Hephaestus had always been a creator. He forged weapons that shaped history, armor that defied time, and machines that moved the heavens. But now, with the power of Incarnation, he was forging something new—beings that embodied his past selves.
Tiresias, the seer, had been his first.
Daedalus, the architect, had been his second.
Now, he sought his third—Pygmalion, the sculptor.
But Pygmalion would not simply be a man who carved statues. He would be a divine artisan, a master of creation itself. A being whose art could rival the gods.
The Statue of Perfection
Hephaestus worked alone in his forge, his hammer striking against divine marble. This was no ordinary stone—it was a remnant of the primordial mountain, a material once used by Gaia herself to sculpt the first forms of life.
From this, Hephaestus sculpted a figure.
It was magnificent—a being of flawless beauty and terrifying strength. It had the face of a dragon, yet the wings of a bird, its muscular frame both elegant and powerful. Its feet, unlike any mortal's, were sculptor's tools—chisels that could carve perfection from any material.
A being born to create. A being born to shape the world itself.
Once the statue was complete, Hephaestus placed his hand upon its chest and activated his Incarnation power.
His soul trembled as a golden mist seeped from his body, wrapping around the statue like a cocoon. The forge shook as divine energy coursed through the marble, filling it with will, purpose, and power.
Then—its eyes opened.
The statue breathed, its chest rising and falling. Its wings twitched, its feet scraped the ground, leaving behind perfect patterns in the stone.
And then, it spoke.
"I… am Pygmalion," it said, its voice deep yet filled with wonder. It looked at its own hands, flexing them as if discovering itself for the first time. "I see… form. I see… potential."
Hephaestus stepped back, watching his Incarnation with satisfaction. "You were once a mortal sculptor," he said. "Now, you are more. You are the embodiment of art itself."
Pygmalion turned to him, its eyes filled with understanding. "I was once a man who sought perfection. Now, I am a being who can create it."
The Power of Pygmalion
Hephaestus nodded. "Your form is unique," he said. "Not only can you sculpt, but you can become your own masterpiece."
At those words, Pygmalion's body shifted. His marble skin flowed like liquid, reshaping itself. His wings grew larger, his hands morphed into chisels, his entire form transformed into a divine beast—an avatar of raw artistic energy.
Then, with a single stomp, he carved a statue from the very air, shaping a lion made of golden stone in an instant. The lion moved, breathing, alive in ways that should be impossible.
Hephaestus watched, impressed. "You can create life from art."
Pygmalion smiled. "I can create perfection."
The Role of Pygmalion
"Your duty," Hephaestus said, "is to shape the world. You will guide mortals, teaching them the power of creation. You will sculpt statues of heroes, immortalizing their deeds. And when needed, you will become a beast of divine beauty, a force that cannot be contained."
Pygmalion knelt before his main body. "Then let me begin. Let me create a new age of artistry."
And so, the third Incarnation of Hephaestus was born—Pygmalion, the Sculptor-Beast.