The weight of five divine weapons settled upon Elian, both literally and figuratively. The sheer power that coursed through him was exhilarating, a symphony of elemental forces harmonizing within his very being. Yet, it was also overwhelming, a burden of responsibility that threatened to crush him under its immense pressure. He felt the fiery rage of Ignis's greatsword, the serene precision of Luna's bow, the chaotic freedom of Zephyra's daggers, the relentless force of Aqua's trident, and the unyielding stability of Terra's shield – all vying for his attention, demanding his control.

  The crowd, still reeling from the Author's bizarre intervention and the unprecedented display of divine favor, watched Elian with a mixture of awe and trepidation. The elder, her face pale, slowly rose to her feet, her voice trembling slightly as she addressed the young man.

  "Elian," she said, her voice filled with a gravity that belied her age, "the gods… they have bestowed upon you a gift unlike any we have ever seen. A power to rival the legends of old. But with this power comes a great responsibility. You must wield these weapons with wisdom, with courage, and with unwavering resolve."

  Elian nodded, his expression grim. He understood the gravity of the situation. He was no longer just a promising young warrior; he was a chosen one, a beacon of hope in a world teetering on the brink of destruction. The demon realm, he knew, was not a distant threat anymore. It was a looming darkness, a malevolent force that sought to consume their world.

  "I… I understand," Elian said, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands as he gripped the hilts of the five weapons. "I will not fail them. I will not fail you."

  Skilvyo watched Elian's struggle with a complex mix of emotions. He felt a surge of pride in the young man's determination, a recognition of the potential that the Author had hinted at. But he also felt a pang of concern. The power Elian wielded was immense, and the path ahead was fraught with peril.

  As Elian began to experiment with the weapons, the village square transformed into a dazzling display of elemental power. He swung Ignis's greatsword, unleashing a torrent of flames that scorched the air. He drew Luna's bow, and arrows of pure moonlight streaked across the sky, leaving trails of silver in their wake. He twirled Zephyra's daggers, creating miniature tornadoes that danced around him with chaotic grace. He thrust Aqua's trident into the ground, summoning a wave of water that crashed against an unseen barrier. And he raised Terra's shield, which shimmered with an unyielding, earthen energy.

  The villagers watched in stunned silence, their faces illuminated by the ethereal glow of the divine weapons. They had never witnessed such power, such raw, untamed energy. It was both terrifying and awe-inspiring, a glimpse into the true potential of the gods.

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  Suddenly, as Elian was mastering the Aqua's Trident, the ground began to tremble. A low, guttural growl echoed from the edge of the forest, a sound that sent shivers down everyone's spines. The trees seemed to writhe and twist, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers.

  "What… what is that?" Elara whispered, her voice filled with fear.

  Harlan, his hand resting on the hilt of his hunting knife, stepped forward, his eyes scanning the darkening forest. "Demons," he said grimly. "They're getting closer."

  A wave of panic swept through the village. The whispers of war had become a terrifying reality. The demon realm was no longer a distant threat; it was at their doorstep, its malevolent presence palpable in the air.

  Just as the situation reached its peak, the Author's voice boomed across the square, cutting through the fear and confusion.

  "Alright, folks, showtime! Looks like our little field trip to the demon realm is about to begin. Don't worry, I've got a front-row seat for all the action. And try to keep the property damage to a minimum, would you?"

  Before anyone could react, a swirling vortex of dark energy materialized in the center of the square. It pulsed with an unholy light, a stark contrast to the divine glow of Elian's weapons. The ground trembled violently as monstrous figures began to emerge from the vortex, their eyes glowing with malevolent intent, their forms twisted and grotesque.

  The demon invasion had begun.

  Elian, his face set with grim determination, stepped forward, the five divine weapons held high. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, the hopes and fears of his people resting on his young, but powerful, frame. He knew that he was their only hope, their only defense against the encroaching darkness.

  Skilvyo, watching from the edge of the square, felt a surge of adrenaline, a primal instinct to protect. He was still in the body of a three-year-old, but the power of the weapon god coursed through his veins, waiting to be unleashed. He knew that his time was coming, that he would soon have to reveal his true potential and join Elian in this fight.

  The battle that followed was a chaotic symphony of light and darkness, of divine power clashing against demonic fury. Elian fought with a ferocity and skill that belied his youth, wielding the five weapons with a mastery that seemed almost instinctive. He unleashed torrents of fire, summoned blasts of moonlight, created whirlwinds of razor-sharp wind, commanded waves of crushing water, and erected shields of unyielding earth.

  But the demons were relentless, their numbers seemingly endless. They swarmed over the village, their grotesque forms tearing through homes and buildings, their guttural growls filling the air with terror. The villagers fought bravely, but they were no match for the demonic onslaught.

  As the battle raged, Skilvyo felt the Author's presence in his mind, a silent urging, a subtle push. "Time to shine, little protagonist," the Author seemed to whisper. "Let's show these demons what you're made of."

  Skilvyo took a deep breath, focusing his will, channeling the power that lay dormant within him. He felt a surge of energy, a familiar yet alien sensation, coursing through his tiny body. He knew what he had to do. The time for hiding was over. The time for action had come.