The God's Deceit - The Web Begins

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the clearing in shades of amber and deep purple. The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth, and the rhythmic chirping of crickets filled the silence. A cool breeze whispered through the trees, brushing against my sweat-soaked skin, sending a small shiver down my spine.

Lenny had already left, muttering something about settling another fight in the village. These fae seemed to thrive on conflict—he had barely gone a day without stepping in to break something up.

I stood in the clearing, alone except for the sound of rustling leaves and the occasional distant bark of some unseen creature. My body ached, my muscles burned, but the movements Lenny had drilled into me were fresh in my mind, waiting to be practiced.

"Don't waste time," I muttered, dropping into a defensive stance. Slowly, I replayed the sequence in my head: block, counter, follow through. My arms felt heavy, my legs shaky, but I moved through the motions step by step, repeating them over and over.

At first, my movements were clunky, my body stiff as I focused on every detail. The angle of the block, the shift in weight, the strike—each part required precision. Every stumble earned a frustrated growl under my breath, but I didn't stop. Each mistake, each flaw, was another piece of the puzzle to fix.

As the amber light faded and the moon began to rise, my body found a rhythm. My movements flowed together, less forced, more natural. Even the aches in my muscles dulled as I moved, my focus sharpening.

Breathing heavily, I straightened, the sequence playing over in my mind again. That's when I remembered an anime I'd watched—one of those sports ones where the guy trained alone by shadowboxing. He would imagine an opponent, anticipate their moves, and react to them. It had seemed silly at the time, but now… maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

Dropping back into my stance, I closed my eyes and pictured an opponent. At first, the figure was vague, little more than a wooden mannequin with smooth, featureless limbs. Its movements were stiff and predictable, and the fight felt lifeless.

"This isn't working," I muttered, shaking my head.

Then, as if my frustration gave it life, the mannequin shifted. One moment it was wood, the next it was fur and flesh. My breath hitched as the blank figure sharpened into a familiar face—Lenny.

That damn smirk was plastered on his lion-like face, the one he wore whenever I struggled. His stance was wide, balanced, with a slight tilt forward, like he was always ready to pounce. My hands clenched into fists as adrenaline surged through me.

"Alright," I said through gritted teeth. "Let's see how you like this."

I threw the first punch, quick and sharp. Lenny dodged—of course, he did. In my mind, he was just as fast, just as annoyingly skilled as he was in real life.

"Come on, Jeremiah," he taunted, circling me like a predator. "Is this all you've got? You'll never beat me like this."

My jaw clenched, my fists tightening. "Shut up," I muttered, throwing a feint followed by a hook. But Lenny pivoted, quick as ever, and his paw-like hand struck my shoulder. I staggered back, glaring at him. Even in my mind, he wouldn't let me win

My heart pounded as the imagined fight escalated. Every step he took forced me to react, to think faster, to push harder. Sweat dripped down my face, but I didn't care. This wasn't like practicing a sequence—this was chaotic, unpredictable, and exhilarating.

Lenny's smirk never wavered, taunting me. He feinted left, then lunged right, his movements sharp and confident. But something caught my eye. A subtle shift in his stance—a hesitation when he switched his weight from his left leg to his right.

For a split second, I saw an opening. My pulse quickened. Without thinking, I lunged forward, aiming a strike at the gap. But the hesitation was a trap. Lenny pivoted smoothly, and my fist met empty air.

Before I could recover, he struck back, his paw-like hand landing a clean hit in my imagination. I staggered, falling back a step as his laughter echoed faintly in my mind.

Breathing heavily, I dropped my stance and wiped the sweat from my brow. My legs felt like lead, my arms like stone, but a smile tugged at my lips.

"Not bad," I murmured to myself, straightening up. "Next time, I'll catch that hesitation. Next time… I'll win."

As I gathered my things and headed back toward the village, the fight replayed over and over in my mind. Each mistake burned, each misstep a lesson. But my thoughts didn't stay on the training for long.

The path wound through the outskirts of the village, where the houses were little more than crumbling shacks. Some leaned precariously, their wooden walls warped and splintered. Roofs sagged under the weight of time and neglect, patched haphazardly with bits of cloth or dried leaves.

A woman stood by one of the shacks, her raccoon-like face hollow with exhaustion. She watched me pass, her eyes dull, her child clinging to her leg. It was hard not to notice the way the kid's ribs pressed against his furred skin, or the way the woman's hands trembled as she clutched a tattered basket.

My stomach twisted, a strange mix of guilt and anger bubbling up. These people didn't deserve this—not the crumbling homes, not the hunger, not the fear that seemed to cling to the air like a shadow.

