I am enjoying this in a way I haven't in almost a decade.

Ganymede, three days after he met Mason, was stunned to find a silver switchblade enchanted to cut down monsters and other divine foes in his shrine. It was expertly cast, infused with moonlight and blood, blessed by the boy's magic and his intensely potent will. Grabbing the blade, the boy god looked it over, smiling as he noticed a small note attached to it.

My first enchanted object, I thought it was only right that you would have it.

Consider it my thanks, Ganymede...

Mason.

He could only barely contain his flush as he felt the raw potency of the devotion surging through him. True respect was a powerful thing, and it filled him with a spark of greater power, almost as great as the previous offering had. Ganymede knew, just knew, that his choice to help the boy was the right one.

"What is that?" Eros' voice echoed around him, making the lesser god sigh.

"A gift, Eros... from my Champion." He knew better than to lie, Eros could always taste a lie. Turning, he almost recoiled, realizing that though subtle, the man now looked like Mason. The same red lips, fair skin and curly brown hair. The same aura of raw confidence, peace and wisdom so rarely seen among mortals. 'Who would have guessed my type is someone that actually treats me with respect?' Mentally shaking that off, he offered a smile.

Eros smiled back, far too like his father for comfort. "And who would make you their patron?"

"A young witch, one that seeks to make a difference."

Moving with speeds of a god of war, Eros was in his face, hands moving to snatch Mason's latest offering. However, Mason's first offering, the spell bag, took that as offense and repelled the God of Love with a pulse of purple mortal magic. The God actually landed on his back, stunned. "You dare attack me?"

Ganymede laughed. "Mason made me a repelling spell bag, it was a gift, an offering. It only reflected your negative intentions."

The man growled, far more like his mother. "It is not wise to piss off Love."

"It is not nice to fight a witch or the Lover of Zeus."

Eros froze, red eyes narrowing. "I will remember this."

"Be sure you do." A pink ripple masked the vanishing of the god of Love, leaving Ganymede no longer masking his utter terror. "Well, that was terrifying. I know better than to anger Eros, even Zeus does not risk his wrath... fuck... still, I must thank my Champion, his work saved my ass from my so called playmate."

Turning to the bird bath next to his shrine, he watched as it shimmered showing the handsome face of his mortal Champion. The other boy was Fencing, jabbing, dodging an swiping in his fencing outfit. The boy had not paid for the lesson, using magic to get the lesson for free. The boy's mental magic was something else, he would become masterful Charmspeaker if he had the chance.

As he watched, Ganymede realized that the sword was his sword, the one he had delivered to the boy. Simply made with silver and steel. Silver absorbed magic the best, and hurt werewolves, he figured it was the best gift. The boy's aura oozed out of weapon, tightly wound. It was freshly cast, the same energy oozing out of the boy's black hoodie hanging on the wall to the left.

"The boy's magic will grow to great levels... and he will show the world what we can do, us mere meager beings." DING! The ringing of the Bell, summoning the servants of the gods, filled the air. Zeus, still pissy over the loss of his bolt, needed a lot of attention. Terrified, he tore off his spell bag, even as his magic passively refilled it's power instinctively. 'Zeus will never alow me to live if Mason's hex bag blasted him... he'd barely feel it, but the consequences would be unforgettable. Especially now of all times.'

"""

Mason's muscles burned, the practice of fencing was a tiring one for him at even the best of points. He loved it though, it was an art form he actually did well at. He refused to be like a mage from video games, a glass canon. He took a self defense class once a week, fencing three times a week and magic all of the time. Never would he allow true weakness, not when monsters lived about.

Speaking of that, his senses started to tingle as he moved past an alley near his apartment. Readying himself, knowing that he was about to be attacked, he barely threw himself to the side as a cyclopes of all things charged him. It was a small one, with an angry sneer on it's face. He did not hesitate, jabbing it with his blade, making it hiss as his sword pierced the beast's side.

Pulling out as the creature turned, swinging it's angry hands, his side was clipped and even through his spelled hoodie. The bruises would be a bitch to heal.

Rolling past the next strike, he threw out a hand. "Sistit!" And a purple wave flew over it, halting it's movements just long enough for him to stab it's angry eye straight through, killing it entirely. It faded away into nothing but dust, leaving him panting, alone and very sore.

"That sucked..." He said, before limping home, knowing he had to heal his bruises and re-enchant his hoodie already... he could feel the damage to it's leaking magic.

So much to do,...

"At least I could fight back, there is always that..."

Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.

This was a joy to write,

Love, your Ninja Overlord,

Mika.