Dusk, sunset.
A crimson sun blazed.
The sound of hooves.
Wolf howls.
Flames roared, igniting houses and swiftly spreading outward.
And—a wolf, revered by the steppe tribes, tearing at his flesh.
"High Priest, once we finish the final check on the sword's seal today, we can head back, right?"
Mars, the war god, had long been revered by Romans, especially their ancient armies and warriors, who believed he ensured their victories.
Though faith in gods had waned in modern times, objects tied to Mars still held significant power.
Chief among them were the temple dedicated to Mars and the sword believed to be his.
The residual divine energy on the sword worried Italy's magical associations, who feared the sudden descent of a Heretic Mars.
After extensive deliberation, the mystical community decided to use a strategy of balance: enshrining the Sword of Mars within the temple, letting the two counter each other.
This had kept things stable for years.
"Yes," The middle-aged High Priest, responsible for the temple's seals, nodded. "Let's check the sword's seal now."
Though many divine priests were women, Mars, as a war god, favored bold, martial warriors.
Thus, the priest overseeing the seals here was a man skilled in both magic and combat.
"The High Priest is always so cautious," one of the accompanying priests remarked.
"It's about a Heretic God—how could I not be?" He replied.
"Haha, fair point."
They chatted lightly while meticulously inspecting the temple's magical arrays.
"The invocation in Romulus's name for pacification… it needs reinforcing."
"The prayer to Mars—"
"And the backup seal, using Bellona's power for appeasement—"
"Good. Today's inspection is complete. Everything's as it should be," The High Priest said, exhaling in relief.
The accompanying priests relaxed visibly.
The daily checks were tedious, but they knew their work's importance.
"Daddy!"
A childish voice called from the entrance, followed by a three- or four-year-old toddler stumbling into the temple hall, happily hugging the High Priest's leg.
"Phew, you scared me, Ro," The High Priest said, stiffly wiping sweat from his brow before crouching to scoop up his son.
"Ro, don't run in during temple inspections. It's dangerous."
"It's okay," The child said, blinking big eyes obediently. "I waited until Daddy said the check was done."
"Even so—" The High Priest's face softened into a mix of helplessness and affection.
His wife had died in a raid against cultists, leaving his son as his sole motivation for his diligent work.
Maybe next time he should avoid bringing his son here?
But as High Priest, he rarely left the temple.
No, he was overthinking it. Two priests stood guard outside; they'd stop his son if he tried entering during an inspection.
"Daddy, let's go practice swordplay!" The toddler said, tugging his sleeve with a high-pitched voice.
"Alright," The High Priest said, smiling helplessly under his colleagues' amused gazes, nodding and following his son's pull.
"Speaking of, that sword technique I taught you last time—"
His words cut off.
"High Priest! Look!" A terrified shout came from behind.
He already felt it.
In the hall housing the sacred sword, patterns—painted, carved, or forged from gems—lit up.
But in the next moment, as if drained, they dimmed one by one.
The Sword of Mars on the altar radiated a blinding golden glow.
"Ro, get out—" His hand landed on his son's shoulder, but he stopped himself.
Nowhere might be safe.
If so, his son was likely safer by his side.
"Everyone, reinforce the Bellona appeasement spell with all you've got," He ordered, taking a deep breath.
"Yes, sir!"
But—
The Oath of Mars spell: collapsed.
The Admonition to the Father God: collapsed.
The spell drawing on Mars's power lasted less than a second.
Even the final, heavily relied-upon appeasement spell, powered by Bellona, held for only a moment before failing.
The sword, glowing with golden divine energy, broke free of all restraints, rising slowly from the altar.
"O God—" Despite dwindling hope, the High Priest led the others in kneeling, bowing in desperate prayer. "Please quell your thunderous wrath!"
The sword seemed to hesitate, circling them once before resolving, flying toward the High Priest.
In stunned disbelief, he found his hand reaching uncontrollably, slowly grasping the Sword of Mars's hilt.
His eyes were instantly flooded with golden divine energy.
"I—"
The "High Priest" Stood, sword in hand, his presence commanding.
His voice carried pride and fury.
"I smell a wolf."
"Daddy." The boy, sensing his father's change, cautiously clutched his sleeve, gently shaking it.
A true warrior does not strike those without the ability to fight.
Even as a Heretic vessel, even with a mind steeped in madness, this remained true.
And…
"Your name is Ro? A fine name."
The "High Priest" lowered his gaze to the child.
Then, he grabbed the boy's collar, lifting him.
A gentle force sent the child flying safely away.
"The wolf's scent is approaching."
The "High Priest's" face regained its majesty.
Under divine power, his appearance began to shift.
His bones cracked as his height surged by over twenty centimeters.
His features grew more striking, divine.
"That wolf—the wretched Hun wolf that tore at my nation, devoured my flesh!"
***
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