The summons came without explanation.
Ares arrived first.
The headmaster's chamber was quiet, the air heavy in a way that felt deliberate. At the far end stood Zeus, his back turned, hands folded behind him as if he had been waiting long before either of them arrived.
The door opened again.
Hercules stepped in.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Zeus turned.
His gaze moved between them slowly—not as a teacher looking at students, but as something older, deeper. It felt less like observation and more like measurement, as if he were weighing something unseen beneath their skin.
Their strength.
Their nature.
Their limits.
Or lack of them.
The silence stretched.
Then Zeus turned away.
"Well," he said calmly, "you've both made quite the impression."
He stepped toward the window, overlooking the academy below. "Protecting the students. Stopping that incident before it consumed the school." A faint nod. "You've done well."
Hercules crossed his arms. "Didn't feel like something worth praising."
Zeus' expression didn't change. "Most things worth praising rarely do."
Ares remained silent.
Zeus continued, "Which is why I've called you here."
He turned back toward them.
"There is a task," he said. "One that exceeds the scope of a standard academy mission."
A pause.
"Dragons."
The word settled heavily in the room.
"Ancient creatures," Zeus went on, "older than most kingdoms, stronger than most armies. There are records—rare ones—of dragons slaying beings far beyond mortal limits." His gaze sharpened slightly. "Even gods."
Hercules' expression shifted—interest, not fear.
Zeus continued, "One has been sighted. A black-winged dragon nesting atop a remote mountain range." He let the words sit before adding, "If left unchecked, it will not remain there."
Ares spoke. "You want it dead."
"Yes."
Zeus' eyes moved between them again. "Individually, you are among the strongest in this academy. Together…" A faint pause. "You may be something more."
Hercules exhaled lightly. "So this is a test."
"It is a necessity," Zeus corrected.
Then, quieter—
"And an opportunity."
He stepped back. "You will go together. You will fight together. And if you wish to survive—" his gaze lingered just slightly longer on Ares, "—you will learn to rely on one another."
Silence followed.
Then Hercules grinned faintly. "Sounds like fun."
Ares said nothing.
But he turned.
And walked toward the door.
That was answer enough.
—
The journey was unforgiving.
The mountain range rose like a jagged scar across the land, its peaks hidden behind dense clouds. The path upward was narrow, unstable—ice, stone, and sheer drops waiting for missteps.
The air thinned as they climbed.
The wind howled louder the higher they went.
Hercules walked ahead at times, breaking through obstacles with raw strength. Ares moved with precision, choosing paths that required less force and more intent.
They didn't speak much.
But they adapted.
When one moved, the other adjusted.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But something close enough to function.
—
By the time they reached the summit—
The world had narrowed to stone and sky.
And it was there.
Perched atop the peak.
A black-winged dragon.
Black Dragon.
Its body coiled across the mountain, scales dark as void, wings massive and still. Smoke curled faintly from its nostrils with each breath, the heat distorting the air around it.
For a moment—
They only looked at it.
Even Hercules didn't move.
"…that's bigger than I expected," he muttered.
Ares said nothing.
But his gaze didn't waver.
Then—
The dragon's eye opened.
Slow.
Deliberate.
It saw them.
The air changed instantly.
The creature rose, wings spreading wide, the force of it sending wind crashing across the peak. Its head lowered slightly—
Then fire came.
A torrent.
White-hot, overwhelming.
They moved at the same time.
Hercules leapt sideways, the flames scorching the ground where he stood. Ares dashed forward, weaving through the edges of the blast, heat brushing past him without slowing his advance.
The battle began.
—
Hercules charged first.
Direct. Unrelenting.
He slammed into the dragon's side, his strength enough to shift its massive form, forcing it back a step.
It wasn't enough.
The dragon roared, its tail whipping around with crushing force. Hercules raised his arms, taking the hit head-on—but even he was thrown back, carving into the stone before stopping.
Ares moved in.
Weapons formed mid-air—blades, spears, axes—launching toward the dragon's head, its wings, its joints.
Most shattered on impact.
Some didn't.
But none were enough.
The dragon retaliated instantly, claws tearing through the air, jaws snapping with speed that didn't match its size.
Ares dodged narrowly, the force of each attack splitting the ground where he had stood moments before.
They regrouped.
Briefly.
"Too tough," Hercules muttered, rolling his shoulder. "Your weapons aren't cutting deep enough."
Ares' eyes narrowed slightly. "Then hold it."
Hercules grinned.
"Finally."
—
The next exchange was different.
Hercules didn't strike to damage.
He struck to control.
He charged again, this time aiming low—driving into the dragon's legs, forcing its weight to shift. The creature reacted, turning to crush him—but Hercules held, muscles straining as he anchored himself against something far larger than he should have been able to restrain.
"Now!" he shouted.
Ares moved.
Not at the body.
At the neck.
The axe formed—heavier than before, denser, drawn from something deeper.
He leapt.
The dragon turned too late.
Hercules held it just long enough.
One swing.
Clean.
Absolute.
The axe carved through scale, flesh, bone—
And the head separated.
For a moment—
The world held still.
Then the body collapsed.
The mountain shook beneath them.
Silence followed.
—
Hercules exhaled, stepping back. "…yeah. That'll do."
Ares landed a short distance away, the weapon in his hand fading.
The wind howled again.
But the threat was gone.
Hercules glanced at him. "Not bad."
Ares met his gaze.
"…you held it long enough."
Hercules smirked. "Guess we work alright together."
Ares didn't respond.
But he didn't disagree.
Far below, unseen—
The world remained unchanged.
But something had shifted.
Two forces—
No longer just colliding.
But beginning—
To align.