The last warlord

Whispers of Power

The morning brought no solace to Adrian’s aching body or restless thoughts. The strange coin Marcus had given him rested in his pocket, its weight far heavier than its size should have allowed. As he stood in line at a crowded coffee shop, sipping water he’d gotten for free, his mind churned with questions.

Who was Marcus? How did he know Adrian’s supposed identity as a war god? And what was the purpose of the coin that now seemed to pulse faintly whenever he touched it?

The answers wouldn’t come on their own, and Adrian wasn’t the type to sit idly by. He had spent too many years waiting for life to hand him something good. If Marcus knew more about him, Adrian would find him—no matter what it took.

---

Later that day, Adrian returned to the bridge where Marcus had appeared, scanning the area for any clues. The streets bustled with people, all too engrossed in their own lives to notice a man searching the shadows.

After hours of aimless wandering, Adrian’s frustration boiled over. “Marcus!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. “If you’re watching me, then show yourself!”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the air shifted. A low hum resonated around him, and the shadows under the bridge deepened unnaturally.

“You’re impatient,” a voice said, and Marcus stepped out of the darkness as if it had swallowed him whole.

Adrian glared at him. “You can’t just show up, drop cryptic hints, and vanish. Who are you really? What do you want from me?”

Marcus smirked, leaning casually against a pillar. “Who I am isn’t important. What matters is that you’re wasting your potential, and I’m here to make sure you don’t.”

“You keep saying I’m a war god,” Adrian said, his voice hard. “Prove it.”

Marcus chuckled, pulling a small, jagged dagger from his coat. Without warning, he tossed it toward Adrian. On instinct, Adrian raised his hand—and the world seemed to slow.

The blade hung in the air, suspended mere inches from his palm. A faint glow surrounded his fingers as if an invisible force had stopped the weapon mid-flight. Adrian’s heart pounded as he stared at the hovering blade, then at Marcus.

“Still think you’re ordinary?” Marcus asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Adrian lowered his hand, and the dagger clattered to the ground. “That doesn’t explain anything. Why can I do this? Why am I like this?”

“Because you’re a god who’s been stripped of his power,” Marcus said simply. “Once, you were feared and revered. Now, you’re nothing more than a shadow of your former self. But the spark remains, buried deep.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “And the coin? What is it?”

Marcus stepped closer, his expression turning serious. “The coin is a key, of sorts. There are others like it—artifacts tied to your power. If you can find them, you’ll begin to remember who you were and reclaim what was taken from you.”

Adrian’s mind raced. The idea of regaining his power was intoxicating, but it also filled him with dread. He barely understood the man he was now—could he handle the god he used to be?

“And why are you helping me?” Adrian asked, suspicion lacing his words.

Marcus smirked again, his eyes gleaming. “Let’s just say your rise benefits us both. The world is changing, Adrian. Old powers are stirring, and you’re going to need every ounce of strength you can muster to survive what’s coming.”

Before Adrian could press further, Marcus faded into the shadows once more, leaving Adrian alone with his thoughts.

---

That night, Adrian sat under the bridge, turning the coin over in his hands. The symbols etched into its surface seemed to shift and shimmer in the dim light. He could feel the faint hum of energy coursing through it, calling to something deep within him.

“Artifacts tied to my power…” he murmured. The idea of chasing these relics felt overwhelming, but what choice did he have?

Adrian clenched the coin tightly. This wasn’t just about reclaiming his identity or his power. It was about survival—and maybe, just maybe, it was about proving to himself that he was worth more than the life he’d been living.

Tomorrow, he would start his search.

The weight of mortality still clung to him, but the whispers of power were growing louder.