Chương 301: Memories of Ares

Ares sat alone atop the Royal Guard Tower, high above the sprawling city of Irea. The office surrounding him was vast and richly furnished, illuminated by the warm glow of a crystal chandelier. Yet despite its grandeur, the room felt strangely lifeless, more like an extension of the kingdom's military machine than the personal space of a man. Everything was orderly. Everything was functional. Yet nothing felt comforting. Behind an enormous desk, the dragonoid commander worked through an endless mountain of reports.

His broad frame cast long shadows across the documents as scarlet eyes moved steadily from page to page, absorbing information at a pace few could handle. Missing persons, border disputes, monster sightings, political conflicts, logistical concerns, the responsibilities of leadership arrived without end, each report blending into the next until they became little more than variations of the same burden. Eventually his eyes stopped moving altogether.

A long sigh escaped him as he fell back into his chair and stared upward, allowing the reports to remain untouched before him while his thoughts drifted elsewhere. For several moments he sat in complete silence. His gaze settled upon the empty wall opposite his desk, and to anyone else it would have appeared as though he were staring at nothing. His eyes lingered there with the strange focus reserved for ghosts, as though someone occupied that vacant space and had been waiting patiently for years.

Closing his eyes briefly, he reached toward one of the desk drawers and pulled it open. Inside rested a small metallic pendant. The severity in his expression softened almost imperceptibly as he lifted it from its resting place and rolled the cool metal between his fingers. After a moment he released the latch and unfolded it, revealing an old photograph hidden within. His attention remained fixed on the image. Four children stared back at him from another lifetime.

At the center stood the oldest, a black-haired boy perhaps fifteen years old, dressed in simple leather clothing worn by hardship and travel. Even frozen within a photograph, there was something unusual about him. Clustered around him were three younger children. One was a dark-haired girl with obsidian feline ears and crimson streaks running naturally through her hair, her expression captured mid-argument as though even the photograph itself had failed to contain her energy.

Opposite her stood a pale, white-haired girl with matching ears whose furious expression suggested the argument had been entirely mutual. Near the edge of the photograph stood the final child, partially obscured and noticeably younger than the others. A small boy with crimson hair and tiny draconic horns looked almost out of place among them. He appeared weaker, quieter, and far more innocent than the figures surrounding him.

Ares studied that child for several seconds before his gaze inevitably returned to the black-haired boy at the center. The change in his expression was subtle enough that most people would never have noticed it. The cold indifference that normally defined him receded, replaced by regret. Slowly, he traced a finger across the image before closing the pendant once more. The quiet click of the latch echoed softly through the office.

He returned it to the drawer, shut it away, and lowered his attention back toward the reports scattered across his desk. For a few moments he attempted to resume working, but the effort was futile. The words blurred together before they could form meaning. His thoughts had already escaped elsewhere, drawn toward a pale-eyed boy who should not have existed, a boy whose continued presence defied every conclusion Ares had once accepted. Toward Vale.

The sharp ringing of a communication device finally interrupted the silence. Frowning, Ares retrieved it from his pocket and glanced at the sender. One eyebrow rose slightly. Korin. A distress signal accompanied the message. A Category Three creature had appeared beyond the walls of Irea. Under ordinary circumstances, such a report would have demanded an immediate response. Today it barely warranted a second thought.

A Category Three posed a serious threat to civilians, but the Royal Guard existed precisely to deal with threats of that caliber. By now dozens of guards would already be mobilizing, and within a short time the creature would almost certainly be dead. Ares set the device aside without concern and allowed his attention to drift once more. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Almost unconsciously, his hand rose toward his shoulder and settled over an old scar hidden beneath layers of armor and clothing. The wound no longer caused physical pain, that had faded years ago. The memory remained. The orange-haired boy. The Temple of the First Creator. Everything that had happened afterward. The impossible changes. The unanswered questions. The lies. The confrontation. At first, Ares had believed the explanation was straightforward. An angel. A failed infiltration.

He had confronted the boy personally and accused him directly, only to discover that while his suspicions were not entirely wrong, they were far from the full truth. What he had uncovered instead was stranger than anything he had anticipated, and after everything that had occurred within the Tower of Ruin, only a single theory remained that could plausibly explain it all. The angel had attempted to seize the boy's soul, and something had gone catastrophically wrong.

