A young Beowulf crashes onto a tree, splintering its hard bark. The boy drops to the ground with a thud, his body shaking. With rattling arms, he pushes himself up, his lips bloodied and quivering and his eyes dilated.
"Stand," Ecgtheow, his father, chuckles, cracking his knuckles. "You might be weak,but you can't let that show, son. The people would have to rely on you, and they won't be assured if you show the slightest fear," he kicks a pebble, hitting his son's shoulder. "You can be weak now, but you cannot show you're faltering! So, stand!"
"Easy for you to say, old man," Beowulf growls, having stood up, his red eyes shedding some tears.
His face struck the ground again.
Ecgtheow stands over him, fist bleeding. Yet, a grin remained plastered on his face. The father flexes his fist, the sound of bones cracking filling both of their ears.
"Wipe that stupid expression out of your face, son," Ecgtheow snorts, watching his boy struggle to get back up. "Smile! Keep on showing that everything is fine, no matter what the circumstances might be! Tears, shed them to mourn or to celebrate, but never shed them in pain or fear!"
Then, the father squats, bare feet digging into the dirt. The man rests his elbows on his knees, his red eyes staring at his son's. Ecgtheow shows Beowulf a kind grin.
"One day, you'll be king. I've told you many times, and I know you grow tired of me, your mother, and your uncle, but all of this is for you and for the people of our land," Ecgtheow ruffles his son's hair. "A king stands in the face of adversities with resolve like no other. He leads an entire army, one that can falter at any moment when they see their king show any sign of weakness."
The father stands up, his shadow providing shade for his exhausted son. Beowulf looks at his father, and sees something that promises harsher training.
The grin turns into a smile.
And with that, Ecgtheow's foot struck Beowulf's face.
But despite this, the son forced the pain down, drowning it under a shaky grin.
...
"Damn you!" Mars snarls as he tries yanking his sword back.
He tried.
"You're strong, god!" Beowulf laughs, his grip trapping the gladius, preventing Mars from even budging it. "Magnificent strength, I must say! It's been so long since I've seen such power-"
"STOP!" Mars roars, summoning a burst of physical strength that forced the sword out of Beowulf's grasp. "STOP INSULTING ME, YOU MORTAL!"
The Roman god's golden eyes shook with fury as he thrust his sword forward, tip pointed at Beowulf's throat.
The sword shot upward as the hero swats it away, already anticipating the course of the attack.
The grin widened ever so slightly at the sight of Mars' shocked expression.
His fist dug its way onto the deity's ribs, cracking his bones before the course changed, imbedding Mars onto the earth.
The god tried to regain his footing by spinning while down, but Beowulf has grabbed his leg, his grip making Mars wince in pain.
The Roman god felt his bone was about to break, prompting a split second decision.
Mars summons his strength, digging his fingers deep into the ground before lifting himself up, bringing Beowulf down with a swing of his body.
Yet, the mortal man never let go, his grip tightening every moment.
"Let go, damn you!" Mars growls, gripping his sword tightly. "Vulcan, you fucker!" He calls out with a grin before switching his grip, pointing the sword at Beowulf's face.
Then, the gladius splits into sections before shooting forward, elongating with a magical hiss.
Beowulf's eyes widen before he lets go of Mars' leg. He tried to roll sideways, but it was a tad bit late, the blade slashing his left eye.
Mars' sword pulls back, bringing Beowulf's eye to the god who has positioned himself meters away from Beowulf.
"Finally, he pushed me a tad bit farther," Mars snickers, a mischievous glint present in his golden eyes as he stares at the eye in his palm. "I want more though... Give me more!" He glared at the rising figure of Beowulf.
"Good for you!" Beowulf laughs as he lets Thrúd heal his slashed socket, closing the wound, but rendering him half blind. "Why, I didn't see this coming at all! But your fire never even faltered for a second!"
The mortal regarded the Roman god with a wide grin, blood dripping from his face. His stance is wide, his lone eye locked on Mars. With a laugh, Beowulf watches as the god crushes his eye in his palm.
"That wasn't so nice of you," Beowulf chuckled, bringing his fists up and slamming them down.
The ground shook violently, but Mars remained standing with a glare that promised Beowulf death.
The Roman god is silent, slowly stepping forward and whipping his elongated gladius, each section hissing as they are swung.
Mars blinked, and Beowulf is gone.
The man's fist dug dip onto Mars' abdomen and armor, ripping them at the process.
The god flew to the edge of the arena, his body cratered due to the force exerted by the mere mortal.
Mars's golden eyes glimmer under the sun which soon is blocked by Beowulf's body.
