Written by: Youssef El-Sayed Makawi Zaki Awad
Berlin, April 1945.
The world was ablaze, and the Third Reich was crumbling under the weight of bombs and the relentless march of soldiers.
In the depths of a dimly lit bunker, a man sat hunched over a torn map, his military uniform stained with dust and blood.
His face was pale, his dead eyes fixated on the shattered remnants of his grand ambition.
Adolf Hitler.
The Führer.
The man who had led the world to the brink of ruin.
He could hear the footsteps of the Red Army drawing closer—the cries of soldiers, the rumble of tanks…
But none of it mattered anymore.
The world had betrayed him.
Or perhaps… he had betrayed the world.
His trembling hand lifted the pistol.
He pressed it against his temple… and closed his eyes.
One gunshot.
And it was all over.
---
Or so he thought.
Because death… was not the end.
It was only the beginning.
---
When his eyes opened again, there was no smoke, no flames.
Only a clear blue sky, the gentle warmth of the sun…
A soft breeze caressed his skin, carrying the scent of iron and fire.
He gasped, trying to move—
But all that came out was the helpless cry of a newborn.
He looked around in confusion… only to find a beautiful woman gazing down at him with warmth in her eyes.
She smiled tenderly and whispered,
"Welcome to the world, my little Erik."
---
Nine years have passed since his rebirth.
Now, he was Erik Stein, the illegitimate son of a noble family known throughout the kingdom as the "Blacksmiths of the Realm."
But the truth… was far less grand.
For all their fame, the Steins were nothing more than royal kitchenware makers—
Crafting pots, pans, and forks, selling them as if they were treasures.
Generations of blacksmithing, centuries of iron mastery…
All reduced to making frying pans.
But they were not ordinary blacksmiths.
The Stein family possessed the Ironblood Lineage—a magical gift that granted them mastery over all metals.
They could mold iron, shape steel, bend it to their will…
Or, as he later discovered, create a non-stick frying pan.
---
A Morning Like No Other
On a warm morning, Erik sat on a small wooden chair, his body still too young for the mind trapped within.
He watched as his father, Frederick Stein, lifted a newly forged pan, inspecting it with the pride of a king admiring his crown.
"Look at this, Erik!" His father beamed, rubbing the pan's surface with a cloth. "It never sticks! You can fry eggs without oil!"
His voice dropped into a whisper of reverence.
"Our ancestors would be so proud…"
Erik—the former Führer—stared at the frying pan, his small hands gripping the chair's edge.
His teeth clenched slowly.
I… was the leader of the Third Reich.
I… shook the world with my will.
And you… you want me to be a maker of frying pans?!
---
The Awakening of Power
Time passed slowly.
Each moment a test of his patience.
But on the day of his eighth birthday, his dormant power finally awoke.
And in a single day, he forged a sword unlike anything his family had ever seen.
The iron pulsed under his touch, as if responding to a soul tainted with fire.
The blade was not just a weapon—it was a declaration of fury.
The steel breathed.
Its gleam was like the birth of a new sun.
The family's master blacksmith stood beside him, frozen in place, his face pale with disbelief.
Then, in a hushed voice, he murmured,
"This is not a sword… This is a declaration of war."
But then—
His father, Frederick Stein, clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder and roared with excitement,
"Excellent, my boy! This will be perfect for cutting steak! Just imagine the precision of those slices!"
---
The Holy Weapon… and the Frying Pan!
Deep in the family's forge, the flames blazed high, sparks dancing through the air.
The scent of molten metal filled the room, thick and intoxicating.
It was a battlefield of creation.
Erik sat before a scorched wooden table, surrounded by fragments of metal, gears, triggers, and meticulously crafted arrowheads.
His hands moved with deadly precision, assembling the parts, testing the trigger, refining the mechanisms.
A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead—
But he did not wipe it away.
Then—
Creak…
The door to the forge slowly swung open.
"Erik?"
A gentle voice, warm with motherly affection.
He froze.
Damn it.
His mother, Maria Stein, stepped inside, carrying a basket of freshly baked bread.
Her face was filled with love and innocence.
And behind her…
His father, Frederick, holding a brand-new frying pan, polishing it with the same reverence one would give a divine relic.
---
Maria's eyes scanned the forge, then brightened with delight.
"Oh, sweetheart! You've been working so hard… Are you making a new frying pan?"
Erik's breath hitched.
His hands were still clutching the metallic trigger.
Smoke was still rising from the newly forged crossbow.
And in that moment—
His finger accidentally pulled the trigger.
Zzzzzip!
An iron arrow whistled through the air!
THUNK!
It embedded itself deep into the wooden wall—
An inch away from his father's head.
---
Maria let out a shriek, clutching her chest.
Frederick lunged forward, shielding her with his massive frame.
Then, he slowly turned to Erik, staring at the weapon in his hands.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then—
Frederick's eyes lit up with awe.
"Wait… Is that… A Frying Pan Crossbow?!" he gasped.
"By the gods, you're a genius!!"
---
Erik froze.
A… what?
Maria, still catching her breath, clapped her hands together in excitement.
"Oh, sweetheart! Does it cook food while shooting?!"
A slow, icy smile curled on Erik's lips.
And in the coldest, deadliest voice, he whispered,
"Yes… It can cook… while eliminating enemies."
Frederick beamed.
Slamming a firm hand onto his son's shoulder, he declared with pride,
"You are truly gifted! The Ironblood flows through your veins!
We must introduce this weapon… into the Royal Kitchenware Collection!"
---
Maria gasped in delight.
"Just imagine! Mothers protecting their children while preparing dinner!"
Deep inside, Erik was screaming.
…I will burn this world to the ground.
---
The Forge of Erik Stein
He had no choice.
If he was to execute his true plans, he needed his own space.
A forge where he could create without the eyes of the foolish.
He demanded his own workshop.
And with his rising "genius reputation," Frederick granted him a separate smithy on the family estate.
---
The Rise of the Iron Race
The midday sun cast long shadows across the training ground.
Children stood in perfect formation, their wide eyes gleaming with hunger and ambition.
Some clutched hammers, others held small blades they had forged themselves.
Erik stood upon a raised platform.
A simple black coat draped over his shoulders—
Yet his presence alone made their throats dry with tension.
Slowly, he raised his hand—
And silence fell upon them.
Then, in a voice as cold as steel being forged in fire, he spoke:
"You… are not mere children."
"You… are not just blacksmiths' sons."
"You… are the flames of iron that will never fade."
And with a wicked smile, he whispered,
"I have come to restore what was lost… To reclaim what is rightfully ours."
His hand lifted—pointing to the black flag behind him, bearing the sigil of crossed hammers and… a frying pan.
"Swear your loyalty now…
To the Iron Race!"
And in unison, the children roared.
"We swear! For the Iron Race! For the Iron Future!"
Erik smiled.
And in his eyes…
A fire long thought extinguished blazed once more.