The signal came without ceremony.
A flick of Achilles' hand—
—and the arena erupted.
Ares and Hercules moved at the same instant.
No hesitation.
No testing.
Ares' hand ignited with motion as an ebony war axe formed mid-swing, its edge already cutting through the air as he lunged forward. Hercules did not evade. He stepped into it.
Their clash rang out like struck iron.
Hercules caught the axe.
Not deflected—caught.
His hand closed around the weapon's haft, muscles tightening, and with a single motion he forced Ares backward. The ground fractured beneath Ares' heels as he was driven across the arena and slammed into the stone wall with a thunderous crack.
Dust burst outward.
The crowd gasped as the impact echoed through the stands.
But the fight did not pause.
From the flank, Athena and Apollo moved as one.
Athena's bow was already drawn—arrows loosed in precise succession, each aimed not to kill, but to restrict movement. Apollo followed with sweeping arcs of flame, fire gathering at his hands before surging forward in controlled blasts that bent the air itself.
Ignis reacted instantly.
Her hands snapped into motion, mana threading together as a barrier formed—dense, layered, shimmering under pressure as arrows struck and flames curled across its surface.
The impact rattled it.
Not breaking—but testing.
Ignis' eyes narrowed. "They're stronger than I thought."
Behind her, Aphrodite steadied herself, watching for an opening.
Back at the center—
The dust cleared.
Ares stepped forward from the fractured wall, rolling his shoulder as if the impact meant little.
Hercules was already moving again.
Charging.
The ground split beneath his steps.
Ares' eyes sharpened.
Weapons formed in the air around him—blades, spears, jagged constructs of iron—and fired forward in a sudden storm.
Hercules moved through them.
Not untouched.
But unyielding.
He twisted, shifted, letting some glance past while others scraped across his body, drawing thin lines of blood. He did not slow.
He reached Ares again.
This time, Ares did not meet him directly.
He shifted.
Slipped to the side.
The axe moved in tight arcs, controlled, precise—no wasted motion. He struck at angles, not power. Targeting joints. Timing steps. Staying just beyond Hercules' grasp.
He understood now.
Strength alone would fail.
So he abandoned it.
Hercules swung—wide, crushing.
Ares ducked beneath it, countering with a sharp cut across the his side. The blade bit, shallow but real.
Hercules grinned.
Ares retreated the moment pressure returned, creating space—and in that instant, more weapons formed, launching again in rapid succession.
The crowd leaned forward.
"This fight—"
"It's not slowing down—"
On the other side of the arena, the battle fractured into chaos.
Aphrodite broke from behind Ignis' barrier, sprinting forward with resolve. Her hands pressed to the ground as she cast—roots bursting upward, thick and twisting, wrapping around Apollo's legs and torso in a sudden surge.
She smiled—
—but only for a second.
Flames ignited.
Apollo burned through the bindings with ease, fire consuming the roots until nothing remained. His eyes locked onto her.
Then he moved.
Fast.
Aphrodite turned and ran, heart racing as heat chased at her back.
Ignis dropped the barrier and shifted immediately to offense. Mana gathered at her fingertips before firing outward in concentrated blasts toward Athena.
Athena moved like water.
Each shot was avoided with minimal motion—precise, efficient. Her arrows answered in return, forcing Ignis to keep moving, disrupting her rhythm.
Back in the center—
The clash intensified.
Ares and Hercules collided again, Ares movements faster now, sharper.
Ares' strikes came in relentless patterns, each one building on the last, his speed increasing, his reactions tightening. His axe carved through the air with deadly intent, forcing Hercules to adjust—not retreat, but respond.
Hercules answered with raw force.
Each blow he threw carried weight enough to shatter stone. Each step forward forced Ares back—but not as easily as before.
Ares was changing.
Growing.
Their weapons met again—
A shockwave burst outward, cracking the arena floor beneath them.
Another clash.
Another tremor.
The crowd felt it now.
The arena itself was beginning to strain under the pressure of their fight.
Ares moved again—faster than before, slipping past Hercules' guard, blade cutting across him—
—and for the first time—
Hercules took a full step back.
Just one.
But enough.
The grin on his face widened.
"Good," he said.
Ares said nothing.
But his eyes—
They burned sharper now.
Not wild.
Not lost.
Focused.
The fight was no longer a collision.
It was becoming something else.
And it was only getting worse.