Rumors did not spread all at once. They seeped.
A missing patrol. A merchant road gone silent. Then entire outskirts of nearby villages whispering the same thing—undead rising where no death had earned them. Not wandering. Not lost.
Guided.
Within the academy, unease settled like a thin layer of frost over everything.
—
In the headmaster's chamber, the air shifted before he even appeared.
The doors did not open.
Water gathered instead—thin strands at first, drawn from nowhere, threading through the air like veins. They coiled, tightened, and then collapsed inward, forming a figure where there had been none.
Poseidon stepped forward as the last droplets fell away from him, dissolving before they touched the ground. His presence was not loud like thunder—it was deep, pressing, like the weight of an ocean held just behind the skin of the world.
Across from him stood Zeus, unmoved, as if this entrance were expected.
"These disturbances," Poseidon said, voice calm but carrying a quiet force, "they're spreading."
Zeus gave a slight nod. "I'm aware."
"They're not natural."
"I know."
A pause lingered between them—one filled with recognition rather than uncertainty.
Poseidon's gaze sharpened. "Then say it."
Zeus exhaled softly.
"…he's moving sooner than expected."
The room stilled.
Then both turned, already in motion before another word was spoken.
—
Ares saw them only for a moment.
Two figures walking side by side through the upper halls—one carrying the quiet pressure of the sea, the other the still certainty of a storm that had not yet chosen to strike.
He stopped.
Watched.
Even without understanding the full weight of what he was seeing—
He knew.
To stand against one would demand everything.
To stand against both—
Was not a fight.
They passed him without a glance.
But the space they left behind felt… measured.
As if he, too, had been weighed.
—
Later—
Ares trained.
Weapons formed and vanished in relentless succession, each strike cleaner than the last. The ground around him was carved and broken, marked by repetition and refinement.
He did not slow.
Until—
"Ares."
He turned.
Aphrodite and Ignis approached together.
Ignis crossed her arms. "We've got a request."
Ares said nothing.
Aphrodite stepped forward, gentler. "A nearby village sent word. Undead sightings. They're asking the academy for help."
Ares' gaze held for a moment.
Then he nodded.
—
The village lay quiet beneath a gray sky.
Too quiet.
No wind. No movement. The land itself looked disturbed—patches of soil overturned, as if something beneath had been clawing its way upward.
"They said it started a few nights ago," Ignis murmured, scanning the area. "One or two at first. Then more."
Ares stepped forward.
And stopped.
"…they're here."
The ground answered.
Cracks split the earth open as skeletal hands forced their way through, dragging themselves into the light. Bone scraped against stone. Rusted weapons surfaced with them.
Dozens.
Then more.
They rose faster than before.
Aphrodite moved instinctively. "Stay close—"
They didn't spread out.
They didn't hesitate.
They engaged.
But something was wrong.
Ares saw it first.
The skeletons did not divide.
Did not react to Ignis' forming spells or Aphrodite's movement.
Every single one—
Turned toward him.
"They're ignoring us," Aphrodite said, confusion slipping into her voice.
Ignis' eyes narrowed sharply. "No."
Another wave surfaced.
And rushed past them.
Straight for Ares.
"They're not ignoring us," she corrected. "They're choosing him."
Ares didn't move back.
Weapons formed instantly, cutting through the first wave as it reached him, bones shattering cleanly under precise strikes.
But more followed.
Always more.
"They're being directed," Ignis said quickly, her hands already weaving sigils. "This isn't random. Something's controlling them."
Aphrodite stepped closer despite the danger. "Why you?"
Ares didn't answer.
Another skeleton lunged.
He cut it down.
Then another.
Then several at once.
"They're drawn to you," Ignis continued, voice tightening. "Or commanded to focus you."
Ares stepped forward into the next surge.
"They can have me," he said flatly.
"That's not the point," Ignis snapped. "If something's controlling them, then something is watching you."
That—
Settled.
Not fear.
Not hesitation.
Awareness.
Watching.
Measuring.
The next wave came harder.
Faster.
Ares moved with it.
Into it.
"If it's watching," he said quietly, "then let it watch."
The air shifted.
His movements sharpened further—faster, more deliberate. Weapons formed in greater numbers, cutting through the advancing undead with increasing efficiency.
Aphrodite stayed near him now, healing where she could, her presence steady even as the pressure built.
Ignis changed approach—less offense, more focus.
Searching.
Tracing.
"Whoever's doing this…" she muttered, eyes scanning beyond the battlefield, "…they're close."
Another wave rose.
Stronger.
More aggressive.
Still focused only on him.
Ares stood at the center of it.
Surrounded.
Unyielding.
And somewhere beyond sight—
Something watched him fight.