Nathan's Rage

Nathan stood in silence, staring down at his clenched fists, his thoughts swirling with self-doubt, frustration, and confusion. Hugo had told him things he had never considered before—things that made him question his own anger.

But then, Hugo spoke one last time before leaving.

"Listen, kid."

Nathan looked up, eyes still burning with emotion, but now with a hint of uncertainty.

Hugo's white eyes met his directly. His voice was calm, but carried undeniable weight.

"If you ever feel like your rage is taking over—like it's consuming you—don't fight it with more anger."

Nathan frowned slightly, confused. "Then how?"

Hugo turned slightly, glancing toward the darkening horizon, where the last remnants of sunlight flickered against the mountain peaks.

"Think of the best moments of your life," Hugo said simply. "The times when you felt strong, safe, happy. The moments when your rage didn't define you."

Nathan blinked, surprised by the simplicity of the advice.

"The best moments?" he muttered, his voice quiet.

Hugo nodded. "The people who gave you strength. The times when you weren't angry—when you actually felt alive. Hold on to those moments. Use them."

Nathan gritted his teeth, unsure if he believed that.

He had lived with anger for so long that he didn't even know if he had those kinds of moments.

But Hugo's words lingered.

The best moments of his life?

Had there really been a time before the anger?

Hugo turned to leave, his coat shifting slightly in the wind as he walked away.

"Get some rest," he said over his shoulder. "Tomorrow, we continue."

Nathan watched him go, his mind still racing.

For the first time in a long while, his rage didn't feel so overwhelming.

And for the first time…

He thought about what his best moments truly were.

Nathan sat on the edge of the rocky cliff, staring at the village below, his mind swirling with everything Hugo had told him. The words refused to leave his head.

"Think of the best moments of your life."

He scoffed at first. What best moments? All he could remember was frustration—failing at the forge, failing to meet expectations, failing to live up to his legacy.

But as the evening deepened, something inside him shifted.

Nathan was six years old, his hands barely strong enough to hold a hammer.

He stood inside his father's forge, the smell of heated metal filling the air, the rhythmic pounding of the anvil echoing through the workshop. Sparks flew as his father—a strong, quiet man with the same dark hair and sharp eyes—crafted a blade with steady, deliberate movements.

Nathan watched with awe.

"One day, this will be you," his father said, his voice gruff but full of certainty. "You have the strength, Nathan. You have the blood of Cedric. You will build weapons that people will talk about for centuries."

Nathan's young heart swelled with pride.

"I will?"

His father nodded. "Of course. But strength alone isn't enough. You have to learn patience, control. A blade isn't made with strength—it's made with care."

Nathan, eager to prove himself, grabbed a small hammer and went to work. He swung too hard, missed the mark, and nearly dropped the metal off the anvil.

But his father didn't yell.

Instead, he chuckled.

"Too much force, not enough precision," he said, ruffling Nathan's hair. "You'll get there."

Nathan grinned up at him.

He was happy.

For the first time in his life, he truly believed that he could forge something great.

Nathan's fingers twitched at the memory.

His father had been his best moment.

Not his strength. Not his rage.

But the time when he truly believed in himself.

His jaw tightened.

When had that feeling disappeared?

How had his anger twisted everything?

Nathan gritted his teeth, looking at his own hands—the hands of a boy born into strength but lost in rage.

Hugo was right.

The rage would consume him if he let it.

If he wanted to truly be worthy, he had to stop chasing Cedric's shadow… and forge his own.

For the first time in years, Nathan took a deep breath.

And he let the anger settle.

Tomorrow, he would forge.

Not out of rage.

But because he wanted to.

The night air was cool as Hugo walked back into Stormbarrier Village, the streets quiet now that the excitement of the day had died down. The forge fires still flickered in the distance, but most of the villagers had gone home, preparing for tomorrow's trial.

At the village inn, Eclipse Zero sat around a dimly lit wooden table, waiting for Hugo's return.

Lena was leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her golden eyes sharp as she glanced up at him. Ethan was next to her, tapping his fingers impatiently against the table.

Stella sat with her arms resting on her knees, her usual serious expression fixed on Hugo as he entered.

Darius was, unsurprisingly, munching on a plate of food, casually sipping from a metal mug. "Took you long enough," he muttered, before taking another bite.

And then there was Iris, standing near the window, arms folded. She didn't say anything at first—just watched Hugo with an unreadable look, her silver eyes flickering in the torchlight.

As soon as Hugo sat down, Ethan was the first to speak.

"Alright, so what's the plan?" His blue eyes flickered with curiosity. "We came to Stormbarrier to gear up for Lunaris Sanctum, but it feels like we've been dragged into something else."

Lena nodded. "Yeah. Is this blacksmith trial really worth our time? The Dominion isn't just going to sit around while we waste days training a kid."

Stella crossed her arms. "And let's not forget—we still need to meet with the Sage of Lunaris Sanctum so you can unlock Eclipse mode before the Dominion makes their next move."

Iris, still quiet, finally spoke. "You seem invested in this kid," she mused, tilting her head slightly. "That's not like you, Hugo."

The whole table went silent, waiting for Hugo's answer.

Hugo leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow breath. "I know why we came here. And I know what's at stake. But..." He paused, choosing his words carefully.

"It can wait one more day."

Lena blinked. "What?"

Stella frowned. "Hugo, are you serious?"

Hugo's expression didn't change. "Yes. Nathan—Cedric's descendant—has the potential to wield the Arc-Hammer. But right now, he's just a kid drowning in his own rage. If we leave now, Stormbarrier loses its future, and we walk away from someone who could actually become something greater."

The group exchanged glances, some uncertain, some contemplative.

Darius finally snorted, setting his mug down. "So we're babysitting, then?"

Hugo smirked slightly. "We're giving someone a chance—same as what someone once gave us."

Ethan sighed, but nodded. "Fine. One more day. But after that, we need to move."

Lena hesitated, then leaned back in her chair. "Alright. But if this kid blows it, we don't stay any longer."

Iris watched Hugo carefully, her silver eyes narrowing slightly. But she said nothing—just smirked slightly to herself.

"One more day," Stella repeated, reluctantly agreeing.

Hugo nodded, his mind set.

Tomorrow, Nathan would have one last chance.

And after that, Eclipse Zero would be on the move again.