GOD OF WAR REBORN

The First Awakening

The armored beast slammed into Tharos like a falling boulder.

Fire exploded around them as the two forces collided. Villagers ran, screaming and dragging their children behind burning houses, but the sound didn’t reach Tharos anymore. His ears rang with something else, sounds like, drums, metal, war cries, memories that didn’t belong to a simple village boy.

The creature slashed again, but Tharos moved faster this time. His arm shot up, catching the beast’s wrist in his grip. The monster snarled and tried to yank free, but Tharos held on.

His fingers dug into the creature’s flesh, hard, too hard for any mortal.

The beast’s eyes widened.

Tharos squeezed until the creature’s bones cracked loudly, and the beast howled in rage. It swung its other arm, claws slicing toward Tharos’ throat.

Tharos ducked low, twisted, and drove his shoulder into the monster’s chest. The force sent the beast stumbling backward, its heavy armor scraping against the burning ground.

Tharos’ lungs burned.

His wounds burned.

His entire body burned, not with pain,

but with power.

His heart pounded like a war drum inside him.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Each beat unlocked something buried deep.

Each breath pulled up memories he didn’t want.

A battlefield of gods.

Golden blood spilling.

A voice whispering, He is too strong. Kill him now.

A thousand soldiers kneeling before him.

Tharos saw it, but he didn’t understand it.

Not yet.

The monster regained its footing and charged again, roaring like a demon. Its claws tore through the air, aiming straight for his chest.

Tharos didn’t step back.

He stepped forward.

He threw a punch, it was fast, heavy, fueled by a strength that did not belong to humans. His fist smashed into the beast’s jaw. The impact sent a shockwave through the air, blowing ash and dust outward.

The monster flew backward, tumbling across the ground until it slammed into a broken house, the wall collapsing on top of it.

But it wasn’t dead.

Not yet.

Tharos fell to one knee, trying to catch his breath. His vision flickered. The burning roar of the flames faded. The screams around him sounded distant.

He pressed a hand to his chest. Blood soaked his shirt. The wound was deep. He knew it. Anyone else would have been dead already.

But he wasn’t “anyone else.”

A whisper crawled through the back of his mind. Do not fall, you fell once before, “never again”

Tharos clenched his fists, forcing himself to stand. He didn’t know the voice, but the voice knew him.

The armored beast rose from the rubble.

It shook dust off its body, roared at the sky, and charged again. This time flames burned along its claws, trailing smoke behind each swing.

Tharos moved, but the creature was faster now.

Its flaming claw sliced across his back, tearing flesh and sending him crashing to the ground. The dirt tasted like blood and smoke. His vision went dark for a moment.

Pain exploded through his body.

His muscles twitched, his chest heaved, his fingers dug into the earth. He could feel his heartbeat slowing.

Boom…

Boom…

…Boom.

The monster stomped toward him, each step heavy enough to shake the ground.

Villagers cried out.

“Tharos!”

“Run!”

“Get away from him!”

But Tharos couldn’t run, his legs refused to move, the beast raised its claw above him, ready to kill. And then—

thump.

Something inside Tharos cracked, not a bone, but something deeper.

A dam inside him broke open, and a wave of energy shot up his spine like fire. His entire body trembled.

His wounds burned brighter.

His blood felt like molten metal.

His eyes snapped open, glowing faintly, like dying embers reigniting.

A voice boomed inside his skull.

A mortal body cannot hold you. But rise anyway, you are the God of War. Break everything in your way.

Tharos roared, loud, violent, primal.

The monster froze mid-strike.

Tharos caught the creature’s arm, fingers closing around its wrist like an iron trap. The beast tried to pull back, but Tharos didn’t let go.

He stood slowly, pushing against the monster’s strength.

The ground cracked beneath his feet.

His muscles screamed.

His wounds dripped blood onto the dirt.

But he kept rising.

The beast roared and tried to tear away, but Tharos yanked it forward and slammed his forehead into the creature’s skull.

Crack.

The monster staggered.

Tharos didn’t give it a second to breathe.

He grabbed its throat with both hands and squeezed with everything he had. The beast thrashed wildly, claws scraping across Tharos’ arms, chest, face, tearing skin open, drawing blood.

Tharos didn’t stop.

He squeezed harder.

Bones snapped under his hands.

The creature let out a choking roar, then Tharos lifted it off the ground. Its legs kicking helplessly before slamming it into the earth with a force that shook the entire village.

Dust blew outward.

Silence.

The creature twitched once, then stopped moving.

Dead.

Tharos stood over the shattered corpse, chest heaving, arms trembling, blood dripping down his body.

He had killed it.

But something was wrong.

His hands were shaking too hard, his heart was beating too loud, his blood felt too hot. And the voice inside him whispered again.

