4 [Vainglory]

Fate/Defiance

Chapter 4 [Vainglory]

By theMadLad

Beta'd by Old man of the mountain and Gerhman573

"No!" Icarus shouted as he saw Perdix drop, but he was too late, only able to watch as his cousin screamed in despair as he fell.

As Icarus' head leaned over the edge, he was stunned to see an owl suddenly swooping down!

It seemed that the Goddess of Wisdom was not one to allow someone who had garnered her interest to die so simply.

Icarus watched, dazed as the owl reached the hysterical Perdix before suddenly summoning a golden glow that enveloped his cousin's body. Then as the glow slowly receded it revealed his cousin—Perdix—had been turned into a bird!

….which then proceeded to fly away.

As cold sweats drenched his backside, Icarus leaned back from the edge before proceeding to give off the biggest nervous gulp of his life.

——————

Daedalus was standing over the edge of the Acropolis as he stared at his outreached forearm, feeling a weight off his chest the moment his bastard nephew fell to his death.

Since Perdix dared to use his knowledge and claim it as his own, then he dared to die.

With the pleasurable feeling of vindication in mind, Daedalus was suddenly interrupted when an owl swooped up from below and attacked him!

He gave off a sharp grunt in pain as the owl's claws pierced his flesh and marked him, blood dripping from his forearm as the wound appeared to be in the shape of a bird.

His gaze was then drawn downwards as the panicked cry of an animal stole his attention. It was a bird, exactly like the one shaped on his new wound. It seemed terrified of the ground below it, frantically flying out to the highest point of the cliff's edge and nesting there.

…Then everything that had happened finally hit him.

Daedalus' blood ran cold as he realized everything that he had done, he watched as his bleeding outstretched arm started to shake from the buildup of emotions.

That bird. He looked farther down further and noticed the lack of a corpse below the cliff.

'Perdix…? Was that bird him?'

Then, the clanking of boots moving through the crowd reverberated throughout the Acropolis as the local astynomia arrived. [1]

The crowd parted as they made their move to seize Daedalus, but he was inattentive—lost in his own world. As they grabbed onto his arms and restrained him, he was still staring at the bird-like scar left by that owl.

Owl…the one which attacked him, Athena.

Anger boiled in his chest as the Goddess' name touched his thoughts, before sizzling down to resignation.

He wasn't qualified to blame her, she was a god. He was just a mere mortal, incapable of doing anything towards her. If anything, he should thank her for saving his cousin's life—well, as much of life that he would have from now on.

Finally, his turbulent emotions burst out, leaving only a gaping hole of grief and regret in his chest. He had just almost killed some of the last family he had, his student and the person his sister had entrusted to him for petty jealousy.

Looking at the scar the Goddess of Wisdom left him as a reminder of his sin, he only had one thought.

…It wasn't his fault.

He couldn't control himself, as much as Athena's blessing was a gift—it was just as much a curse.

The knowledge he had gained from the crystallization of her wisdom was something he valued immensely throughout his life, he wouldn't be where he was today without it.

But, it had fundamentally changed something in him. The crystallization of wisdom was specifically tailored to him and with it came…the awakening of something no man should have awakened.

His Origin.

The fundamental makeup of his very existence, dictated by the root of all existence. The problem stemmed from how all humans subconsciously match their actions to be in harmony with their Origin. These actions are more along the lines of an inherent compulsion that could be called a person's instinct rather than a conscious decision.

But, if a human awakens their Origin, things take a turn for the worse. It becomes nearly impossible to stray from their Origin—if it's even possible in the first place. It becomes an impulsive behavior one would follow as though it were an absolute order.

This is exactly what happened to Daedalus, who had awakened his Origin due to Athena's gift. Perhaps the Goddess—with her alien state of mind—believed it something normal or solely beneficial, or perhaps she never cared at all. Regardless, the awakening of his Origin was a fate worse than death….it was, the loss of his own free will.

This was especially problematic for Daedalus, who held the Origin of Vainglory.

Due to this, his pride consumed him, with his Origin giving him an immense insecurity in the form of a superiority-inferiority complex from his 'empty' pride. The need to prove himself was ingrained in every action he took, taking the priority in his life over everything.