The mortal had jumped already, now slamming both fists onto Mars' body, making him cough up blood.
"Hear me, everyone! The lower half of the arena is tilting! Just how strong are these fighters?!" Heimdall shouts, Gjallarhorn ready as always. "It seems like Beowulf is finally showing his true strength here! He's not giving Mars any time to recover at all!"
A true statement.
Punch after punch, Beowulf unleashes a flurry of blows, pinning Mars to the ground and repeatedly bashing his fists onto the Roman god's entire being.
Mars tries to flick his sword to action, but Beowulf merely slams his fist to keep him pinned, rendering Mars at the hero's mercy for the time being. The weapon lies on the ground with a hiss.
...
"Oi, chief!" Mars shouts at Jupiter, running from behind the Roman chief. "Where are you taking me anyway?" He asked, a pinky finger cleaning an ear.
"Vulcan," Jupiter answers shortly, his voice accompanied by a grunt. "You mentioned that you wanted to fight and fight, and fight only? Or am I incorrect?"
"Bah! You still got your hearing in the right places, you old coot!" Mars snickers before his eyes dilate, slapping himself with a resounding clap. "The fuck are you saying?!"
"Control your personalities, Mars," Jupiter narrows his eyes, still looking forward. "You're a warrior, take reign and never let go," the older deity snorts as they walk down a steep rocky hill.
The place started glowing an eerie orange as the temperature rose. The more they walk down, the more they feel the heat caressing their skin, yet trying to peel them alive. Any other deity would start sweating if exposed to this environment, but Jupiter remains stoic and Mars... maniacal.
"Fuck yeah! I fucking love Vulcan's place! It gets my heart pumping like crazy, chief!" Mars grins, fists raised high after nudging his chief. "What kind of weapon do you think Vulcan will give me?! Is it something cool?!" The war god's grin goes wider as he holds onto Jupiter's arm, excitement etched on his face.
"Whatever it may be, Vulcan will take one good look at you and instantly know what weapon fits you the most," Jupiter puffs his chest with pride. "He is, after all, a Roman deity. He has mastered his crafts, as how you will master yours. Need I remind you that he forged my mighty God Bolt?"
Mars is visibly vibrating with glee at Jupiter's words. The god of war did not even wait for Jupiter before darting in a direction. Seeing this, the older deity merely frowned, but said nothing about the matter.
The Roman god of war leaps over bubbling pools of lava, landing on floating stones. Lava scorched his legs but he paid no heed, merely laughing as his body burned. At one point, Mars landed on a small piece of rock, submerging his leg in lava before grabbing a much larger piece and pulling himself up.
He did not stop grinning.
His teeth show as his right leg becomes a charred mess. The flesh is slightly loose and falling off, showing charred bones. The wound never had the chance to spurt out blood, having been cauterized instantly.
With a big tug, he launches himself towards a small cave beside a volcano. The landmark towers over the entire pools of lava, and the grumbling of its activity drums into everyone's ears. No foliage is seen alive around the area, and there never will be any.
The cave's entrance is blocked by a giant rock, and behind it is the sound of metal striking metal. Mars did not hesitate to grip the giant boulder, sinking his fingers deep into the mineral before tossing it to the side. A long pathway deeper into the volcano is revealed, making Mars stand by the entrance.
"Huh, you did wait for me," Jupiter snorts as he stops beside Mars.
Instinctively, Mars slowly reaches to his side, holding Jupiter's arm.
Seeing this, Jupiter's eyes soften ever so slightly, a breath escaping his nostrils as he stares at Mars's uncertain expression. Then, the deity looks down the dark pathway, the sound of striking metals being much louder. A low growl escaped the depths of the pathway.
"Took you long enough, chief," the inhabitant of the volcano—Vulcan—grumbles as two glowing wisps appeared at the very end of the pathway—eyes that seemed to dance with flames as the sound of hammering finally halts.
"I believe you already finished it," Jupiter says without a doubt.
"Would be a shame if I did not," Vulcan grunts, his voice rumbling like the volcano. "I was there when Mars was born. I've known his weapon longer than you, chief."
"That, I do not doubt, Vulcan, but we both know that you are not for pleasantries," Jupiter nods, gesturing to Mars who held his arm tighter.
"Wanna give it a little spin?" Vulcan asked.
Jupiter looks at Mars who stares back at the chief
Jupiter's lips quirked up ever so slightly.
Mars grins.
"This deity would do more than a little spin, I believe," Jupiter snorts, tossing Mars towards Vulcan.
...
The gladius clatters on the growing crater, with Mars as its center, and Beowulf as its cause. The god of war is given no chance to ever recover, and he preferred it that way. One thing is sure at this moment.
