The city had stopped listening.It was answering.Windows rattled, streetlights flickered, and the faint smell of smoke curled through alleys untouched by earlier chaos. Somewhere far off, a siren wailed -not in panic, but in challenge. Ares stood on the rooftop edge, Elijah asleep in his arms, Mira beside him. The weight of the night pressed down like iron. Every scar, every quiet breath stolen in shadows, had led here. The city itself seemed alive, poised to respond.He shifted Elijah slightly, cradling him closer. Mira’s hand found his arm. Not for comfort - he didn’t need it -but for connection. We endure, together.Below, movement began. Shadows flickered between alleys, figures who had waited, watched, and finally decided to act. Voices rose like the tide breaking against a dam, defiant and deliberate. They were no longer silent observers; they were the city answering him.Ares felt it beneath his boots: a tremor, subtle, but unmistakable - the pulse of a city waking, ready for

The city had not just answered.It had chosen.For a breath, Ares couldn’t move. He stood rooted in that broken square, watching faces rise from shadows - men with calloused hands, women with babies tied to their chests, even the elderly who could barely stand leaning on sticks. All of them had stepped out when they didn’t have to. No one ordered them. No bribe promised. They came because something inside them said enough.Elijah’s small fingers tightened around Mira’s hand. His whisper was almost lost in the wind. “They’re… with us.”Ares swallowed. His chest ached, not from wounds but from the sight in front of him. For years he had carried silence like armor - kept his head down, told himself one man couldn’t matter anymore. But now… in the glow of torches and trembling lamps, hundreds of eyes were on him. Waiting. Trusting.He had led armies before. He had been the tip of a spear that carved cities into ruin. But never - never - had he seen this. Ordinary people standing with him,

Because he was Ares - the God of War. And Lin City was done kneeling.The words hadn’t even cooled in the air when the first low thump of rotor blades rolled across the rooftops. Ares didn’t need to see them. He felt it in his chest - the kind of vibration you never forgot, the kind that rattled your bones and made your skin taste like iron.Helicopters.The crowd stiffened. Heads tilted upward. Some ducked instinctively, memories of old air raids snapping them back into places they had never escaped from. Ares saw fear ripple through them like cracks racing across glass.He stepped forward. Not a speech. Not a raised fist. Just his body in front of theirs, broad shoulders squared, jaw set. He was telling them with silence: if the sky wanted blood, it had to come through him first.Reyes came up fast, his notebook flapping in his hand. “They’ll bomb us before we even see the tanks, Ares. We need cover - any cover. Tunnels, basements, anything.”Hawk spat onto the ground. “Basements wo

And Ares knew - this was only the beginning.The ground shook again, harder this time. Through the smoke, the monster revealed itself - a towering war machine crawling on iron treads, plated in black steel thick enough to laugh at small arms. Its turret was broad, its cannon long enough to punch through stone walls, its flanks armed with smaller guns that spat fire even as it advanced. Soldiers marched in its shadow like ants around a giant, believing themselves invincible simply because the beast breathed.For a heartbeat, the city faltered. The crowd that had roared minutes earlier went quiet, their courage shaken at the sight of something that seemed untouchable. Mothers dragged children behind broken walls. Men who had raised rifles now gripped them tighter, uncertain if pulling the trigger would matter.Reyes cursed under his breath. “That’s no tank. That’s a fortress.”Hawk’s jaw flexed as he spat blood. “Wu’s been stockpiling. Bastard hid this for the day we rose.”Ares didn’t

The war had only just begun.Ares stood at the edge of the ruined square, the echoes of chaos still drifting through Lin City like smoke refusing to leave the air. The fires had died, but their scent lingered -burnt wood, scorched steel, and blood. Behind him, men and women huddled together, their eyes darting with the kind of fear that wasn’t born overnight but carved into the marrow after years of oppression.He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. It was slick with sweat, streaked with dust, but steady in his hand. Steadier than his heartbeat. Because in that heartbeat, he heard Mira’s silence, Elijah’s breathing, and the quiet determination of those who followed him.This was no longer a personal war. It was theirs.A shadow moved to his right. Reyes. His comrade’s face was smeared with ash, his jacket torn, but his eyes burned. “They’ll regroup,” he muttered. “Wu’s men won’t scatter for long. And when they return, it won’t be with batons or rifles - it’ll be tanks, drones