Ares-
The battlefield had fallen silent. The clash of steel, the cries of the fallen, all were drowned out by the heavy weight of my words, reverberating in the tense air. The warriors of Ife-Ikoro lay broken, kneeling at my feet. Their strength, their pride—everything they once held dear—crushed beneath my boot. The villagers, once so sure of their gods, now bowed before me, their heads low in submission.
I stood tall, surveying the chaos I had wrought.
Ogun was dead. His body was still there, a lifeless shell of what he once was. His warriors, though strong, had crumbled before me, and now they knelt, not out of respect, but out of fear. Fear of me. Fear of Olympus.
And fear of the truth.
I let the silence drag on, letting the weight of my victory settle into the hearts of those who thought they could stand against me.
"Look at them," I said, my voice ringing out over the kneeling masses. "Look at your god, the one you called the king of the earth. The one who swore he would never fall. I killed him. I took his life, shattered his skull with my own hands, and now... I am your god."
The words echoed like thunder, and I watched as shock rippled through the crowd. They had never seen anything like this before. Their mighty god, the one who they believed invincible, was gone, destroyed by me—by the god of war.
I let them stew in the silence, watching their eyes widen, their spirits breaking. It wasn't enough to win. No, I had to break them completely. And I would.
"Now," I continued, my voice colder, more commanding, "whoever dares to defy me, whoever refuses to accept that Olympus rules now—step forward. Let me see you. Let me watch as you beg for your life. Or die in defiance. Your choice."
I scanned the crowd, watching their fearful faces. The tension was thick enough to choke on. No one moved. No one dared to step forward.
Except her.
A girl, no older than a young woman, stepped forward from the crowd, her eyes fierce, filled with fire and defiance. Her gaze was a forest—a wild, untamed thing, challenging me with everything she had. I saw it in her stance, in the set of her jaw.
She wasn't afraid.
For a moment, I almost respected her for that.
But respect wouldn't stop her from dying.
Before I could respond, I heard the healer woman cry out.
"Amari! Get back!" she screamed, her voice sharp with fear. "Don't do anything stupid!"
The name cut through the air, but Amari didn't flinch. She didn't waver. Instead, she turned her back on the woman and faced me, her eyes burning with hatred.
"You're nothing but a monster, Ares!" she spat, her voice trembling with fury. "You and your gods can rot in the deepest pits of hell!"
Her words echoed in the stillness of the field, a challenge to my very being. She wasn't afraid of death. No. She was afraid of me. And yet, she still chose to defy me.
Then, without warning, 29 men rose from the crowd, stepping forward alongside her. Their faces were filled with the same fierce defiance, their eyes burning with a shared conviction. Each one stood tall, their bodies tense, ready to fight, to die for their cause. They were loyal to Ogunyemi, and they refused to kneel to Olympus.
I studied them carefully. The power of their collective spirit was undeniable. They, too, would face death—together.
Amari's voice rang out again, louder now, as she turned her back on the healer who had warned her.
"We won't bow to you, Ares," she said, her voice full of venom. "You can kill us all, but we will never serve your gods."
The men behind her nodded in agreement, their voices rising together in a single cry of rebellion. "We stand with her!" one shouted.
I gave a subtle signal to one of my soldiers standing by. Without hesitation, he moved, his blade flashing through the air.
But before he could strike, the group of men surged forward. The chaos that followed was swift and brutal. The soldiers surrounding me reacted instantly, clashing with the men who had dared to challenge me. The air was thick with the clash of steel, but I had no intention of letting this rebellion linger.
With a wave of my hand, I commanded the attack to intensify. My soldiers cut through them with ruthless precision. Blood spilt on the ground, and the cries of the defiant echoed in the air.
Amari was the first to fall. The soldier's blade found her neck, and in an instant, she was gone. Her headless body crumpled to the ground, her head rolled to another side, eyes still wide with hatred.
The men who had stood with her, who had chosen defiance over fear, were not far behind. One by one, they fell, their heads and blood staining the earth beneath them.
The healer woman screamed in horror, but it was too late. The resistance was crushed, their rebellion extinguished in the blink of an eye.
The battlefield fell silent, save for the heavy breathing of my soldiers and the distant cries of those who had witnessed the carnage.
I raised my hand, signaling for the others to gather the remaining people.
"Gather the remaining men," I ordered, my voice unyielding. "All of them. The young, the old, the children. Gather them to one side."
No one dared to move except in obedience.
I raised my hand.
The soldiers moved swiftly, herding the males of the village—young, old, and even the children—into a tight group. The women, those who remained alive, were gathered separately, and the elderly were pushed to the middle.
"From this day forward, you are all slaves to Olympus," I said, my voice colder than ice. "You will serve me, and you will serve Olympus. Your homes, your lands, your lives—none of it is yours anymore."
The murmurs of protest began to rise from the villagers, but they were weak, their voices filled with fear and hopelessness. I saw Ogun son, his face twisted with anger, trying to rise up. But I saw how the healer girl held his hands, shaking her head, tears pouring down her face as she whispered to him, pleading for him to stay quiet.
I didn't care.
Their pain, their defiance, it meant nothing.
"Prepare a hut for me," I called out to one of my soldiers, my voice sharp. "I will stay in this village for the night."
I felt their eyes on me. They were broken, defeated, just as I had planned. This was not just a conquest of land. It was the conquest of their spirits, their will to fight.
I had won.
And now, I would rule.
I watched them, each of them kneeling before me, whether they wanted to or not.
I had conquered them all.