"It's here," he murmured, then leaned on his cane and set off, silently slipping into the shadows deep in the mountains.
A meteor trailing a long plume of fire tore through Olympia's peaceful night sky and plunged onto the summit of a snowy mountain to the northwest with a piercing shriek.
Almost at the same moment, alarm bells rang throughout the city-states at the foot of the mountains, ruled by the warlord Damekos. Squads of fully armed soldiers assembled under their officers' barked orders and began advancing toward the snowy mountain like hyenas scenting blood.
But before their treads crushed the first fallen leaf on the mountain, the old craftsman had already reached the center of the impact site. A massive gestation pod made of an unknown metal lay embedded deep in the ice. Its hull, scorching hot from the violent friction of atmospheric entry, sent up billowing clouds of white vapor.
The old craftsman paid no attention to the advanced technology on the gestation pod, which would have driven any scientist of the age wild. His gaze went straight to the infant inside, who was crying faintly.
He was a perfect infant, like a sculpted hero from myth. Though only just born, his body was several times larger than that of an ordinary human baby. His skin shone with a healthy luster, and his thick black hair was as dark as the deepest night.
The old craftsman stepped forward, reached out with his callused hands, and gently opened the gestation pod's life-support system.
He lifted the demigod infant into his arms.
The baby's crying stopped at once. He opened eyes as bright as obsidian and studied the unfamiliar mortal before him with curiosity. Those eyes held neither fear nor unease, only an innate desire to understand the principles behind