Mars's grin matches Beowulf's.
...
"You are pitiful," Ares spit at Mars, the latter having been thrown and passed around like a ragdoll.
Around him, various war deities of different pantheons, stand. They all watch Ares beat down Mars, their entertainment being their sole reason for staying.
"F-fuck you," Mars punches the ground, pushing himself up with a shit-eating grin. "K-kiss your mother with that mouth-"
The pommel of Ares's gladius broke Mars's nose, causing the latter to fall to the ground. His nose is bleeding profusely, his eyes are swollen, and so is his entire face. His muscles twitched as his body started giving up from the beating.
Mars's weapon, it lays motionless on the ground, having been thrown away by Ares. The Roman deity did not have the strength to fend off the Greek. Not now.
"You're beating him too little, Ares," a muscular deity grunts, his nostrils steaming as he lays on top of his black bull. "I, the mighty Teshub would obliterate the fool in thundering speed and fashion!" The Hittite god of war and storm slams a fist onto his chest. "The weakling shall be felled by my almighty axe!"
Then, a blonde warrior chuckles not too far from Mars's head, his spear's blunt planted on the ground. Llaw Gyffes, Welsh god of war and precision, watches the beating unfold. Amusement is clear in his face—his smile, full of entertainment.
"Would be a shame if my spear accidentally falls and pierces his head," Llaw hums, drumming his silver hand onto his spear's shaft. "Even without direct order from me, the spear can hit a target as pathetic as this... god," he spat the last part, snorting in sarcasm.
Hit after hit, Ares's strikes did not show signs of ceasing.
Yet, it did.
Mars's teeth caught Ares's knuckles, knocking them into his throat. Still, the Roman god bit down with all of his might, ripping the skin off Ares's knuckle. Blood drenches Mars even more as the wound of the Greek god spurts out his divine essence.
"Curses!" Ares roars, bringing his fists over his head, his eyes burning with fury and his body shimmering under the sunlight. "You bring shame to our titles! You dishonor what we embody!" He brings down his fists, breaking Mars's face even more. "You're no god of war! How can you be this weak?!"
The relentless assault never faltered, and Mars would pitifully attempt to counter. The Roman would slap the Greek, bite the dominant, and spit as best as he could. Mars did everything in his power to fight back, but he lacks that power, he always did.
"No magic to use, and not even an ounce of physical prowess!" Ares rages, a flicker of reddish flames in his eyes. "You will never manifest your flames! Not without magic! Not without you slacking like this!"
Mars wanted to scream. Him? Slacking? He cannot bear hearing that, especially not from someone blessed with divine magic to hasten his growth. He wanted to shout his protest—to defy Ares and every war deity present around him.
He never slacked. He trains and trains and trains until he cannot anymore, but having no magic, he never caught up to anyone—not even the weakest of deities.
"Show me, Mars!" Ares slams both fists onto the Roman's chest, imbedding Mars onto the stone floor. "Show me you're worthy enough to be called our titles! Show me you're worthy to be a god of war!"
Mars's gladius, clattering with every impact, hisses as it started vibrating. Though, it went unnoticed as everyone focused on Mars's pathetic display of power or desperation. Then, it stopped.
Ares's fists rise.
Thunder made every god of war present flinch, the space rumbling in the sound's wake. Every deity present knows too well who has arrived.
His thundering footsteps reverberated, shaking the souls of the divines as yellow lightning dances around his golden armor. He walks on air, descending and treating space as his staircase while his falcon circles around him. His expression was stoic as always, making the deities tremble as they all know they cannot escape this.
Then, he stops in front of Ares.
"What is the meaning of this nonsense, Greek god?" Jupiter's voice rumbles like the thunder of his being. "What is the meaning of this, deities of war?" His white eyes narrow in disappointment as he looks at each deity present.
None said a word. None ever dared.
The Roman chief looks down, seeing his kin bleeding, beaten, and mashed. The slightest tremble was seen on Jupiter's gauntlets, his falcon now perching on his shoulder. The avian, too, shows visible fury as it screeches.
"You all have ten seconds to heal Mars," Jupiter crosses his arms, the clanging of metal scraping everyone's ears.
It was all they needed to hear.
The deities practically yanked Ares away from Mars, leaving the Greek with no room to retaliate. Then, magic is poured into Mars, healing him as the deities sweat turns cold under the glare of the Roman chief.
Mars feels his blood replenish, his bones snap back in place and mend, his flesh sew themselves back together, and his exhaustion fades. In just a few seconds, his entire beaten body is back to its original condition, unharmed.
