What is living?

Is it just surviving, working ceaselessly to continue breathing from one day to the next? Is it the passion of pursuing an impossible dream, only to end up in a ditch before you can even reach middle age?

Michael never considered these questions, believing them inane and pointless. Growing up as the son of the town alchemist, his path in life had always been set, a fact supported strongly by his talent in the art. Not in potion making, mind you; he sucked at those. No, his skills had always been in transmutation. Need money? Turn a cluster of rocks into gold. Need salt for food? Rocks again; dirt worked too. Arguably the hardest field for most mortal alchemists to master was as easy as breathing.

Needless to say, he had no illusion that he’d ever be allowed by anyone of sane mind to do any different, not by his father, his community, and most definitely not himself. No trade he’d ever seen had drawn his interest near enough to even entertain the thought of leaving that golden path.

But…. This….

… he was captivated, mesmerized by every clash of the dueling titans, even at the far distance he first caught sight of them from.

Two opposing forces dueled furiously in a ruined forest clearing in the distance. Every clash of their weapons rent the land asunder, shattering the once evergreen tranquility. While most of their moves were too fast for his eyes to see, especially with most of these observations being made with the small pocket telescope he carried, the spectacle was enough to keep his attention.

The forest of silence is an oppressively dangerous place for anyone passing through the area. Normally, it was a place that few dared to tread lightly for fear of getting lost or eaten. Even he, as experienced with it as he was, could only make it this far by virtue of his mother’s protective amulet. She made them for their town’s hunters and alchemists.

Yet, the result of every clash shattered the landscape and reaped the lives of anything unfortunate enough to be too close. Where there was once a beautiful but deadly forest, there was now a hellscape of shattered earth, splintered wood, tattered corpses, and flooded craters.

Was it stupid that he ran in the opposite direction of the fleeing horde of beasts? Well… he didn’t think so either.

By the time he reached close enough to see their forms though, they’d already paused to catch their breath, both struggling to maximize their brief respite amongst the furious dance of destruction.

On one side, careful to keep her proximity to the large river behind her was a beautiful woman seemingly around his age bearing an obsidian trident that shined with a radiant blue light. Her long silvery white hair was matted with sweat against her fair skin. Surrounding her were thick tentacles of water resembling a hydra, postured to strike her foe.

On the other side was a towering older man that could almost pass as his uncle. His peppered hair accented his brown skin, red eyes, and the strong facial features that struck an intimidating figure. Unlike the girl who wore a set of fancy witches’ robes (at least he thought that’s what they were), he wore leather armor adorned with beast furs from species he couldn’t place and carried a massive Black hammer adorned with golden inscriptions he couldn’t make out from this distance.

The two radiated a thick, unseen power. From the girl, he felt the weight of the ocean enclosing all around him. The sky dimmed as her power expressed itself to full effect. Yet, despite this crushing pressure, the feeling given off by the man offset it massively and even invigorated him beyond measure. It was strange. Unlike hers, which put him off with an unsettling darkness, his was weighty and… oddly comfortable.

He couldn’t explain it, but his meagre understanding of the situation with a bit of healthy speculation concluded that his continued safety was likely due to this man if unintentional. Fortunately, as time passed, he noticed that the man’s presence was slowly overpowering his opponent’s, making his spectating much easier in the long run.

Idly, he wondered if the girl was getting tired or the man was intentionally helping him. Yet, these were just fleeting thoughts. His mind was much too distracted by the spectacle to give true consideration to the nuances.

Tentacles of water stabbed at the armored man like spears with ice forming on the tips for extra penetration. He dodged some, while slamming his hammer to create barriers to block others. The watery tentacles shattered the improvised barriers but failed to catch him off guard.

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He was surprisingly light on his feet for someone so large.

He returned fire, using his hands to launch the rubble back at the girl like bullets, but they couldn’t breach the massive bubble of water she surrounded herself with, the base of the ‘hydra.’ As bullets penetrated the bubble, they were forced off course around her.

The man’s eyes narrowed at the sight, realizing the futility of ranged combat. It’d worked before, piercing that construct of hers with casual ease, but he too couldn’t sustain this offensive. It was obvious to all watching that (mainly him), being so close to a strong water source, the girl had a profound advantage. Granted, he too had his source of power available to him, but distance was not his friend, especially not when tired. His only consolation was his greater aether reserves keeping him ahead.

