Marcus…
Hearing his invitation to battle, Ares smiled as he pulled his sword from its sheathe and said, “I accept!”
With those last few words spoken, the final match of the fourth bracket of the Contest of Champions began. The spatial battlefield unfolded around them and the two displayed their swords proudly against one another.
But before Marcus could advance, Ares locked eyes with him for just a moment and found himself trapped in an illusion of sorts.
The scenery all around him changed from a near empty, endlessly vast battlefield to the hellscape of No Man’s Land in 1940’s Germany.
The scene then shifted in between various battlefields such as Russia, Vietnam, Iraq, and even New York.
The ear splitting sound of machine gun fire, the thunderous booming of tanks, the bloodcurdling whine of mortar shells falling, the sound of missiles passing through the air, and finally the overwhelming might of nuclear bombs detonating and filling the eyes with the might of an exploding star before one’s eyes.
The entire time the scenes changed and passed them by, Ares had been standing next to him, staring at the horrors of what war on Terra had evolved into as he said, “What kind of...abominations have humans brought upon themselves?”
Marcus looked up at him and said, “For a god of war, you seem a little scare of it just now.”
“Are humans truly able to bear witness to such power, undaunted, and are still willing to face off against it without fear of their own death?” Ares asked him.
“No. Rather, they fight it in spite of knowing they might die from such overwhelming power because they have no other choice. Its fight and die, or surrender and be subjugated, and like them, I refuse to surrender,” Marcus said, and as he said those words, the illusion shattered and the two warriors stood with their swords firmly gripped in their hands.
“Very well, then let us see how long you can last against your own world’s might,” Ares said as he raised his sword, which resembled the tooth of a dragon, as he plunged it into the dirt.
Wait, is he-?
Before he could finish the thought, the ground fractured all around where Ares’ sword had been buried as black smoke erupted from the cracks. From within the smoke, skeletal hands broke through the dirt and began crawling their way out.
The smoke then began to envelop the area around Ares for many miles, of which a hundred million skeletal warriors rose up and thick tendrils of death root began to wrap around their bodies and keep them together.
“Those aren’t Draugr...they’re Spartoi,” Marcus realized as he recognized the ritual of burying a dragon’s tooth in the ground to summon skeletal warriors.
Indeed they are. The name for them in this world is Dragon Wraith, but Spartoi would be more accurate, Malthael said to him.
Alta told me how much of a pain in the ass it was for him to fight just ONE of those things. One that was made using your power too.
This will likely be far worse. Prepare yourself Marcus.
As if on cue, something about the Spartoi warriors began to change as the smoke rose from the ground to solidify around them, condensing into what looked like armor.
But then, as the view of that armor became clearer when the smoke began to settle and dissipate, he started to be filled with a deep sense of disgust and anger at the sight of them.
“Y-You...dare use the armor that I invented against me?” He asked Ares as he grit his teeth.
Indeed, every Spartoi warrior that stood before him wore the very same armor that Marcus had developed and used to wipe out the gangs in New York. The very same that he had provided the blueprints and funds to the 300 so that they could make their own and go to war.
Ares spread his arms out wide as he said, “Prove yourself worthy of standing on the same battlefield as me by wiping out all the warriors you see before you! Only then will I fully acknowledge you!”
Marcus let out a growl as he said, “Very well…”
Do you require my-
“NO! I will kill all of them myself! Stay out of it Malthael!” he said aloud as he pulled out Seventh Sinner, readied his sword, coated his entire body in armor and threw himself into the fray.
From what he could tell, the armor the Spartoi were wearing was still the same titanium metal that Marcus had used when building his own, which he found odd.
Why not use Black Iron or Adamantine? Why use a non-magical metal?
To create Black Iron for so many warriors would be far too demanding on the god’s reserves of energy. As for Adamantine, it would be outright impossible as it would bond with his magic right away and be rendered useless as the Spartoi would not be able to utilize it as they are separate beings, albeit under the god’s control.
You’re being shockingly useful today. I guess I should say thank you, Marcus replied as he drove the point of his sword into the skull of one of the Spartoi, planting his armored foot on its chest as he yanked his sword free and pulled the skull and spine clean from its body.
