Chapter 83: I Will Embark on the Road Home
Of course, Ares' arrival was exactly what Rowe had wished for.
For Athens, it was a nightmare.
If this had remained nothing more than a war between mortals, then the battle between Athens and Sparta would already have ended here. The outcome was clear. Victory belonged to Athens.
But once Ares intervened, Athena could not, in principle, remain uninvolved.
What had been a clash of city-states would turn into a clash of gods.
The Scales of Victory would be thrown into chaos.
It was in that strained silence that Rowe's voice rose up from the battlefield.
"So you are Ares, God of War? You are awfully full of yourself."
"Are you afraid, mortal?" Ares gazed down from his chariot with contempt. "A schemer who only knows how to hide behind tricks?"
"I am a little afraid, yes."
Rowe rubbed his chin, smiling.
"To have been beaten by the Titans, strung up and humiliated by the God of Fire, defeated by Athena over and over again, and still keep that attitude. In a way, that really is terrifying."
…
With every word Rowe spoke, Ares' expression darkened another shade.
He was not merely mocking him. He was dragging out old wounds and salting them in front of an audience.
Attacking a god's pride was no different from attacking his heart.
"Tell me, Lord Ares, have you ever actually won a fight?"
"What is it? More defeats than victories?"
"Then what are you so proud of?"
The three goddesses fell silent.
Athena herself fell silent.
To provoke a god like this, in front of all of Greece, was extreme even by divine standards.
Crack.
The spear in Ares' grip creaked under the force of his fingers.
"A mere mortal dares to defy me, the God of War?"
As expected, Ares' temper ignited in the next heartbeat.
Although both he and Athena held the title of God of War, they were completely different beings.
Athena was the Goddess of War and Wisdom. Victory belonged to her as a subordinate authority. She presided over the arts, navigation, agriculture, medicine, the courts, and order. For all that later generations might find fault with her character, she stood on the side of structure and law.
Ares was different.
He was the God of Slaughter. A chaotic deity who represented death, battlefields, bloodshed, and destruction. He fought for the sake of fighting.
That was all his existence was for.
So when his wrath burst free, the authority of the God of Slaughter stained that part of the sky a deep, bloody red. Even the wind began to reek of iron and gore.
The god's aura pressed down on the world. Every heart felt it sink.
The power of a god was something ordinary men could never reach.
"You do not need to wait for Athena. She will not come."
Ares' lips peeled back in an arrogant grin. His anger did not erase his composure.
"The Goddess of War and Victory will never set foot in a place of defeat."
His laughter rolled like thunder.
Far away, Athena's face grew cold.
She would not step onto the battlefield, but not for the reason Ares claimed.
This was the condition for the war itself.
Athena was already tired of her endless disputes with Ares. She had used her non-interference as the price to make him agree that, for one hundred years after this battle, the authority of war on this land would belong to the victor.
If not for that bargain, she would never have sought Rowe's help.
Whether it had been her original candidate, Heracles, or the man who now stood on the battlefield, Rowe, both were meant to be heroes who could at least stand on equal ground with gods.
"I hope he can hold him," Athena thought.
Rowe did not need to defeat Ares.
He only needed to stall him.
That alone would be enough.
The sage who had once designed the expulsion of a pantheon should be able to manage that much.
Even so, Athena felt a faint unease coil in her chest.
The Goddess of Victory could not always guarantee that Victory would fall on her side.
"Ares."
Rowe's voice rang out once more.
At that instant, three separate gazes converged on him.
The three goddesses.
Athens.
And Ares in the sky.
"He did not run," someone whispered.
"Arrogant mortal," Ares sneered. "Do you beg for mercy before death? Do not worry. I will give you the greatest end. You will die, pierced through by this spear."
He spun the weapon in his hand. The air around it howled.
Rowe opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of footsteps behind him cut him short.
"Oh my, he is at least someone invited by Lady Athena."
A clear, childish voice carried across the field.
"Now that even Lord Ares has moved personally, how can we just stand aside?"
