The change was subtle at first.
Too subtle for most to notice.
A raised voice in the courtyard. A shove in the halls. Arguments that should have ended quickly instead lingered, sharpened, and turned into something heavier. Students who once laughed together now stood on opposite sides of small, meaningless conflicts.
Tension spread through Dreadspire like a quiet infection.
Ignis noticed it first.
"This isn't normal," she said, her voice low as she watched two students nearly come to blows over nothing. "This isn't stress. It's… influence."
Aphrodite frowned, clutching her sleeve slightly. "You think it's magic?"
Ignis nodded. "A charm. Subtle, but layered. It's amplifying aggression—turning irritation into hostility." Her eyes narrowed. "And it's spreading."
Ares stood beside them, silent.
But he could feel it too.
Not like they could.
To him, it was familiar.
The faint hum beneath the surface—the way people moved, spoke, reacted. The same edge he felt on battlefields before the first strike was made.
War, before it became war.
"It will escalate," Ares said.
Ignis looked at him. "…yes."
Then the first real incident happened.
A group of students turned on another in the training grounds—no warning, no clear cause. It wasn't a spar. It wasn't controlled.
It was violent.
More followed.
Hallways became dangerous. Classrooms unstable. Even instructors struggled to maintain order as the aggression spread, turning discipline into something brittle.
"Someone's doing this," Ignis said. "They're feeding it through the academy—probably through a focus point. Something hidden."
Aphrodite hesitated. "Then we have to stop it."
Ignis gave a short nod. "We find the source. Break the spell. End it."
Her eyes shifted to Ares.
"…and let's hope we don't get torn apart before that happens."
—
They moved quickly.
The academy, once structured and controlled, now felt fractured. Groups formed and dissolved in moments. Arguments sparked and escalated without warning.
Ares walked at the front.
No one approached them.
Not because they were unaffected.
But because something about Ares—
Pushed it back.
Where others lost control, where the magic twisted emotion into violence, Ares remained still. Untouched. The bloodlust within him did not spike or warp.
It was already there.
Already controlled.
And that control made him immovable.
Students who might have lashed out instead hesitated when he passed. Something instinctive held them back.
Even under the spell—
They knew.
—
Ignis led them through the academy, her eyes glowing faintly as she traced the threads of magic weaving through the air.
"It's concentrated deeper," she said. "Lower levels. Somewhere isolated."
Aphrodite stayed close, her healing magic flickering at her fingertips whenever they passed someone injured.
"Be careful," she whispered once, as another clash echoed through the halls. "This feels wrong…"
Ares said nothing.
But his grip tightened slightly as a weapon formed and faded in his hand.
—
They descended.
The lower sections of Dreadspire were quieter—but not safe. The aggression here felt denser, heavier, like the source of it all was close.
Ignis slowed.
"…we're near it."
A faint glow pulsed ahead.
A room, partially concealed, its entrance warped slightly by magic. The air itself felt wrong—thick, distorted.
Inside—
A figure stood cloaked in shadow, hands raised, threads of mana extending outward like veins feeding the academy above.
The magician.
"You've found me," the voice said calmly, almost amused. "Impressive. Most would have torn each other apart long before reaching this point."
Ignis stepped forward, anger cutting through her voice. "End it. Now."
The figure tilted their head slightly. "Why would I?"
The magic pulsed stronger.
And something else moved.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
From the side of the room, a second figure stepped into view.
Broad shoulders. Towering frame. Muscles coiled with restrained power—
Except now—
There was no restraint.
Hercules.
His eyes were wrong.
Clouded.
Sharp with something unnatural.
Ares' gaze locked onto him immediately.
The magician spoke again, almost casually. "A perfect test subject. Strong will. Strong body." A faint smile crept into their tone. "Now? No limits."
Hercules moved.
Not like before.
Faster.
He crossed the distance instantly, his fist already in motion—
Ares met him head-on.
The impact shook the room.
Stone cracked beneath their feet as strength met strength—but this time, there was no hesitation behind Hercules' strike. No control.
Only force.
Ares slid back.
overwhelmed.
Hercules did not pause.
He came again.
Faster.
Harder.
No restraint.
Ares' weapon formed—an axe, solid and dark—and he raised it just in time to catch the next blow. The force behind it reverberated through him, heavier than before.
Stronger.
Ignis' voice cut through the clash. "He's being controlled!
Aphrodite stepped back, fear in her voice. "Ares—don't hurt him!"
But Hercules was already attacking again.
Relentless.
Each strike carried more weight than the last, his body moving without regard for damage, for balance, for anything but overwhelming force.
Ares adjusted.
His stance shifted.
His movements sharpened.
This was different.
Before, Hercules had held back.
Now—
He didn't.
And that made him dangerous.
The clash continued, faster, heavier, more violent with each exchange. Ares' strikes grew more precise, more calculated, aiming not just to fight—but to control the space between them.
But Hercules pressed forward, refusing to yield ground.
The room trembled under their impact.
Behind them, the magician watched.
Waiting.
The spell still active.
Still spreading.
Still feeding.
Ignis clenched her fists. "I need time to break it!"
Aphrodite nodded, stepping beside her. "We'll hold on!"
Ares did not look back.
He stepped forward again.
Meeting Hercules once more.
This time—
With intent.
Not just to fight.
But to stop him.