With the flick of his wrist, he sent the skull flying off of his blade and turned to sweep it through a five others who failed to block his attack as their combat knives shattered on impact.
Then, much to his surprise, he heard a slight ding reverberate within his helmet as a 50 caliber round slammed into it.
They’re using guns as well huh…? Fine. Let’s see how well they last against mine.
He took off running, increasing his speed close to that of lighting as he carved his way through the Spartoi soldiers, destroying armor, shattering swords, and taking the full brunt of every shot that they could manage to land without concern.
Regardless of their numbers, regardless of their advanced weaponry, the resistance they put up was not enough to deter him in the slightest.
When he looked back at them, he expected to see nothing but a smoldering pile of bodies and ruined armor, but was shocked as all those he had killed were putting themselves back together.
Only a mass of intense heat is enough to put a Spartoi down. Your lighting alone, though very powerful, would not be able to burn all of them completely to ashes before you drain your reserves of power.
Hmm…
As he was trying to come up with a solution to put them down for good, he heard the sound of a gunship flying overhead at it rained fire upon him.
Is that an AC-130?! Marcus thought as its bullets slammed into him with far greater force than anything the infantry was able to hit him with.
“Shit!” he shouted as one of the bullets hit his shoulder with enough force to actually dislocate it.
He then leapt into the air to evade its fire as he said, “Fine! I’ll take this seriously! Release 20%, Dragon Glass and χειμών πνεῦμα (Storm Soul)!”
He was about to jump back into the fight when he was hit by an AP shell from a battleship as it slammed into him with enough force to send him crashing back to the ground and crack his ribs.
As he struggled to breathe, he slowed down his perception of time around him to allow himself some time to recover and think about what to do next.
If your lightning is not enough to burn them to ashes, then imbue it with Arcanence and take control of them instead, Malthael suggested.
I can do that?
I do not know, but it is always good to try.
It was a better idea than nothing, but he wondered if his body would be strong enough to withstand a constant flow of Arcanence before he turned into an undead mess of death root.
No use bitching about it right now though.
While releasing a stream of electricity from his body, he called on Malthael to collect a mass of Arcanence from within his soul and transfer it to Marcus as he imbued it within his lightning.
Instead of the blue or red color he was used to, it turned into a sickly pale yellow color.
It made him feel instinctively uncomfortable, but he decided to bear with it as he swept his sword through the Spartoi warriors and overloaded their bodies with electric Arcanence of his own.
To his surprise, they stiffened up for a second, began shaking violently within the armor, before going completely still.
The Spartoi who hadn’t been hit by his death lightning backed away from those who had as they eyed them warily.
The ones he took control of then knelt before him as they awaited his orders.
Seeing this, Marcus raised his sword arm as he pointed it in the direction of the others and said, “Kill and enslave all the enemies you see before you.”
Before his own Spartoi warriors could turn on their former allies, he applied a curse on each of them. One that was aggressive and would spread from one to another like a plague as his warriors would continue to fight for him. Their weapons would be imbued with his death lightning, and every attack they inflicted upon his enemies would carry that curse, enslaving more Spartoi until all of them were under his control.
His Spartoi warriors charged as Marcus looked up at the AC-130 flying above as it was preparing for another volley, and he jumped into the air after it.
He soon landed on the front of the cockpit, with the Spartoi Warriors inside staring at him as they pulled out handguns to try and shoot him off.
Their bullets shot through the glass and hit him but did nothing to shake him off as Marcus shot them with death lightning infused bullets using Seventh Sinner and all those inside were quickly put under his control in a matter of seconds.
The pilot then stared at him as if expecting orders, and Marcus said to him, “Rain fire upon them all.”
He then let go of the cockpit as he began falling through the air to rejoin the fight but was hit by a hail of bullets.
“What the fu-,” he swore as he thought he had taken control of all of the Spartoi in the warship but found himself being chased after by five F-35 Lighting fighter jets.
One of them was letting loose a hail of bullets as it was flying closer and closer to him, nearly about to ram him with its wing.
“FUCK OFF ASSHOLE!” Marcus shouted as he swung his sword through the aircraft and cleaved it in two.
