Lucius rode alone toward the towering peak of Mount Algidus, his heavy wool cloak whipping wildly around his armor. The storm raging above was unlike any meteorological event recorded by Roman scholars; the rain fell in reverse, individual droplets floating upward toward churning clouds that glowed with a sickening, liquid-gold luminescence. As he climbed higher along the rocky trail, the air grew so dense with static electricity that his warhorse reared in terror, its mane standing on end, refusing to take another step toward the summit.
Dismounting with calm grace, Lucius patted the horse's flank, tied the reins securely to a sturdy pine tree, and walked forward on foot. His iron-nailed caligae sparked against the wet stone with every step. The mountain air tasted of pure ozone and ancient copper.
When he reached the ruined marble altar at the summit, he found the ancient temple pillars glowing like white-hot iron. Standing beside the cracked altar stone was a man seven feet tall, draped in a magnificent cloak woven from dark, churning stormclouds. His beard was like spun silver, flowing down a chest of bronze-like muscle, and his eyes burned with the blinding, terrible intensity of a dying star. It was Zeus—the King of Gods, known to Rome as Jupiter Optimus Maximus.
"Lucius of Hispania," the King of Gods spoke, his voice vibrating through the stone beneath Lucius’s feet and shaking the marrow of his bones like thunder echoing through a narrow canyon. "I have watched your thread woven across ten thousand battlefields. You wield absolute lethality with the gentle heart of a shepherd. You kill only to preserve life, never to conquer. You do not hunger for gold, nor do you bow your knee to tyrant emperors."
"Great King of Olympus," Lucius knelt instantly upon the cold, wet stone, bowing his broad head in deep reverence. "I am merely a tiller of soil who wears iron to protect his brethren."
"Rise, mortal warrior," Zeus commanded, stepping forward. "Olympus is in grave peril, and with it, the mortal realm you fight to protect. A primordial shade from the deepest Abyss has infiltrated the high heavens and stolen my Master Bolt—the supreme weapon that maintains the cosmic balance between the mortal world, the mythical realms of Aetheria, and the dark depths of the Underworld. Without its presence, the ancient barriers separating these realms are dissolving. Mythical horrors long forgotten are bleeding into the earth."
Zeus reached out his glowing hand and pressed his palm directly against Lucius's chest. A surge of golden divine energy poured into Lucius’s heart, scorching away his physical fatigue and filling his blood with celestial warmth. His eyes flared with blue lightning, and his physical strength was multiplied tenfold. His standard iron gladius transformed in a flash of light into *Astraea*—a blade forged of celestial bronze that hummed with a constant, lethal electrical pulse.
"I bestow upon you the Gift of Tempest Strength and the Aegis Shield," Zeus proclaimed, as a massive bronze shield embossed with the face of a lion materialized on Lucius’s arm. "And at your back, you shall command the *Elysian Cohort*—one hundred immortal legionaries handpicked from the hero-shades of antiquity. Go north, beyond the edges of the mortal map, into the hidden realm of Hyperborea. Bring me my thunder."