2 days later.
Knock.
A knock on the door pulled Hestia from her absentminded daze. She glanced around—Haruhime was sweeping dust nearby, Astraea was asleep against a table.
Another knock, and Hestia slid out of her chair. She turned and walked toward their home's main entrance.
Haruhime looked up from her sweeping.
"Hestia-sama, should I greet them?"
"I'll take care of it." Hestia spoke without breaking stride.
"Keep an eye on Astraea—don't wake her. It was hard enough getting her to sleep."
Haruhime gave a firm nod just as Hestia disappeared from the living room.
A third knock—and a grumbling voice—greeted her just as she pulled the door open.
"Shorty, why did you take so long? My skin's about to tan under this searing heat." Loki fanned a hand down her arm, harsh sunlight falling straight across her back and shoulders.
Behind her, Ais stood obediently in the heat, eyes calm, expression blank.
"Loki, isn't this the third time you've visited us in two days? Don't tell me you're after Bell, Astraea will chew you out." Hestia tried to growl a warning, though it came out more cute than threatening.
"Come on, shorty. I'm just here to check on our hero's health. He saved a defenseless Orario, the least we can do is make sure he gets his deserved recognition and treatment." Loki stepped inside, brushing past Hestia's growls.
"Hmph. If you say so." Hestia followed Loki's path inside, eyes narrowed. Ais stepped in last and closed the door behind her.
Moments later, they reached the living room. Inside, Haruhime paused once again mid-sweep, glancing up at Loki and Ais behind Hestia.
"Loki-sama. Ais-sama." She greeted them both with a polite bow.
Ais returned a formal nod. Loki, ignoring all formality, splayed herself sideways across their sofa.
"Hey, shy fox..." Her fingers twitched, eyes locked on Haruhime's tail.
"What about it? Want to ditch this boring Hestia and join my Familia? I'll even be generous—lifetime of tail massages, just for you."
"Loki-sama, I-I..." Haruhime stepped back, tail bristling straight, ears flattening against her hair.
"You washboard! How dare you try to poach my child right in front of me!" Hestia exploded.
"Mmm... hmmph..."
Half-asleep mumbles from Astraea made every gaze snap toward her.
Loki glanced back at Hestia with a half-smile, a finger rising to her lips.
A vein nearly burst at Hestia's temple. First you make me lose it, then you tell me to control myself?
... Deep breaths, Hestia. Deep breaths.
She settled onto the sofa opposite Loki, breathing slowly, evenly. Then her gaze drifted—to Loki's chest, unchanged even splayed sideways—and finally down to her own assets.
In seconds, all of Hestia's anger melted like snow under heat. She looked at Loki with pity, and beneath it, a crushing sense of superiority.
Loki knew that gaze all too well.
"What are you looking at, shorty?" The words came out through gritted teeth.
"Nothing. Just admiring myself." Hestia tilted her chin up a fraction.
"You runt!"
"You flatboard!"
Haruhime looked between them, uncertain, ears twitching at each exchanged insult.
Loki leaned back. Her clenched teeth loosened. A grin crept back—and she folded her arms behind her head with the air of someone holding a winning hand.
"You know, you should be thanking me instead of insulting me. A horde of grateful people have been held back outside your house for two days by my children. Guess what would happen if they weren't?"
Hestia's expression didn't change. No rise. No bite. She simply mumbled under her breath:
"If that horde dared force their way in, they'd face an enraged aunt..."
Those words wiped the smirk off Loki's face.
Hestia didn't gloat. She just held Loki's gaze for a moment—then looked away.
Meanwhile, Ais had already stepped away.
She took the stairs up, walked a short hallway, and halted before a door, pushing it open after a momentary pause.
Inside, Alfia sat in the same chair beside a still-unconscious Bell.
Ais did not look at Alfia. Alfia did not look at Ais.
The silence between them was not empty. It was territorial.
Ais stopped three steps from the bed. Her body locked in place—every instinct sharpened by years of battle screaming that one more step meant crossing into something far more dangerous than any dungeon floor.
She did not step forward.
Her gaze found Bell's face and stayed there, the way sunlight stays on a wound—helpless and fixed.
Time passed.
After what felt like forever, Ais finally whispered.
"Wake... up."
Her fists were clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms.
"I want... to see your eyes."
Bell did not open his eyes.
...
..
.
Bell's back lay on charred ground. Soil and ash floated in the air. Corpses of monsters were splayed around him as far as a human eye could see.
To his left lay an enormous twin-headed dragon. One of its long necks was severed clean, scales sheared off in large patches. Blood dripped from its wounds, turning the earth beneath it a sanguine red. It was still alive, barely.
Nearby, a muddied arm lay on the ground—Apollo's arm. Sword wounds ran across its entire length. Its pinky finger was bent back at an odd angle; a stump remained where its ring finger had been.
Right beneath that arm lay Freya, small enough that the severed limb dwarfed her. She had her back against it, blood smeared across her forehead, probably unconscious. The armour she'd worn had already disintegrated, revealing countless stab wounds across what skin remained exposed.
Further left, a creature made of black bones lay still. Nothing remained where its limbs had been. Sword scars ran across its tail, making its frame look fragile. A crack split half its skull, nearly cleaving its head in two.
Finally, a white silhouette dragged itself back from a distance. A grin still clung to its face even as it hauled its crushed legs forward across the decimated earth—legs that were already healing on their own, muscle fibers interlocking against one another with ever-greater complexity.
"Cough—!"
A sharp cough echoed from beside Bell, followed by desperate breaths.
He turned his face toward the sound.
Ares lay to his right. Three spears were buried in his back. A huge number of swords were lodged in his arms. So many weapons had torn into his torso that it looked less like skin and more like an armoury—some had even melted, fusing into his flesh like solidified wax.
No inch of him below the neck was uninjured. Crimson spilled ceaselessly from his lips. Yet his eyes were fixed on the bottomless black above... and that wheel, which still turned.
"So... this is what death feels like?" Ares asked, voice low. No fear in it, even as life left his limbs. If anything, he sounded almost grateful.
Bell didn't reply. He just continued looking at Ares.
"Mortal... No—" Ares stopped himself.
"Brat..."
A heavy breath.
"You did all of this... to usurp my Arcanum, right?"
Bell forced a nod.
Silence.
"Take it then."
A beat.
"Take all of it."
Bell's eyes widened.
"Take my place... and become a new God of War."
Blood frothed between his teeth. A laugh forced its way up through his chest—a broken sound.
"Haha... I want to see those fossils' faces... when you become something they would never expect..."
His voice was losing strength now. Vision blurring.
"If... If there's a next time, maybe I'll change how I lived."
His breath rattled. Faded.
"I was wrong."
"Mortals can reach the gods."
...
..
.
***
[300 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter]
[8 chapters ahead on P@tr3on = [email protected]/Not_Aaryan]
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[Authors Thoughts]
And this concludes it. Ares is gone. Gone for good this time. He died, but not before crowning Bell as the new God of War. Unfortunately, Bell won't even be able to touch a God of War's Arcanum before becoming a demigod, aka Level 10. Still, having Arcanum is good, who knows if he'll need it someday?
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I wanna hear from you guys... did you all like Ares? Or hated him more?
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Everyone... have a wonderful day and take care!