The eagle did not return. For three months, the sky above Odomantike held nothing more threatening than crows and hawks and the occasional vulture. Adrestus almost convinced himself that Zeus had forgotten him, that the king of the gods had moved on to some other mortal, some other curiosity. But the system's note—Divine attention detected—remained in his status screen, a quiet reminder that Olympus had not looked away. It was merely waiting.
He was eighteen now. The village knew him as a young man of quiet strength, a capable hunter, the boy who had killed a hydra. They did not know about the clearing in the pine forest, the daily archery drills, the sword forms practiced until his arms burned. They did not know about the system, or the two Fame Coins he hoarded like a dragon's gold, or the plans that stretched across the years like a spider's web.
He was splitting wood—again; it seemed he was always splitting wood—when the sky darkened.
Not with clouds. The morning had been clear, the sun warm on his shoulders. But something passed between him and the sun, something vast and black, and the shadow it cast was not the shadow of a bird. It was too large. Too wide. And it moved with a purpose that had nothing to do with hunting mice.
Adrestus looked up.
The creature descended from the heavens like a fallen star turned inside out. It was a horse—no, not a horse. It was larger than any horse he had ever seen, sixteen hands at least, with a coat so black it seemed to drink the light. Its mane and tail were the color of smoke, and its eyes burned like embers. A single horn, spiraled and sharp as a spear tip, grew from its forehead. And from its back, spreading wide enough to shade a house, unfolded wings of midnight feather.
A black winged unicorn.
The creature landed in the center of the village square with a sound like thunder muffled by velvet. Dust billowed. Chickens scattered. Children screamed and ran for their mothers. Men grabbed tools—hoes, axes, anything—and formed a nervous semicircle. The women pulled the young ones behind them.
Adrestus did not move.
He stood by the woodpile, axe still in his hand, and watched the unicorn fold its wings and lower its head. The beast was not aggressive. It was not frightened. It stood with the patience of a creature that had been sent, not lost. Its burning eyes found Adrestus immediately, as if it had known exactly where to look.
A voice spoke from the air. Not loud, not soft, but resonant—the voice of a god who did not need to shout to be heard.
"A gift."
The word hung in the air like smoke. Every villager heard it. Some fell to their knees. Others crossed their arms over their chests in the old gesture of warding. Thyia, the elder, stepped forward with her gnarled walking stick and pointed it at the unicorn.
"Whose gift?" she demanded. "Speak, spirit. In the name of Hestia, whose?"
The voice came again, amused now. "Zeus. King of Olympus. Father of gods and men. The boy has pleased me. Let this be a sign of my favor."
Then the voice was gone, and the villagers were left staring at the black unicorn and at Adrestus, who had not yet moved.
He understood immediately. Zeus was not being kind. Zeus was marking him, claiming him, binding him to Olympus with a gift that could not be refused. Accept the unicorn, and the world would see him as Zeus's champion. Refuse it, and insult the king of the gods. There was no third option.
He walked toward the creature.
"Ariston, no!" Thyia grabbed his arm. "That thing is not a horse. It's a spy. A leash. The gods do not give without taking."
"I know," he said quietly. "But I can't refuse it. None of us can."
He pulled free and approached the unicorn. Up close, it was even more magnificent—and more terrifying. Its hide was not simply black; it seemed to absorb light, to create shadows where no shadows should exist. The horn was not white like a normal unicorn's; it was dark as obsidian, with veins of silver running through it. The wings, now folded, were tipped with feathers that looked like razors.
The creature lowered its head and nudged his chest. Not aggressively. Almost... curiously.
Adrestus raised his hand and touched its forehead, just below the horn. The skin was warm, like sun-baked stone. The unicorn exhaled, a soft huff that smelled of ozone and wildflowers.
"You need a name," he said.
The creature's ears twitched.
He thought of the myths. Unicorns were creatures of purity, of light, of maiden's tears. This one was none of those things. It was darkness given form, shadow made flesh, a creature that belonged more to the underworld than to the sunlit fields of Arcadia.
