Planet Earth
The Sacred Peaks of Mount Olympus
The wind howled like a wounded beast as Yoton stood at the gates of Olympus, his boots crusted with the blood of fallen kings. His golden eyes—once bright with the fire of a ruler, now cracked like dying embers—stared up at the towering fortress of the gods. The air smelled of lightning and old magic, the kind that whispered secrets of the universe.
"I finally reached Olympus," Yoton muttered, his voice rough as grinding stones. "After years of searching… years of crawling through battlefields, choking on my own blood, watching empires burn because of me." His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms. Behind him, the path to the mountain's peak was littered with bodies—demigods with their throats torn open, titans crushed underfoot, even lesser gods whose divine light had flickered out under his hands. "I did everything. Killed everyone. And still…"
The gates of Olympus loomed before him, sealed shut. No fanfare. No welcome. Just cold, silent gold bars thicker than ancient oaks. The gods had watched his suffering. They'd heard his screams echo across the stars. And their answer was this: Nothing.
A shadow shifted behind the bars. Then another. The Olympian sentinels emerged, their armor glowing like captured starlight, spears aimed at Yoton's throat. Between them, a figure stepped forward—taller than the rest, his presence heavy as a collapsing mountain.
Ares, God of War.
His bare chest was scarred with battles older than human civilization, his knuckles permanently stained with the rust of forgotten wars. When he spoke, the ground trembled.
"Yoton," Ares growled. "We've known you since the day you fell from the sky. We know what you want. And we can't help you."
Yoton's lips peeled back, revealing teeth sharpened by centuries of fury. "You knew?" The words dripped like poison. "All this time, I've been tearing this world apart—begging, fighting, bleeding—just to fix what was broken inside me. To go home. To see her again. And you did nothing?" His voice rose, shaking pebbles loose from the mountainside. "Now you dare tell me to leave?"
Ares' fingers twitched. The air around him warped, heat rising in visible waves. "Zeus won't see you. None of us will. Last chance: Walk away."
Yoton laughed—a sound like bones snapping. "If you want me gone, little god, drag Zeus out here yourself."
Ares' patience shattered. His muscles swelled, veins bulging like rivers under his skin. "Fine. If you won't leave in peace…" He cracked his neck. "I'll rip you apart instead."
Yoton spread his arms, grinning. "Try."
Ares roared. Behind him, a legion of golden warriors surged forward, their swords blazing with celestial fire. Yoton didn't flinch. He exhaled—a single breath—and the world exploded.
The Breath of Calamity, a spell older than time, tore through the soldiers like dry leaves. Marble pillars vaporized. Divine armor melted into slag. Warriors screamed as they were flung into the void, their bodies crumpling like discarded parchment.
Ares' eyes widened—not in fear, but in savage joy. Yoton sneered. "Pathetic. You trained these weaklings? No wonder Olympus is rotting."
The God of War bared his teeth. "I'll show you rot." He lunged.
Their first collision split the sky. Fist met fist in a shockwave that flattened the clouds. The mountain groaned beneath them, cracks spiderwebbing through sacred stone. Blows landed like meteor strikes—Ares' divine strength against Yoton's primordial rage. Blood sprayed. Bones cracked.
Ares grinned through split lips. "Is this all you've got?"
Yoton's eyes glowed. "Oh, little god… I'm just playing."
Ares' fury erupted. With a roar that shook the heavens, he drove his fist into Yoton's gut—a punch that could shatter planets. Yoton rocketed backward, his body carving a flaming trench through the mountain as he plummeted to Earth.
The impact destroyed cities. Rivers boiled dry. The land itself screamed as Yoton struck the ground like a fallen star.
And in the silence that followed, as dust swallowed the world…
The true war began.
To Be Continued.