The last warlord

Echoes of the Forgotten war

The first thing Adrian noticed was the weight in his pocket. The coin—a simple token, but now it felt heavier with every passing moment. He had spent the night staring at it, watching the symbols shift and shimmer, as though it were alive. It beckoned to him, a silent promise of power. But more than that, it was the last tangible connection to the god he once was. It was all he had left.

It was just after dawn when Adrian decided to leave the bridge. The streets had already begun to stir with the noise of commuters, but the city felt more distant than ever. His feet carried him through the crowd without a second thought, the sounds of the world blending together in a hum of dissonance.

He didn’t know where to start. Marcus had spoken cryptically about other artifacts, relics tied to his power. But where could he possibly find them?

The city, with its towering skyscrapers and endless concrete, had never felt more oppressive. Every corner seemed to whisper secrets he couldn’t quite grasp, and every shadow seemed to hide something he couldn’t quite see. But one thing was clear: Adrian couldn’t afford to waste time.

He walked for hours, through alleyways, past crumbling buildings, and beneath the harsh neon glow of billboards. The mundane world of coffee shops, street vendors, and hustling businesspeople seemed so far removed from the ancient war that Marcus had alluded to. How did one transition from a life of survival in the streets to a life of reclaiming divine power?

By the time he reached the outskirts of the city, the sun had set, and the streets were bathed in a cold, muted light. Adrian found himself standing in front of a small, unassuming antique store wedged between two towering office buildings. Its wooden sign, half-obscured by rust, read: “Curiosities and Artifacts.”

Adrian’s gut twisted with uncertainty, but the coin in his pocket pulsed gently, as if guiding him forward. Without thinking, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The bell above the door chimed as the musty scent of old wood and dust filled his senses. The interior was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of a few lamps scattered across the shelves. The place felt frozen in time, its walls lined with books, trinkets, and strange objects that seemed too ancient for the modern world.

Behind the counter, an old man with a crooked back and thin white hair looked up, his eyes sharp despite his age. His gaze lingered on Adrian for a moment before he spoke in a gravelly voice. “Looking for something, son?”

Adrian hesitated. “I… don’t really know. I’m just browsing.”

The old man gave him a knowing look, his lips curling into a faint smile. “You’re not here by accident, are you?”

Adrian’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

The man’s gaze never wavered. “I’ve seen your kind before. You’re searching for something that’s been lost for a long time. And I think I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

Adrian took a step closer, feeling an odd sense of recognition stir in his chest. “What are you talking about?”

The old man straightened slightly, his movements slow but deliberate. “You’re searching for artifacts, aren’t you? Relics of a time long past. You’re not the first to come looking for them.”

Adrian’s breath caught in his throat. “You know where they are?”

The old man smiled, then reached beneath the counter and pulled out an old, tattered map. He slid it across the counter toward Adrian, who picked it up cautiously.

The map was ancient, yellowed with age and marked with symbols that seemed to pulse with a faint energy. Adrian’s fingers brushed against the markings, and for a moment, it felt as though the air around him thickened. He could sense the faint echo of something—power, ancient and vast—calling from the map.

“This map,” the old man said, “will guide you to the artifacts you seek. But be warned, boy. These things… they are not meant to be found.”

Adrian’s grip tightened around the map. “I’m not afraid.”

The old man’s eyes softened, as if he understood something Adrian didn’t. “No, you’re not. But power comes with a price. The gods who once wielded these artifacts were undone by their own ambition. You think you can handle what they left behind, but be careful. The world has forgotten its gods for a reason.”

Adrian’s gaze flickered to the door. The weight of the coin in his pocket seemed to grow heavier, urging him forward. He had come this far. There was no turning back now.

“I can handle it,” Adrian said firmly. “I’ll find the artifacts, and I’ll reclaim what’s mine.”

The old man said nothing more, but his eyes carried a warning, a silent understanding that Adrian would soon have to face the consequences of his decision.

With the map in hand, Adrian left the shop and stepped into the cold night air. The city around him seemed even more oppressive now, the streets darker and the shadows deeper. The map was his only guide, and though he felt the pull of the artifacts, a strange unease settled in his gut.

He walked for what felt like hours, his steps growing more purposeful with each passing moment. Every time he glanced at the map, the symbols seemed to shift, guiding him toward an unknown destination. He had no idea what awaited him, but he couldn’t stop now.

The first artifact was close.