𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐚𝐫: 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐝

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 - 𝐀 𝐖𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈𝐫𝐨𝐧

He dreamt of steel.
A barren field laid before him.
A vast wasteland that had no life to it.
Surrounding him on all sides was sharpen steel.
Swords of all shape and size stretched out for miles.
He looks at each one of them - hands clenching.
They call to their creator.
They call to be crafted, to be created.
To be called upon, to be use in battle.
A wanting feeling was spreading throughout his body.
It was familiar yet strange.
He wanted to speak - to shout - yet could not.
His throat was parched.
The silence was starting to become overwhelming.
He awakens to the real world.

————————————————————————

Grey eyes snapped opened.

Quickly, they looked around the surrounding area with a calculated and analyzed everything. A large room - a private bedroom - that had a single desk of the left, pushed closely to the wall. On the right was a small forging area with an anvil and all. Hanging on the walls were various tools that various from hammer to leather strappings. The forge - a stone square filled with burnable material - was dimly glowing from the ambers of last night's usage.

Nothing seemed out of order, all items were countable, perhaps he could go back to sleep—.

Chirping.

He could hear chirping and turns to an open window to the right of his bed, were small baby bird had landed. It looked at him with curious gaze before turning and taking off into the open air. It drawn his attention that the sun had risen - not too long ago - which signal the start of another day. A groan escaped from his lips at the thought but knew that to sleep in wouldn't end well for him.

So, throwing his covers, he swings his legs off to the side and stood up from the comfort of a nice bed. He stretched, yawning due to Morpheus's hold on him still being present. Afterwards he glanced at a mirror hanging above the desk where he took in his morning appearance.

Roughly standing at 5'6" in height, the body he had was well kept up to shape and define with muscles. Nothing like the bodies of Hercules or even Ares himself. He was more lean fit for speed and agility yet that did not undermine his own strength. Tan skin that had been baked in the height of forgery and coal stain hair that was messy due to waking up. Brown eyes that appear to slightly glow within the soft lit room, a scar beginning from the top of his left brow and stopping underneath his eye lid. His attire was a simple tunic that covered his lower portion and left him bare chested.

Truly, Axton may not hold a candle to the twelve major Gods & Goddesses of Olympus, but the Minor God of Forgery was still a pleasing eye catch. Ironic considering who the young god's father is.

Axton turns his attention to the doorway and moves forward. He needed to bath, get ready and head off to the Olympus Forge Room where no doubt his father will be waiting for him. It was a routine they have come to create when Axton had reached the age to start developing his craft. His mother, at the time, was worried about taking a child into a place of fire and hammer but Hephaestus insisted that he would be fine. Axton took to forgery as if the minor god had done it a thousand of time - surprising his father with a something he made during his first visit.

It was a simple looking dagger. Nothing to fancy nor eye catching about it in appearance alone but the use of the weapon was. Upon saying the word 'vanish', the user is cloaked in a thin layer of magic that cuts off all trace of them. No sent, no smell, no divine presence, not even sound.