"Lies." Diana's gaze was sharp as a blade.
"The Amazons exist to protect humanity; your deceit won't sway me, Ares."
Ares smiled faintly, a dismissive gleam in his eyes. "You are as naive as I once was."
Once upon a time, the God of War had believed in the beauty of humanity. But centuries of watching them wage war, plunder, and betray had eroded every ounce of faith he once held. Conflict followed mankind like a shadow.
Now, Ares rejected humanity entirely. He believed that once Diana truly saw humanity for what it was, she would abandon her ideals just as he had.
Turning his gaze toward the heart of Paradise Island, he noticed the approaching dust clouds. Queen Hippolyta had sounded the horn, and her warriors thundered across the fields on horseback. Ares's expression darkened.
"You brought me here, Diana," he said coldly. "Originally, I intended to burn this paradise to ash."
Then, with a faint smile, he continued, "But you've surprised me. You have remarkable potential. We could have been allies."
His voice softened, almost persuasive. "Since you still cling to illusions about humanity, go and see their world for yourself. When you witness the truth, you'll understand—and you'll come to me willingly."
"Today, I spare you and this island. The next time we meet, you'll give me your answer."
Ares adjusted his wool trench coat, placed his top hat on with casual grace, and began to rise into the air. Flight came easily to him—an effortless display of divine power.
But Diana refused to let him leave.
"You're not going anywhere!" she shouted, uncoiling the rope from her waist and hurling it upward. The hemp rope—not her Lasso of Truth, but sturdy nonetheless—wrapped around Ares's ankles.
With a powerful pull, she yanked him out of the sky.
Ares landed hard, his composure momentarily broken. "You would dare challenge me?" he snapped, irritation flashing in his eyes. He had reasoned with her, spared her people, and offered her time to grow—yet here she was, defying him.
"Diana! Foolish girl! You can't even wield your divine power properly, and yet you provoke me? Then face the price of ignorance!"
But Diana didn't flinch. She released the rope, drew her sword and shield, and charged. Antiope, horn still echoing behind her, joined the charge. And Queen Hippolyta, galloping from the heart of the island, was closing fast.
Ares watched them come, unimpressed. Against a god, even an army of Amazons stood no chance.
As Diana's sword arced toward him, he raised his hand slightly. A burst of divine power sent her flying backward into the brush. He had restrained himself; after all, he still hoped Diana might one day stand beside him.
Antiope wasn't so fortunate. She leapt forward, sword flashing, but Ares merely gestured. Her weapon was ripped from her grasp, and divine energy exploded through her body. She was flung through the air—then the sword followed, piercing her mid-flight. The faint sound of steel through flesh was almost lost to the sea wind.
Diana stumbled from the bushes just in time to see the blade protruding from her aunt's chest, blood glinting along its edge.
"No! Antiope!" she screamed, eyes wide in horror.
Her power erupted like a storm, and she leapt forward, catching her falling aunt. But it was too late. Antiope's breath faltered. Her trembling eyes met Diana's one final time before closing forever. The warmth drained from her body, leaving only stillness.
Diana clutched her tighter, desperate. "No, no, no!" she cried, shaking her aunt's lifeless form. There was no response—only silence.
Tears streamed down Diana's face as grief turned to fury. "Ares! I will never forgive you!" Her divine power, once uncertain and clumsy, now burst forth with unrestrained might. Fueled by rage, she charged at Ares with blinding speed.
But was Antiope truly dead?
At the edge of the cliffs, a man in black held another Antiope by the shoulder, stopping her from rushing forward.
"Let me go! Diana needs me!" she shouted.
The real Antiope was very much alive. Moments before the sword had struck, she had been pulled away—saved by Malrick. Now she stood frozen, watching as her niece grieved over an illusion.
Her chest tightened at the sight, tears welling in her eyes. "Why are you doing this?" she demanded, glancing at Malrick.
He met her gaze calmly. "You trained her to become strong," he said quietly. "I'm doing the same."
Antiope frowned in confusion, but deep down she understood.
"The surest way for Diana to awaken her divine power," Malrick explained, "is to ignite her emotions—to let her power surge through grief and anger."
And it worked.
Below them, Diana's strength was rising with each heartbeat, her fury pushing her closer to Ares's level. The illusion Malrick cast was flawless—so real that even Ares, a god, couldn't tell the difference. He watched the false image of Antiope's death with cold amusement, never realizing the truth.
Few could craft illusions like Malrick. His mastery was such that even gods could be trapped within them, lost for ages without ever suspecting deception.
Diana, caught between pain and power, was transforming before their eyes. Though she still lagged behind Ares, her divine strength had begun to awaken. And soon, the Amazons charging toward the battlefield would push her even further.
To Malrick, Ares was no true threat—barely more than a tool. The God of War could be destroyed in a heartbeat. But there was no purpose in ending him yet. Better to let Ares serve as Diana's crucible.
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