Inside a reinforced fortress built from layers of steel and concrete, a long-haired man with distinct Middle Eastern features stood near a balcony, holding a glass of red wine.
Below him stretched a sprawling military base.
Soldiers patrolled constantly, their footsteps echoing across the compound while armored vehicles rumbled quietly between checkpoints.
Only a year earlier, Ismail's life had been entirely different.
Back then he had been nothing more than a small warlord hiding with his followers in remote mountains, constantly fleeing from stronger factions. Now everything had changed.
Today he was the true ruler of his homeland, Kahndaq.
The transformation had happened so quickly that it sometimes felt unreal.
And yet the man responsible for that miracle did not bring him comfort.
Instead, Ismail frowned.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
A tall elderly man approached slowly, leaning on a gentleman's cane. His face showed the marks of age, but his presence carried overwhelming authority.
Even inside the heavily guarded headquarters of a warlord who ruled a nation, the old man walked as if he were the monarch of a palace.
"Are you worried about your country?"
The voice was calm.
Ismail immediately turned around and bowed respectfully.
"Your Majesty."
There was a hint of surprise in his eyes.
"Aren't you supposed to be attending Kovik's celebration banquet? They're celebrating their victory in the Kanturk war and the occupation of tens of thousands of square kilometers of territory."
The man standing before him was the real power behind Kovik.
Without this mysterious supporter, Kovik would never have had the confidence to wage war against Kahndaq.
"I dislike mortal banquets," the old man replied with a contemptuous smile.
"When glasses clink together, everyone pretends to be polite and refined. But inside their hearts they hide calculation, violence, darkness, and cruelty."
He shook his head.
"That kind of hypocrisy disgusts me."
Ismail lowered his head respectfully.
"For someone who has attended the banquets of the Olympian gods, our mortal gatherings must indeed be beneath your notice."
"Olympus…"
The old man sneered faintly at the word.
Mockery flashed in his eyes.
"Your Majesty," Ismail said after hesitating for a moment, "I've always wondered where you found the crown belonging to my ancestors. I searched for it many times before but never discovered it."
"You don't need to know," the old man said coldly.
"That place is not suitable for you."
The man speaking was Ares.
Originally he had simply wanted to provoke war between two small nations for entertainment.
Yet the tiny kingdom caught between the Middle East and North Africa had surprised him.
When he was selecting a local warlord to support, he suddenly sensed something unusual in Ismail's blood.
Magic.
And something darker.
"Is it because Black Adam is sealed there?" Ismail asked quietly.
Hatred flashed across his face.
"Thousands of years ago my ancestor, King Acton, ruled this country. If it weren't for Black Adam, our family would still control the nation that rightfully belongs to us."
Long ago, his ancestors had forged a magical crown.
Through it they formed a contract with six powerful demons of hell. Their family was supposed to rule Kahndaq forever.
But Black Adam had destroyed everything.
"Don't think possessing contracts with those six demons will allow you to defeat the mortal chosen by those wizards," Ares said dismissively.
"You possess the power of six demons."
"But he possesses the power of six gods."
His voice was calm but carried unmistakable warning.
"How can demons compare to gods?"
"Even if he is only a mortal wielding fragments of divine power, the difference remains."
Ares had no interest in ruling Kahndaq himself.
He allowed Ismail to treat the nation as his property because it amused him.
War was the only thing that truly interested the God of War.
Kahndaq and Kovik were simply pieces on a board.
Like lions fighting tigers in an arena, they entertained him while feeding his power.
"You are right, Your Majesty," Ismail said quickly.
Feeling the faint dissatisfaction in Ares's tone, his body trembled slightly.
He knew very well that Ares feared the release of Black Adam.
If Black Adam escaped, he would destroy Ismail's forces and end the war between the two countries. That outcome would ruin Ares's entertainment.
"After some time," Ares said lazily, "I will allow Kahndaq to win a battle."
"Thank you for your generosity, Your Majesty."
…
Far away across the ocean, moonlight shimmered over gentle waves.
Silver reflections danced on the water while the quiet rhythm of the sea filled the night air.
Yet on Paradise Island, many Amazons found it impossible to sleep.
Inside the palace overlooking the coast, Hippolyta stood beside her daughter.
Concern lingered in her eyes.
Servants carried two ancient artifacts into the chamber.
The first was a dark golden shield.
"This is called the Divine Shield," Hippolyta said quietly.
Diana lifted the heavy weapon, her eyes lighting up as she examined the elegant patterns engraved on its surface.
The designs resembled rays of sunlight spreading outward.
The shield was both beautiful and majestic.
"It wasn't forged directly by the god of fire," Hippolyta explained. "But its material is the same divine metal used in your bracelets."
"That means it's indestructible," Diana said softly.
"And it can protect you even from attacks by gods."
Weapons forged from divine metal were considered true artifacts.
