Thermopylae 2

Elsewhere on the battlefield, Hades was locked in brutal combat with Pain itself. His weapons black claws like shards of death tore through her flesh, exposing the raw torment and eternal suffering that had festered for centuries in the hearts of mortals. Pain shrieked, coiling around Hades in writhing tendrils of agony, but he only smirked grimly, slashing through her essence again and again.

Apollo battled Despair, unleashing the wrath of the sun upon the demon. His chariot, wreathed in flame, carved a path through the sky, casting light upon the darkness of battle. The air was thick with ash and the scent of burning.

Ares faced Madness. The God of War lived up to his name, assaulting with such ferocity that even the demon tasted hopelessness. His blade tore through the air, leaving Madness no room to retaliate. The demon was a towering giant over five meters tall with eyes swirling with the shattered minds of millions.

Zeus called upon the fury of the heavens, unleashing a cascade of lightning that struck Fear and pinned him to the earth.

"Is that all you've got?" Zeus thundered, pressing his foot down on the weakened creature. "You should've stayed in the hole you crawled out of." Lightning crackled under his sole. "Pathetic."

Fear could barely move.

"You will come to know fear yet," it whispered just before Zeus's foot crushed its skull and lightning obliterated its very essence.

Surveying the battlefield and seeing his fellow gods dispatching the remaining Dark Ones, Zeus frowned. He was not satisfied. Deep inside, something felt wrong.

They can't be this weak, he thought. Long ago, we struggled just to banish them. Their power should've only grown since then… so why are they falling so easily?

"Finish them. We've struck at their heart," Zeus commanded.

But as the Olympians prepared for the final blow, the Dark Gods unseen began to set their own plan into motion.

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POV: Atreus

The battle had raged for over a day. Countless bodies littered the field, yet the enemy showed no signs of retreat. By the end of the first day, their forces had pulled back. What remained was a wasteland of torn earth and corpses stretching hundreds of meters.

And then I felt it that arrival I had dreaded. My worst fears confirmed.

Something ancient… something forgotten… had broken free.

I sensed a surge of new power cut through the enemy lines.

From the darkness ahead, a demon emerged.

I knew it instantly it was the one who had spoken to me before. I felt his presence again. He stood over three meters tall. On his back, a massive sword pulsed with red light.

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"FIGHT ME, MORTALS!" His voice thundered across the battlefield like the roar of a god.

I stepped forward, never breaking eye contact.

"Face me, demon," I said, striking my spear against my shield.

"Hmph… I know you," the demon snarled. "A pitiful pawn of the gods. Too afraid to seize power, to rise and become a pantheon. That is the only way you could ever hope to oppose me."

"You don't get to judge my courage," I replied. "Enough words let the steel speak for us."

"So be it. Hear my name, boy: I AM AATROX. I AM THE WORLDSLAYER!"

He roared and the heavens trembled.

That name echoed deep within me but I stood before my enemy and focused on the battle.

He gripped the hilt of his colossal sword and raised it above his head. The blade seemed to hunger for all life the abyss within it called to me. My will strained to resist its pull. The blood spilled across the battlefield crept toward his feet, as if surrendering to his power.

With a sudden burst of speed, I closed the distance. I lunged forward with my spear, striking true but he deflected it with his blade, denying me a breach in his defense.

I dodged to the side and struck again, but Aatrox twisted away, and my spear pierced only air. His sword came down in a horizontal arc, and I was forced to raise my shield. I absorbed the blow, unmoved.

His speed increased. He wielded his massive blade as though it weighed nothing. Each strike crashed against my shield like a hammer upon iron, and my will trembled. With every blow, I felt as though he was draining my strength.

I had faced many powerful foes. But this… this was the very essence of destruction.

"You are weak. Indecisive," Aatrox growled, pressing down with unrelenting fury.

"My resolve is unbreakable," I replied and with a sidestep, I parried his strike and thrust my spear directly into his chest.

The spearhead, infused with my will, tore through his armor with ease. The impact hurled him back. Dropping to one knee, he clutched his chest with a bloodied hand. Crimson poured from the gash.

I gave him no time to recover. Leaping high, I came down upon him my spear drove through his skull, bursting up through his mouth. He grabbed the shaft, trying to wrench it free, but I yanked it upward, shredding flesh. I prepared to strike again but the darkness swirling around him blasted me back.

His body spasmed. Shadows spilled from him, and the ground beneath him cracked open. The air thickened with a heavy, clinging black smoke. A crimson glow shone from his chest, and his sword, buried in the earth, drank in the blood pooling around him.

A wave of fear tried to engulf me, but I cast it off with sheer force of will.

Aatrox rose again, hovering above the ground. Slowly, he raised his sword and pointed it at me. With a beat of his wings, he surged forward.

His blade struck my shield once more my guard held. His rage rebounded, sending him flying. But he recovered instantly and launched himself again. His wrath consumed him.

He fought like a beast unleashed, heedless of his wounds which healed in seconds. Our clash shook the earth. Neither of us yielded.

Again we collided then were flung apart by the force of the impact.

"Why do you seek to destroy this world?" I asked, breathing heavily.

Aatrox paused.

"Once, I was a noble warrior. My battle cry shattered silence. I was the light in the darkness," he said quietly. "But now… I serve Oblivion."

He sheathed his sword and looked at me with something like clarity.

"Our final battle has yet to come. Not today."

With a powerful beat of his wings, Aatrox ascended into the sky.

I refused to let him escape. My body surged with will and I took flight.

From the air, I saw how far we had strayed from the front. The enemy had breached the canyon's defenses with dark sorcery. Their spells devoured the golems ripping souls from their cores. I could feel those souls screaming as they were torn apart, vanishing without rebirth, without honor. They simply… ceased.

"You have a choice," Aatrox called.

I didn't answer.

My spear pulsed with will. I hurled it with all my strength at the demon and then dove like a meteor, shield first.

The impact unleashed a shockwave that erased the enemy spellcasters from existence. I spent the last of my strength in one final surge obliterating thousands of Persian warriors and mages.

When the threat subsided, I looked to the sky but Aatrox was gone. My spear lay nearby. I summoned it back, and drew my compass the needle trembled, pulling in every direction.

They'd found a way to confuse its magic.

My sudden reappearance broke the enemy's momentum. They retreated. Step by step, I returned to our lines, my eyes scanning the broken forms of fallen golems. Among them… Damiip.

Once again, I had failed to protect him.

Was I truly unable to safeguard those I cared for? "They are Sparta's pride," said Leonidas, standing beside me.

"It won't bring them back," I replied.

"No," he nodded. "But we will honor their heroism. No war is without loss. That is our way. You are our commander. And now is no time for doubt. While your will remains strong our army stands."

"He's right, Atreus," Kreon added.

"I won't betray your sacrifice, brother," I whispered. Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I knew I must not call upon the dead again, not compel them to fight. No regrets now. What's done is done.

"I'll no longer ask you to fight. Your souls may rest," I said aloud.

But Leonidas interrupted:

"No. We will stand to the last. Even if each of us vanishes here. Call the others. They will rise to take the place of the fallen," he said, pointing at the broken golems.

Every warrior now mattered. We could not waste strength. The steel Spartans were needed here.

I summoned them.

One by one, new souls entered the fallen forms. The golems rose and stood in formation once more.

There is no war without sacrifice. And the heart that turns to stone must never forget what it bleeds for.