It was the middle of the day at the village of Killaim. Here the villagers cower in fear as the bandits of Noin stood over them.

For some reason the Bandits had taken the villagers and moved the women and children into the village elder’s home.

They ordered the men and boys of the village to hold on to weapons and fight alongside them. They were too terrified to revolt against the many bandits that currently occupied their home.

The bandits had overtaken the village in just under two days and had been in control for about four months. Killaim’s land was abundantly fertile and under Tir’s jurisdiction.

It would be a big blow to take this village away from Tir, Noin’s enemy.

“Any movement?” one of the bandit generals asked. He had a shaved head and looked to be in his forties; he was a leader that had many battles under his belt.

The man he was speaking with was holding binoculars. “They haven’t moved yet; they've just been on one knee waiting. This isn’t good, Yav. I guesstimate about three hundred soldiers.”

Yav grabbed the binoculars from the man and looked at the army that was currently near the village they seized.

The banner they waved was green with a closed fist as their coat of arms. Yav didn’t recognize the banner at all, but just looking at it made him think that it was just some bleeding heartadventurers trying to gain fame and notoriety.

But the more he stared at the soldiers’ faces, the more fear he felt. Those were the faces of true soldiers.

“Yav, a messenger from that army is coming here on horseback!”

one of his men shouted, causing Yav to throw the binocular back to its owner. Yav and the other generals, two other men about the same age, walked towards the makeshift barricade. Withbows ready they greeted the messenger who was on horseback.

He was a young boy, no older than twelve.

“Speak!” Yav shouted.

The boy looked up with no fear towards the army of bandits and the arrows ready to petal them. The horse the boy was on had an unusual and unique white coat and was oddly human-like with its face and mannerisms.

“My lord wishes to know how many men you have to face us.”

Yav was dumbfounded. “Why would we tell you? Why don’t you tell us who your lord is, you smug little punk.”

“The only person here who's a punk is you, my Lord is giving you a blessing. Now tell us how many men you have so that we can send the same number,” the boy yelled back, with no fear in his tone. He didn’t stutter his words; he didn’t tremble at the feet of Noin.

And that made Yav even more angry. “You… How dare a child like you talk to us like that! You should be pissing your pants in fear.”

The boy spat on the ground then looked defiantly at the generals. “My Lord protects me, even now he has assured me that his horse will never let me die.”

The white horse looked as if it was smugly smiling, puffing out air from her nostrils in pride.

“My patience is wearing thin so I’m going to ask you one more time how—“

One of the archers had had enough, in a fit of rage he fired out his arrow towards the boy.

The horse shifted her eyes at the arrow and galloped backwards causing the boy to whip back and dodge the arrow. The bandits' jaws gaped wide, for what the boy said was right.

The horse puffed out air from her nostrils again. What an incredibly smug horse she was.

Yav slammed his fist against one of the wooden barricades’walls.

“Two hundred.”

The boy gave an angered expression and then nodded as the smug horse turned and trotted away.

“What in the eight hells was that?” someone finally said.

///

João was looking through his own binoculars, pumping his fist in celebration when Aenbharr had dodged the arrow.

Aenbharr and the boy turned and started to head towards João’s army. João handed the binoculars to one of his attendants at his side.

His deity Nuda had asked to be punished for his battle with Lugh, restricting him from entering the Fantasia world and aiding João so far. They had to hold off on attacking the bandits of Noin and instead decided to gain support in other ways, either by monster hunting for villages or being mercenaries to gain aurums.

All the while at the same time João had been regaining his strength and training for the day his deity returned to him, so that their conquest against Noin could begin, just like the conquerors they were supposed to be.

Although João hated the name of his role; it sounded evil to him… It was a harsh word, a word that didn't give or inspire hope. He much preferred Liberator.

João had built his body back up, no longer the rail thin slave boy he once was. During his boxing career he was placed in the middleweight division, here in the Fantasia world he had bulked up around fifteen to twenty pounds of extra pure muscle.

If he was still back on earth, he would fluctuate between the light heavyweight to cruiserweight division.

His hair was semi long, stopping around his neck, modeled after the 80s action stars that he and his grandfather had looked up to in the days of his youth. A regular Rambo ready to face off against the evils of the fantasia world.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

If it wasn’t for his young-looking face people would mistake him for a man in his mid to late twenties just by the size of his body and the style of his hair.

He had developed his strength, he had developed a bond with his army and he had developed a strong desire to liberate others from the “curses” that plagued their lives.

The same way the Machado family curse plagued his life and his family. Nuada appeared in his ethereal form beside the young man.

The restricted period was over for them.

Nuada wore his new gauntlet, which was a different hue of silver. A much darker one than the gauntlet he gave to João.

