Chapter 4: Yeast

Atreus, Aspect of War

I was led into a box-like contraption that moved up and down on its own. An elevator, they called it. I wondered what it might take to install one onto the Targonian mountainside. It would make traversing the slopes easier for our elderly. I asked Armsmaster for an explanation of how these contraptions worked but I could not understand beyond that they utilized some sort of harnessed lightning. Not lightning magic, just lightning.

Strange and wondrous inventions seemed to be normal here.

We went down into some kind of basement chamber. The entire space was built from smooth stone, metal, or glass. Off to the side, I could see a smaller room with a glass window to look out of. There were many machines inside though I could not say what they might do.

All around the chamber, I could see devices that could be used to test a warrior's mettle. Walls were lined with weights of black iron. Dummies of wood stood at the ready. Cannons like in the twin cities pointed down a range so one could stand at the other end and deflect projectiles. There were more besides that I did not readily understand.

The chamber was managed by four men in white coats. I figured they were custodial staff of some variety. Or were they stewards? I could see that their white coats distinguished them somehow, but I did not know whether in a positive or negative way.

The oldest of them, a balding elder with a shaggy beard, approached us. "Armsmaster, and you must be Atreus. The director sent word. Power testing, full gamut, right?"

"That is correct, Dr. Crowe," Armsmaster said. I filed that away. I knew what doctors were from my interactions with Piltover. These were men of learning then. "I will be overseeing testing."

"Of course, of course. Now, Atreus, before we begin, describe yourself to me. What can you do?"

I frowned at that. Was it not obvious? I called and my equipment settled around me in a flash of starlight. I stared at my spear and looked back at the man who was to test me. "I make war."

"Yes, yes, in more specific terms?"

I did not wish to disrespect the elderly, but I couldn't help the bit of sarcasm in my words. I tapped the stone with the haft of my spear. "I stab things. Things die."

Armsmaster sighed. "Atreus, it would help to know exactly how much you can lift, how fast you can run, and how accurately you can throw your spear."

"Ah, I understand." I looked around at the weights. They were respectable, enough for any decent warrior to get a workout. But they were not nearly enough for an Aspect. "I do not believe you have a way to measure my strength."

"We have barbells up to two thousand pounds. If that's not enough, we also have a hydraulic press for brutes. I think we can hit your limit."

"And that is too light."

"We'll have to test that," the man replied, scribbling something onto a notepad. "How fast do you think you are?"

"I do not know. I can cross Valoran in a matter of seconds."

"And where is-"

"His home continent," Armsmaster interjected.

"And from how far away can you summon your spear?"

"Everywhere," I said confidently. It was part of my raiment as the Aspect of War. So long as I held the office, I wielded the spear. It would come to me no matter where I was.

"That's not an answer."

"Of course it's an answer. Do you take me for a liar, elder?"

"Forgive him," Armsmaster interjected. "Scientists like to have clear numbers for things."

"As you say," I grumbled.

The scientist tapped his pen against the notepad. He looked me up and down and asked, "Are you also superhumanly durable?"

"Yes. Is it not normal to be as strong as you are sturdy?"

"Not always. Some parahumans have powers that make them offensively dangerous but are only as durable as a normal human."

"I see…" I did not see. How could a warrior train himself to be good at one thing but neglect all other aspects of combat? Such a liability would be worthy of ridicule among the Rakkor. No matter how sharp his blade, he would not be trusted nor respected for he could not shield his brothers in battle.

"I suppose this is fine. Go ahead and pick up some weights, any amount you think you can safely handle."

I nodded and did so. At the very least, the equipment here was of superb quality. Bars of steel sat on the racks, ready to be weighed down by heavy discs. I grabbed one and proceeded to slot in the biggest ones I could. Then, as the men watched, I picked the shaft up in my hand and twirled it in the air as I would Skyfall.

"Holy shit," one of the men in white swore under his breath.

