[Location: New York, USA]
"That she's not afraid of me," he replied lightly. "Most gods, angels, demons—they feel war before they see it. Ancient race like her?" He tapped his temple.
"She is to be brought before our God King Zeus," Ares finished, tone light, almost playful. "That's the order given to me… no matter what~"
The words settled.
Not like thunder.
Like a blade laid gently against the throat of the world.
For half a heartbeat, nobody spoke.
Then—
"No."
The word left my mouth quietly.
Flat.
Absolute.
Ares blinked.
Not because he hadn't heard me.
But because, for the first time since he arrived, someone had refused him without dressing it up in fear, reverence, or negotiation.
Carmilla stepped beside me as her crimson gown whispered against the pavement, the air around her cooling by a fraction—not with frost, but with something heavier.
Finality.
Her red eyes never left Ares.
