In the depths of Hades, between the eternal thrones.
Metis leaned against Hades's side, her fingertips unconsciously gliding over the cold folds of his black robe, her voice playful:
"The war in the world seems about to burn its last vestige of resistance. That Alexander seems to be just one step away from unifying the Greek peninsula. And our God-King's recent frequency of descending to the earth is quite unusual..."
Hades's gaze remained calm as water.
He recalled Poseidon's seemingly absurd situation, which ultimately stirred fate.
Even his reckless sea brother could lead to such variables, so what scheme lay behind his brother Zeus, the God-King sitting atop Olympus with an endless thirst for power, and his frequent interference in the process of unifying the world?
Hades would never naively think that Zeus was only acting for fatherly love or glory.
Just as Hades was contemplating Olympus's movements, a storm was already brewing on the Vanaheimr side in Northern Europe.
Hermes, still 'reluctantly', had delivered the video of Ares harassing the Valkyrie to his worried brother,
of course, after Prometheus had exchanged it for valuable 'foresight' knowledge.
Prometheus looked at the crystal, his face turning livid.
Ares's frivolous eyes, his aggressive behavior towards the Valkyries, and the shameless gestures to force Týr into a fight in the video completely confirmed his fears.
Atlas, his simple and powerful brother, must no longer be entangled in such a filthy 'infatuation'! He needed to show Ares's true face!
However, Atlas's ontological power was too great to actually descend into Northern Europe.
To end this twisted, ill-fated connection, Prometheus made a bold decision.
He found the goddess of magic, Hecate, and, risking angering the Earth Mother Goddess Gaia, begged for her help.
Thanks to Hecate's deep understanding of boundaries and secret tools, they quietly took earth and lava containing Gaia's power and magically created an avatar capable of bearing part of Atlas's will and power.
Unlike a simple projection from the Greek realm, this avatar required a great deal of energy and was extremely unstable to maintain the connection between worlds, but for his brother, Prometheus was willing to take any risk.
This avatar of the giant god, radiating the breath of earth and fire, finally crossed the world barrier and set foot on the land of Vanaheimr.
It followed the faint sensation of twisted 'obsession' in its heart, searched until the end, and finally, in a quiet forest by a lake, saw the figure it 'thought of day and night'—Ares.
However, its attention was not drawn to a scene of Ares displaying his power.
The afterglow of the setting sun covered the lakeshore with a layer of gold. Ares, the war god, and his former enemy, Týr, the god of justice, sat side by side on a huge blue stone.
The distance between them was so small it exceeded that of ordinary companions, and Ares's always cruel face now wore an almost submissive, relaxed expression, and he even leaned his heavy head against Týr's shoulder armor.
Although Týr still sat upright with a serious face, there was no rejection in his eyes; instead, there was an indescribable tolerance.
Their posture revealed a strange intimacy and tranquility that could only be found after violent conflicts and deep exchanges.
The surrounding air seemed sticky and warm, and time slowed down at this moment.
There were no words between them; all communication was integrated into this silent dependence and exchange.
After the initial conflict, the fierce battles, and the subsequent three days and three nights of unknown, profound 'exchanges',
a complex bond, transcending friend and foe, mixed with violence and understanding, conquest and acceptance, had already bound them together.
Their faces, outlined by the setting sun, were very close.
Their breaths seemed to merge with the humid lake vapor and each other's unique scents—Ares's of gunpowder smoke and a faint fishy note of blood, Týr's of cold steel and ice.
Their shadows stretched long behind them, and finally, beneath the blue stone, they perfectly merged into one, indistinguishable.
Just as the atmosphere was about to reach a certain point—
"I shouldn't have let you come."
A low, suppressed sound of an endless storm exploded like muffled thunder, shattering the tranquility of the lakeshore.
Ares and Týr were both shocked almost simultaneously and instantly awakened from the beautiful atmosphere.
They parted abruptly and followed the sound.
He saw a huge figure standing there, on the edge of the forest's shadow.
Made of dull earth and cooled lava, it radiated the heaviness and oppressive heat of the earth—this was Atlas's avatar.
His eyes, made of fiery magma, looked at the two people on the blue stone at this moment, especially Ares, and his eyes were full of the rage of being betrayed.
Ares frowned, a flicker of uneasy displeasure on his face, but it was more like fear.
He recognized the breath of this avatar; it belonged to the giant god who had killed him in Greece with one blow, and he was 'captivated' by him.
Týr quickly stood up, sharply looking at the uninvited guest, slightly raising his hand in a protective gesture.
He felt the other party's obvious hostility and powerful oppression.
Atlas's stony face contorted, step by step emerging from the shadows, his heavy steps making the ground tremble slightly.
Ares whispered:
"But I'm still here."
Atlas's gaze finally fell upon Ares. He looked at how close he had been to Týr just now, now full of vigilance towards himself. A sour and brutal feeling flooded his mind.
"It seems..." Atlas's avatar began to emit a dangerous red light, and the earth and stones cracked violently. He nearly gritted his teeth and said word by word:
"Now is not the time for me."
Before the words faded, the giant's fist, clenching the anger of the earth and fiery magma, with a collapsing momentum—not at Týr, but directly at Ares, who had just been close to Týr—and shot recklessly!
He wanted to tear apart this ugly picture! He wanted to make this war god, who had defiled him, pay the price!
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