Earlier that day Hippolyta had made an agreement with Victor.
If he accomplished the impossible and killed Ares, the Amazons would recognize him as king just as they honored the gods.
But she had added another condition.
Diana would accompany him.
"When a god is slain, their body dissolves into the heavens and cannot be touched by mortals," Hippolyta had said earlier.
"My daughter will witness the death of Ares and confirm it for the Amazons."
Without a witness, no proof would remain.
Now Hippolyta gently touched Diana's face.
"My Diana…"
Her voice carried complicated emotion.
Since the moment her daughter was born, Diana had never left Paradise Island.
She had lived a peaceful life untouched by war or real danger.
"And now," Hippolyta murmured, "the first time you leave this island, you must face Ares."
The most terrifying god in existence.
"Don't worry," Diana said confidently.
She held the shield firmly.
"Pray for me, Mother."
Under the moonlight she looked like a statue of a war goddess carved from pure white jade.
Majestic.
Unyielding.
"I will return to Paradise Island in glory."
The thought of battling the legendary God of War filled her with excitement.
Hippolyta sighed quietly.
Then she lifted another weapon.
A sword.
"This…!" Diana gasped.
She immediately recognized it.
The Amazons had built a tower specifically to guard this blade. It was their most precious treasure.
She had never been allowed to approach it before.
Now she gently touched the cold edge of the weapon.
"It is called the Sword of Vulcan."
Two dragon-shaped guards flanked the hilt while ancient symbols were carved along the blade.
The edge was so thin that it could slice through hair.
"It was forged by Hephaestus himself," Hippolyta explained.
"It is one of his greatest masterpieces."
"And it can cut through anything."
"Anything?" Diana asked.
Her thoughts drifted briefly to the man sleeping peacefully in the palace.
Despite everything the Amazons had thrown at him, he had not suffered a single injury.
Could this sword break his defense?
"It will help you kill Ares," Hippolyta said.
Diana frowned.
"Isn't killing Ares supposed to be the trial for that man?"
"Diana," Hippolyta said slowly after dismissing the servants.
"The only being capable of killing a god… is another god."
Even if "killing" only meant driving the god from this world.
Victor was powerful.
But Hippolyta knew something important.
"He does not possess the aura of a god," she said quietly.
"He is not a deity of any civilization on this planet."
"Then he's destined to fail," Diana said softly.
"Yes."
Hippolyta nodded.
"That challenge is impossible."
Her plan had always been simple.
Victor would challenge Ares.
During the battle he would weaken the God of War.
Then Diana would deliver the final blow.
"My daughter," Hippolyta said firmly, "you will complete the task of killing Ares."
"Me?" Diana blinked.
"But Mother… didn't you just say only a god can kill a god?"
Hippolyta hesitated for a long moment.
Then she spoke again.
"This sword has another name."
Her voice was quiet.
"It is called the God Killer."
"God Killer?"
"Zeus himself gave it to the Amazons," Hippolyta explained.
"It was meant for the greatest Amazon warrior to destroy the evil God of War."
…
The next morning, sunlight bathed Paradise Island in golden light.
Victor stood calmly on the beach.
He had slept peacefully in the Amazon palace.
Interestingly, the Amazons had not attempted to attack him during the night.
"Either they consider it dishonorable," he mused, "or they think they can win."
Victor smiled slightly.
Soon Diana appeared on the shore.
She looked completely different.
Her war skirt shimmered in the sunlight. A winged crown rested on her head while combat boots covered her feet.
A sword hung across her back.
A shield rested on her arm.
She looked exactly like a war goddess descending onto the battlefield.
Victor raised an eyebrow.
"Divine shield. Sword of Vulcan. And Hermes's flying sandals."
"After one night, you've collected three divine artifacts."
His gaze lingered briefly on the sword.
It was a terrifying weapon.
The blade could cut matter at the subatomic level.
Even Kryptonian durability could not ignore its power.
Diana had once severed Doomsday's arm with that weapon.
Diana looked at Victor under the morning sun.
His relaxed posture and handsome appearance reminded her strangely of Apollo, the radiant sun god.
Her mother had already told her everything.
Victor believed he could conquer the Amazons.
But he had no idea the trial was a trap.
She glanced back at her mother and the warriors watching from the cliffs.
For some reason, the entire scene felt strangely familiar.
Just like the ancient myths she had heard growing up.
"The cruel king assigns the hero an impossible task," Diana thought.
"A challenge no one could survive."
Heracles and the Twelve Labors.
Jason and the Golden Fleece.
Perseus and Medusa.
Everyone always believed the hero would fail.
Yet somehow, the hero always returned alive.
Diana looked back at Victor.
A hint of sympathy flickered in her eyes.
"Maybe the story will end differently this time," she thought quietly.
Because the man standing before her didn't know something important.
His fate had already been decided.
"As a mortal," she murmured inwardly, "you cannot kill a god."
....
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