Prologue

Ares cried in pain, clutching his chest as he fell to his knees. A hole had been ripped through his chest by Tursas, the God of War. Tursas had always been jealous of Ares, but to strike down a fellow God? There were rules against such things. He clutched his chest hard as silver blood poured from his open wound like molten metal. He could not last much longer.

"Curse that Tursas, I will get my revenge," he growled as the blood pooled around him forming a silver puddle. He coughed and spuddered. Him, a God who has existed since the beginning of time, was slain by someone of lesser power than himself. it laughable. Blood fell from the corners of his lips as smiled.

This was it, Ares thought to himself. The end of the God of Violent Deaths and Bloodlust. As the world around him faded to black he wondered what Gods would take his place.