The soul survived, the body changed, and the angel remained. The result was neither human nor angel but something caught between the two, something far more dangerous than either, still wearing the face of a child. Ares closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. For months, he had wondered whether Vale might somehow be connected to the black-haired boy in the photograph.

The similarities were difficult to ignore, the pale skin, dark hair, stubbornness, reckless courage, and absolute refusal to stay down no matter the odds. Yet there were differences as well, enough to prevent certainty and leave room for doubt. Until he learned the truth, however, one fact remained unchanged. He would protect the boy. Whether Vale wanted that protection or not. A deafening explosion shattered the silence. The entire tower trembled violently as the windows rattled in their frames.

A second detonation echoed across the city a heartbeat later, and Ares was already moving before the sound had fully faded. His chair toppled backward as he crossed the office and reached the massive window overlooking Irea. His eyes narrowed. Then grew. A colossal raven was soaring across the sky. Onyx feathers shimmered beneath the sunlight, monstrous wings casting vast shadows over the city below, and its enormous frame dwarfed nearly every structure beneath it.

Perched upon its back was a familiar figure clad in black armor, an obsidian mask bearing the image of a golden sun concealing his face. Ares recognized him.

"What an idiot." The window exploded outward as he launched through it, not from an attack but from the sheer force of his departure. Reinforced glass and stone shattered behind him while the city blurred below. He landed briefly atop the Royal Guard Tower, wind whipping violently around him as his crimson eyes tracked the raven's trajectory and calculated distance, speed, and timing in an instant. One leap. That was all it would take. One leap and one strike. The raven would fall. Vale would survive.

The problem would be solved. Ares bent his knees, cracking the stone beneath his feet, and launched himself forward. The world detonated behind him. The roof fractured beneath the force of his departure as he accelerated through the air at incomprehensible speed. Buildings became streaks of color below while the distance between him and the raven disappeared with alarming speed. Closer. Ans closer Something slammed into him from the side. The impact struck with enough force to rival his own momentum.

Both figures plummeted from the sky and crashed into the street below, stone erupting upward as a massive crater formed beneath them. Dust rolled through the district while nearby civilians fled in panic. When the haze finally settled, Ares found himself kneeling amid shattered stone. His jaw tightened. Slowly, he raised his head. A figure made entirely of darkness stood across from him. Living shadow swirled around a humanoid frame while ruby eyes glowed through layers of black mist.

The darkness shifted constantly, as though struggling to remain contained within a single shape. Shade. The Hero of the Slums. The Guardian of the Desert Temple. Vale's shadow. Ares rose to his feet, dust cascading from his shoulders.

"You cannot defeat me." His voice remained calm without even a hint of worry.

"Step aside." Shade did not answer. The shadow's glowing eyes never left him. Ares sighed.

"I am only concerned with your master's safety. If you continue this, he could die." Still nothing. The silence itself became an answer. Ares focused as Shade slowly cracked his knuckles before bringing both fists together. The sound echoed through the ruined street. Then, without speaking a word, the shadow raised a hand and beckoned. Ares stared for several seconds before exhaling heavily. Of course. This was never entirely about protecting Vale. Shade wanted this. No, he had wanted this for a very long time.

Ever since their first meeting. Ever since he had realized exactly how vast the gap between them truly was. Ares slowly raised his hands and settled naturally into a fighting stance.. The air grew heavier, charged with an oppressive pressure that seemed to spread through the surrounding streets.

"Very well." His crimson eyes pierced the shadow.

"This will take less than a minute." The ground beneath his feet cracked as the pressure intensified.

"Do not expect your regeneration to save you. Your master would not appreciate your death." Shade reacted. His ruby eyes widened slightly before a grin emerged beneath the darkness, wide, wicked, and unmistakably eager. Then he began walking forward. He was not retreating, stalling, or merely buying time for Vale's escape. He was doing exactly what he had always wanted to do. Fight.

Standing before him was the opponent he had desired above all others: the strongest guardian in Irea, the man who had never acknowledged him as an equal, the warrior he had dreamed of challenging since the day they met. Far above them, Illu disappeared into the distant sky. Far below, the city seemed to hold its breath. And in the ruined street between shattered buildings, two monsters prepared to collide.