This is only the beginning.

The villagers slowly came out from hiding, eyes wide, hands shaking.

Some stared at the dead monster.

Some stared at Tharos.

Most stared at the two together, unable to believe a single man had done that.

Lysa approached first, her face pale.

“Tharos… you—are you okay?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

He didn’t know what he was.

He didn’t know what just happened.

He didn’t know if he was okay.

Because something inside him was still burning, still rising, still awake.

He stumbled, catching himself on a broken fence.

Mira rushed to his side. “Sit down! You’re bleeding everywhere!”

He didn’t sit.

He couldn’t.

His body shook violently.

His vision doubled.

The voice whispered louder:

They will come for you now.

“Who?” Tharos gasped.

Nobody answered.

Not Mira.

Not Lysa.

Not the villagers.

But the voice inside him did.

The gods.

Tharos grabbed his head, pain ripping through his skull like lightning.

“Stop—stop talking”

But the voice ignored him.

They know you live.

They feel your power waking.

They killed you once.

They will try again.

Tharos screamed, raw, painful, desperate. He fell to his knees, clutching his chest as if the fire inside him was tearing him apart.

Villagers backed away quickly.

He heard them whispering:

“What’s happening to him?”

“Is he cursed?”

“Is that why monsters came?”

“Is he human?”

The words stabbed deeper than claws.

Tharos tried to stand, but his legs gave out.

He hit the ground hard, and darkness swallowed him.

He didn’t sleep.

He fell.

Through fire, through shadows and through memories.

Faces floated around him.

Gods in golden armor, armies kneeling, blades crossing and betrayal.

A circle of divine thrones, a hand gripping his throat, a blade piercing his chest, and a woman screaming his name.

Tharos!

Then everything shattered.

Tharos’ eyes snapped open.

He sat up sharply, chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face.

He wasn’t outside anymore.

He was inside Mira’s healing hut, lying on a bed of herbs and cloth. Bandages wrapped around his chest, arms, and back.

Night had fallen.

The room was dim, lit only by a single lantern.

Mira sat nearby, grinding herbs with shaking hands.

When she saw him awake, she jumped. “Tharos… thank the gods.”

He flinched when she said that.

“Don’t thank them,” he muttered.

Mira swallowed hard. “What… happened to you out there?”

Tharos looked at her, then at his hands. They still shook slightly. He remembered the monster’s throat snapping in his grip. He remembered the voice calling him a god.

He didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

Mira hesitated. “You’ve always been strong. But today… today you were something else.”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t have answers.

She looked at him carefully. “Tharos… those creatures weren’t normal monsters. They had markings, symbols of something old, something divine.”

Tharos felt the burning memory flash behind his eyes again.

Gods.

Light.

A blade in his back.

He touched his chest.

The voice returned, softer now:

Remember.

They killed you.

Do not let them do it again.

Tharos closed his eyes, jaw tight.

Mira continued, voice trembling. “Tharos… I think… I think they were after you.”

He opened his eyes.

“What?”

“I don’t know why. But they ignored the others. They went straight for you. As if they sensed something inside you.”

Tharos looked at his hands again.

He didn’t want to believe it.

But he knew she was right.

“What am I?” he whispered.

Mira shook her head softly. “I don’t know.”

Tharos looked down at the floor.

Neither did he.

Suddenly—

A loud crash came from outside.

Mira jumped. “What was that?”

Tharos didn’t wait.

He tore off the blanket, stood, and pushed out of the hut despite Mira yelling for him to stop. His wounds burned, but they were healing strangely fast.

He stepped outside and froze.

The village square was filled with bodies.

Not human.

More creatures, smaller ones, dead on the ground.

Someone had killed them.

Someone fast.

Someone skilled.

Someone not from the village.

Tharos scanned the shadows.

Then he saw her.

A woman stood on the roof of a burned house, bow in hand, hood covering part of her face. Her posture was calm, deadly, confident.

She looked like she’d been born on a battlefield.

Her eyes, sharp, cold, hunting, locked onto his.

Tharos felt something shift inside him.

Danger.

Recognition.

Pull.

She jumped down from the roof, landing without a sound. Her movements were too smooth, too precise.

Not normal.

Everyone in the village stepped back.

Tharos didn’t.

The woman stared at him for a long, tense moment.

Then she spoke, voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the night air.

“So,” she said, “it’s true.”

Tharos frowned. “What’s true?”

She stepped closer, eyes never leaving his.

“The God of War walks again.”

Tharos’ heart stopped.

His breath caught.

“Who the hell are you?” he growled.

She smirked, slow, dangerous.

“Someone who’s supposed to kill you.”

Before he could react—

She drew an arrow

aimed it at his heart

and released.

The arrow shot straight toward his chest. 

—and the chapter ends.