The two said nothing to each other, instead they felt the winds of the Fantasia world. True men don’t need to communicate with each other, they just need to look each other in the eyes and nod their heads to one another. Their souls would do the talking.

And that is what team Nuada did.

Nuada had lived a life of self doubt, self hatred and compliance. He had looked towards kingship as a burden and wanted to find a way out.

Always needing to take responsibility for the actions of others, he grew resentful of God, at the troublemakers of his kin… At Lugh in particular, blaming him for the death of Brigid, his exalted one.

The Tryfing, meeting João and his battle with Lugh had reignited his spirit and soul.

If it wasn’t for this young man, he would still be lost. He wouldn’t be a king anymore, he loved João as his own brother, as his own son and as his own kin.

These two had the least amount of time together compared to the other teams, yet their bond rivaled those at the top of the list. At the top of previous teams from the last two Tryfings.

“This is it, Jo.” Nuada looked towards the village, his own desire for liberation radiating from his soul.

“The first liberation of many,” João replied. Nuada looked at his retainer’s gauntlet, the crown godsend was summoned and was fused on to the gauntlet as if it was a part of the armor.

“You don’t like wearing crowns either?” Nuada asked as he reminisced about his own life and his old opinions of the crown.

João lifted his silver gauntlet arm up, inspecting it before placing his arm in front of Nuada.

“No matter what I am in this world, this crown is still your crown, brother Nuada. I can’t wear it… I wouldn’t.”

Aenbharr arrived carrying the boy, whose once serious and stoic face broke into a giant sigh of relief.

“My lord, they have two hundred men,” he reported. João grabbed the boy and helped him off of the smug horse.

“You did a great job, thank you for your service, Carlos.” The boy saluted and was dismissed.

The Machado army wasn’t just composed of strong burly men or women; children were also in the army. These children had a strong desire to serve the Machado army and its Lord, but they were regular children. What could they possibly provide?

That is what any normal person would say but not João, not the man who was the oldest of his parents’ seven children. João knew how younger siblings acted, that a true big brother is one that protects and sacrifices himself to elevate his siblings.

At least that was all he knew how to do because of the curse. The only thing he had that was truly his was boxing and even then, the curse was about to take that away back on earth. But the curse is gone and just like on earth he was a big brother, a leader… a would-be king.

These children yearned to serve so instead of telling them no, he found other ways for them to feel important. The ones who wished to fight were trained, every army needed cooks and of course there were other important positions that João could manipulate with his godsends and make sure they were safe.

João and his advisor came to a decision to send children as their messengers; the advisors theorized that their enemies would be caught off guard by a lone child as a messenger. And of course,João would make sure the messenger was self.

Even more, their enemies would be caught off guard by the question that would be asked.

“How many men do you have to face us?”

The same tactics that Nuada would use, he was a warrior that wanted equal combat. To defeat the enemy in a way where no two sides had many advantages or disadvantages. After all, he believed in honor above all as a member of the Celtic sect.

Many of the great tacticians from the different deity factions called Nuada a fool. Minerva in particular.

Why give up advantages? Why go for the harder battles that would wound your army and cut your resources?

For a true defeat, a true victory. Like Lugh said, “Blow for blow, man to man, on even playing fields.” Nuada wanted to utterly defeat his enemies and show them that he was superior, that his Celtic armies were superior.

They also had a secondary purpose, to deal psychological blows to his enemies with his tactics.

Nuada knows that his battle style isn’t the most optimal, after all it was one of the catalysts of his defeat against Balor (III). It was the fact that he fought against Lucifer’s army equally that he couldn’t assist Brigid in time.

Nuada felt like he just wasn’t strong enough to be king, that maybe just maybe his Dagda, his Celtic way was wrong. That he couldn’t bear the weight of what it meant to be the oldest.

To be like the Celtic legend, Am Fear os cionn fir, João Machado.

I really was a fool, Nuada thought. I failed Brigid, I failed Lugh too. Because I wasn’t a good king… Because I wasn’t strong enough to have faith in my Dagda.

He stared at his retainer who was finalizing his army's preparations, he yearned to give his life to the boy. So that he didn’t have to go through all of this, all this fighting just for a chance to live again.

That maybe he would lose and waste this second life… That it would be his doubt and inadequacies that would hold João back.

He was overthinking again, he really believed that after accepting his responsibilities and the crown that he would stop constantly thinking this way. It’s not easy changing a core function and part of you that makes you…you… All that bravado and pride he displayed earlier was gone in a split second of doubt.

Nuada stared down at his feet and cursed God for creating him like this. João’s preparations were finished, and he started to march towards him. He immediately noticed the tall seven-foot ethereal deity looking down, a bit depressed.

