For a brief moment, the battlefield between the rebellion and Pallas's subordinates seemed to cease to exist.
All eyes were drawn to the clash between Pallas and Aetherion.
On Pallas army side, his followers watched with pride etched into their expressions.
They showed neither worry nor concern for their liege—their lord, the titan they followed.
Their faith in him was absolute.
They believed, without hesitation, that he would bring them victory.
Still, it was surprising to see this young man—the so-called Blind Hunter—able to keep pace with their lord.
Yet as they watched Pallas fight, shaking the battlefield itself despite the distance of kilometers, admiration filled their eyes, mixed with a hint of envy.
Even so, they smiled.
For that brief moment before their own battles resumed, they watched in awe.
On the rebellion's side, however, the reactions were far more varied.
Many did not truly know the extent of Lord Aetherion's power.
They knew he was strong—confirmed even by Queen Rhea herself.
They knew he was the son of Kronos, charismatic, charming, kind, easy to get along with, and at times mischievous.
But knowing of his strength and witnessing it firsthand were entirely different things.
Seeing him now, fighting before their very eyes, stirred conflicting emotions.
Some looked on in admiration.
Others felt envy.
A few were uneasy, fearful that such a clash between Pallas and Aetherion could unleash calamity upon them all.
But most wore the same strange expression—one rarely seen on deities.
Reverent.
Admiration
Obsession.
They watched Aetherion as if he were something more than a god.
Kratos and Nike, however, reacted differently.
They knew how strong their father was—one of the greatest titans to exist.
And yet Aetherion was fighting him head-on, seemingly on equal footing.
What unsettled them most was something the others did not know.
Aetherion's eyes were still covered.
He was not fighting at full strength.
That realization sent a chill through them.
Shock and apprehension crept across their faces, their loyalty and awe deepening into something almost reverent.
As they watched the battle unfold between their father and the young lord they had chosen to follow, their expressions grew blissful, unblinking.
Two warriors.
Two maniacs of battle.
Two beings shaking the world itself.
And for the first time, they where absolute certain their minds and without a doubt—
that their father will fall to the friend and lord they had sworn themselves to.
But for Hera, there was a different expression on her face.
Determination—nothing more, nothing less.
She knew how strong her brother was.
She knew he stood on the level of the Great Titans—perhaps even beyond some of them.
And now, that truth was being confirmed before her very eyes.
After all, she was watching him fight one of the great twelve Titans without even using his eyes fully—and still matching him blow for blow.
It surprised her, yes—but more than that, it strengthened her resolve.
She wanted to be more.
She wanted to be worthy.
She wanted to be strong.
And standing before her now was her goal.
'I will reach you someday,'
her thoughts whispered—not in envy, but in promise and will.
She clenched her fists, silently vowing to herself that she would reach her brother as an equal.
If he grew stronger, then she would grow stronger to.
If the path seemed impossible, then she would walk it anyway.
Perhaps it was madness for so many of them to reach such heights at such a young age as Aetherion had done—but Hera believed in herself.
She believed in her potential.
And Hera believed she could reach Aetherion someday.
"Just watch me,"
Hera said softly, her determination sharpening even further.
And then, the clash of the two armies resumed.
The reverence that had filled their faces vanished, replaced by focus and fury as they turned once more toward the enemies before them—no longer watching their commanders and lords, but fighting their own battles.
***
For Aetherion, this fight was different.
For the first time in his life, he felt a genuine thrill—a true battle, one where lives were truly on the line.
A sharp excitement ran down his spine, sending a sudden shiver through him.
A grin slowly spread across his face, mirroring the expression on Pallas's own.
Both of them were enjoying the fight immensely.
Aetherion reveled in it.
It had been an unimaginably long time since he had met someone capable of truly fighting him.
The only ones who came close were his allies—Rhea, Themis, and a few others—but even then, it was never the same.
Their lives were never at risk.
They never fought with the intent to kill or be killed.
Those battles were about capture.
About out playing one another.
About forcing submission.
It was entertaining at first—but it wasn't enough anymore.
Aetherion realized now that what he had been missing was this.
The danger.
The pressure.
The exhilaration.
That was why he had hunted the enemies aligned with Kronos.
Yet even then, the feeling never came.
They were simply too weak.
Far too weak.
They posed no real threat, no real challenge.
Toying with them was amusing—but Aetherion was no sadist.
He took no pleasure in preying on the powerless.
He wanted someone worthy.
Someone who could push him.
And now, here he was—fighting Pallas, blow for blow—and the joy was intoxicating.
It had been so long since he had felt this alive.
So long since he had fought with everything he had.
And yet… something seemed to have forgotten something important.
Something he had forgotten.
The seals over his eyes—the cloth—were still in place.
He hadn't removed them.
Yes, he was fighting seriously.
Yes, he was giving it his all in this moment.
And yet, he still wasn't fighting with the full extent of his power.
His eyes remained sealed, his true potential restrained—something even he seemed to overlook in the bliss of battle.
That oversight could become a flaw.
One that might cost him the capture of Pallas.
Or perhaps… it wouldn't.
Only time would tell.
And if fate demanded a price for this moment of indulgence—then Aetherion, the fateless one, may have too pay fate for the first time.