"Guess we need that press after all," Dr. Crowe said. He led me to a little patch of ground marked off with yellow and black stripes. "Stand there, Atreus. Then hold your arms up. We'll start the machine when you are ready."

I nodded and set my weapons aside. I stood there and waited with my back straight as they watched. This thing called a hydraulic press was apparently used for shaping metal, but had been repurposed for men with greater than normal strength.

Armsmaster and the scientists watched as the metal plate descended.

"More," I told them. "A lot more."

"Understood," the armored man replied. I felt the cool metal fall with additional pressure. I continued to nod as they piled more weight upon my shoulders. This machine was fantastic. I could see my fellow Rakkor testing themselves beneath it.

"H-How much pressure is that, Armsmaster?" the one called Dr. Crowe asked.

"Four thousand pounds. Atreus, is this a comfortable weight?"

"This is fine. This will not strain me."

"Increasing pressure."

We proceeded this way until we could no longer continue, not because I was incapable of lifting more, but because when I decided to put in some effort and tightened my grip, my hands dug into the face of the hammer like a child leaving handprints into wet clay. At the same time, the machinery that was pressing down on me exploded.

Armsmaster stepped in and parried a flying piece of metal to protect the scientists. When the smoke cleared, I held the hammerhead in my hands, fingers still stuck. I tried to tug my fingers out of the hammer, but the sound of tortured metal filled the air.

I offered Armsmaster an apologetic smile. "Ah… I'm sorry…"

He stared at me with the same exasperated look Iula wore whenever I did something particularly idiotic. He visibly swallowed back a swear. "It's… It's fine… I knew things might break during testing."

"How much was that? And what's your press made of?" Dr. Crowe asked excitedly.

"Invalid data. The immense pressure broke the reader. The hammer's face is made of carbon steel, which has a tensile strength of 37,709 pounds per square inch. This indicatesAtreus' grip strength, coupled with the weight of the hammer, exceeded this amount."

"Jesus…"

I figured it was all broken anyway so I stopped trying to be delicate and ripped my hands from the hammer. I held it out to Armsmaster. "Did you want this back?"

"Just set it on the ground," he sighed. "I think we can cross off durability tests. At least the speed trials should be less destructive."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

They then led me onto something called a treadmill. It had a rotating platform that forced the user to run in place. The old one set the scale to sixty miles per hour, apparently the average speed of a self-locomotor on something called a freeway. Self-locomotors were not allowed to drive at higher speeds than this, and oftentimes much lower, in order to improve public safety. I had not considered laws concerning speed to be a necessity before but it made sense in hindsight.

I jogged in place as the scientists bombarded me with questions but my thoughts were on all the different things I had seen. Perhaps this incessant curiosity of their scientists was to blame for all these technological advancements. I wondered what my tribe would have made of this city.

"How long do you think you can keep this up?"

"Is your speed a function of your strength or do you have any auxiliary abilities?"

"When you sprint, do you feel that you interact with the world in a different way than usual?"

I rolled my eyes. I was beginning to tire of their constant badgering. A warrior should be fast, swift with his spear and shield and fleet of foot both. What more was there to say? Still, I did my best to answer them. "This is not tiring. I can maintain this speed indefinitely. Speed and strength are one and the same. A warrior trains both in equal measure. Why would running fast change how I act on the world?"

"Right, you can get off the treadmill. Here's what's going to happen. The lab is sixty yards from wall to wall. We're going to set up a laser at one end and you're going to run to it as quickly as you can. We'll be able to get a clear estimate of your sprinting speed by seeing how long it takes for you to disrupt the laser."

"Very well."

I nodded approvingly. The scientists and Armsmaster had barricaded themselves behind another room to the side of the lab. They assured me that the glass was thicker and made of a special material that would not break from me running by.

"You can drop your weapons if you think that'll help you run faster," came the doctor's voice through a communication device.

"What good is it to run fast if a warrior leaves his shield and spear behind?" I asked him incredulously.

"Fine, just… On three."

"On three."

"One… Two… Three!"

