¡Not a Single One Alice!

Hephaistos Familia Residence, Pyrion's personal workshop.

"Damn it, I told Ottar I'd have it ready in a few days, and it's already been a week," Pyrion muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he stared at the massive black sword in front of him.

With recent events in Orario, his time as captain of the Hephaistos familia had been more than occupied, and the lack of space to work on forging the weapon was starting to overwhelm him. For someone with a bit of an obsession for punctuality, the delay was almost unbearable.

Pyrion let out a heavy sigh and crossed his arms, gazing at the unfinished sword lying on his workbench. The dark blade was only halfway polished, and the edge still lacked the final touch that would make it a true masterpiece. His fingers tapped on the table as frustration was evident on his face.

"No matter what, I have to finish this weapon today," he told himself with determination. He stood up and carefully picked up the weapon. He remembered the early days when he had started working on it: he had melted down Ottar's previous sword, separating the finest materials and removing any impurities, then molded it from scratch. This time, he wanted to give it a design that matched Ottar's strength and presence.

And what was Pyrion's inspiration at the beginning? The image was clear. Whenever he saw the imposing Ottar, a character from his past life as an otaku came to mind: the formidable Guts, with his colossal black sword. The idea of seeing the Boaz warrior wielding a weapon as powerful and brutal as Guts' seemed perfect to him.

Without thinking twice, he began working with that design in mind. For long hours of forging, he shaped the sword with a similar form to the legendary weapon, his enthusiasm driving every strike. He managed to recreate its imposing size and presence, a dark, fierce blade that seemed ready to face any threat.

However, just before adding the final details, he was interrupted by the meeting with the Loki familia, forcing him to postpone the sword's completion.

"Alright, it's time to finish it." With an eager smile, Pyrion comfortably took his hammer and began working on the final touches to Ottar's weapon.

Pyrion began the process with meticulous but efficient steps. First, he heated the sword in the furnace until the blade reached a deep red, signaling the perfect temperature for working on the final details. Then, he placed the blade on the anvil and, hammer in hand, began striking precise, controlled blows to strengthen and shape the edge.

(I won't write the entire process because it would be boring, so just imagine it)

With his concentration at its peak, Pyrion seemed completely isolated from the world, as if nothing existed outside the sword on his workbench. Not even the sparks jumping from the metal, occasionally burning his arms and abdomen, could pull him from his trance. Each hammer strike resonated firm and precise.

CLANG CLANG CLANG

Time passed in a steady rhythm as he devoted himself entirely to the work. After about two hours, the sound of hammering ceased in the workshop, and Pyrion finally let out a long, deep sigh, releasing the stale air he'd held in during the intense effort. He had emerged from his trance, and in front of him lay the finished sword.

"Beautiful..." Those simple yet powerful words described Pyrion's mood as he looked at his completed work—the sword, nearly an exact replica of Guts' weapon, now rested on the anvil in front of him.

Being his own work, Pyrion couldn't resist adding some personal touches. On the silver hilt, he engraved the Hephaistos familia's emblem—a symbol of his lineage and his hard work. Additionally, in honor of Ottar's deep devotion to Freya, he decided to add something special: an inscription in ancient runic, carved in an even deeper black along the surface of the blade.

The words "ᛖᛋᛒᚨᛏᚨ ᛞᛖ ᚠᚱᛖᛇᚨ" adorned the edge in an elegant line, a simple and powerful statement: The Sword of Freya. It was his way of paying homage to Ottar's strength and loyalty, and at the same time, a detail that infused the sword with even more purpose.

(By the way, the symbols are Old Norse according to a certain translator—I have no idea if they're correct or not, but it's just a small addition, so it doesn't matter much.)

"HAHAHA, that big guy is definitely going to love it." With a big smile, Pyrion took the weapon and placed it on one of the shelves; soon he would send a messenger to the Freya familia to let Ottar know it was ready for him.

"Alright, I've got some other small tasks to finish." In a cheerful mood, Pyrion planned to work on some of his smaller projects.

*CLANG*

*BOOM*

*SCREAMS*

However, before Pyrion could sit down to work, a series of troubling noises echoed loudly outside his workshop.

"Are those... screams?" Pyrion murmured, his expression turning solemn. Without hesitation, he stood up and walked quickly toward the workshop door.

BANG

Throwing the door open, he stepped outside, expecting to find an answer to what was happening. The first thing that struck him was the heat and smoke: several forge rooms were engulfed in flames. But unlike the controlled fire that usually burned within the workshops, now the fire was spilling over, consuming several of the residence's buildings.

Pyrion's workshop, located in a corner of the property due to its size and importance, was typically somewhat isolated from the other forging halls. However, now he could see chaos spreading across the residence: the crackling fire and sounds of explosions mixed with distant screams that reached his ears.

Assessing the gravity of the situation, Pyrion didn't hesitate and, with incredible speed, rushed toward the source of the commotion.

BOOM

With a great leap, Pyrion landed on the roof of one of the workshops. From this height, he could finally observe the full extent of the situation at his familia's residence.

In the central area of the workshops, where calm usually reigned, there was now only fire and destruction. Some of his familia members lay on the ground, wounded and bloody, while others fought desperately against a group of hooded figures. Every clash of weapons and every cry of pain felt like daggers stabbing Pyrion's heart.

As he took in the horrific scene, Pyrion's concerned gaze transformed instantly into a fierce expression, as sharp and intense as that of a demon.

