Dawn crept over the frontline outpost, casting long shadows over the charred plains east of the fortress. Kalem stood alone in the field, away from the training yard and well beyond the barricades. In his hand, resting against the ground like an unmoved mountain, was the weapon he'd forged—the Osdium great axe.
It didn't gleam like polished steel or shimmer with enchantment. It didn't need to. The dense metal bore a matte, storm-gray finish, with a faint pulse of energy running through the etchings on its edge. The haft was wrapped in layered black grip-tape, reinforced with internal shock-dampening rings. It looked brutal, unyielding.
Kalem adjusted his footing, left side forward, axe held in a reverse grip across his shoulder. His eyes focused on a long-dead tree in the distance, its bark stripped by the winds, half-buried in ash and time.
"This should do."
He shifted his stance, muscles coiling. The air around the weapon began to shimmer subtly—vibrating just behind the edge.
Backwards shockwave, he reminded himself.
As he swung forward, the rear of the axe expelled a compressed wave of kinetic force, thrusting the weapon forward with unnatural speed. Despite the impossible weight of Osdium, the blade moved faster than a normal weapon of its size had any right to. The moment before it struck the tree—
Forward pulse.
A second shockwave surged out from the blade's edge at the precise instant of contact.
The impact wasn't loud—it was violent.
The tree didn't fall. It ceased to exist.
Shattered into pulp and fragments, the trunk exploded outward, the air screaming from the pressure release. Dust blasted in a cone ahead of Kalem, scattering broken earth and root.
Kalem took a breath and steadied himself, hands still vibrating slightly from the force.
"It works."
But the noise had carried.
The ground trembled faintly.
From beneath the nearby stone outcrops, half-covered fissures began to widen. Cracks gave way to movement—then limbs. Pale, sinewy things crawled from beneath the surface, disturbed from their hiding places.
Kalem took a step back, eyes narrowing.
"Didn't expect company so soon."
Three shapes emerged—Burrowclad, judging by the thick chitin and stone-coated hides. Low to the ground, eyeless, with hooked claws like digging tools. Ambush predators. They shouldn't have been so close to the camp, but his weapon had drawn them like moths to a torch.
Kalem grinned.
"Good. Let's see how well you do against live targets."
The nearest Burrowclad lunged, claws outstretched, maw split wide. Kalem pivoted to the side, swinging in a tight arc—not to hit directly, but to graze.
The backward shockwave burst again, snapping his momentum forward. The weapon became an extension of the motion. At the last instant—
Forward pulse.
The Burrowclad was cleaved diagonally, its reinforced hide offering no resistance as the edge severed it in a single clean blow. The two halves collapsed with a wet crunch.
Kalem didn't stop. He pivoted again, catching the next one mid-charge.
This time, he didn't even need full force. The first shockwave alone broke the creature's stance, and the follow-up impact shattered its spine.
"Two down."
The third skidded around the side, its claws trying to flank. Kalem reversed his grip and dragged the axe behind him before lifting it vertically. The monster lunged again.
He brought the blade down—slow, deliberate.
The first wave launched the axe like a falling star.
The second one, at the moment of impact, cracked the earth beneath them. The creature was crushed beneath the weight and force alike, flattened into an unrecognizable mess of limbs and chitinous gore.
Kalem let the axe rest against the ground again, the haft steaming faintly from the energy feedback. He exhaled slowly, rotating his shoulders. The weapon responded well—not just in terms of power, but control.
He'd feared it would be too wild, too unbalanced—but the shockwaves functioned exactly as he'd envisioned. The backward burst offset the inertia, and the forward wave compounded the kinetic release. The result was a strike faster and stronger than anything that massive had a right to be.
He walked over to one of the halves of the first Burrowclad, inspecting the cut.
Smooth.
Clean.
Even through armor, bone, and muscle.
He glanced toward the ridgeline. More movement. Shadows shifting. The loud fight had drawn in scavengers—low-tier monsters attracted by fresh blood and sound. A few Spinevexes—centipede-like things with spines that vibrated and fired like darts—emerged from the underbrush, cautiously skittering closer.
Kalem raised the axe again, amused.
"Still hungry, huh?"
He stepped forward, now moving with purpose, using the backward wave not just for strikes—but for mobility. The force pushed him faster into the next kill. Every step was a burst, a launch. It wasn't just a weapon. It was a method of movement.
A dance of destruction.
He parried a volley of spines, then turned his hips and spun the axe like a wheel. A sideways burst sent it cleaving through two creatures at once.
The battlefield was cleared in moments.
Kalem finally stopped, breath steady. He planted the axe in the ground and leaned on it slightly, just enough to feel the hum beneath his hands.
This wasn't just a weapon for duels or tight corridors.
This was for monsters.
For real threats.
For things that could crush buildings and armies.
And now, he had something that could crush them back.
A few soldiers from the fort had come closer, keeping a safe distance, having watched the whole thing from afar. None of them spoke. A few simply nodded, and one turned and ran—likely to report to the officer.
Kalem didn't care.
He looked at the axe once more, whispering to himself:
"Let's call you… Breakhowl."
Onyx snorted from the road nearby, unimpressed.
Kalem chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. You'll get your turn too."
With the axe now blood-tested and functional, Kalem retrieved his gear and began the trek back to camp—his mind already shifting to the next battle.
Because if this weapon worked as expected, then the next wave of enemies… they wouldn't stand a chance.