The Solstice of Astrea flared behind me, leaving a river of constellations trailing in my wake. The stone crunched deep beneath my toes and I blurred forward with all the power of a proper shield bash.

The strength that forced Darkin to their knees met mundane stone. No matter how well-constructed, this concrete could not withstand my charge. A tremendous cloud of dust spread out around me as a deafening boom shook the building. I hoped I did not do irreparable damage to the foundations. The one called Dr. Crowe assured me it would be fine.

I looked back into the room. The glass had survived, in a manner of speaking. There were enough cracks in it that it looked as though countless spiders had made webs over it. And yet, it had not shattered into shrapnel, somehow.

"My compliments to the artisan who made that," I said, gesturing to the window. "He must be a master without compare."

"We should… pause further testing…" the doctor said.

X

Director Emily Piggot

Today was not my day. To be fair, this hasn't been my month either. It started with the rising gang violence brought on by a new player in the madhouse that was this city: the Undersiders. The gang, led by a shaker named Grue, started out by robbing jewelry stores, cash exchanges, and even a laundromat on occasion before moving onto bigger heists. They really seemed to expand their operations the past few months but even then, they weren't anything special.

Then early this month, they had the gall to rob the Ruby Dreams casino, a well-known ABB front. I hadn't expected them to become such a large thorn in my side.

I didn't care about the Ruby Dreams; I cared about Lung's retaliation. He and Oni Lee tore a destructive path through the Boat Graveyard, only for Armsmaster and some bug girl to intervene. They managed to bring in Lung with a mix of cocktails that chemically castrated the cape. It almost would have been funny had not Armsmaster tried to pass it off as his solitary achievement.

This was why I didn't trust capes. They were conflict-prone, self-serving, and almost without fail too stupid to think beyond immediate gratification. Because of course Armsmaster chose to further his career rather than tell people about a new master in the city. Of course he chose to alienate said new cape, presenting himself as a glory-hog who'd bully a new cape out of credit. And of course said bug girl didn't join the Wards like a sensible teenager.

No, she joined the Undersiders, the same gang of idiots that stirred up the ABB in the first place. She then proceeded to rob a bank with them, taking Panacea hostage in a show of laughable stupidity or misfortune. They got away with tens of thousands of dollars after thoroughly humiliating my Wards. That Glory Girl decided to butt in made the defeat look even worse.

As if the regular insanity of this city wasn't enough to deal with, I was sure now; I had a mole. It wasn't just the robbery that took place conveniently when all Protectorate members were out of town. There were half a dozen little things that I started to notice now that I was looking. And since I couldn't imagine Grue having the pull to set this up, I had to conclude that there was someone pulling the strings from behind the scenes.

Whoever it was, either they didn't give a flying fuck about the Undersiders or they had nowhere near the control they thought they did because the gang of idiots ended up in a fight against Bakuda the very next day. I found out only after the fact from an Uber and Leet stream of all things. Had I known, I would have sent everyone I could to nip things off at the bud.

I didn't know, so I couldn't get rid of Bakuda. Whatever lunacy she was dealing with, she proceeded to make it everyone else's problem by starting a bombing campaign that took hundreds of lives and threw the city into lockdown. It was bad enough that the mayor was considering petitioning for the deployment of the national guard.

That was how the past week had gone. The Protectorate, PRT, and New Wave raced around the city, trying to put out literal fires and disarm bombs left by a lunatic with delusions of grandeur. As if that wasn't enough, Oni Lee successfully freed Lung in the chaos. And it was all caused by a pair of imbeciles who thought castrating the dragon wouldn't come with consequences.

It wasn't lost on me that one of those imbeciles was unfortunately mine.

As if my month couldn't get worse, said imbecile brought back a Case-22 from patrol this morning, a dimension-walker. A. Dimension. Walker.

What did it say about my city that the head of my Protectorate castrating someone was somehow the least impactful part of my month?