With veins bulging across his forehead and anger burning in his chest, Pyrion couldn't hold back anymore. He opened his mouth and unleashed a roar filled with fury, his voice resounding powerfully throughout the residence:

"BASTARDS! WHO DARES ATTACK MY FAMILIA?!"

Silence. The previously noisy battlefield fell into a deadly hush at the sound of Pyrion's thunderous roar that seemed to shake the entire place. Instantly, everyone, without exception, turned to see the imposing figure standing on one of the roofs.

With a face as terrifying as an Oni's and small black sparks surrounding his body, Pyrion's arrival scared both enemies and allies nearly out of their wits.

"DIE!"

The roar reverberated through the air, like a divine sentence. In the blink of an eye, Pyrion was already on the move. The speed at which he launched himself into the attack was so fast that the human eye could barely capture it.

Before the hooded figure could react, Pyrion, in his frenzied advance, lunged at one of the blacksmiths' furnaces. With deadly precision, his hands closed around the hilt of a massive sword still glowing red-hot. He didn't need to think for even a second. The sword, still burning, was unsheathed in a single movement and then hurled at the first hooded figure with the fury of lightning.

*SPLASH*

*BAMM*

The sound of the sword slicing through the air was followed by a horrific BAMM as the metal cut through the hooded figure from top to bottom, splitting them completely. The sword sliced effortlessly, separating the figure into two clean halves. A thick, red jet of blood shot up into the sky as a sign of the strike's brutality.

The fallen hooded body collapsed lifelessly, and the air filled with an unsettling silence as the remaining attackers watched, terrified, a scene that seemed to come straight from the depths of hell.

However, fear had no time to settle in their hearts, for Pyrion, moving at an unstoppable pace, advanced toward the next unfortunate soul. His sword, still burning intensely from the fury of his first blow, swung with deadly speed, cutting with a precision that left no room for anything but death.

In a single motion, Pyrion's sword slashed diagonally at the waist of the hooded figure, splitting them into two perfect halves without a hint of mercy. The now-useless body fell heavily to the ground, letting the blood darken the surroundings even more.

"RUN!"

The desperate cry echoed in the air, but it was too late. The hooded figures began scattering, running in different directions, seeking a spark of hope, a moment of salvation. But, to their misfortune, that hope quickly faded.

Pyrion, consumed by uncontrollable rage, had completely transformed into a Shura, showing not an ounce of mercy. With every step he took, death fell around him. Each man who attempted to escape was met with a brutality that left his body dismembered on the blood-soaked ground.

Like a wolf hunting its prey, Pyrion moved with agility and speed, the gleam of his sword reflecting the fury of his soul. One after another, the attackers fell, their blood splattering the ground in a macabre dance of death and despair.

"Please, let me live! I promi-!"

*SLASH*

*CRASH*

With even more fury, Pyrion swung his sword diagonally at the hooded figure who had knelt down, and with enormous force, his body was split into two parts. The sword that struck the ground finally couldn't withstand Pyrion's brutal strength and shattered into several pieces.

Still bloodthirsty, Pyrion noticed the last of the hooded figures seemed to be nearing the residence's exit. With an explosive surge of energy, Pyrion leaped toward him, unleashing a fierce wind in his wake.

The hooded man, who thought he could escape due to Pyrion's broken weapon, suddenly felt a chill behind him, and his final sight was a massive hand covering his face.

*SPLASH*

With beastly force, Pyrion slammed the hooded man's head against one of the residence walls, making it explode into a mist of blood.

"Huff, Huff"

Breathing quickly, Pyrion finally stopped upon noticing there was no more movement around him. The roar of battle had ceased, leaving only the heavy silence in its place. Around him, the chunks of flesh that had once been human created a gruesome scene for anyone who might witness it.

Pyrion stood still, looking at the few surviving blacksmiths. His eyes shone with a mix of fury that slowly morphed into something darker: a heavy sadness and bitter resignation.

The wounded blacksmiths, feeling their leader's fierce gaze, trembled slightly and, not daring to look at him directly, lowered their heads in fear. The atmosphere was laden with a palpable sense of dread and shame.

After a few seconds, one of the blacksmiths mustered the courage, clenched his teeth, and walked toward his leader. "Captain, are you alright?"

The question was somewhat foolish, knowing that the previous conflict couldn't be called a fight. It was more of a massacre, something that had ended in the blink of an eye, leaving everyone, even the survivors, with a feeling of horror rather than relief.

"How many…?" Pyrion began, his voice slightly broken, as if the fury that had consumed him moments ago had completely faded. In its place, there was only the weight of anguish, the bitter reality of what had happened. "Injured… dead. Tell me, how many?"

Lowering his head in shame, the dwarf finally spoke, his voice tinged with sadness and regret: "Fortunately, thanks to our prior precautions, we managed to evacuate the non-combatant blacksmiths from the area before the battle broke out, but… despite our efforts, even so… seven of our brothers fell, and there are two gravely injured."

Each word from the dwarf struck Pyrion like a hammer to the heart. Hearing the number of his fallen brothers, Pyrion even felt his vision slightly darken.

"DAMMIT!"

The scream reverberated in the air, his voice filled with despair and anger. He gritted his teeth with such force that the sound was audible, and at that moment, the fury that had previously dissipated returned with full force. The black sparks surrounding his body transformed into violent flames rising from him, as if his very rage had turned into an uncontrollable fire.

Lifting his gaze to the sky, his eyes now covered in tears, Pyrion let out a loud roar toward the heavens.

"Dark faction… I swear, I swear right here and now, that I definitely won't leave a single one of you alive!"

…