"Now, step back," Jupiter orders them, and his words were heeded and followed through. He regards Mars with a stern glare, "Stand up, boy," he grunts, gesturing Mars to get to his side.
The Roman god of war picks himself up, shaking slightly as the pain still lingers within the fibers of his being. Then, he looks at his gladius that lays silently on the crater. After picking it up, he walks slowly, stopping just beside Jupiter.
Then, Jupiter looks at the war deities present.
"I will only do this once," Jupiter announces, shocking the crowd, and making Mars's eyes widen. "I am inviting all of you to have a next time of... whatever you call this meeting is. Now scram before I pulverize every single one of you."
With that, the area vacated, eyes of the deities filled with anticipation, promising Mars a harder time next time around.
When it was only Jupiter and Mars left, the former grunted, glancing at Mars before walking away. The latter stares at his chief, his expression, a conflicted one. Then, he sees Jupiter stop, not even looking back.
"They shall return, and continue abusing you. What will you do, Mars?" Jupiter says, gazing at the divine skies. "Will you falter and flicker, or thrive and break your limits? I do not know."
Then, he starts walking away once more, but before he is out of view, he whispers with his thundering voice. His words, although, hushed, echoed throughout Mars's soul, resonating. The Roman god of war trembles, his entire being brimming with a cacophony of emotions that he cannot control.
"Show me who you really are, Mars."
...
"Blow after blow! Mars is getting his lights knocked off by Beowulf!" Heimdall announces, floating high above the arena. "Is this really how the Roman god of war loses?! Beaten to a pulp?!"
"Fuck! No!" Mars laughs madly, meeting Beowulf's fist with his forehead. "Fuck off with that shit!"
The blow staggers Beowulf, the bones in his hand cracking and snapping to unwanted angles. The mortal winces, but his grin barely twitches as his hand slowly heals itself back to perfect shape.
"I refuse to back down!" Mars roars, bending his body even under Beowulf's weight. "No! No! Get away, damn you!" His eyes shook, before snapping back to focus. "Take reign!"
And with that, he forces his body to stand in attention, cracking his bones as he bashes his head against the staggered Beowulf's chest, caving the warrior's chest.
The blow sent Beowulf flying and crashing not too far, mere meters away. Thrúd gives her best to mend what is broken, and Beowulf gives his best grin as humanity cheers him on.
"Wow! What a mighty fine display of prowess!" Beowulf laughs, rising from his fall. The man regards Mars with the same positive light as he cracks his knuckles and neck. "Now, that doesn't end there, or am I mistaken?"
"It sure does not, mortal—maybe it does—no, no!" Mars's voice changes in tones, volumes and pitches before he snaps his mouth shut. "For once, shut up and let me fight!"
"But how can I not compliment such valor-"
"Not you, dumbass!" Mars snarls, kicking the earth, sending his gladius flying. He catches the blade as it hisses and elongates once more, easily ten times its original length. Then, he whispers to himself with a low growl, "If only we can work together for once. Don't fight over the vessel—it is ours—no! It is ours—mine—I possess this—SHUT UP!"
Without another word, Mars takes a step forward, his golden eyes shaking. Though, Beowulf knew too well that it is not out of rage.
It was uncertainty.
Yet, Beowulf sees Mars's fire grow stronger and stronger as the battle progresses. As of now, Beowulf sees the flames of life engulfing the entire arena, scorching every nook and corner and sparing no space unattended.
The Roman god of war flicks his arm, his chain-like sword rattling and hissing as it whips at Beowulf.
The epic hero dodged, ducking under its deadly edge. Beowulf grabs the earth, eyes locked at Mars's legs before planting his fingers deep into the arena.
Then, he rips the ground apart.
Mars jumps out of the parting earth, maneuvering his elongated sword to deliver cuts after cuts.
Beowulf sees this, but had little to no time to dodge as the attacks came in a flurry of blows. Everything was a blur for the mortal, and soon enough, he is drenched in his own blood once more.
The sword rattles and flicks towards Beowulf, threatening to sever the mortal's head with a magical hiss.
The crowd held their breath in anticipation and fear, before erupting into a glorious cheer, drowning the sounds of the deities.
Beowulf caught the blade, cutting his hands in the process. With a grin as bright as daylight, Beowulf yanks the sword, bringing Mars closer to him.
Mars's body slams onto Beowulf's front, the god feeling like he struck a wall. His expression shifted into various forms in a flicker of time, but soon fell into a stoic one.
The god had no time to reign in the personalities, as Beowulf had swatted the weapon away.
The mortal then grabs both the deity's arm with his iron grip, eliciting a cry of pain from Mars. The epic hero grins as he tightens his hold.