Skotadi. The Greek word for darkness.
"Skotadi," he said aloud. "That's your name."
The unicorn tossed its head and stamped a hoof—not in anger, but in acceptance. The villagers watched in stunned silence as Adrestus took the creature's mane in his hands and swung onto its back. The wings spread wide, and Skotadi leaped into the air.
The first flight was chaos.
Adrestus had never ridden a horse before, let alone a flying one. His absolute body control kept him seated, kept his balance perfect, but nothing could prepare him for the sensation of the ground falling away, the wind screaming past his ears, the world shrinking to a patchwork of green and brown far below. Skotadi climbed fast, higher than any bird, until the village was a doll's toy and the mountains were wrinkles in a blanket.
The unicorn banked left, then right, testing him. Adrestus leaned into each turn, his body moving exactly where it needed to go, no hesitation, no fear. He had watched videos of horse riding in his past life. He had read about mounted combat in Damasos's manual. He had never done it himself, but his eidetic memory and body control closed the gap between knowledge and action.
By the time Skotadi descended, an hour later, Adrestus could guide the creature with his knees, could shift his weight to signal direction, could stand in the stirrups—when had he found stirrups? The saddle was not a Greek design; it was something else, something from a future he did not yet understand—and fire an imaginary arrow at the clouds.
They landed in the village square as the sun began to set. The villagers had dispersed, returning to their homes, though eyes watched from behind shuttered windows. Thyia stood alone by the well, her face unreadable.
"You've made yourself a target," she said.
"I've made myself a tool," he replied, sliding from Skotadi's back. "Zeus wants to use me. That means he won't let anyone else kill me. Not yet."
"And when he's done using you?"
Adrestus looked at the black unicorn, at the burning eyes, at the wings that had carried him into the sky. "Then I'll have learned to fly."
That night, alone in his room, he summoned the system.
```
[SYSTEM UPDATE – Age 18]
Divine gift received: Black winged unicorn (name: Skotadi).
Source: Zeus, king of Olympus.
Nature of gift: Mount, spy, leash, and opportunity.
Public feat detected: Tamed and rode a divine creature.
Witnesses: Entire village (approx. 200).
Fame increase calculated.
Popularity: Local Hero → Regional Hero
Fame Coins Earned: +0 (gift from god does not count as earned feat)
Total Fame Coins: 2 (unchanged)
No new titles.
NEW STATS:
- Strength: 15 → 16
- Speed: 18 → 20
- Agility: 22 → 25
- Magic: 8 → 9 (ambient divine exposure from unicorn)
SKILL LEVELS (raw proficiency):
- Spearmanship: Journeyman (Level 14)
- Swordsmanship: Journeyman (Level 12)
- Hand‑to‑Hand Combat: Journeyman (Level 17 → Level 18)
- Marksmanship (Bow): Apprentice (Level 8 → Level 9)
- Riding: Untrained (Level 0) → Apprentice (Level 4) (new skill)
BATTLE EXPERIENCE:
- Combat encounters survived: 5 (unchanged)
- Significant battles: 1 (hydra)
- Monster kills: 3 (boar, harpy, hydra)
- Human opponents defeated: 0
- Near‑death experiences: 1 (hydra)
- Divine observation: ACTIVE (Zeus, now via Skotadi)
System note: You now possess a divine mount. Skotadi is intelligent, loyal, and likely reports to Zeus. Do not trust it fully. However, it is also a weapon. Learn to fight from its back. Learn to use its speed and flight. This gift can be turned to your advantage if you are patient.
```
He dismissed the screen and looked at Skotadi, who stood outside his window, wings folded, eyes glowing in the darkness. The creature was beautiful and terrible, a gift from a god who gave nothing for free.
I'll use you, Adrestus thought. And when the time comes, I'll use him too.
He lay down and closed his eyes. Outside, the black unicorn stood watch, and somewhere above the clouds, Zeus smiled.
---
End of Chapter 7