***
Fear and death hung heavy in the air as Leonidas surveyed the grand battleground.
Crimson liquids gushed from torn flesh, and severed limbs littered the land as soldiers fought with every ounce of strength for their survival. Entire armies of courageous warriors were swallowed whole by the vicious onslaught, leaving nothing in their wake but a rolling sea of mutilated bodies and anguished screams.
The very earth trembled beneath the thundering steps of Damasen, a Giant born to be Ares' bane, whose sinister laughter resonated through the atmosphere like a twisted symphony; his bare feet drenched in the blood of fallen combatants.
Yet Leonidas remained composed amidst the carnage surrounding him.
It wasn't a sight that a fifteen-year-old boy should've been accustomed to. But as a son of Ares, he had no room for fear. Immersed in this theater of war, he could feel the intoxicating adrenaline race through his veins, fueling his desire for brutal conquest. Even if it meant death.
With an ear-splitting battle cry, Leonidas surged forth. A Gorgon hissed in his path, but with a powerful swing of his radiant golden
He turned, and met face-to-face with Aecor, son of Nemesis; Syial, daughter of Athena; and Thesais, son of Dionysus — his formidable comrades-in-arms — they descended upon a nearby Fury like ravenous wolves tearing apart their prey.
"Come!" bellowed Leonidas, striking the death blow. He aimed his xiphos at Porphyrion who grinned maliciously while crushing even more of his comrades. The malevolent smile vanished instantly upon Ares' arrival. "We must help my father!"
His comrades acknowledged with solemn understanding.
The tactic for gods and demigods was to split and conquer the Giants: Poseidon clashed against Polybotes in the ocean; Zeus challenged Porphyrion in the heavens; and Hades fought Alcyoneus near Taenarum—a Greek city concealing the entrance to the Underworld. In distant battlegrounds, divinities clashed with Giants. Victory for Olympus and its demigod allies hinged on defeating Giants before their own perished.
Leonidas and his allies formed an unyielding Phalanx—a circle of shields acting as an indomitable barricade.
A monstrous Cyclops and a Karkinos charged towards them, attempting to break their steadfast formation, but their efforts were futile.
Enraged, Thesais thrust his
Triumph was fleeting.
An enormous, imposing figure approached them from the flank.
Possessing silver hair, sunken gray eyes, and Greek swordan emotionless expression. He wore gleaming gold armor and wielded an immense long-sword in his left hand.Greek sword
Hyperion, a Titan.
In one swift motion, he crushed Aecus beneath his mighty foot in a bloody display of power.
Thesais' agonized cries reverberated across the battlefield as he tried desperately to flee. Hyperion's merciless stomp came smashing down once more, obliterating both Syial and Thesais in a gory mess.
Leonidas stared wide-eyed at the remnants of his former comrades – chunks of flesh and innards strewn across the now crimson-stained sand. He suppressed his revulsion, for there was no time to grieve; he had to fight.
Inhaling deeply, Leonidas whispered a fervent incantation and steeled himself: "Father, bless me..."
Hyperion charged forward, and bellowed in a low voice, "Prepare for death, Son of War!"
"...For I am Leonidas."
In a flashing speed, Hyperion now stood before Leonidas', his arm outstretched, his long-sword overhead, threatening to bring it down in an overwhelming force.
"Son of War."
As if commanded by some unseen force, Hyperion suddenly stopped mid-charge. His body seemed paralyzed in fear at Leonidas' command.
It was then that Leonidas unleashed his dormant power. A crimson aura swept through his being as his sword blazed in its new found glory. As he charged forward with murderous intent, Hyperion remained motionless-- frozen by the indomitable force of Leonidas' will alone.
With one brutal slash from Leonidas' xiphos, the Titan was gutted open, spewing bright golden ichor onto the battleground. A pained roar erupted from Hyperion's throat but he quickly recomposed himself and shifted to evade.
However, Leonidas reacted with anticipation.
He launched another strike in a diagonal arc, severing Hyperion's right arm entirely. The severed limb fell to the bloodstained sand as did the long-sword that had aided it moments ago.
Hyperion looked up in shock as raw emotion seeped through his hollow grey eyes. He stood motionless this time from submission rather than fear—a silent acceptance of his inevitable death.
In yet another vicious and savage strike, Leonidas plunged his xiphos mercilessly into Hyperion's engorged neck, ripping it apart. Blood gushed out like a gruesome waterfall as the Titan's insides spilled onto the shredded battleground. Unlike the vile creatures before him, his carcass did not vanish, but instead lay still amid the ravaged battlefield.
"The King of Sparta shall not be defeated by you, Hyperion," Leonidas declared. He stood within the destruction for a moment, silently surveying the mutilated corpses of his fallen comrades.
A deep sorrow engulfed him as he realized that his newfound strength had come at a devastating price – only through the loss of his kin on the battlefield had such power been granted to him.
He was the Last Son of War.
Despite yearning to mourn and grieve for those dear to him, Leonidas recognized that this was not the time to do so. The battle must rage on.
And thus, with a heavy heart burdened by sadness, he decapitated an advancing Gorgon without hesitation.
The blood-soaked aura that surrounded Leonidas did not fade away. Instead, it intensified, attracting hordes of monsters who raced toward him as he marched at the fierce clash between Ares and Damasen. Yet their approach did not bother him; it filled him with joy, relishing in the opportunity to slaughter those responsible for his comrades' demise.
Fueled by vengeance, he slashed, stabbed, and annihilated an array of monsters in his wake. Sweat shimmered on his brow, and his arm felt heavy, but he persisted undaunted. From a distance, he noticed more and more demigods reviving and gaining morale from Leonidas' unwavering display of strength.
His parade of death came to a screeching halt as he stood before Ares and Damasen.
Ares' form flickered, shifting between his true nature and a physical embodiment. He commanded a chariot, steered by a blood-soaked, fire-spewing horse. His weapon transformed continuously, his grasp changing from a dagger to a scimitar, ultimately settling on a javelin. It appeared as though he couldn't make up his mind.
The god and the Giant clashed fiercely, neither gaining the upper hand. They stood motionless, resembling two intoxicated, elderly fathers engaged in a brutal fist-off.
Leonidas exchanged provocative glances with Ares. Despite the lack of spoken words, Leonidas understood his duty.
Bellowing loudly, he charged forward, severing the head of a nearby Ogre in an explosion of gore. He dove to the ground and executed a precise strike on Damasen's Achilles tendon. An agonizing scream emanated from his throat as he leaped upward in torment.
In retaliation, Damasen delivered a bone-crushing stomp upon Leonidas' fragile body.
Excruciating pain surged through every fiber of his being. He could feel bones splintering within him and blood gushing from his lacerated throat.
Then, all sensation vanished as darkness consumed him, and he experienced nothing more.
***