I tore my gaze away and quickened my pace, the image of the woman and her child sticking with me like a thorn.

By the time I reached my own quarters, the moon was high, bathing the village in pale light. My muscles ached, my mind buzzed, but despite the exhaustion, I couldn't help but feel… hopeful.

Only a few moments pass when the door creaked open, and I looked up to see Griz stepping inside. His massive frame blocked out the pale moonlight, making the small shack feel even smaller. He paused, his sharp eyes sweeping over the scattered belongings, lingering on each one before they finally landed on me.

"I see you've made yourself at home in Levi's place," he said gruffly. His voice was steady, but there was something else behind it—something heavy. "Well… I guess it's your shack now."

The words hit harder than I expected. My stomach churned with guilt as I glanced down at the floorboards, warped and worn from years of use. Levi's face flashed in my mind—the hopeful look he'd given me the last time I saw him alive. I hadn't known him long, but it didn't matter. The guilt sat in my chest like a stone.

"I didn't know him for long," I said quietly, mostly to myself, "but… I feel like I let him down."

For a moment, Griz's expression softened. He didn't say anything, though, just let the silence stretch out between us. Then he cleared his throat and shifted his weight, breaking the moment.

"You're here to do better, aren't you?" he said, his tone rough but not unkind. "You'll make it count." Inodded slowly.

Griz leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms as his sharp gaze locked onto me. "So, about this prophecy you mentioned before," he said, almost too casually. "What exactly does it say?"

I hesitated, my throat tightening as I replayed Griz's warning in my mind. He'd been so adamant about keeping the prophecy a secret, his tone sharp and unyielding when he first mentioned it. But now, the way he leaned in, his eyes narrowing with curiosity, made my chest tighten. Why was he suddenly so interested?

I pushed the thought away, forcing myself to focus. Griz had been protecting me all this time—shielding me from dangers I barely understood. If he wanted to know more now, it had to be for my benefit. I just had to trust him, even if my instincts told me to stay silent. After a moment, I took a deep breath and recited the words I'd heard in the desert, the memory of those three massive birds still fresh in my mind.

Griz's expression didn't change as I spoke, but his eyes were watching me too closely, like he was studying every word. When I finished, he folded his arms tighter across his chest.

"Sounds like it could be about Radamar and the villagers… and you," he said.

"Maybe," I replied, shifting uncomfortably. My arms crossed instinctively, as if to shield myself. "But what about the three items? Do you know anything about them?"

Griz shook his head. "Never heard of anything like that. Not in this village, anyway. But things like that have a way of showing up when the time's right."

His tone was calm, almost dismissive, but then his eyes narrowed. "Who else have you told about this?"

I stiffened. The weight of his question pressed down on me, but I met his gaze. "No one. Just you."

Griz nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. "Good. Let's keep it that way."

His approval should have made me feel better, but it didn't. There was something unspoken in his tone, something I couldn't quite place. The air between us felt heavy, but before I could dwell on it, he pushed off the doorway and motioned for me to follow.

"Come on," he said. "We've got work to do."

Griz led me deeper into the clearing, the silver moonlight cutting through the canopy above. I tried to focus on the movements of the trees, the sounds of the crickets, and the occasional rustle in the bushes, but my mind buzzed with exhaustion. My muscles were still screaming from the drills with Lenny earlier in the day, and now here I was, dragged into more training.

"Your awareness is sloppy," Griz said without looking at me. "You'll never get far like this."

I rolled my eyes, irritation bubbling up despite myself. "You sound just like Lenny. Always vague instructions. 'Do better, move faster.' How am I supposed to learn anything if you don't tell me what to actually do?"

Griz stopped and turned, his sharp gaze pinning me in place. For a moment, I thought he'd snap at me, but instead, he nodded. "Fair enough. Pay attention."

He pointed toward the shadows under the trees. "Start with movement. Watch for branches that sway without wind or leaves that rustle where there shouldn't be any noise. Then listen. Crickets and birds go silent when something's nearby—those are your first alarms."

I nodded, trying to take it in, but he wasn't done.

"Smell the air," he continued, his tone even but firm. "Sweat, blood, fur—anything out of place. Feel the ground under your feet. A heavy step can vibrate through the dirt. Your senses are tools. Use them."

I tried to commit everything to memory, nodding again. Griz gave me a long look, then jerked his chin toward a spot deeper in the clearing. "Continue practicing. I need to speak to someone."

He walked off before I could ask anything else, heading toward a rabbit-faced man who stood half-hidden in the shadows of a gnarled tree. They exchanged greetings, but the words made no sense to me.