I sank into my chair with an exhausted sigh as the dialysis machine I had brought into my office worked to replace my kidneys. The Case-22 had been brought in peacefully, thank Christ for small mercies, and then been led to power testing. His accounts of a different world were interesting, but I had enough worries in this one. Armsmaster seemed unusually invested in Atreus, likely thinking he could get the credit for signing on a powerful new hero.

I had the privilege of watching through cameras as Atreus turned power testing into a joke, entirely unintentionally. As I watched, a slow realization dawned on me: He was a brute who was raised among brutes. He was the brutiest brute, the eight hundred pound gorilla in the room.

He didn't get it. He tried. He was as courteous as could be expected and clearly wasn't looking to pick a fight, but he didn't understand that violence should not be an expectation in society. He didn't understand why so few people seemed martially inclined or why capes felt the need to wear masks.

He was blunt, forthcoming, and self-assured. It was refreshing, but it also terrified me.

What would a man who grew up in a martial culture do to the first gangbanger he met? Would he hold back? Or would he kill without a second thought, considering it just recompense for whatever crime he saw?

Could he hold back?

Atreus crushed that hydraulic press like clay. Add that ridiculous speed and he'd have been every normie's nightmare even if he had no clue how to use that spear of his.

I wasn't delusional enough to think the spear was only decoration.

Bakuda was still at large. Lung had taken over his gang again. I had word that the Empire was starting to mobilize in full. Given the circumstances, the villains would likely meet at Somer's Rock to reach an armistice for the duration of this nonsense. The second week of Bakuda's bombing spree was only just beginning but it was shaping up to be even more chaotic than the first.

Atreus could turn the tide, but he'd leave a trail of bodies in his wake. No, I couldn't use him as a bludgeoning tool. Bakuda was an A-class threat, but not one that could be brute forced. If Lung managed to ramp beyond our control, I'd be happy to throw Atreus his way. Until then, I decided to just give the man what he wanted. If all it took to keep a cape like that pacified was some baking lessons, that'd be the single best news I heard all year.

I picked up the phone. "Renick, go find the best damn baker you can find. We'll pay them five grand a month to take on an employee... They don't need to pay him, we'll handle that on our end… Yes, I know what I said. Just get it done and count ourselves lucky."

I went about my day, confident I'd handled that to the best of my abilities. That was the trick with the Bay; you rolled with the punches and hoped you'd get enough time between to breathe. I'd hopefully never need to call on such a dangerously powerful cape, but it was good to know I had that final nuclear option in my pocket.

Then I received a call. It was one I could not ignore. As much as I personally mistrusted capes, Dragon was the premier tinker in the world for very good reasons. She at least deserved my time. I tapped the button to set it to speaker. "Director Piggot. Dragon, how can I help you?"

"Hello, director. I was brought in on this new Case-22 by Armsmaster as an outside consultant to confirm that Atreus did not match any individual I had on file."

"I've been told. Thank you for your assistance."

"Yes, well, I've also been privy to the conversation you had with Atreus. Out of curiosity, I accessed the available data of several observatories around the world."

I had a sinking feeling I knew where this was going. "Yes? And?"

"I was able to piece together a star chart that covers most of the visible night sky from any point on the globe. I then cross-referenced it with the old data. To be extra certain, I even rerouted one of my communications satellites to confirm… Next to Polaris…"

"What the hell do you mean there's another star?"

Author's Note

This one was pretty fun to write. I kept thinking of Saitama's Hero Association entrance exam from One Punch Man

Anyone notice that Pantheon doesn't actually wear shoes? He has foot-wraps in his character model.

Since this is about Pantheon, have a Spartan fact: The Agoge is not as depicted in the movie, 300. It does not involve sending tweens into the snow-covered wilderness to hunt down apex predators with a spear. What it was, was a state-sponsored education system for boys, mandatory except for the firstborn of the ruling houses.

It did involve hunting, combat, and national values (soldiering, pain tolerance, etc.), but it also included communication, dancing, singing, and reading and writing. Yes, the majority of Spartan men (citizens at any rate) were fully literate.

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.