Chapter 30

The cheers subsided as the referee counted down from ten. Brennan held still, letting Agustin triumphantly hold him down, waiting for the count to end. 

3... 

2... 

1...

"And an amazing victory for Agustin Ross over former champion Brennan Zavala!" The announcer's declaration sent the crowd into a frenzy as Agustin helped Brennan up. They shook hands as the announcers continued discussing the match. 

The crown had been passed. Brennan's career was over, at a measly 35 years old. Now 22-year old Agustin would be the reigning champion until things got stale again. Then he'd pass off the crown to some other wrestler. 

Brennan's feelings were mixed. He'd been wrestling since he was a kid old enough to join the sport. Now with less than half his life over, he was being pushed out. 

"I'm afraid you don't have as many fans as you used to,"  his manager had said. The league had told him to give up the crown to someone younger and more popular. And it stung. 

Sure, there was the relief that he wouldn't have to keep pushing himself to keep up with the young guys. There was the promise of a lucrative retirement, maybe work as a coach. There was also loneliness. What was there for him beyond wrestling? Coaching just wouldn't be the same. 

At the end of his career, Brennan Zavala had nothing. No wife - his last girlfriend had left him a couple years ago as his popularity started to dwindle - no children, no pets, no backup career for if his funds ran out. All he had was an empty house. He dug into his takeout - a healthy stir fry - and contemplated where life could possibly take him next. 

The truth was he still wanted to keep wrestling. He felt most alive in that ring. So was coaching his best bet? 

"I might have an alternate idea." 

The voice startled Brennan into dropping his fork. His gaze bounced around the room, looking for the intruder. 

"Ah. Sorry, I'm not quite visible am I?" A purple figure manifested by the door into the hallway, leaning casually against the wall. 

"Who are you?" Brennan stood up from the table menacingly. 

"No one who will hurt you. I have a present for you actually. A Miracle. Eternal youth." 

"Huh? What kind of nonsense are you spouting? I'll call the military." 

"They won't be able to catch me. I'm not a mortal." 

"So you're what, a god?" 

"Some have called me that." 

"And you're just giving me eternal life?" 

"No. To be specific, it's a sort of eternal youth. Your body will age more slowly, so you'll be able to keep up with those young punks. Your injuries will also heal more quickly. I'm practically giving you exclusive access to the Fountain of Youth. Unfortunately, your actual lifespan won't increase, but you won't feel the effects of growing old and feeble." 

"And what do you want in return?" 

"Nothing. I like giving out presents to make people happy. Is that so strange?" 

"Nobody gives without wanting something in return." 

"Maybe mortals don't. But I'm not a mortal." 

The figure faded, and with it, Brennan felt his body change. He couldn't describe the change, but it was palpable. As if he hadn't been truly living until that moment. His muscles felt stronger, and his senses felt like they'd been enhanced. Was this...? 

Brennan sat down to think about his newfound power. Even if he was stronger, he couldn't just go back to wrestling. So what could he do...? 

He quickly typed into his phone until he found the site he was searching for. A bright banner with Achilles standing proudly on it. A call to join him. 

And the date for a meeting. 

"Thank you for the purchase." The salesclerk smiled at Olivia as she left the store, new toys in hand. Once again she'd duped the poor kid into thinking she'd paid for her purchases. Manipulating reality was child's play, and it made so many things easier. 

She glanced into her bag. A new dress with tights to match, a long scarf to hide her head with, a masquerade mask, and a veil. Weaver would be reborn. Earlier that day, she'd also bought a sewing needle, a small craft blade, some heavy-duty cleaner, a length of cord and duct tape. She had multiple ideas for how to accomplish her task. 

Coating the needle with cleaner probably wouldn't do anything, but she had a morbid curiosity as to whether it would even pierce Achilles. The blade was mostly for experimentation as well. The rope was for if she decided to strangle him, while the duct tape could be used to seal his airways. 

Hopefully. 

Worst case scenario, she'd force feed him the cleaner and let the chemicals do their work. Or rather than force feed, she'd trick him into ingesting it. That was probably her most likely success scenario, but it felt like that would be too easy. 

Maybe she'd ask to see just how invincible he really was. Then ask how strong he was. Tie him up to see. Hopefully he wouldn't be able to break the cord - she'd chosen something sturdy. Next she could prod him as she pleased, using duct tape to keep his mouth shut. Finally, she'd decide whether she wanted to use more cord to strangle him, duct tape his nose closed and watch him suffocate, or pour the chemicals down his nasal passage. 

And if he was tied up and helpless, she could use her Miracle to enact whatever torture she could come up with. 

I'll avenge you soon, Keyla, Olivia thought, a giddy sort of bubble swelling in her chest. She'd spent the past few days trying to figure out the exact nature of her plan, and now that she had it nothing could stop her. 

Nothing except Achilles spontaneously growing a brain.