Raezel stepped forward, arms crossed, eyes cold. He didn't look afraid.
He didn't even look impressed.
"You know, Ares," he began, his voice casual—too casual. "You're not the first god who's wanted me dead."
Ares narrowed his eyes.
Raezel's smirk grew. "Actually, there's barely a god or demi-god who hasn't tried to kill me." He gestured lazily around the hall. "And yet, the moment they step in front of my mother—" he tilted his head toward Medusa, whose eerie, knowing smile remained untouched— "they suddenly forget how to look me in the eye while speaking."
Ares clenched his fists.
"And yes, exactly," Raezel continued, his voice dropping slightly, almost mocking. "You think it, and I state it. Your life is my one wish away, God of War."
The weight of those words settled in the air like a thundercloud.
For the first time in his immortal existence—Ares felt envy.
Raezel stood before him, arms crossed, gaze unwavering.
He did not flinch.
He did not bow.
He simply was.
Ares had faced warriors, kings, and gods. He had seen power in all its forms—raw, refined, divine.
But Raezel carried something else.
Unshaken certainty.
Even Ares had never stood with such certainty.
Raezel did not need to prove himself. He did not need to demand respect. He existed beyond fear, beyond doubt—beyond Olympus itself.
For all his strength, for all the wars he had won, Ares had never stood before anyone like this.
He had always been a god of conflict, a weapon forged for war.
But Raezel?
He was his own force, which changed fate itself.
He had already done what no one else could—he had rewritten fate.
And that… that was what Olympus feared.
Ares' fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, though he did not raise it.
He exhaled slowly, voice low, edged with something he had never spoken aloud before.
"What a terrifying thing you are, boy."