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

The square did not disperse. It thickened - like smoke too heavy to drift away. Faces pressed in, shoulders locked close, breath steaming into the night air. A murmur moved through them, rising, breaking, re-forming, until it was a tide that could not be silenced.Ares stood at the center, still as stone, blood crusted on his boots. Mira held Elijah tight, her sleeve twisted in the boy’s small grip. The lamps overhead sputtered, weak light flickering against faces streaked with soot and sweat.Then a voice cut the dark. “The God of War has returned!”The words ripped through the night like a spark. Carried. Repeated. Swelled until the square thundered with it, hundreds of voices chanting, half desperate, half fierce.Ares felt the title slam against him. The name he had buried, the one that had cost him years of blood, dragged up again like a ghost that refused to stay down.His jaw clenched. He did not silence them. He did not welcome it either. He let it hang in the air - because to

The war had arrived.The first bullet cracked across the square, shattering stone where Ares had been standing half a breath before. Sparks sprayed his boots. The crowd flinched back, some crying out, others clutching whatever weapons they held - a pipe, a hammer, a rusted pistol.“Hold!” Ares roared, voice cutting through the panic.The second volley tore into the barricades. Wood splintered, nails shrieked loose, sparks rained from ricochets. A man screamed as his shoulder split open. He dropped, clutching at blood. The square trembled with the sound of boots pounding closer, the enemy line advancing like a wall of iron.Reyes was already moving, dragging the wounded back, barking for two more to hold the gap. Hawk’s rifle cracked from the rooftop, one enemy dropping with a hole through his visor. Another. Another. But for every one that fell, ten pressed forward.Ares planted himself in the gap, fists rising. His knuckles tightened until bone ached, until blood from old scars welle

So he walked back into the fire.The smoke stung his eyes, sharp as ground glass. The street was half rubble, half flame. Buildings leaned like broken teeth around him, their windows vomiting black smoke into the sky. Resistance fighters pushed forward in scattered bursts, ducking into doorways, dragging the wounded out when they could.Ares didn’t duck. He didn’t drag. He moved straight through the heart of it.Every step jarred his ribs. The wound at his side leaked warm down his hip, soaking the fabric. His hand throbbed from the gash where he’d caught that bayonet. Every nerve screamed for him to slow down, to stop, to give the body even one second’s rest. But there wasn’t a second. The city wouldn’t give him that mercy.Gunfire raked across the square. A girl fell, no older than fifteen. Her body twisted as she hit the ground. Ares bent, scooped her up like she weighed nothing, and set her against a doorway. She was gone before her head touched the wall. He stood there a moment,

“We decide which one I am.”The words struck harder than any fist. The crowd went still, air thick as stone. Mira’s fingers brushed the hilt of her knife. Elijah pressed against his father, small body tense though he didn’t understand why.Ares didn’t move. His eyes locked with the man’s.“You should’ve stayed gone,” Ares said. His voice was low, steady.The man - taller now, scarred - smiled faintly. “And let you carry the crown alone? No. You know me better.”A name hovered on Ares’s tongue, heavy as iron.The man stepped closer. Boots echoing against stone. “Do you remember the oath we swore?”Ares’s jaw flexed. He remembered. Too well. Nights of blood and dust. Brothers bound by fire.“I remember,” Ares said.“Then say it. Say my name.”Ares’s eyes narrowed. “Kael.”The name rippled through the square. Whispers rose. Old soldiers muttered. Others just stared.Mira frowned, blade ready. “Who is he?”Kael glanced at her. Sharp. Dismissive. “Not yours to ask.”Ares raised a hand, kee