[Commission]: Antaeus (Avatar self insert story with celestial forge): Chapter I

My mother had always been threatening, scary to say the least—the kind of mother who would get angry over almost anything. She wanted to seem cool but wasn't at all, the sort of person who believed might and power were all that mattered. She'd threaten with physical violence each time she was truly enraged, and I don't mean just the kind brought about by her own hands. No, she had unsavory connections in every corner of the world—the kind that could have your cousin locked in a cold chamber for a while because he displeased her, or end with you waking up with a bag over your head before receiving the beating of your life. I wish I were joking.

To be honest, I didn't know why this time had been the moment she chose to enact the punishment she'd warned—promised—me so many times. However, I was certain that neither she, nor the others, nor even myself had expected me to die from it. In retrospect, it wasn't that surprising. Even though I didn't seem like it, my health, my body, was much more fragile than it appeared due to the circumstances of my birth.

Who would have thought that dying would be the only thing needed for my mom to apologize? At that time, I didn't feel anger or even hatred toward her. It might be messed up, but I felt vindication. Even though I was dying, a part of me was happy because finally, finally, my mom would realize that she wasn't as perfect as she thought she was—that because she never tried to change for her only child, she would lose me because of that.

Maybe this is twisted, but I didn't wish for her to be arrested or suffer incarceration or jail or social shunning or whatever the rest of my family would try to bring upon her with great prejudice. No, instead I wanted her to live—a long life where she would never be able to forget what she did, that in the end, she wasn't better than her own mother but worse. After that, I died, the panic-filled voice of my mother the last thing I heard.

I had honestly expected nothingness—an eternal, dreamless sleep, a complete stripping of the ego. I hadn't expected to open my eyes again, breathing, without feeling agonizing pain. When I opened my eyes, it felt as if I had reached enlightenment—memories that were mine and yet weren't, experiences, dreams, thoughts I knew were originally alien became my own. It felt like a rebirth, like a merging of who I was and who Haru is. I was Haru and more.

Haru, the one with whom I merged, with whom the new foundation of this new me formed, had been a simple but not-so-simple boy. After all, Haru lived in a world where people called benders could, like the name says, bend the elements to their will—a world ravaged by a war that had been lasting for literally more than a century. A war marked by cruelty, by genocide, by subjugation, by supremacy based on origins, which wasn't that different from my original world now that I thought about it.

More than that, this world was one I knew, one I had watched unfold in my childhood in my past life before I woke up in it—this world where the fate of everything rested on the shoulders of a 112-year-old bald monk kid.

A rough shove jolted me back to reality, nearly causing me to stumble. A harsh voice barked from behind me, belonging to a man clad in Fire Nation armor. "Who told you to slow down, earthbending scum?"

I had forgotten for a moment the world around me, so lost in my mind. An interesting thing was that the village of Haru—so, my village—had been occupied for more than a decade by the Fire Nation. One rule of the occupation was to imprison all people capable of earthbending. That's why the original Haru had mostly not been raised by his father. For more than a decade, the original Haru had tried to hide his nature as an earthbender, but like in every tale, a pretty girl was his downfall.

Haru helped someone at her insistence, even though he knew the risks, saving someone who shouldn't have been saved because of Katara, only for the person he rescued to snitch. And this was where I reincarnated—surrounded by at least four firebenders, in metal cuffs, being led toward an earthbending prison.

Some of the things that happened in Avatar were kinda blurry, but if I remembered well, Haru would be saved by Aang, Katara, and Sokka. In truth, I didn't need to do anything else but follow along and wait for canon to play out. But where's the fun in that, especially with one factor: merging with Haru had given me earthbending.

I could feel the earth under my feet like I never had before. I could wait to be saved, but where would the fun be in that? After all, I had died, and was there a better way to celebrate than a fight?

I moved, the song of the earth under my feet growing louder—power, so much more than I had ever felt, flooding my senses. It was as if I felt the earth itself, as if it whispered to me that as long as we touched, as long as I didn't back down, as long as I emulated it, I would never lose.

