The smoke was faint at first—
a thin gray line curling over the treeline, barely visible against the amber sunrise.
To Ares, it was enough.
He stood at the edge of Camp Drakon, arms folded, eyes narrowed.
Kael loomed behind him—silent, unmoving, a sentry made of scar and purpose.
The message was clear.
The Grounders were no longer watching.
They were marching.
Within the hour, the camp came alive.
Octavia moved like a drawn blade—checking perimeter traps, commanding scouts, barking orders with quiet authority.
Clarke rationed supplies with surgeon precision, turning chaos into rhythm.
Even Bellamy worked under Atom's supervision, grim and wordless.
No one waited for permission.
No one asked who led.
They already knew.
At the clearing's edge, Ares paced out a section of dirt with Kael and Miller. He crouched, drawing lines in the soil.
"Three paths lead into this camp," he said.
"Two force them between trees. One's wide enough for a charge. That's where they'll come."
Kael grunted his agreement—a low, rumbling sound that wasn't quite human.
"They always charge when they think you're weak," Ares added. "So we let them think it."
He straightened, opened his interface, and the faint blue shimmer of the Primordial Ascent System flickered across his vision.
SYSTEM ACCESSING — DOMAIN DEFENSE PROTOCOLS
Fortification Bonus Active: +10 % Defense to all units within claimed territory.
Would you like to assign Tactical Roles to bonded allies?
[YES]
Clarke — Command Support
+5 % Morale +10 % Recovery Speed for wounded allies
Octavia — Vanguard Executioner
+15 % Mobility +20 % Critical Strike Chance
BONUS:Synchronized Strategy — Allied efficiency increases when bonded fight within proximity.
Ares felt it immediately—the pulse of two souls syncing to his will.
Clarke's focus sharpened like a steady flame; Octavia's heartbeat quickened, violent and eager.
Each bond vibrated in tune with his pulse.
Blood of the Gods wasn't metaphor anymore.
It was command made flesh.
By midday, a scout stumbled from the forest—an arrow jutting from his thigh.
Monroe half-carried him, pale and shaking.
"Ambush," she said. "Two Grounders in the west. They waited—silent."
Ares only nodded.
"Then it begins."
Dusk
They came with the setting sun.
Twenty Grounders, painted in bone ash and blood, silent as executioners.
But Camp Drakon was ready.
The first trap burst upward—spikes impaling two runners.
The second detonated as Kael erupted from the undergrowth, roaring, tearing through a flank like living artillery.
Then came Ares.
He moved through the chaos like a storm given shape.
[Current Stats]
Strength 13 Agility 12 Constitution 11 Charm 14
Blood of the Gods — Two Bonds Active: Combat synergy +15 %
A Grounder swung a machete.
Ares caught the blade barehanded, skin splitting—but steel stopped short against bone.
He twisted, snapping the attacker's wrist, then drove his knee into the man's chest.
Bone collapsed. Air fled. Silence.
Another came from behind.
Octavia struck first—her blade flickering like firelight, each movement guided by instinct that wasn't fully hers.
Her eyes glowed faintly, golden threads connecting her heartbeat to Ares's.
Clarke shouted orders from cover, her voice carrying like command itself.
Wounded delinquents moved faster, steadier, driven by her presence—unaware it was divine compulsion disguised as courage.
Even Bellamy fought—clumsy, defiant—but this time he didn't falter.
Fear had a leader now.
When the last Grounder fell, the camp went still.
No cheers. No boasting.
Just the sound of breath and blood cooling in the dirt.
Ares stood among the fallen, shirt torn, skin streaked crimson and ash.
He stared toward the trees, raised one hand—and dropped the Grounders' blood-marked banner into the fire.
SYSTEM UPDATE — FIRST BATTLE: COMPLETE
Outcome: Total Tactical Victory
XP + 1 500 → LEVEL 5
Attribute + 3 Skill + 1
Bond Synergy Bonus: Shared kills multiply bonded XP gains.
New Trait:King of the Ground — +10 % Strength & Charm while fighting on conquered territory.
That night, no one spoke rebellion.
They sharpened weapons.
They buried their dead.
And every glance toward Ares carried the same silent vow: Follow. Obey. Survive.
Clarke sat beside him by the fire.
"You made them ready," she said quietly.
"No," Ares replied. "I made them endure."
Octavia leaned against a post, arms crossed.
"So what's next?"
He looked at the crude map carved into the dirt—the three paths that no longer threatened him.
"We take ground," he said.
The flames reflected in his eyes like the birth of an empire.