The caged women look on in awe—
and horror.
A man—
no—
something more than a man—
fights an entire nation of goblins.
Ares hacks and slashes without pause.
His blade rises and falls in endless motion.
Bodies pile at his feet—
then rise higher—
then higher still.
The ground disappears beneath the dead.
He looks like something awful.
Something ancient.
Weapons remain lodged in him—
blades buried in his flesh,
spears piercing through muscle,
crude iron jutting from his body in every direction.
And yet—
he keeps fighting.
He looks like a legend.
A myth.
A beast cornered—
that refuses to die.
Aphrodite and Ignis watch.
Their faces frozen in shock.
Not because he fights a horde—
but because—
he is winning.
He looks untouchable.
Ignis swallows, her thoughts racing.
He may be a calamity…
Something that will one day bring ruin to the world…
Her eyes tighten.
…but right now…
he is our hero.
Aphrodite sees something else.
She sees the wounds.
The blood soaking through him.
The weapons still piercing his body.
The way his breathing grows heavier—
slower—
strained.
No one else seems to notice.
But she does.
Sorrow fills her expression.
Where Ignis sees a beast to fear—
Aphrodite sees something to pity.
The prisoner women see a savior.
They begin to cheer.
Some cry.
Some smile through tears.
Hope returns to a place that had none.
Ares continues fighting.
Relentless.
Unstoppable.
Each strike cleaner.
Each movement sharper.
He looks almost divine in it—
a god of slaughter carved from violence itself.
And finally—
the last goblin falls.
Silence.
For the first time—
true silence.
Ares stands alone.
He turns toward the prisoners.
And smiles.
A defiant smile.
But they do not return it.
They stare.
Not at a man—
but at something they cannot understand.
He is covered in blood.
Weapons still pierce him like quills on a porcupine.
And yet—
he stands.
Then—
his body gives out.
He collapses.
The women gasp.
Darkness.
…
Ares awakens.
He lies in a bed—
clean.
Soft.
A place that feels foreign.
A room resembling a medical ward.
His eyes open slowly.
A nurse stands nearby.
"You're finally awake," she says with a small smile. "Our hero."
Ares immediately sits up—
his body reacting before his mind—
ready to fight.
But—
he is weak.
His strength is gone.
And restraints hold him to the bed.
The nurse chuckles softly.
"Your companions thought it would be wise to keep you tied down… just in case you woke without them and caused a scene."
She adjusts something beside him.
"You're in the medical wing of Dreadspire Academy."
Ares' eyes narrow slightly.
She continues.
"You collapsed after slaughtering an entire army of goblins… alone."
Her tone shifts slightly, a hint of disbelief still lingering.
"You rescued dozens of imprisoned women… many of whom wouldn't have survived another night."
She pauses, studying him.
"The entire academy is already whispering about you. No one's seen you yet… but your name has spread."
Ares speaks, his voice low.
"…Aphrodite. Ignis."
The nurse nods.
"They're fine."
She smiles.
"It turns out all three of you will be attending the academy. Kane's letter of recommendation carried quite a bit of weight… given his history as a hero."
She glances toward the door.
"They're in class right now."
Then adds—
"They've been here every day. For three days straight."
Ares' expression shifts—just slightly.
"…Three days?"
The nurse nods.
"You shouldn't be surprised. When they brought you in… you were barely alive."
Her tone turns clinical.
"You had lost a dangerous amount of blood. You were impaled by more than ten weapons… some of them still lodged in vital areas."
A pause.
"It's a miracle you survived."
Before he can respond—
the door opens.
Aphrodite and Ignis enter.
They freeze for a moment—
then see his eyes open.
Relief hits instantly.
They rush to him.
Aphrodite reaches him first—
throwing her arms around him without hesitation.
Ignis follows—
less graceful—
but just as desperate.
Both cling to him—
tears in their eyes.
Alive.
He is alive.