In his attempts to not let it destroy everything that made him him—he isolated himself, going from someone with royal blood and divine lineage to a crazy old man, obsessed with only his latest invention and the attention garnered from it.

He was a pitiful man, who lost himself in his pursuit of glory—only for it to end up in vain.

Truly a tragic irony.

He couldn't even trust himself anymore.

He was too dangerous now, the compulsions were no longer possible to resist—it might have been Perdix now, but maybe it could be Icarus next…

The shouts of his son finally snapped him out of his thoughts, he glanced up to see Icarus also being apprehended, shouting at the astynomia in defiance.

"Oi Oi, what the fuck did I do?!" Icarus yelled in indignation as they aggressively restrained his struggling while holding his small body to the floor.

Daedalus was angry at their actions, his son was innocent!

He stared down at the reminder the Goddess of Wisdom had given him with grim determination—he may not be able to change his fate, but he would at least resist the compulsions of his Origin one last time.

Resolved brimmed in his eyes as a plan was formulated in his mind, he had already failed everyone in his life—he'd be damned if he failed his son too.

"Icarus!" He screamed, drawing his son's attention. Icarus glanced at him with a wary expression that sent pangs into Daedalus' heart. But, he couldn't blame him after everything he did.

"Get ready! You have to get to the house and activate the bounded field, then you must find a way to escape Athens!" Daedalus shouted instructions toward Icarus as the people arresting him strengthened their grip.

Icarus gave him a long look before finally nodding his head in affirmation causing Daedalus to sigh in relief before beginning his plan.

He whispered under his breath as suddenly a green haze permeated throughout his skin before enveloping his body. Daedalus felt the strength of his body undergo a transformation as his average physique was raised to superhuman levels.

Using his newfound strength, Daedalus wrestled the men holding him down off of him before reaching into his side and grabbing some pouches.

Throwing one of them to his feet he whispered a faint spell as they activated, exploding among the guards with enough noise to deafen their ears.

They were celebration fireworks that Daedalus had created which he had been intending to sell today.

Startled by the noise, the men surrounding him ducked for cover—unaware that it was harmless.

Using the distraction, he rushed towards the men holding Icarus down and used his enhanced strength to free him while throwing the men to the ground.

"Go!" He turned to yell at Icarus who had…..already disappeared, as he had used the opportunity to run and quickly slipped into the distressed crowd to get away.

He shook his head with a strange mixture of exasperation and pride towards his son as he straddled the man below him, quickly using his empowered strength to take him out of the fight, as he knew he would soon be swarmed by the others.

Daedalus was sweating as he incapacitated the remaining men, he wasn't someone very athletic and had tired quickly. But, it didn't matter—he was an inventor after all, not a warrior.

He reached into his sides once more, where he held a small storage pouch that was larger on the inside and capable of containing a small amount of items.

There he pulled out some of his last objects, a small axe and a miniature stone golem.

He spoke a few brief words to the golem before grabbing it in his hand and throwing it in the direction of his home, knowing that it could reach the rest of the way on its own.

Meanwhile, the small axe was situated in his grasp while being held in a strange position—instead of holding it from the pommel, he held it upside down, with his hand slightly above the blade.

The other warriors had gotten up and surrounded him with pointed spears. But he held a confident demeanor, this wasn't any ordinary axe after all.

This was his personal creation, ambued and enchanted with the power of his awakened Origin.

An axe that held the very concept of Vainglory—inflated pride in oneself; especially something that is vain, empty, or valueless.

He had many ways to use his Origin in his projects and work, but this one was a bit special.

Afterall, this axe was not meant to cut down trees—

"Βιασύνη του Ερμή!"(Haste of Hermes)

—It was meant to cast spells.

His lower body gave an orange hue as he stepped back, instantly finding himself a few feet back just in time to dodge the incapacitating strike of the astynomia.

The spell was one that was designed to piggyback off of the name, power, speed and Authority belonging to the Messenger God, Hermes. Spells like this usually took large amounts of preparation as well as long and detailed chants to cast, but his axe allowed him to bypass that.

