Ares remained somber for the next long while. He needed the time to himself, finding himself suddenly alone in the world. Not quite alone, for he had his allies around him, but rather… lonely. For once, unbelievably, he missed his old life. It hadn’t been all bad he supposed, though of course thinking further on it, he was still glad he had been transported to this world.

 

Even now he didn’t know whether or not he had died, or if something else had happened. His body was completely new, and he rather enjoyed having such a body, especially with all the perks he had gained from Levi. Whenever he had thought about the previous life and what had ended it, the cold sweats clung and gripped his core, as though a greedy merchant unable to let go of his wares. Yet the one thing he wanted to know more than anything was why.

 

Why?

 

Why had he been transported to this world, what purpose did he have here? Zeus had apparently had a lot of fun here, perhaps some of the mythology in his world had been stories of his accomplishments here, though he had no doubt Zeus was just one hell of a horny egomaniac. Was Ares really any better?

 

Ares.

 

He had taken that name in order to embody the god of war, and yet he was no god of war. He was barely a god, as much as he said so. He was but a man, a foolish boy really. He had accomplished nothing of note really, though he supposed that conquering the Dragon’s Spine was something a little cool. Though was it?

 

Dragon’s Spine had yet to be truly conquered, after all he had only made his way to the shrine and then a few metres beyond. Though what was it really? Dragon’s Spine continued onward and he had yet to conquer it’s mysteries, he had looked at the ocean, dipped a finger in and then called himself a ship captain.

 

Ares winced as a thudding pain crossed the back of his head and he turned around to see Torak, hand splayed out as though about to catch his worry.

 

“What was that?” Ares asked.

 

“You were thinking,” Torak replied.

 

“Right, so?”

 

“Stop it.”

 

Ares frowned. “Stop it? Stop thinking?”

 

“That kind of thinking?”

 

Torak sighed. “Your thoughts are not just your own, Ares. Everyone can feel them too,” he said as he glanced across the others. Ares followed his gaze and he could see the solemn mood of the others, which had soured in comparison to before. Ares flushed a gentle crimson and then looked across the bronze path that had been painted in the purple hue of the evening.

 

“Let’s rest,” Ares said as he stopped the party and went about his typical routine of creating an encampment for everyone. He remained by himself, trying to not think, though he couldn’t help himself. Everyone else had placed their trust in him and he was babbling about like a babe.

 

A god of war?

 

He was barely a babe of war, a little baby not unlike Runar, just waddling his way through life. Even Runar stepped more confidently than him, Ozar too. Was Ares more like Ozri? Perhaps he was.

 

Ares inhaled deeply and then sighed it. He had only a single thought in his mind. ‘Fake it until you make it.’ That was that.

 

When the meal was served, this time with puffed up baked bread like buns, which tore open to reveal a cloud-like inside, Ares turned to Orndu. “Tap your drums, let’s shave a wonderful evening, shall we?”

 

The others grew in alarm at his words. Ares had yet to be so jovial in such a time, especially after he had moped around for so long. Yet Orndu did as Ares asked, hoisting his drum over his lap and then tapping it gently with his left hand as he ate with the right, as Ares had motioned for him to do.

 

Then Ares turned to the rest. “I have told my children of this story, but I have yet to really tell many others. I believe Torak may have heard it as well, but I suppose I may as well tell the rest of you too. This is a story about…” and so Ares trailed off, regaling the tale of an adventure of many together, a group of dwarves, a wizard, and a little man who found himself to be a thief, who had slain ogres with his quick wit, met and lived through goblin creatures, and then survived an encounter with a dragon.

 

He had summarised many parts of the story, though spoke as poetically as he could about the more interesting parts. His audience listened, captivated by Ares’ words, by either the fact he was a King, or by the opinion that he told the story well enough. Ares was no orator, not really, for there were those much better suited at such a task than he, but he did as best as he could, even throwing in some flowery language and purple prose, just a sprinkling of it.

 

Soon the world was a void, darkness had long crept over, only kept at bay by the flickering flames of the dying embers. The light licked at the party, illuminating them within the cocoon that was their encampment. When all had eaten their fill, there were just moments of silence followed by the crackling of flames.

 

“I am gl-” Ares said before his ears perked up. He straightened to attention and then stood up, creeping towards the box, opposite where Torak had been on watch. Ares leaned in to stare at the outside world, where he could see tiny figures crawling along their way towards him. Ares narrowed his eyes to see further in, and yet he couldn’t really make them out, not until the moon’s light glinted off a solitary figure, illuminating their horn ever so slightly for him to see.

 

Ares motioned with a hand back to his allies and then put out the flames, shifting the wood that had been burning. Ares continued to look out to see whether or not there were others, and indeed he had seen far more specks, as though ants, on two sides. One ahead and one to the right, and so Ares did what any rational fellow would do.

 

He began to stack earth in blocks, another layer to provide more protection. This wall was half the size of the other wall, but was made with much thicker blocks, and was further away. A minor obstacle for them to utilise against the enemy. Ares turned and whispered.

