Ares walked at the front, his steps steady, eyes scanning the treeline as if something might emerge at any moment. Ignis followed behind, a folded map in hand, her gaze shifting between the terrain and the cave ahead. Aphrodite stayed close, her unease visible as she looked toward the dark entrance.
"There," Ignis said, pointing. "That's the mine."
The entrance stretched open like a wound in the earth. Old wooden beams framed it, cracked and leaning. Thick webs clung to every surface, layered deep into the darkness.
Ares stopped.
"…Spiders," he said flatly.
Ignis nodded. "Fast, venomous. Fragile if you hit clean. Stay sharp."
Ares stepped inside first.
The air turned damp. Heavy. Every step echoed faintly, but beneath that—movement. Quiet. Constant.
Then—
A skitter.
A spider dropped from above.
Ares reacted instantly. A black blade formed in his hand, and in one motion, he split the creature in half before it hit the ground.
More followed.
From the walls. The ceiling. The shadows.
Ares moved into them.
He didn't hesitate. Each strike was clean, efficient. No wasted movement. No flourish. Just death.
Ignis raised a hand, casting controlled bursts of flame that burned through clusters trying to swarm them. Aphrodite stayed back, watching closely, ready.
The cave filled with the scent of burning silk and rot.
Bodies piled quickly.
Ares slowed.
"…It's not done," he said.
Ignis felt it too. A shift. A pressure.
"The queen," she said quietly.
They moved deeper.
The tunnel widened into a cavern, and there—at its center—was the spider a ueen.
Massive. Still. Watching.
Its body pulsed slowly, legs dug deep into stone. Behind it, thick webs stretched across the cavern, shapes wrapped inside—some far too large to be animals.
Ares stepped forward.
The queen struck first.
A leg slammed down.
Ares raised his weapon just in time, the impact forcing him back several steps, boots grinding into stone.
She is stronger than the rest.
He grinned.
Ignis snapped, "Don't rush it—!"
Too late.
The queen lunged again, faster than something that size should move.
Ares met it head-on.
Steel clashed against chitin. The force rattled through his arms, but he held, then shifted—sliding to the side and carving into one of its legs. Black fluid spilled, but the limb held.
The queen shrieked.
The sound echoed violently.
From the shadows, more spiders poured in.
"Of course," Ignis muttered, already casting.
Ares moved faster now.
Not stronger—yet.
But sharper.
He began reading its movements. Each strike came with less resistance. Each step placed with intent.
Behind him, Ignis finished her spell.
"Back!" she called.
Ares pulled away just as fire surged forward, engulfing the queen and the swarm in a wave of flame.
The cavern lit up.
The queen staggered.
Ares didn't wait.
He stepped in again, forming a heavier weapon this time—a war axe, dark and brutal in shape.
He struck.
The first blow cracked its outer shell.
The second drove deeper.
The third—
Broke through.
The queen collapsed, its body slamming into the stone.
The remaining spiders scattered or burned.
Silence returned.
Ares stood over it, breathing steady.
"…That was easy."
Ignis lowered her hands slowly. "That was… more than expected."
Aphrodite stepped forward immediately, eyes scanning him. "You're not hurt?"
He shook his head.
She still hovered her hand near him, just in case.
They left the cave soon after, the sunlight outside cutting through the lingering tension.
—
Later that night, Ares returned to his dorm.
The door creaked as he opened it.
Odyssey sat at the desk, hunched over a book, glasses slipping slightly down his nose. He stiffened when he saw Ares.
"You're back," he said quickly.
Ares nodded, stepping inside.
There was a pause.
"I heard about the mission," Odyssey continued, adjusting his glasses. "People are already talking."
Ares said nothing.
Odyssey hesitated. "…Thank you. Earlier. With those students."
Ares glanced at him briefly.
"…I didn't do anything " he said.
Odyssey blinked, caught off guard. "I—yes, I suppose so…"
Ares walked past him and sat on the lower bunk.
Silence settled again.
Then—
"If it happens again," Ares said, voice low, "call for me."
Odyssey froze for a moment.
"…Alright," he said quietly.
Ares lay back on the bunk, staring at the ceiling.
The room was quiet.
Still.
Ordinary.
But his mind was not.
It never was.
The silence did not reach him.
It couldn't.
Because beyond it—beneath it—behind it—there was always something else.
A battlefield.
Not a memory.
Not a dream.
A place.
It stretched endlessly within him, vast and shifting, as if his mind itself had become a war-torn world. Broken ground. Distant fires. Shadows of clashing figures that never fully took shape.
And the sound—
It was constant.
Steel striking steel.
Boots against dirt.
Voices raised in rage, in pain, in triumph.
Not loud enough to overwhelm him… but never quiet enough to ignore.
Always there.
Calling.
Ares' eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, but he wasn't seeing it anymore.
He was standing there instead.
In that place.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting.
His fingers twitched slightly at his side, as if remembering the weight of a weapon that wasn't there.
The battlefield pulsed faintly, alive, reacting to him—responding to his presence like something aware.
Like something that belonged to him.
Or something he belonged to.
Ares exhaled slowly.
For a brief moment, the sounds swelled—louder, sharper—like a distant war drawing closer.
Inviting him.
Urging him.
Promising him strength.
Purpose.
Then it settled again, returning to its endless, quiet roar.
Ares blinked once.
The ceiling returned.
The room.
The stillness.
But the battlefield remained.
It always would.
Across the room, Odyssey shifted slightly in his chair, unaware.
Ares said nothing.
He simply lay there, staring upward, while a war without end lived and breathed inside his mind.