His axe lacked a name on purpose, it helped with its concepts. The axe was an application of the concept of Vainglory, specifically as the definition of 'empty pride.'

Daedalus would mainly use his Origin through the use of enchantments within his inventions, as it would give a slightly noticeable bolster to more mundane objects when enchanted.

But, it was different for the axe. He crafted the axe with solely his Origin in mind, he had even used his blood in the engraving and hair in its wrappings.

This entrenched his axe in Vainglory. Daedalus did this by making the glory of the axe its ability as a conduit for spells, making them more powerful, focused, and shorter to cast—while also being completely pointless on an axe of all things—an ability that was valueless, useless, vain.

Daedalus created distance from the men, dodging their spears and retreating with the help of his prior spell.

Holding the axe blade adjacent to his forearm, he flicked it towards the men, causing the axe to release a sharp blade of air towards them.

The crowd watched in morbid fascination as the blades of wind began dismembering the Astynomia in droves, with the majority of them dropping to the floor while screaming in pain.

Daedalus was ruthless towards them, they were slaves after all—in both his eyes and those of the law—they held no value that wasn't monetary.

For every Astynomia killed or incapacitated, another took their place. It seemed the local nobles really paid no expense.

As Daedalus continued to fight he began questioning himself with thoughts of pride and arrogance teetering at the edge of his mind.

'…Why was he doing this? Were they worthy?'

He gasped as the compulsions began to once again poison his mind, causing his head to buzz in pain due to his struggle to defy it.

'Worthy of death by his hand? His inventions?! They were mere slaves!'

The buzzing in his head continued to grow as it started overwhelming all his thoughts while blurring the edge of his vision.

'No. No, No! This is for Icarus, his son! He must not fail him too!'

The buzzing was momentarily repulsed as his thoughts returned to him, with the blood rushed to his head abated.

'M-must not fail him!'

The Astynomia were gaining on him, their men's numbers overwhelming as they surrounded him with pointed spears.

'Must not fail…who? Why?'

Daedalus finally ran out of space to evade with as they closed in on him with a circular formation, causing him to use his trump card—a final gambit if you will, "Οργή του Άρη, ευλογία αίματος στον θεό του πολέμου!"[2]

It was a spell that called upon the power of the God of War, but it had a major drawback—if the user failed to draw enough blood as an offering they would succumb to madness.

But, that wasn't a problem for him.

As he flipped his axe to a standard grip, his newfound instincts directed him towards the path of bloodshed. Every strike was not aimed to kill but mutilate.

The citizens still remaining at the Acropolis were finally starting to get unnerved at the brutality, screams of pain on all those he fell—as if he was the God of War incarnate.

'Why was he doing this again? He was not a barbarian!'

Eventually, even his last stand could only hold on for so long. The Astynomia outnumbered him far too greatly and he was finally restrained.

Because they were slaves to the local nobles that were used as law enforcement, they were not allowed to kill someone as prominent as Daedalus and were forced to restrain him to be put on trial regardless of their feelings or injuries.

As they held his struggling body to the ground, they took his axe from him along with everything else on his person as he was searched and slowly dragged off, frothing and screaming along the way.

"How dare you arrest me?! Don't you know who I am? I am Daedalus!" His compulsions could no longer be resisted as he slowly lost his mind.

Daedalus, the father, uncle, teacher, and person was no more…drowned under the absolute orders of his Origin.

…Only the prideful husk of the man known as—Daedalus, the Inventor—lived on.

====================

Took me a while to be satisfied with the chapter, hope you enjoyed it, thanks for the support.

If you guys get the story to lets say, a thousand powerstones, I'll post an extra chapter next week. (Totally not so high because I'm lazy)

Join my discord, https://discord.gg/AMyqBN2

[1] Astynomia

The Ancient Greek form of police, a compound noun consisting of asty (the officialese word for city) and nomos (law). In Athens publicly owned slaves were used by magistrates as a police force.

[2] Οργή του Άρη, ευλογία αίματος στον θεό του πολέμου!

Translates to, "Wrath of Ares, a blessing of blood to the god of war!"