Bloodshed

Swords of length vast enough to carve new valleys were swung, spears capable of becoming mountains descended upon the region. It was the reckless abandon, granted the power of a deity into the hands of a mere teenager. 

Yet— 

The Invictus of Zeus was as elusive as the wind, as though trying to cut or skewer him was like trying to catch lighting in a battle. Sirius held an excited smirk as he soared through the wind, kicking off of the air as the mountainous weapons closed in on him. 

There wasn't a corner of the world that didn't know of the youthful Invictus of Zeus–the peerless hero of Velmusia, whose name was sung by bards and written into history books already. Armies feared him, beasts ran from him, yet the boy sharpened by war, nurtured by bloodshed, welcomed his electrifying might with open arms.