The road stretched before us like a pale ribbon cutting through the dry, desolate landscape. Casper walked ahead, his greatsword strapped to his back, while I followed in my humanoid frame. Its auric steel structure and porcelain plating, though looking fragile, was remarkably durable. The black dress and veil of my widow disguise covered the frame entirely, its edges fluttering in the gentle breeze as we maintained a steady pace eastward on the main highway.

"Keep your head down when we pass the next checkpoint," Casper muttered without turning. "The guards there are more observant than most."

I adjusted my veil, ensuring not a glimpse of my porcelain masked face could be seen. My Assembly ability had allowed me to create a convincing human-like appearance, but close inspection would reveal the artificial nature of my construction.

Father, how much farther until we rest? I called out, playing my designated role as we approached a merchant caravan heading in the opposite direction. I mimed out some improvised hand signs, a way for my character to communicate without a voice.

Casper nodded approvingly at my performance. "Not much further, daughter. We'll reach an inn by nightfall."

The caravan passed, and the merchant at its head tipped his hat respectfully at the sight of my mourning attire. Our cover story worked well: a father and daughter on pilgrimage to the temples in the Kingdom of Salvation. Nobody questioned a widow seeking spiritual comfort after a loss.

"Your acting has improved," Casper noted once we were alone again. "But remember to slouch more. Humans show fatigue on long journeys."

I adjusted my posture, mimicking the slight stoop I'd observed in human travelers. This safe house of yours. Is it secure enough for repairs? My war frame sustained significant damage.

"It's remote. Built it myself twenty years ago. No one knows about it except me and now you." He glanced back at me. "It should give you plenty of time for whatever tinkering you need to do."

I nodded, grateful for his foresight. The damage to my war chassis was extensive after the battle with Kaldos. The memory of tearing the God of War apart sent an odd sensation through my head, something akin to what humans might call satisfaction.

"Is your status still showing as reduced?" Casper asked, keeping his voice low despite our isolation.

I checked my internal system:

Original

You are the first of your kind. Grants the Attribute "Ancestor Might."

Ancestor Might

You gain power from your descendants. The more descendants you have, the stronger you will become. Current descendants: [5]

Still compromised, I confirmed. With most of my children in stasis within Depository, my Ancestor Might only counts five active descendants. My effective level is only 54 now.

Casper grunted. "Better than nothing. Still enough to handle common threats."

As if summoned by his words, I detected movement in the treeline ahead. I sent Scout Spider Number 8, whose name was Chonsey, to investigate. Its sensors, far superior to human vision, identified six figures concealed among the foliage, heartbeats elevated, weapons drawn.

Highwaymen, I whispered. Six of them, ahead in the trees. Low levels, between 15 to 20.

Casper didn't break stride. "Amateurs. Not worth unsheathing my blade."

"Shall I handle them?" I asked, already calculating the most efficient approach.

"No. Maintain our cover. If they attack, I'll subdue them without revealing your nature. We can't risk word spreading of a mechanical being traveling the roads."

I nodded, seeing the wisdom in his words.

The highwaymen remained hidden as we approached their position. Chonsey tracked their movements. Through my child's eyes, I watched them slightly adjust their weapons. They were speaking, sending out whispered communications. One figure in the back was standing absolutely still. That last one caught my attention.

They're not attacking, I transmitted to Casper through a slight hand gesture.

We passed their hiding spot without incident. Once safely beyond, I shared my analysis with Casper.

I believe their mage used Analyze on us. Our levels likely dissuaded them from attacking, I told him through Mind Speech.

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Casper stopped abruptly, his expression hardening. "Wait here."

Before I could object, he turned and strode back toward the bandits' position with purposeful steps. I remained still, my sensors tracking his movement until he disappeared into the treeline. Minutes passed. The sounds of combat were heard, with brief shouts, metal striking flesh, and gurgling cries echoing through the otherwise silent countryside.

Casper emerged shortly after, his greatsword dripping with fresh blood. Red droplets fell to the dusty road as he approached, his face expressionless.

Why kill them? I asked. They posed no threat to us.

"If their mage had Analyze, he would have seen what you are," Casper wiped his blade clean on a cloth. "Word would spread of a high-level pair headed east, one of them a monster disguised as a widow. We can't afford that attention."

I processed his logic. The reasoning was sound, yet something within me felt... unsettled.

I understand the necessity, I told him, but dislike the bloodshed.

Casper studied me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You'll need to get tougher. You've killed a god and taken his Mantle. You're the God of War now, whether you've accepted it or not. Violence will define your future."

The godseed still sleeps, I countered. It won't hatch until I reach level 100.

