Ares-
Pain radiated through every nerve like wildfire, each sensation amplifying the unbearable weight of Ogun's strikes. His fists were thunder—unyielding, crashing into me with the fury of a thousand storms. My body screamed in protest, my ribs felt cracked, and blood seeped from the corners of my mouth, but somewhere beneath it all—something refused to die.
Something stubborn, something relentless.
I waited—not because I was weak, but because I was calculating. Each blow he landed, I studied. Waiting for the rhythm of his fury to break, for the slightest shift in his weight, the smallest hesitation. The longer he fought, the more likely he'd slip up. And I would be there, ready.
And then—it came.
His fist rose high, a thunderous arc that stretched through the air like the final strike of an oncoming storm. His body tilted, just enough. I twisted my torso, and in that fleeting moment, my elbow shot up, crashing into his ribs with a sickening crack. He grunted, stumbling back, not far—but it was enough.
I surged upward like a beast uncaged. My knee slammed into his stomach, the force driving the wind from his lungs, and then my fist cracked across his jaw—once. Twice. His head snapped back, blood flying from his mouth like spitfire. His eyes blazed with fury, but I didn't give him a moment to recover. My rage took over, centuries of battle instincts rising to the surface.
I hit him again. And again.
Left hook. Uppercut. A brutal blow to the side of his neck, blood splattering across my knuckles.
He swung back, wild now, desperate to regain his footing. But I saw it—the opening. I ducked low, driving my shoulder into his gut, tackling him to the blood-soaked earth. My weight landed heavily atop him. And then—fists rained down. My knuckles tore through skin, bone giving way with every strike. His blood splashed across my face, hot and iron-rich, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.
The earth itself seemed to tremble beneath us.
Then, I saw it—the flicker of defiance in his gaze, his hands rising again. No. Not again.
I reached forward, my fingers finding his face. His roar was deafening, a sound full of fury and pride, but it didn't stop me. My thumbs found his eyes, and with a guttural growl, I pressed.
His scream shattered the air.
Blood poured down my wrists as his legs kicked, his arms flailing wildly—but I held firm. Savage. Unrelenting.
This was war. This was vengeance.
This was me. The god of war.
And for once... the gods bled.
---
Kamaria-
I couldn't move.
The shadows offered no comfort. I was a mere observer, watching the unthinkable unfold, and my heart felt as though it were being crushed by the weight of a thousand stones. The battlefield had been chaos, yes—but this… this was something else entirely.
Ares had Ogun pinned beneath him.
And then—he did it.
His fingers sank into Ogun's eyes, and I heard a scream that didn't sound human. A sound so raw, so full of agony and disbelief, that it tore through the clamor of war, carving itself into my bones. Blood gushed, dark and thick, as Ares held him there, pressing down with all the fury of a monstersummoned from the depths of some old, forgotten terror.
I clasped my hand to my mouth. No. No, please no...
Tears blurred my vision, but I couldn't stop them. I wasn't even sure when they had started to fall.
Ogun—the man who had stood like the very embodiment of strength, of defiance, of something ancient and rooted—was now writhing beneath Ares. Blinded. Broken.
And just behind them, Ogunyemi faltered.
I saw him. I saw the way his blade trembled in his hand, his body frozen, rooted to the spot, unable to move. Enemies circled him, like vultures closing in, but he didn't raise his sword. He stared ahead, wide-eyed, lips parted in disbelief, watching his father scream as Ares tore the very light from his world.
The warrior's fire in him flickered.
He looked like a boy. A son. Powerless.
The boy I once knew, full of pride and ambition—now shattered.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run to him. To hold him, to comfort him, to shield him from this unbearable reality. But I couldn't. My knees buckled beneath me, and I gripped the edge of the ruined wall behind me, my vision swimming. The bloodshed had been unbearable before—but this? This was something no god or mortal should ever witness.
And yet, I couldn't look away.
All I could do was watch the fall of giants. And feel the cold, bitter swell of pity for a boy who had just witnessed his world collapse, his father—his hero—reduced to nothing more than a broken shell.
A warlord. A legend. A god.
All of it… gone.
And with it, any hope of salvation for us all.