I didn't know if it was because, unlike the original Haru, I hadn't been born with the capability of bending, if maybe it was because I was much more than the original Haru, maybe some kind of sensitivity due to being originally not from this universe. But as I dragged a foot on—no, through—the earth, as my heel dug into it, the ground around me and my firebender captors erupted as if a grenade had detonated.

Time seemed to slow down. My gaze met that of one of my captors; I watched his eyes widen. I had to give them their due, though—the firebenders around me moved, reacted way faster than they should have been able to, in my opinion. I saw them from all angles of my vision, leaping away from me, flames dancing in their grasp, being molded, already on the verge of being launched at me.

I thought with some surprise that I hadn't expected all of them to dodge. I kinda had hoped that I'd be able to deal with them in one blow, just like Aang and the rest of the gang did in canon. It seemed things would not be that easy, but that was alright. A savage grin drew itself on my features. It just meant that things would be even more interesting.

Flames rushed toward me—flames that, even from a distance, felt hot. This wasn't the kind of flame that merely stung; I was sure it was the kind that consumed, that could kill you at best. I knew that if they reached me, I would die—that this second life would end as quickly as it began. But I wanted to live; I wanted to explore, to feel the euphoria in my heart even more, even longer. I wanted more than a fate of someone who died because of their mother.

I wanted glory.

And because of that, my body moved—not trying to dodge or escape, but forward, toward one of the four firebenders, toward his flame. It would be the most foolish thing to do, more than suicidal, rushing toward fire. It would be the case if I wasn't an earthbender. I had never before earthbended; my memories of it came from the show and the original Haru, and no shade, but the original, while not mediocre, was far from being the best earthbender.

Still, I was an earthbender—the earth sang to me. If I remembered Toph's words to Aang in the show, evading isn't something a good, a true earthbender should do. Earthbending, controlling the earth, being like the earth meant standing your ground, meant being as strong as the ground beneath your feet!

The fragments of earth and dust still in the air and the ground under me flowed. There were no other words for it—each of my heartbeats, each of my body's movements, seemingly resonated with the world around me. It may be true that my hands were tied in metal manacles, but I wasn't a fire or air or even waterbender. I only needed two things to bend; I could see it now! I only needed to move any part of my body and the earth to be under me!

I felt, for a brief instant, the earth and the dust cling to my skin, solidifying with each twitch of my body until an armor—or at least a facsimile of one—formed to protect me. Fire crashed against my form and fizzled out. I saw the eyes of the firebender before me widen even more in shock. This sight only heightened the glee inside my heart.

I moved my legs forward, continuing toward the firebender, breaching the distance in less than an instant because, in truth, my feet never left the earth. No, instead the ground under me was the one to push me forward. "Better grit your teeth!" I shouted before hitting him hard on the side of the head with my metal-encased hand.

The impact resonated with a sound akin to thunder. I watched the expression on the fire nation's soldier change, consciousness fading from his eyes before his body went barreling down. "First down," I thought aloud.

I turned to look at the three other firebenders. They were looking at me with what seemed to be a mix of anger, hatred, and fear. I felt my smile widen even more at that. I may be the one chained, but I wasn't the one at a disadvantage here. I was surrounded by the earth, and this was the only reason why, no matter what, I would be the one standing proud in the end.

How was it possible for most earthbenders to not act like gods, to not reign supreme, stronger over all the other elements? I didn't know if it was because I was reincarnated, maybe because I wasn't originally from this world, but a thought bloomed inside my mind: How could earthbenders be so weak?

One of the three remaining firebenders, the one who hadn't taken a step back like the others, spoke to his companions. "How dare you falter?! We outnumber him! The only reason Kamo is down is because he took us by surprise, bending even with hands and feet chained. But it doesn't change that there's no chance of him winning against us all! More than that, we are children of Agni, firebenders, and firebending will always be superior to earthbending!"

The words seemed to give back some assurance to his companions. Three against one, huh? It was at that moment I felt it, almost like a divine communion. It was as if the seconds themselves were curious, craning their necks to watch. My vision sharpened, almost like a blade honed to a singular edge. I could feel the earth even more, as if before, I had been barely literate, and now could hold the most basic conversation with I sensed it before I understood it: a spark, a heartbeat that thrummed not with blood but with intent. A whisper of a forgotten truth:

Do one thing at a time.

