Tensions

Past 1939

A tall figure walked down a narrow path in what appeared to be a giant cave. He progressed deeper into the cave. His body donned in black, heavy metal-plated armor with a red spear and helmet sigil centrally placed on his breast-plate.

The rest of his body armor, on the other hand, was completely red, and covering his entire body except for his joints. His head was also covered with a red Spartan helmet. His face was pitch black except for two glowing crimson eyes. A testimony of pure rage and raw power.

Moving further towards the heart of the large cave, sunlight began to fade, and darkness slowly and ominously engulfed his entire being, yet he didn't miss a step. His eyes could still see everything, every crawling insect, crevice and rock that he bothered to gaze upon.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of walking, he arrived at his destination. In front of him, there were five giant sized Cyclops who sniffed the air to get a more detailed information of the stranger that their shifty eyes could not offer.

By human standards, the God of War was nothing short of a giant. But even at seven feet, his original size was still mocked by the ugly one-eyed bastards who easily doubled his already giant nature.

Growling inwardly, he waited for the slightest hint of provocation for him to spring into action and rip their heads off with his bare hands.

Almost as if the Cyclops read his mind, they swiftly steered off his path which came to a dead-rocky-end. To any human that's where they would stop and turn back—assuming they get past the Cyclops—to try a different route. But for gods like him, he could see the keys for accessing the other side of the wall.

"Clever, ugly bastard."

Ares mused as he drew a pattern that his brother showed him as a way to access his abode. Ares never understood the need for a secretive passage. If anyone wanted to attack him in his home, he would more than welcome it, Hades! He would probably let them have the first shot as a courtesy.

Smiling at his train of thought, his hand subconsciously rested over his war hammer, firmly attached to his waist. He longed for the day that was fast approaching. He could even smell the blood that wouldn't be so long smeared on his hammer.

Recalling the number of skulls, he caved and crushed under it, it was such a pity those vermin never stay dead. And that's what brought him there. The most ruthless of the greater gods down this dump and filthy cave.

It had been found, at last, the Scythe of Kronus, lost for millennia in the vast depths of Tartarus. He sure hoped Hephaestus was for once right about his wild theories. For once he would listen to someone else give him advice on how to properly kill his victims.

"Hello, Ares."

"Hephaestus."

"You're right on time."

"I know. I presume you have the weapon ready."

"Yes." Hephaestus turned and walked towards one of many workbenches that contained a shining metal sword.

"I thought it was supposed to be a scythe." Ares narrowed his eyes.

"It was, I reforged it, to make it easier to hide in plain sight. You don't want others to know you have with you the Scythe of Kronus when they see it."

"I suppose so."

"Good, then I guess we are ready."

"Are you sure? There is no going back or cowering out this time like the last time."

"No, I'm all in this time. My mother has suffered enough."

"That's the spirit. I hope it remains that way in the few years to come while I sound battle calls." Hephaestus nodded, and Ares exited the cave before summoning the Aether and disappearing. Arriving at his fort, he placed the sword near a corner and waved his hand over it and muttered a short spell, making it invisible before returning to his favorite seat. Placing his hammer at his side, his conscious slowly left his body and raced down, past the clouds and towards earth. Within a minute he smiled to himself. Things were going as planned. The humans were gearing up for war, and this war was going to be the war that would eclipse the previous one. He could feel the amount of power he was siphoning from just the tension among the nations and imagined how much he would get when the real war among the gods started.

His attention was drawn in particularly to the one man he was able to corrupt. He was his masterpiece. Filled with ideologies of superiority, he set him on a path of world domination and supremacy. He had taken time to manipulate the unsuspecting human throughout his childhood disguised as an old mentor who had been through the previous war that his country humiliatingly lost to the powers of the west, something that his race, should not have endured.

The man, a child, back then had heeded to his teachings and became the man he was now, his key to power. It had taken him decades to plan all of it, but he was now satisfied with what he saw. After knowing his source of power for the coming war among the gods was secure, all he needed was to finally put the last few pieces of his long-planned out strategy into place.

*Ares my brother, I summon you. *

Ares heard a voice in his mind calling for him. For a moment he wanted to just ignore it. But considering who was calling, he knew he needed to keep her close in case she springs up a surprise that could potentially derail his scheme. Answering her call, he summoned the Aether and vanished once again.

"I didn't think you would come."

'You and me both. What do you want?' Ares projected his thoughts as only his conscious came.

"I'm here to tell you to stop this madness brother. You don't know the consequences of what your stupid vendetta would unleash."

'I'm neither worried nor interested in the consequences, all I want is father gone.'

"Listen to what you're saying, this is madness. What do you expect to gain by killing him, huh? You'll just create a power vacuum that the other two would try and grab it for themselves." 'That's not my problem.'

���And what happens if you die?"

'Then I die. Someone else would just take my place and continue my work.'

"You're going to doom us all."

'Not according to the Fates. I hear there's going to be a much better future for us. There is only one interpretation for that. Zeus will and must die.'

"You stupid boy, you can't kill him. Not only is he more powerful than you, he is also immortal." Athena growled.

'I guess we'll have to put that to the test.'

"What are you getting at?" Athena frowned.

'It's real Athena, the cursed Scythe of Kronus is real.'

Athena's eyes bulged outwards. "Impossible! No one could ever find it in the depths of Tartarus, not even the Titans themselves and they have been prisoners there for countless eons."

'I guess you're not the smartest of the gods after all.'

"Intelligence is relative." Athena snorted.

'Be that as it may, Hephaestus was smart enough to find it.'

"You may possess the weapon that can kill gods, but it's still a theory, it has yet to kill any god." 'Maybe or maybe not, but I'm willing to bet Ouranos wasn't bluffing when he cursed the weapon. Hades! Even Kronus fears it.

'Why do you think he decided to throw it in Tartarus? I'm guessing it was because of the curse that Ouranos also placed on him that he would be murdered by his own son. It was terrifying enough for him to throw away the only weapon he knew would kill him.'

"I know the lore."

'Yet you still doubt it. Is there anything that can get past your skeptic mind?'

Frowning Athena replied, "Yes, one thing. One god is going to die, you or Zeus. And I'm very much interested to see what he will do to you once news of the weapon reaches him. You should probably get yourself a new place—I recommend Tartarus—and stay in hiding forever." She gave Ares a sinister smile.

'At least I know which side you're on.'

"Oh, I'm on the side of order which you so very much made it clear you wish to upset. And even if you miraculously managed to defeat Father, he is still going to curse you. Just he was by his father."

'Not if he is dead, he's not.'

"You're insane."

'I get that a lot. Farewell sister,' Ares vanished into the Aether.