Getting his attention João bumped his chest where his heart was and breathed the resolve back into his deity.

“Arm’s length,” he said with a smile, the first line of the Machdo family creed. Nuada regained his vigor and bumped his chest back at his retainer.

“Shoulder’s wide,” he replied.

There couldn’t be anymore relapses from Nuada, he already declared himself as king again. He already fought Lugh and embarrassed the Celtics in the process of their rivalry.

João climbed onto Aenbharr, petting the faithful smug horse’s mane. “Whoever raised you did a fine job, girl,” João said, not knowing that Aenbharr's true master was King Nuada’s greatest rival in this Tryfing.

Air pushed out of Aenbharr’s nostrils as she took immense pride in João's compliment. As the horse beamed with pride a young girl, about seventeen years old, walked towards João. She held a long green cloth in her hands, cradling it as if to say “This cloth is important, my job is to handle it with care and love.”

She bowed towards her lord and presented the cloth to him. “My lord, we have all touched this cloth and prayed to the gods above for your victory.”

João nodded to the girl and took the cloth from her, this was a battle ritual the Machado’s of this world had. A cloth infused with the hopes, blood and prayers of their loyal followers, Nuada asked him what he was going to do with the cloth.

“Like I said, the crown that is fused to my gauntlet is your crown. So this,” holding the cloth in the air in front of his forehead and starting to tie the cloth around his head,

“This is my crown.”

João rode in front of his army, the winds blowing the ends of his headband wildly. Nuada hovered next to him, a stern and serious expression now laid on his face. The resurrected army of the Machado family was on standby with the same expression that Nuada had.

“I told you a few years ago that I was weak, that we would strike at the bandits, at Noin for the evils they commit. But I needed time to recover and gain strength… And that took longer than anticipated. I couldn’t keep that promise...”

Nuada looked away and felt anger at his forced punishment that derailed his and João's plans. Nuada opened his mouth and whispered to João what to say next.

“Or so I thought, but it is finally time for us to declare war against Noin. For what they did to my family and to the people of this land. We will defeat them with the same number of men they have.”

The army cheered once.

“We will liberate the land of their plague.” There was still a hint of meekness in João's voice; after all, you don’t rid yourself of a negative personality trait you had for over twenty-eight years so easily. But that is what Nuada was here for, to give him courage and help say the right things. The army cheered once more.

“We will conquer their evil,” João growled. He grabbed at the hilt of the sword that laid on his hip. “Advent, Claíomh Solais,” he whispered the summoning phrase and pulled the sword out, the regular sword transformed into the legendary Celtic godsend.

It shone in the sun and lit so strongly that even the soldiers of Noin were in awe. Yav quickly shook his head to break the trance he was in from staring at the sword of light.

“Wake up our fuckin’ goliaths already!” Yav screamed. He commanded the archers to be ready and fire at his next command.

“We will claim victory!”

“Faugh a Ballagh!!!”

“Not just a victory for us,” Nuada said, which João repeated to his people.

“But a victory for everyone! A victory for all of Helioan,” João said.

“We are the Tuatha Dé Danann," Nuada and João said at the same time, the army cheered again saying their chant. “Faugh a Ballagh!!!”

Nuada placed his gauntlet hand on João's shoulder, who was still holding the sword of light high in the air.

“I wish I could pass my life on to you and bring you back to your family, but I can’t do that. Instead, everything I have, my gauntlet and godsends, my strategies and battle style. My will and resolve, my Dagda, I pass on to you. That is my life.” Nuada let go of his retainer and looked at the beautiful sword he once called his.

“I pass my life on to you, so say my noble name… The one given to me by God. The one I pass on to you.”

João opened his mouth and screamed.

“AD-VEN-TO!”

The children, the elders and advisors, the soldiers that were picked to fight, the soldiers who were ordered to stay behind, all screamed in unison, “Advento!” The Fantasia world shook at that moment, at the powerful roar of the Machado army.

“The Champion of the Tuatha Dé Danann!”

Nuada’s ethereal form fused with João causing a shockwave that shook the Fantasia world for the second time. It felt like an earthquake, the other retainers felt the earth move this time. Alessandro was the only one who ran outside and looked outside, guessing that whoever caused this had to be a retainer.

Just like Lugh had found a retainer that not only understood him but also matched his resolve and soul, Nuada did as well.

He understood what his father had said, why he loved humans so much. A human like João who could look adversity in the eyes, accepting his own death to save his kin. Humans were simultaneously so weak yet so strong.

What he lacked when he compared himself to Cu and Brigid was what humans like João had, true resolve. Nuada wept, he felt whole for the first time since he lost Brigid.

João and Aenbharr dashed forward, the two hundred members of the Tuatha Dé Danannth right behind him, heading towards their first conquest.