 

“Get ready, I believe we have found ourselves some buffalofolk, though I can’t be sure. They have horns similar to Torak, but I didn’t get the best look.”

 

Torak nodded his head, excusing the casual racism Ares had employed, as it wasn’t that big of a deal, in fact it probably wasn’t even a thing in this world. Ares decided against mentioning it for the time being, or rather for as long as he could.

 

Ares peeked over to see that the shadows had fallen still. He had no idea why, but then realised perhaps seeing a new wall appearing out of thin air had put them on guard. That may have done it, though he couldn’t be entirely sure. Ares remained staring out into the distance, though none approached. They were like this for a long time before Ares motioned with a hand.

 

“At ease,” Ares whispered, “go ahead and go to sleep. I’ll stay on watch.”

 

“I will remain on watch as well,” Torak said.

 

“No,” Ares waved them away from him. “Go to sleep, I’ll wake you if anything happens. I am best suited for such a task, not sleeping fo-” Ares paused. His injury still plagued him, and if he passed out during the night it would have been a bad time for all of them.

 

“Nevermind. I’ll remain awake and we’ll do our watches too, I’ll stay awake with one other. If something happens to me then they can awaken everyone else.”

 

“If something happens to you?” Beor whispered as best as he could, though his voice was a gruff growl rather than a whisper.

 

“I am still injured and I may succumb to it,” Ares said.

 

“Injured?” Beor asked, again with his raspy growling.

 

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Ares waved a hand again.

 

“We will keep the world dark as we rest then,” Torak said.

 

“Shit,” Ares turned to face his companions. “They’re coming.”

 

The shadows had moved, now creepy ever closer. Ares couldn’t make out exactly how many there were, but his best guesstimations were about twenty total? A group of ten and ten, though he still wasn’t entirely sure.

 

The Statue Seven, who hadn’t entirely gathered where their name had been derived from, had raised their weapons, ready for a fight, and some of them eager for a fight.

 

Eventually the shadows stopped again, and Ares whispered as such, trying to keep an eye out on the plains. He shifted tiny holes within the wall for the others to see through across the way, and so they were all separate, next to the walls.

 

Ares’ ears twitched as he heard some whispering off in the distance.

 

“The wall definitely wasn’t there before, right Absy?”

 

“That’s right, I definitely didn’t see it when I went forward.”

 

“So what, it just appeared out of thin air?”

 

“Maybe he just didn’t see it?”

 

“Do you think me blind, you blue-ass fuck?”

 

“You didn’t seem me when I f-”

 

“Shut up!” the voice was deep and instantly the others grew silent. “You didn’t see the wall, did you Absy?”

 

“No, definitely not…”

 

“Then we can assume they know we are here.”

 

“How do you want to do this?”

 

“I don’t. If they know we are here, then their senses are keener than ours.”

 

Ares shot forth one of the blocks that had been simmering a low ember, which lost it’s flame in the air, but landed towards the stranger’s general direction.

 

There was a sigh and then a shuffling before the crackle of something and the stranger raised a lit torch. It was a buffalofolk, big and tall, perhaps a solid nine feet in height. They were built as though someone had taken two strong lifters and then mashed them together.

 

“Jesus, that guy is yolked,” Ares whispered to himself.

 

The buffaloman then turned and raised a hand and motioned with it and before long the other group had revealed themselves too. Ares had surmised about twenty of them, but there were only really about twelve. He couldn’t be sure if there were more, or if he merely miscounted because they were all quite big. No, he hadn’t miscounted, for there was another group of six between the two groups that seemingly had gathered together.

 

The large buffaloman walked forward alone. He had long black hair that fell down his shoulders, his beard was short but thick and round, reminding Ares of the pillow-like bread he had just ate. He wore a single sheet that was pinned near a shoulder, revealing that side under it, and he also wore a skirt around his waist, and then thick sandals boots. He also carried with him a large axe on his back.

 

“Strangers, what brings you to our lands,” the buffaloman said.

 

“Why do I need to reply to a stranger?” Ares asked.

 

“I am chief Boranran, what of you?”

 

“I am King Ares, Master of Waters, Kin of all Riveans.”

 

Boranran remained silent. Ares could see the recognition within his eyes. Ares pulled out a torch, motioning his people down before he sat down on the box he made for the fort. He shuffled slightly as he tried to sit down before his hand shifted to flames to reveal himself and he held up the torch beside him to illuminate him. He leaned over to the side and casually relaxed.

 

“I can assume why you have come, Ares.”

 

“You may be right, or you may not be.” Ares shrugged his shoulders.

 

Boranran growled quietly and then motioned his head to one of his men, who bolted away. Ares wondered whether or not he could chase them down, but at the same time he didn’t want to leave his companions behind.

 

Boranran remained silent and then after a long while, Ares shifted the torch away. Then finally he whispered to his companions to take watch with him, one at a time, but to rest and prepare for the morning.