Aether was the resource that let people perform supernatural feats. It transformed the mundane into the fantastical. People channeled it through an independent network of small channels that intertwined with their circulatory system. By channeling this fantastical resource through this network, people can cast fireballs or even coat themselves in fire. Of course… these two exceeded what he thought possible to be done with aether.

The man’s arms clenched around his hammer, having made his decision. This needed to end; continuing any longer would only give her chances.

Neither spoke, both directing their undivided attention on slaying the other. It was an intensity the spectating boy was completely unfamiliar with. At most he’d ever seen his community face off against the beasts in the forest, but that wasn’t personal; you didn’t hate a tiger for fighting back. Everyone in their right mind knew that it was just the cycle of nature….

But this wasn’t anything like that; this was visceral, carnal. He wondered what would compel these two titans to fight with such finality, such desperation to kill the other.

The spectating boy noticed something odd about the man’s hammer, the golden engravings glowed brighter and brighter every second, and it seemed the girl recognized that fact too, as her trident came alive with bright blue engravings of its own, though hers seemed to brighten slower than the man’s.

‘I wonder if it’s because of her tentacle spell.’ The boy thought. Even though the conclusion felt incomplete, he didn’t have enough knowledge of who these fighters were to guess anything else.

Faster than he could perceive, the man’s hammer slammed against the earth, quaking the surrounding area and sending him to his feet.

As the earth heaved around him, crumbling into large fragments, rationality finally began overriding the fascination he’d been drunk on for however long the fight had been going on. His hands started to feel clammy and fell prey to a bout of shivers that got worse proportionally to the sinking feeling in his gut.

Fear.

He was breathing louder now, not quite hyperventilating, but definitely reflecting the rapid onset of an instinctual desire to preserve his existence.

As he was turning around though, he noticed at the corner of his eyes that the man launched himself like a bullet at the girl, colliding before he could even register what happened. He didn’t see much else.

BOOM!!!

A shockwave exploded outward, launching him flailing helplessly into the air. Was he screaming? He wasn’t sure. It was a blur of motion that his feeble mind was incapable of processing.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he’d finally regained his bearings. He was number than he’d expected. It should’ve been incredibly painful. Instead… honestly, he felt much less than expected.

“Urgh…” his head pounded with a headache like he’d never felt. Still, he resisted, mustering the strength to force himself off of the splinter-littered ground.

“Tsst…” He let out a sharp inhale as his body screamed in protest.

‘How much did I break.’ He thought, still struggling to leave the unfortunate battlefield and get back to the boring life he’d grown accustomed.

Before he could get far though, he tripped on something, bringing him back to the ground.

“Urgh…” once again, he struggled to get off the ground, struggling to reclaim the progress he’d made. Then, whether it be curiosity or stupidity, he turned to briefly glance at the stick that’d tripped him.

“Wait… that’s not a log..” his pupils dilated rapidly as the reality of what was in front of him dawned fully in his mind.

It was a handle, a black handle pulsing with golden light that connected to something half-buried in the earth beneath. It was as if a switch flipped as all the fear that’d hit him like a tide was restrained by the newfound well of interest that’d sprung from within.

His hands reached for it, grabbing for the alien object that’d captivated him beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. The previous owner’s reaction to it wasn’t even a concern.

‘It was here.’ After all. ‘Surely he wouldn’t miss it. Maybe he’ll even be grateful.’ These alien thoughts dominated his mind, consuming his rationality like an inferno in a dry patch of grass. His addled mind refused to consider the ‘smart’ or ‘moral’ courses of action. All that mattered was the beautiful hammer before him.

Before his hands touched it though, a deep voice boomed in his mind, “May the meek of will beware… for whosoever bears Bekmah’s Wrath, if he deems them fit, shall don the mantle of the Earthshaker.”

In any other circumstance, he probably would’ve stopped to consider the trial that’d been served to him. He probably would’ve turned it down. After all, who was he but a meek willed person with marketable skills? He definitely wasn’t some hero that could bear the weight of one of the four great spirit’s names, especially not one as heavy as Bekmah’s.

In this case though, addled as he was, his decision wasn’t hard; it wasn’t a decision at all. His shaky hands wrapped around the handle and with determination that wasn’t his…

And heaved…