It was a simple sentence that shouldn’t meant anything right now yet it did because this was more than a sentence, it felt like a bite from the fruit of Wisdom in in the garden of Eden.

This perk even if calling it such was more than a disservice, this “Do One Thing At A Time" I knew when I shouldn’t, when I hadn’t instants before originated from the Dinotopia series and allowed to enhance an individual's efficiency and skill when focusing exclusively on a single task. By dedicating undivided attention to one activity, the perk would double both the quality of the work and the speed at which it is completed, effectively halving the time required

What make this monumental was that Earth bending counted in the eyes of this perk as a task too. I didn’t know from where this power came from, if it was an apology from a higher power due to how I had died or if i was simply lucky but with it, one thing became sure into my head. There were no chances that I could lose.

It wasn't power that coursed through me but a knowing—a wordless symphony that resonated with the marrow of my bones. The symphony whispered to me, almost like a lover sharing a secret: I wasn't moving the earth; I was convincing it to remember itself.

I looked into the eyes of the firebenders and saw my reflection in them—the reflection of what seemed to be a monster in human skin. I saw my reflection give a mad smile, or at least a madder one. In canon, the secret of metalbending is to bend the impurities existing in it. Knowing this and with my newfound understanding, I knew I could easily do it. More than that, it would technically make me the first metalbender, but honestly, the idea felt cheap, repulsive, disgusting to me.

Maybe this was pride, but I didn't want to cheat. I wanted to do things my way. I grinned. It's said in canon that there's no way to bend metal. Time to prove that I'm the exception.

Since waking up as Haru, the earth underfoot seemed to sing, to speak. But in truth, since the activation of this newfound focus, the earth wasn't the only one to speak. The iron around my hands and legs did too.

Scientifically, it would be accurate to say that I could feel them vibrate, just like I knew Toph in canon saw through vibrations in the earth. But the ground was far from being the only earthly compound capable of such. There was only one way I thought I could possibly get out of my shackles, but first, I needed to deal with something.

"Hey, do you like a bet?" I called out to the firebenders.

They seemed taken aback by my words. One of them repeated, "A bet?" in surprise.

"Yes, a bet—the life-or-death kind. A bet with my life on the line."

They exchanged glances, clearly uncertain. The oldest of them, the one who hadn't backed down like the others, spoke up. "This confrontation, due to your actions, earthbender, can end only with your life. Humor me, savage, before we turn you into a blackened corpse. Why should we bet for something we surely will have?"

"Maybe you will," I replied, thinking silently, only in your dreams. "But it doesn't mean I couldn't take one or two of you with me." I continued, "Tell me, what is better—the possibility of only one person losing, or the possibility of all of us here losing? Because you know if you don't take my bet, I won't let you win easily. But if you do, if I fail, I will do nothing. I will not fight, on the honor of my parents and the love I have for them."

I knew I had them hooked at the word 'honor.' The Fire Nation was kind of the Japan of this world, and honor was one of the things they held most important. Time to make it go deeper.

They gave each other looks, as if trying to decide non-verbally if it was a good idea to listen to me. Time to add the nail to the spectacle.

"More than that, the bet is in your favor," I said. "The bet would consist of me escaping my shackles by metalbending."

Two of them laughed, looking at me as if I were a simpleton. The oldest one said, "Metalbending doesn't exist."

"Doesn't exist yet. Give me twenty seconds, and if in those twenty seconds I don't metalbend myself out of these shackles, I will not fight you."

He crossed gazes with me before nodding gravely. "Twenty seconds. Nothing less, nothing more."

"I won't need more," I said, closing my eyes.

I knew the firebenders wouldn't attack me due to the dishonorable nature of such an act. But even if they did, I wasn't defenseless; I could never be with the beat of the earth under my feet.

The concept of resonance seemed more difficult to understand than it actually was. For example, let's say you're pushing someone on a swing. If you push at just the right moment—matching the rhythm of the swing—it goes higher with less effort. That's essentially what resonance is: applying force at the natural frequency of an object to make it move or vibrate more.