Three small figures with long purple hair approached him and took their places. Two at his sides, one behind him.
Stheno.
Euryale.
Medusa.
The three goddesses who served Athena.
"It is you."
Rowe's eyes fell on Medusa, and he instantly understood why they were here.
"Do not mind it, mortal."
The one who had spoken first, Stheno, stood to his left. The one eyeing him now, Euryale, stood on his right.
"The power of a god is not something you can withstand. I do not know why Lady Athena chose to invite you, but since that timid little girl seems to care about you so much, we cannot just watch you be bullied."
"I… I did not…"
Medusa, who had tried her best to shrink behind Rowe, attempting to erase her presence entirely, lowered her head even further.
"If you whisper any softer, we will have to punish you when we go back," Euryale said with an exaggeratedly fierce look.
Medusa's shoulders shook as if she had been struck by lightning.
"Mere subordinate deities of Athena, and you dare speak that way?"
Ares' voice crashed down from above.
"All three of you, together with that mortal, intend to stand against me? Against Ares, the one who holds dominion over war?"
He stood tall on his bronze chariot, blood-red light flaring behind him like a dying sun. His voice shook the battlefield.
The Athenians, who had barely recovered their breath, were shaken again. Knees wobbled. Voices died in their throats.
Stheno and Euryale exchanged a quick glance. They could see hesitation in each other's eyes, but when their gazes drifted past Rowe to Medusa's earnest expression, they both froze.
"Sister, she looks serious," Stheno muttered.
"She really wants to save him. This man is quite interesting," Euryale replied.
They spoke without even trying to hide it.
Medusa's face turned scarlet.
A child's thoughts were simple.
Just as her sisters had guessed, she truly wished to save Rowe.
Not because of some complicated feeling, or a tangled thread of fate.
But simply because…
He had once smiled at her.
A smile without malice.
A smile no one had shown her, except Athena, Stheno, and Euryale.
"I am still an adult, you know."
Rowe looked down at the two small figures at his sides, then glanced back at the girl behind him. Amusement tugged at his lips, along with a hint of helplessness.
He bent slightly so that his eyes were level with theirs.
"Do you intend to thank us?"
Euryale spoke first, puffing herself up.
"There is no need. A mortal's gratitude means nothing to us."
"There is no need," Stheno added calmly. "We are simply acting in accordance with our own will."
Medusa said nothing, but her iridescent eyes made her feelings obvious.
Rowe shook his head.
"You misunderstand. I have no intention of thanking you."
"What I want to say is that, for this battle, I alone am enough."
"You are not serious."
Euryale's eyes widened.
"Gods are not something you can defeat."
"I have never intended to defeat a god."
Although in the past, he had done so. And succeeded.
Rowe pointed toward the Spartans sprawled across the field, then turned his gaze to the trembling Athenian soldiers.
"But they still need your protection, do they not?"
"Is that not the duty of a god?"
"So this battle, I will handle alone."
He reached out and gently ruffled each of their heads in turn.
Then he straightened.
He turned his back to them and faced the God of War alone.
"Hahaha. Though you are mortal, your courage is worthy of the admiration of Ares, God of War."
Ares raised his spear high.
"I will make you die by my spear. Take that as my respect."
Stheno, Euryale, and Medusa remained frozen in place.
They had just had their heads patted.
They had been treated like children.
"Protecting others. What an arrogant man," Euryale grumbled.
"Is he not afraid of death?" Stheno whispered, still unable to fathom his choice.
Medusa's silence was broken only by the deepening color in her cheeks.
Even gods feared death.
For anyone else, it was an absolute terror.
For Rowe, it was not.
"So for this war, I alone am enough."
Rowe shook his sleeve once and stepped forward.
A breeze brushed across the battlefield.
It felt like Hermes' lyre was playing somewhere far away, a light melody tracing the outline of a path that led home.
Rowe felt his heart stir in response.
He wished to set foot on that road.
"Ares, God of War."
He smiled.
"Come."
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