actively so Uzca knew where it was going. He lunged forward, dodging the spear and closing on his cousin in a moment.

When a metal fist hit Bezben in the gut, the wind was knocked out of him immediately, and he crumpled. Uzca stood up straight, looking at his hand in shock as the metallic gleam faded away.

There was a hush around the ring as a healer rushed to Bezben and began using some gift that gave off a green light. The silence was broken by a bellowing laugh.

"I told you, Menza! Give your boy a few more years, and maybe, maybe, he'll be a match for mine!" Uzca's father roared as he walked up to his brother and slapped him on the shoulder.

Uzca was afraid his Uncle might toss his father halfway across the village, but instead, Menza turned to face Uzca.

"Well done, nephew. Your gift is truly one the village will be proud of for years to come."

With that, he left with his son over a shoulder and the healer following behind.

His father kept laughing as he threw an arm around Uzca and guided him home.

"One punch! Hahaha! Did you see the look on my brother's face? Ahh, I will cherish the memory."