He shrugged, cleaning the last traces of blood from his weapon before sheathing it. "Only a matter of time. You may be a Demigod now, but soon you'll be Kaldos's true successor." His eyes focused on my face through the veil. "And when that happens, I'll serve you until my life's end. That's my oath."

The weight of his words settled upon me, a strange burden for a being who had once been nothing more than a disembodied head and arm.

Our journey continued along the highway for several more days. Each dusk, Casper would guide us well off the road to make camp, finding sheltered spots between rocky outcroppings or dense brush where we wouldn't be spotted by passing travelers.

"Get some rest," he'd say each night, though he knew I didn't require it.

My Primordial physiology had no need for sleep. Instead, I maintained vigilance through the darkness, my senses extending outward through my five scout spiders. They patrolled in concentric circles around our position, alert for any approach. Occasionally, Casper would stir in his bedroll, eyes opening to check on me.

"All clear?" he'd whisper.

Nothing threatening within range, I'd respond through Mind Speech.

Gradually, the barren landscape transformed. First came scattered shrubs, then small copses of trees, until eventually we traveled through verdant woodlands teeming with life. The highway cut through this greenery like a scar, but Casper soon led us away from it, veering northeast toward a distant mountain range.

"Less chance of encountering patrols or other travelers," he explained as we pushed through the underbrush. "The gods and their champions will be looking for us by now."

The forest journey stretched two weeks. I observed Casper's survival skills with interest: the way he tracked game, set snares, and prepared his kills. He'd cook rabbit or pheasant over small, smokeless fires, carefully concealed beneath the canopy.

"Don't you ever miss eating?" he asked one evening, tearing meat from bone.

Yes, I replied. I would kill for a steak right now.

He laughed.

Eventually, the trees thinned, revealing a small clearing nestled against a mountainside. A stream gurgled nearby, the water clear and swift. In the center stood a cabin, weathered but solid, with a stone chimney and small covered porch.

"We're here," Casper announced, producing a key from a pouch at his belt.

He unlocked the heavy wooden door, which swung open with a creak of protest. Inside, the cabin revealed itself as a single large room, surprisingly spacious and well-appointed. Several beds lined one wall, a sturdy table with wooden stools occupied the center, and storage chests were stacked neatly in one corner. A stone fireplace dominated the far wall, with cooking implements hanging nearby.

"Make yourself at home," Casper said, dropping his pack. "Nobody knows about it except me." He gestured around. "It's yours as much as mine now."

I settled onto a wooden stool, fingers working at the clasp of my widow's cloak. The heavy black fabric pooled around me as I removed it, then I carefully arranged the garment nearby. The sensation of freedom after days of concealment was oddly satisfying.

I brought up my status box, and translucent blue text materialized before my non-existent eyes.

Name: Vardiel

Level: 54

Species: Dirtborn [MONSTER]

Gender: N/A

Age: 1

Titles: Original, Vanquisher of Qordos, Defender of Weath, Dragon Slayer 2, Fugitive, Magistricide, Godslayer, Demigod, Apostate

Strength: 54

Endurance: 48

Dexterity: 57

Intelligence: 75

Wisdom: 67

Attributes: Ancestor Might (Descendants: 5), Invulnerable Flesh, Integration, Court Style Swordsmanship, Weath Defense, Enchantment, Titan Slaying Style, Godseed of Enmity

Abilities: Mind Speech D, Mind Sight C, Language Comprehension S, Assembly A, Analyze B, Depository C, Mana Manipulation B, Blade Skill D, Brace E, Momentum Redirection D, Mana Shell C

The numbers confirmed what I already felt: my power had diminished significantly. With only five descendants active, my Ancestor Might attribute provided minimal enhancement. The humanoid frame I was currently wearing further dampened my capabilities.

I extended my flesh arm toward the empty space above the table. "Depository."

Reality rippled, and my war frame materialized with a dull thud that made the table groan. Casper whistled low, approaching to examine the damage.

"Looks worse up close," he observed.

The once-magnificent construct lay in ruins. Dragon-headed tendrils hung limp and severed, their auric steel dulled and fractured. The central chassis, designed to house my truncated body, was split horizontally, internal mechanisms exposed like the entrails of some mechanical beast. Shattered gears and broken linkages spilled across the wooden surface.

I traced my fingers along a particularly deep gouge.

My mind calculated the materials needed, the time required. Each component would need individual attention. The tendril armatures required complete rebuilding, the dragon heads needed recasting, and the mana distribution system was beyond salvage.

"How long?" Casper asked, seeming to read my thoughts.

Days, perhaps a week, I replied. Thankfully, I have the resources.

I activated Assembly, feeling the familiar warmth spread from my core to my fingertips. The ability was at Rank A, so I was confident I could repair it. All it would take was time, which I now had plenty of.

Time to begin, I murmured, settling in for what would be the first of many long nights.

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