The destroyed fighter jet began falling to the ground and slammed into the Spartoi below.
He then turned to look at the other fighter jets circling around to hit him again as he pointed Seventh Sinner at one of them and fired.
His bullet hit the rear-most fighter jet in the cockpit and instantly took control of the Spartoi within as it started firing at the ones in front of it.
As he continued falling to the ground, he noticed that his Spartoi were very quickly carving a path through Ares’ own forces and bringing them over to his side.
The god himself was watching as all of this was playing out, not concerned in the slightest as he looked up and watched Marcus fall back to the battlefield.
When he finally did crash back onto the ground, he said, “Release 50%,” and began fortifying himself with armor so heavily compressed and durable that it would have been able to take on even Malthael’s strikes with little damage.
With Light Taker still in its longsword form, he swatted away all of those that tried to charge him head on.
For his left hand that held Seventh Sinner, he switched his grip on the gun so that he was holding it upside down and created a frame that would better brace for the recoil. He then made five additional barrels attached at the end of the gun and made them spin around, effectively turning his revolver into a Gatling gun as it started shredding through their armor and taking control of the Spartoi by the thousands in a matter of minutes.
Yet, as easy as it seemed for him to take over Ares’ army on the surface, constantly placing curses on Spartoi with a flow of Arcanence flooding through his body was nauseating and very physically demanding as he had to maintain a flow of energy within his own body to burn away any death root that tried to form within him.
But after nearly half an hour of constantly slaughtering Spartoi warriors and enslaving them onto his side, he finally killed the last one with a swipe of his sword as he split it in two.
Huffing in exhaustion as he stopped the flow of Arcanence through his body and reabsorbed his armor back into himself.
Ares, who had been patiently waiting for the constant slaughter to come to an end, said to him, “It took you long enough. I must say, I’m rather surprised you chose to take the direct route instead of just killing all of them in one all encompassing attack. Why is that?”
Through his heavy breaths, Marcus said, “Its true...I could have done that. However...what would be...the fun in that? What message...would that send? I want nothing more than complete and total victory. To show that I can fight and kill anything you put in front of me with as minimal of required force as I need to. To show that I would need half as much effort as you think I need to fight you, or even less if I could manage it.”
Despite the clearly intended disrespect in his words, Ares smiled and said, “You wanted to embarrass and demoralize me…Interesting.”
Ares then snapped his fingers and all of the Spartoi that Marcus had killed and taken control of, including the tanks, and battleships, fighter jets, and warships, all of them vanished as they disintegrated into dust along with their armor.
Marcus turned around and watched as Ares’ forces fell to ashes and sighed in annoyance as he realized what the point of all this was for.
“You did all this…put me through all that, just to exhaust me, didn’t you?”
“Does it matter?” Ares asked as he pulled his sword from the ground and the dragon’s tooth shattered into pieces before he put it back in its sheathe.
The god then grabbed hold of the two strange rods, flicked his wrists, and the two weapons extended into their true forms.
In his left hand, he held Zeus’s master bolt.
In his right hand, he held Poseidon’s trident.
But just as Marcus was expecting him to charge right away, Ares slammed the but of the trident into the ground as he reached for the helm at his side and put it on.
“Hades’ Helm of Darkness…,” Marcus realized, to which Ares smiled and nodded.
“With the unity of these three weapons, I will defeat you here and now, but out of professional courtesy, I must ask you. Do you think that Light Taker alone would be enough to fend me off, because that little pea shooter won’t do a damn thing but irritate me,” he asked, as if wondering if Marcus had any other tricks up his sleeve to help him in this fight.
But just as he was about to answer no, he remembered what Moyako had told him the previous night.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” he answered as he changed Light Taker’s form from a longsword to a katana and held it one handed in his right hand.
With his left hand, he raised it up into the air and said, “Koi, Kakure Sakura (Come, Hidden Sakura).”
A flash of lightning lit up the sky and struck the ground between them as Moyako’s katana, or no, the katana that was still rightfully his own, crashed to the ground.
With his left hand, he reached out and gripped the handle firmly in his hands.
Marcus pointed the tip of Kakure Sakura at Ares and said, “With both of these blades, your life will come to an end.”