Mars's arms creak and crack, his flesh surrendering to the might and power of Beowulf's physical prowess. Mars knows that if he does not act swiftly, he will lose both his arms.
Thus, the Roman god hops in place before forcefully bringing his arms down in a slamming motion.
His bones pop out of their sockets, surprising Beowulf with the gnarly display of tactics. With the loosened grip, Mars successfully escaped having his arms crushed.
Beowulf hears the familiar hiss of Mars's weapon, and soon, a sharp pain invades his back.
Like a serpent, the elongated gladius has slithered and pierced Beowulf's back, making the man almost growl as he drowns it with a laugh.
Mars wasted no time and rushed at the mortal, arms still dislodged from their rightful places. The god leaps and slams his right heel onto Beowulf's chest.
The sentient gladius pierces deeper, now protruding out of the epic hero's abdomen. The scene, Mars regarded it with a glare that turns sour before shaking his head as he grins madly.
"Get fucked-"
Mars spoke, but Beowulf slams both his palms onto Mars's temples, quaking the god's mind.
With a steady grip on Mars's head, Beowulf brings his knee to god's face, knocking in some teeth and breaking his nose as the arena shook.
The mortal raises Mars by the head, slamming him onto the ground before letting go.
The man brings his foot up, attempting to stomp on the god, but the gladius in his guts hisses to life again as Mars wills it.
The blade elongates once more, snaking around Beowulf, but the mortal grabs its hilt before yanking it out of him at the cost of littering his body with cuts that soon heals.
Seizing the moment, Mars stands up and tackles Beowulf, snapping his bones back in their right places.
The god catches his gladius before sending Beowulf back, making the mortal skid back.
Then, Mars rears his sword back, facing Beowulf.
The gladius hisses madly as it folded.
Mars's movement changed, his fighting stance and style shifting to something different.
Soon enough, Mars is holding a mace.
The weapon struck Beowulf's head, rattling his brain and making Thrúd wince as she fixed the popped blood vessels.
"Mars seems to possess a magical gladius that can shift into different weapons of his choosing!" Heimdall screams in shock, a finger pointed at Mars. "Partnered with his vast experience with fighting styles, this development is one hell of a pair! But! Would it be enough?!"
"DIE, MONGREL!" Mars shouts, his voice layered by multiple tones, volumes and pitches.
He swings his mace, but he flinches as the sight of Beowulf unnerved him, or some parts of him.
The bear's eyes glow a faint blue hue, Beowulf's red ones glowing dimly as well under the shadow. His grin shines under the darkness, but Mars felt something wrong.
Beowulf moves too swiftly for Mars to interpret the attack.
The epic hero's fist dug into Mars's abdomen, and the god can feel it.
The mortal did not hold back in that attack, and the first time in a while, Mars felt the same.
Inadequate.
Beowulf, by Mars's calculations, is much stronger than him physically, the only thing he is good at.
With the strike, Beowulf directed Mars into the ground, treating the god like a ragdoll.
Everything shook.
Then, they heard something crack.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and divines!" Heimdall screams, his tone astonished. "Beowulf's attack not only crashed the arena and doomed it to fall slowly...!" He says, shaking as he grips Gjallarhorn, preventing it from falling to the arena.
"IT HAS FRACTURED REALITY FOR A MOMENT!"
Mars did not like the sound of that.
'R-run! I'll die if I stay!'
'Fight! Fight! Draw! I will draw my last breath here!'
'Nononononono!'
'Silence!'
'No! You silence!'
'Fuck off! Let's fight!'
The Roman felt everything hurts. His body. His mind. His soul. Everything aches, and he knows exactly why.
'E-even after everything... I am still weaker physically... Bested by a m-mortal...'
Then, his eyes glanced at the deities's booth, landing on Jupiter who is watching him with the same stoic expression.
Mars looks at the grinning Beowulf on top of him, and soon, he feels the bubbling wrath he has never felt before—no, he has felt it before. He has felt it many times!
"I..." Mars lets out a visceral growl. "WILL NOT BE BESTED AT THE ONLY FUCKING THING I'M CAPABLE OF!"
Beowulf heard it, the thundering drums that he knew well.
The sounds of war drums filled his ears and those of the audience.
"BEGONE!" Mars snarls, his body forcing Beowulf away, his mace striking the man's body to the side.
Though, the mortal grins, knowing what he is hearing.
The beating of Mars's heart.
{•===To Be Continued===•}
I AM BACK!
Man, life is hard. Been going through some tough times lately, but I rediscovered why I started writing in the first place.
To pour in the emotions I am feeling.
So, here is the continuation!
What do you guys think? Let me know! Motivate me! Inspire me! Critique me!