It could be explained through other words, through other things like music, for example. It's like finding the perfect harmony, where the sound doesn't just echo but also amplifies and fills a space with more power than you'd expect. Imagine playing a guitar. When you pluck a string, it vibrates at a specific frequency, producing a note. If you hum that exact same note near the guitar, you'll notice that the string begins to vibrate on its own, as if it's singing back to you. That's resonance in action.

It happens because every object, whether it's a guitar string, a wine glass, or in this case a piece of metal, has a natural frequency. This is the rate at which it prefers to vibrate when disturbed. When you match this natural frequency with an external force—like your voice humming the same note—the object absorbs that energy and vibrates more strongly.

Theoretically, because metals are made of atoms arranged in a crystalline structure, and these atoms naturally vibrate in place even when the metal seems still, if you can match and amplify those vibrations—like humming in tune with the guitar string—you should be able to create a resonant frequency within the metal. This would make the atoms vibrate more strongly, loosening the rigid structure enough that the shackles could be bent or reshaped.

Resonance is like playing the right note in the symphony of the physical world, about understanding that everything, even the toughest piece of iron or the heaviest block of stone, has a hidden song. If you find that song and match it, you can make even the most unyielding materials move as if they were alive.

All of this was, of course, theoretical. Maybe earthbending could not bend metal because of some mystical mumbo jumbo I didn't understand. But how would I know if it was possible if I didn't try?

I knew that already more than four seconds had passed. I put the timer in the back of my mind to focus on the metal around my wrists and legs, on the vibrations within them. I focused on tuning in, to get the frequency so that I could match it. Everything else ceased to exist in my mind except the earth around me and my shackles.

Fortunately, maybe because of my unique situation, I could hear the song, the vibrations of the metal. I was sure—even if I hadn't counted—that ten seconds would be reached soon if they hadn't already. Now that I could hear the song, the vibrations, I needed to match them so that I could amplify them.

I began to move my fingers in small, deliberate motions, tapping on the shackles, trying to match the beats of the metal's 'song,' sending energy into it to match and amplify its vibrations—almost like a conductor guiding an orchestra, subtle and importantly precise. I could feel the metal resonate more intensely. I tried to move in the way that felt most appropriate, with gentle, outward-pushing hand movements, or at least as close as I could make while wearing thick shackles.

One of the firebenders shouted, "Only seven seconds left, earthbender!"

Seven seconds were more than enough. The metal felt malleable but also wrong, as if I was doing something I shouldn't have necessarily done. I ignored the feeling.

"Three seconds left! Prepare to die, earthbender!" another called out.

I ignored the words, focusing instead on the metal. With a final push, outwardly pulling with my wrists, the metal bent outward without shattering. With another sharp twist, the shackles around my legs opened.

I opened my eyes, my gaze falling on the firebenders who were looking at me as if I were the devil. Lazily, I moved my arms, and the two pieces of metal floated up, stopping at the level of my right and left shoulders.

The oldest firebender whispered in shock and fear, composure completely gone. "How is this possible? Earthbenders aren't supposed to bend metal!"

I gave a sardonic smile. "They can't, but I'm not like them. Because, you see, you're looking at the one who will be the greatest earthbender in history!"

Maybe it was arrogance, saying such while Toph existed, but this was a new life—one I knew I was lucky to have, that I shouldn't have. I had died in my first life without truly amounting to anything, without realizing my dreams, without becoming great. Why should it stay the same here in this world?

I was given a second chance, and I would not waste it. My name, my achievements—I would etch them into the very marrow of this world. I knew what I wanted to be in this new life.

I wanted to be greater than any bender or Avatar in the past, present, and future.

I wanted to be the most glorious thing this world would ever know. I wanted to be the greatest.

I took a step forward, and they flinched. The sound of their armor shifting, the subtle intake of breath, the twitch of fingers as flames began to spark again—it was like watching a stage play where every movement was a signal. The earth beneath my feet thrummed, alive and ready, waiting for my command. This power, this understanding—it was intoxicating.

“Three against one,” I said, my voice low but clear, carrying easily across the distance between us. “Let’s make this count.”