And as the thunder rolled over Lin City, Ares stepped forward to meet it.The rain came harder, needling his face, soaking through his clothes until every step felt heavier. But the weight suited him. He had carried worse. His boots sank into mud streaked with blood. The storm above cracked again, lightning burning white across the skyline, and for a breath the battlefield froze in that strange light.The man at the far end of the boulevard walked with slow certainty. His cloak dragged through muck and shattered stone. Soldiers cleared out of his way without being told. They knew. Everyone knew. This wasn’t another officer come to rally the line. This was a Crown.The hood slipped back, and his face appeared - narrow, sharp, carved in calm cruelty. His eyes fixed on Ares and did not waver.The clash of steel and cries of men dulled around them. It wasn’t silence, not truly, but the sound bent, as if all of Lin City leaned toward this one meeting.The Crown’s voice carried even through

The storm had raged. The city had answered. And now its heart beat with his.Ares stood still for a long moment on the steps of the Resistance Hall, rain dripping from his shoulders, listening to that unseen heartbeat. It wasn’t the pounding of drums or the clash of steel - it was the stubborn rhythm of a city that refused to kneel.The square below was littered with debris, with faces too pale and eyes too hollow, yet no one left. They lingered, as if his presence was the one stone holding a crumbling arch. He could feel it pressing in on him -the need, the hunger, the desperate search for something solid.Elijah pressed against his leg, small hand clutching at damp fabric. Mira hovered close, her eyes following every twitch of his face, as though afraid he might vanish like smoke.Ares drew a breath, steady but not gentle. The air still stank of fire and lightning. His voice came rough, unpolished, but it carried.“You bled,” he said, eyes sweeping the battered crowd. “You lost home

Because that was the oath he carried.And oaths, Ares knew, were heavier than chains. They pressed into the marrow, they bent the spine, and they did not let go. A man could abandon his fortune, his name, even his blood - but not his oath. His oath was the last truth that followed him into the grave.The Resistance Hall stood quiet after the storm. Torches guttered along the walls, their smoke curling upward, filling the rafters with a faint haze. Outside, the square still bore scars of the battle: shattered carts, burned cloth, blood crusted into the cracks of the stone. Yet life stirred there again. Merchants swept their stalls. Children kicked stones across the cobbles. The city, stubborn as bone, refused to stay broken.Ares leaned against the window frame, his silhouette cast in the flicker of firelight. His eyes traced the city’s outline - its crooked streets, its battered walls, the stubborn glimmer of lanterns being lit one by one. He should have been exhausted. Instead, rest

“Now the war would test its soul.”Ares’s voice lingered in the air long after it left his mouth, and the hall seemed to shrink into silence. Every set of eyes - scarred fighters, old men with trembling hands, women clutching rifles too heavy for their frames - was fixed on him. In that stillness, he felt the truth of his own words press against his chest.Mira stood at the far side of the room, Elijah drowsing in her arms. The boy’s small hand twitched in his sleep, reaching for something unseen. Ares caught the gesture, and for one dangerous second the mask cracked - he was just a father, not the commander everyone expected to save them.But the war did not care about fathers.He straightened, pushing that softness back into the locked room of his heart. His gaze swept across the Resistance Hall. “They believe Lin City has already surrendered,” he said, voice low but sharp. “That we are too divided, too hungry, too broken to fight. They think fear is enough to keep us crawling.”His

And for the first time since his return, Ares allowed himself to believe – just for a breath – that victory was not a dream.But the breath vanished quickly. Reality had a way of reminding him that dreams were fragile, and men who carried the weight of nations could not afford to linger in them.The war had not ended. It had only shifted. And now, as night folded over Lin City, shadows gathered thicker than ever.Mira was the first to notice. She stood by the window of the Resistance Hall, her eyes narrowing at the faint movement below. “They’re probing again,” she whispered.Ares followed her gaze. Down on the street, shapes moved - scouts, mercenaries loyal to the remnants of Victor Wu’s empire. They weren’t attacking outright. Not yet. They were testing, circling, waiting for weakness.“Hyenas,” Reyes muttered, his hand tightening around the rifle slung over his shoulder. “They can smell blood even when you try to hide it.”Ares rose slowly, adjusting Elijah’s blanket before steppi