Ares cut through the enemy with his blade. It was as though he was cutting through butter. He was just that strong that he could cut through flesh, sinew and bone without a single feel of resistance. Yet… even though he knew this was all happening, feeling the blood splatter against him and around him like a red mist, he didn't actually… feel anything.
There was no horror, no pleasure, no… anything.
He cut through them as though he was tearing through paper and letting them drop. Yet though he could hear them drop, he did not listen to such a thing. He didn't listen to the cried, the shouts, the screams, or the howling pain. He didn't listen to the clash that had crashed around him.
It was as though he was cutting through sunflowers. He did not think of them as people, as beings he was snuffing the light out of. No.
Yet. The thought did cross his mind.
