CLANG.
Screech.
CLANG.
CLANG.
Steel clashed against steel in a merciless rhythm. Two warriors like darkness and light collided again and again in a storm of blows.
A sword, the embodiment of chaos and ruin, thirsted for blood. It crashed with fury against an unbreakable shield, each strike bursting into a shower of sparks. A spear, forged to pierce the heavens, rained down with divine fury but the wounds it caused sealed almost instantly.
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POV Atreus
It had been a long time since I felt this weakness.
That moment when your enemy is simply stronger more relentless, more tireless. As if defeat is inevitable, and all you're doing is delaying it.
But that's an illusion a lie whispered by a weary mind.
Victory does not belong to the strongest. It belongs to the one who endures. The one who adapts. The one who refuses to yield.
I sidestepped his latest strike, circling right, and drove my spear into Aatrox's side. Black blood spilled from the gap in his armor but like the dozen wounds before, it closed in an instant.
"Still full of strength," Aatrox sneered as he slammed his sword down once more. "But you… you've grown slower."
He was right. At first, he struggled to keep up with me. Now, his blade was getting closer with each pass. I was wearing down.
"I will fight until my heart stops beating," I growled, launching another attack. The spear's tip tore into his arm. "And your healing… it's slower than before. That means you can fall."
Yes, I was weakening. But so was he. No body no matter how cursed or blessed can endure forever.
"Rrragh!" Aatrox snarled, lunging forward.
His sword shot toward me a lethal thrust meant to end it. I twisted at the last moment, letting the blade scrape along my shield, sparks exploding into the air. Then, in a blur, he impaled himself on the waiting tip of my spear.
I drove it through his skull.
And pulled away just as fast, avoiding the counterstrike. His head like before mended in seconds, bone and flesh stitching themselves into the same monstrous visage.
"Death always takes what it's owed," Aatrox hissed.
"Aatrox. Worldbreaker! Tell me did you forget that death also gives birth to life?" I replied, standing firm.
Aatrox's eyes darkened. "Then I'll erase all life. Until there's nothing left but silence."
"Then you'll have to start with me," I said, bracing myself once more.
Our exchange of words ended and once more, our weapons met.
I may have appeared unshaken on the outside, but deep down I knew: my strength would fail long before his regeneration did. My will was faltering. Each clash with his immense power drained me further.
Only in the fury of battle did I feel the faint echoes of fallen Spartans souls still bound to my will. A fragment of their strength returned to me, as if they had not died only to hold back the Persian army, but to keep me standing.
Soon even they vanished. That could only mean one thing the pass at Thermopylae had fallen. The Persian army was advancing, and now… there was little that could stop them. Perhaps only the Olympians.
As long as I keep Aatrox occupied, he cannot harm this land.
Yes that's all that's left for me now. To hold him here.
I kept searching, desperately, for a way to end him. But his power flowed like a raging river, while mine was nothing but a shrinking stream.
POV Demeter
How I longed to find my own happiness. I despised all the Olympians and chose a secluded place for myself, granting blessings only rarely to those few who lived in harmony with Nature, like simple nymphs. I thought I would spend the rest of my days in endless solitude, seeing my daughter only from time to time.
But then Damocles appeared in my life. At first, I thought he was no different from other mortals perhaps only a little bolder, more reckless… or maybe just a little foolish.
What struck me was the way he fought not for himself, but for his brothers. In him, I saw the embodiment of a true warrior. When he returned to me after completing his mission, like a foolish maiden, I fell in love.
I didn't dare to hope, but deep down, I wished he might become my chosen one. Perhaps this is the curse of all gods to fall in love with mortals whose lives fade as quickly as flowers withering in the garden.
All the while, I watched over him, often tempted to intervene. But I held myself back, knowing that if I protected him, he would never become who he was meant to be. This nearly led to his death. But he returned stronger than before.
Then I heard the prophecy of a man who would shatter all chains, over whom nothing could hold power.
I'll admit it: deep in my heart, I wished he would be mine. Perhaps he could have broken my own miserable fate. But it was then that I accidentally destroyed the fragile bond between us with my unspoken fears and hesitation, afraid that he would rise against the gods and condemn himself to death. My silence sowed distrust.
And Hecate… oh, how she yearned to remake the world. She found herself a candidate. That witch.
Yet I waited patiently. I helped him however I could.
His life felt like a trial by the world itself, again and again asking him: "When will you fall to your knees and surrender?"
But Damocles defied everything. He rose, staring danger in the face with faith in his own strength. Fate's blows rained down on him, and like a hammer, he shattered them all.
I never imagined Hecate, failing to rearrange the pieces, would decide to remove Damocles entirely. The goddess of magic magnified the Titan's curse many times over. All I could do was pour into his body every drop of life energy I had left. It drained me almost completely.
Hecate struck at my weakest moment. I fought back, but with what strength remained it was hopeless.
She took me captive, and I seemed doomed to eternal torment, suffering under her cruel whims. And Hecate's imagination knew no bounds. There, in the depths of silence, I heard Damocles' voice and it became my last hope. All I could do was wait. I believed in him, and he did not fail me even at the cost of his own life.
When I held his lifeless body, it felt as though I had lost the whole world. Once again, I was left alone.
After spending several days by his grave, I noticed the compass in my hands tremble.
A spark rekindled in my eyes. I followed its call and discovered a world where my beloved lived. I longed to stay there forever.
Ten years of peace and quiet family happiness. Just him and me. Atreus, caught in an illusion of his own, believed himself to be a simple farmer baking bread. I loved being part of that humble life bringing him water, keeping our home, cooking, tending to the hearth.
But happiness never lasts. The Erinys came and shattered everything, dragging us back into the endless strife of the gods. Damn her!
And now I see what it has led to. Our home is destroyed. Nothing remains. Atreus could perish at any moment—completely this time. The darkness that possessed that Demon is so devastating it tears apart both soul and flesh. Even the gods can't withstand it.
Hephaestus fell, but a part of his power remained—and it will serve a greater purpose. Lifting what was left of his hammer, I pressed my hand against my belly to keep my insides from spilling out. The only thing holding them in was my palm. Blood trickled between my fingers. Even my divine life force couldn't heal these wounds; they refused to close.
Gripping the handle with my blood-soaked hand, I felt the strength Hephaestus had left behind. I'm going to give Atreus everything we have left. He must become the Pantheon, or all will be lost. Even my power must become part of him.
All that's left is to pass on my strength. And I need something that can distract Aatrox.