Darkness wasn't peaceful. It clawed, it churned, it remembered.
Ares Drakon didn't wake so much as he was ripped back into consciousness—thrown into a body that wasn't his, gasping for air that felt too cold and lungs that weren't yet his own. For a few harrowing seconds, his mind was fire and static and memory colliding all at once. Then—clarity.
Ares.
His name was still Ares.
But the life he remembered—the 21st century, dorm rooms and broken earbuds and a dozen nights binging The 100—was gone.
Instead, he was strapped to a metal seat inside a violently shaking capsule. Alarms blared. Panicked teenagers shouted. The unmistakable roar of atmosphere being punched through by steel filled the cramped dropship.
And he knew exactly where he was.
The 100. The Ark. Earth. This was it. This was the start of the end.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself to breathe. He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't hallucinating. Somehow—some way—he had been reincarnated into the universe of The 100. But not as an observer. As a player.
His body felt different. Taller. Heavier. Stronger. And as his mind synchronized with the vessel he now inhabited, a strange warmth bloomed behind his eyes.
SYSTEM SYNCING…Name: Ares DrakonLevel: 1Stat Analysis: Initializing…
A translucent blue screen blinked into existence in the air before him—only visible to him, only real to him.
⬛ [SYSTEM – PRIMORDIAL ASCENT]
Current Attributes:
Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Constitution: 10
Intelligence: 12
Charm: 13
(Average human baseline: 5)
Active Abilities
Healing Factor Lv. 1: Regenerates minor wounds in minutes.
Body of Steel Lv. 1: Resistant to physical trauma; reduces damage from blunt, sharp, and ballistic force.
Blood of the Gods [Locked]: Bonded individuals gain 10–25% of Ares' stats and develop soul-bound loyalty. Unlock conditions: Intimate Connection.
His lips parted in a small, stunned breath.
This isn't just reincarnation. This is power.
Ares didn't smile. He didn't cheer. His eyes narrowed. He remembered the world he was in—ruthless, primitive, cruel. He remembered who would die, when they would die, how they would die. He remembered the brutality of the Grounders, the horrors of Mount Weather, the insidious control of ALIE.
And now he had a tool none of them could comprehend.
This time… I won't just survive. I'll rule.
A sharp rattle snapped him out of his thoughts. The dropship pitched hard to the left. People screamed. Restraints strained.
To his right, a pale, twitchy boy was losing it—thrashing against his belt and shouting about crashing. Another teen began sobbing. Someone vomited.
Ares remained still. Observing.
He recognized some of them. Clarke, hunched forward, eyes closed, trying to stay calm. Octavia, a few rows up, jaw clenched, wildness in her gaze. And near the controls—Bellamy, already moving to position himself as a leader, already watching for the weak.
Same pieces. Different board.
"Hey!" someone shouted at Ares—some lanky, jittery idiot looking for someone to dump fear on. "You deaf or just too stupid to care we're all about to die?"
Ares turned his head—slow, deliberate.
Their eyes met.
The boy shut up instantly, a primal kind of fear crawling over his skin.
Ares said nothing. He didn't have to. Charm: 13 did its work. The boy looked away.
The entire row quieted.
He tilted his head slightly, breathing in through his nose. Yes. He could feel it already. Even without lifting a finger, people were drawn to him. Or terrified. Either would work.
The ship lurched again—this time harder.
Re-entry.
He gripped the harness. Beneath the steel, he felt it: Earth. Home. A planet unwalked for a century. A world ready to eat these fools alive.
Not him, though.
As fire streaked past the hull and gravity tried to rip him apart, Ares Drakon leaned back in his seat and let it all wash over him.
He was coming.