"Do you see those people over there? I don't understand why they are going to fight like that," One fresh newcomer said to a group of others.
"They look like ghosts who haven't realised they are dead yet."
"Maybe there was a problem, and they didn't hear that you come back fully refreshed and healed if you die?"
A veteran overhears the conversation and chimes in, "You all better be careful and take note. Here in this world, people break, it could be after one death, or after one hundred. But those right there, I'd bet anything I have, they never break. Everyone tackles this world differently. Finding the way that works for you is the only thing that matters."
Argent can't help but feel prideful hearing those words as he grips a dagger and a hand axe he grabbed from the scrap pile.
"Two shields, really? You think two shields count as weapons?" Ferric said, looking at Ward.
"Someone who just found some rusted-out chains and wrapped them around his forearms and fists shouldn't be the one to talk about my shields."
"Could be worse, you could have grabbed a weapon that weighs more than you do, like Cinder over there," Rime said while swinging around his spear.
"Hey, remember the rules, you don't get to say anything negative to me since you are the reason I'm here. Plus, this is my axe, her name's Lucy, she's been through a lot, and wanted me to take her for a stroll." Cinder replied as she struggled to maintain her balance, with a massive two-handed axe resting on her shoulder.
"First, you named that one guy ugly face, and now this axe's name is Lucy. I am sensing a pattern here." Remarked Veyra.
All of the newcomers walking near the eight were staring at them in utter awe. They were just as fresh as they were, new to this world. Yet they were bruised and broken, and still laughing as they walked towards almost certain death.
The tree line broke suddenly into the mist, revealing the battlefield from the day before. Just as murky as they remembered.
Standing on the other side of the field was a row of giants, waiting, ready for the fight ahead. Some of them were the same size as the ones from the day before, others were bigger. These weren't just the young ones earning their first honor.
On a hill overlooking the field, the shadows of the six towering elders hung in the mist. A few of the veterans noticed.
"What are the giant elders doing here? They rarely come to the field."
"I hope they aren't here to fight, just one could wipe out all of us without gaining a single scratch."
Argent stepped forward, putting his hands around his mouth and shouting, "I made it, I told you I would see you here today!"
All eyes shifted towards him, veterans and newcomers alike were amazed that he was calling out to the elders of the giant tribe like it was nothing.
Deep laughter could be heard rolling over the mist, then, like a whisper, words reached Argent's ears.
"You still have the fire you carried yesterday, and you honor your word. We giants gain strength through deeds. I, Thranir, the Stone that Remembers, Eternal Father of the giant tribe, bestow upon you a mark."
A message appeared in Argent's thoughts.
[Do you accept the Mark of the Giants?]
'This isn't even a choice, of course I accept.'
As this thought hit, a searing feeling happened across Argent's chest. Through the scraps of his torn hoodie, a mark, a tattoo like the giant's had etched itself across Argent's body like winding lines of living fire. However, unlike the giants, it had no color, not yet.
Similar marks etched themselves on each of the other seven as they accepted Thranir's offer.
"This mark will grow as you do. When you learn how, you will feed power into it, and in return, it will burn brighter, stronger. In the eight thousand years of this war, I have not seen another with the spark that you carry. Grow stronger, seek the truth. Find the Apex, start the cycle again."
[You have earned the qualification of the giant tribe.]
Argent felt different; he felt vigor and strength returning to his body that had been on the brink of failing just before.
'This must be the mark, I can't waste this feeling.'
"I will see you all back at camp, I bet the stew tastes great tonight!"
Argent smiled as he took off into the field of mist; the other seven spread out and did the same. They had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
***
Argent ran through the mist until he came across a large giant who was just standing there waiting, holding a massive, intricately carved club. Argent took a second to look at him, and a thought entered his mind.
"Greth, Treebreaker. That is what I see when I look at you."
"Hahaha, yes, human. You have the qualification of the giants, so all will be known to you just as you will be known to us. 'Argent, Word Made Stone.' All giants will know that name, a title given by the chief himself."
"Now come, I know you are injured, but I, Greth, will not go easy on you."
Argent charged with a speed beyond what he was normally capable of, the mark allowing him to push his body to its limits. Slicing with his dagger and slashing with his axe, all while dodging the giant's big lumbering swings.
The giant's skin held against most of the hits, some light cuts appearing over his body, but nothing more than scratches.
'I'm not able to dig these weapons in deep; I need to do something before my body gives out under the strain, even with this mark.'
A swing came heavy, Argent went to block it with his dagger and axe crossed in front of him. Pain shot up his arms, one still shattered from the day before, as he slid back across the mud and fell to his knees. Dropping his weapons to keep himself upright, he pushed his hands into the mud to steady himself.
'I feel something.'
His hand wrapped around something stuck in the mud. He pulled with everything he had, trying to get it out from the mud and muck.
It gave, and came out, mud sliding off of it the second it hit the air. An axe, with an oddly shaped curved blade, not unlike a moon. With patterns and carvings that looked like the tattoos of the giants.
A vision burns into his brain...
***
A giant forgesmith is putting the finishing touches on the axe. His child standing a few feet away, looking on with anticipation.
"To the gods who watch over us all, hear this: I lay a piece of myself within this axe, for my son walks a hard and stubborn road. Grant this axe a blessing to cool his temper. Guide him as he walks the path to honor. Thranar, father of Thranir, speaks and asks your blessing."
The vision shifts...
A young giant faces off against a wolf-shaped creature made of twisting and moving vines.
"They said I wasn't ready to fight a bramble-jack, but I will show them what it means to be a giant."
A young Thranir races towards the monstrosity, axe in hand, cleaving and cutting through vine after vine. Each one regrowing as it was cut.
The monster jumped and caught the giant's arm, sinking its vine-like teeth in, forcing him to drop the axe.
Thranir lets out a roar as the marks on his body shine a bright array of colors. Surging as he rips the beast in half, his breath heavy as he falls to the ground, kneeling.
***
Argent wakes from the vision, axe in hand. He stands up slowly, looking at Greth, standing in front of him, waiting.
Cracking his neck as the newly formed mark on his body begins to glow and spread a little. First silver, then black, swirling along the mark with ever-growing intensity.
[Element Unlocked]