The rabbit-faced man stepped forward, his long ears twitching at every sound. The shadows under the gnarled tree seemed to cling to him, obscuring half his face. "The stars have whispered," he said, his voice low and crackling, like dried leaves crushed underfoot. "Visitors may arrive soon. When they do, the plan will move forward."

Griz nodded, his massive arms crossed. "And the boy?"

"Still useful," the man replied, his dark eyes flicking in my direction, though he made no move to address me directly. "But the threads are shifting. More information will come."

My stomach tightened as their voices dropped lower, their words lost beneath the sudden chirping of crickets.

I couldn't make sense of it all. Something about visitors, a plan, and… me?

Before I could figure out more, Griz turned and started walking back. I quickly dropped my gaze, pretending I hadn't been watching them. When he reached me, he stopped and tilted his head. "What did you notice?"

I hesitated, unsure how much to say. "There was a boy, probably hhe same boy from the other night, hiding in the bushes a little ways down the path".

"Good job, for your first attempt" he said

"What was that about?" I asked.

Griz studied me for a moment, then shrugged. "Nothing important. Focus on the lesson if you want to survive."

I wanted to push further, ask what that strange exchange had been about, but Griz's tone brooked no argument. Whatever he was involved in, he wasn't ready to share it. Not yet.

---

We continued training into the night, Griz teaching me how to sharpen my mind and react quickly in any situation. It wasn't just theory anymore, though. Eventually, he gave me a practical task.

"See that man over there?" he asked, nodding toward a fox faced man sitting on the porch drinking something from a cup. "I want you to take the cup".

"What?" I hissed. "That's stealing!"

"We're not keeping it," Griz said flatly. "You're learning how to act unnoticed. Being able to hide your pressence is an important skill to have".

I swallowed hard, glancing toward the cart. My heart pounded as I nodded reluctantly and began creeping closer, trying to remember everything I'd learned. I kept my steps light, watching the shadows for movement, and darted quick glances at the people nearby. Most were preoccupied, but I could feel their presence like a weight pressing on my back.

Finally, I reached the porch. I crawled on my hands and knees, still in the shadows on the porch. My fingers hovered over the cup, when a shout made me freeze.

"Hey!" the man bellowed, and my heart dropped into my stomach. My head whipped around, expecting to see someone charging toward me, but no one was looking my way. The man was yelling at someone else farther down the path.

My breath came in sharp gasps as I grabbed the trinket and darted back to Griz, my pulse pounding in my ears. I handed him the item, expecting him to be impressed, but he just held it up, turning it over in his hand.

"Good," he said, "now put it back."

"What?" I blurted. "But the guy—"

Griz cut me off with a look. "Put it back. That's part of the lesson."

The area around the cart was more crowded now, thanks to the man's earlier shouting. My nerves felt like they were on fire as I approached the porch again, carefully slipping the cup back into its place. By some miracle, no one noticed me, and I made my way back to Griz, shaking with relief.

"That's enough for tonight," he said simply, his tone unreadable. "Go get some rest."

My heart was still racing as I returned to the shack, my mind replaying the events of the night. The strange conversation with the rabbit-faced man, the stealing exercise, and the heavy weight of Griz's expectations—it all swirled in my head like a storm.

When I pushed the door open, I froze. Wayne was sitting casually on the edge of the cot, his wolf-like face illuminated by the dim moonlight.

"Hey, Jeremiah," he said nonchalantly, his tail flicking lazily. "You look on the verge of death."

"Training was especially hard today, both physically and mentally ?" I said, stepping inside.

Wayne grinned, leaning back on his hands. "I been wondering, have you ever tried using magic yourself? After what you've seen Radamar can do—even after what I showed you—I figured you'd be curious."

I hesitated. "No, I haven't. I've been thinking about it, but… I'm human.

"Just fighting may not be enough to defeat the guardian, magic may come in handy" he added.

"But I dont think i have the capacity for it".

Wayne tilted his head, his golden eyes catching the dim moonlight. "You ever wonder why Radamar uses magic instead of just brute force?"

I frowned, the question catching me off guard. "Because he's powerful?"

"Because magic is powerful," Wayne corrected, leaning forward. "It's not just about strength—it's about control. Strategy. You've seen it yourself. Fighting might keep you alive, but if you want to beat Radamar or even the guardians… you'll need more."

My chest tightened at his words, the weight of them settling like a stone. "But I'm human," I said quietly. "Magic isn't… it's not for me."

Wayne's grin softened, his sharp teeth glinting faintly. "You're here, aren't you? In a place where humans don't belong. Maybe it's time you stop assuming what you can't do and start finding out what you can."