The morning air was cold and heavy, thick with the smell of wet ash. Camp Drakon woke to screaming.
Ares was already out of his tent before Clarke's voice cut through the chaos.
"Somebody help—!"
He followed the sound to the riverbank. A crowd had formed—Bellamy, Finn, Jasper, Miller, half the camp.
At the center lay Wells Jaha, throat opened clean, his blood soaking into the dirt.
Clarke knelt beside him, hands slick with red, trembling. "He's gone," she whispered.
Ares crouched. No signs of struggle. Whoever did this was quick. Efficient. Cold.
Then the whispers began.
"It was Murphy."
"He hated Wells."
"He's been waiting for something like this."
Bellamy stepped forward, rage bleeding through every word. "You were with him last night."
Murphy took a step back. "We were on patrol! He went off on his own—"
Bellamy shoved him. "Don't lie to me!"
The crowd surged, a storm of grief and fear desperate for a target. Murphy fought as hands grabbed him, dragged him toward the half-built scaffolding near the firepit. Someone found a rope. The mob screamed for justice.
By the time Ares reached them, the noose was already around Murphy's neck.
"Stop," he said.
The word froze the air.
Bellamy turned, eyes blazing. "He killed Wells. You want to just let him walk?"
"You don't have proof," Ares said. His voice carried calm — the kind that scared people more than shouting. "And justice without proof is just revenge."
Bellamy's jaw tightened. "Then what do you call this?"
Ares looked around at them all. "Weakness."
Murmurs spread. Then a small, fragile voice cut through them.
"I did it."
Everyone turned.
Charlotte stood at the edge of the crowd, barefoot, trembling, streaks of dried blood on her hands.
"I killed him," she said. "He deserved it. My parents died because of his father. He had to pay."
Silence fell heavy as stone.
Murphy stared at her, disbelief mixing with relief. Bellamy's hand went limp. Clarke's lips parted in shock.
Ares walked toward her slowly, boots crunching the dirt. The camp watched, waiting for him to speak.
When he stopped in front of her, he crouched low so their eyes met.
"You killed a sleeping man," he said quietly.
Tears streaked her face. "He was the Chancellor's son. They sent us here to die. It's his fault."
Ares studied her — a trembling child caught between guilt and vengeance.
"Do you understand what you've done?"
"I made it right," she said.
"No," Ares replied. "You made it worse."
He rose to his full height and turned to the crowd. "This is what happens when chaos rules. When pain decides who lives and who dies. It ends now."
Then he looked back to Charlotte. "Come with me."
The camp watched in silence as he led her through the forest. No one followed. Even Bellamy didn't speak.
They walked until the trees thinned and wind swept through the clearing. Ahead, the cliff dropped into a shroud of mist and rushing water.
Charlotte stopped. "Are you going to kill me?"
Ares's expression didn't change. "You killed because you thought pain made you strong. You mistook vengeance for power."
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"I know."
He rested a hand gently on her shoulder.
Then he pushed.
The scream was short. The river swallowed it.
Ares stood there for a long moment, watching the fog curl over the edge like smoke. Then the system pulsed behind his eyes.
SYSTEM LOG: Justice Path Chosen
Domain Fear +15% | Morale Stable
Trait Unlocked: Cold Authority – Subordinates and enemies hesitate before defying direct orders.
When he returned to camp, the crowd parted around him without a word. Murphy sat near the firepit, rope still coiled at his feet. Bellamy's jaw worked, but no sound came out.
Clarke stepped forward. "You killed her," she said, voice trembling.
"She killed him," Ares replied. "I ended the chain before it dragged us all down."
"She was a child."
"She was a murderer," he said flatly. "And I don't care how small a murderer is."
Clarke's eyes hardened. "You're not saving these kids, Ares. You're turning them into something else."
He met her gaze, calm and unshaken. "Good. Something that survives."
She turned away, disgusted — but she didn't walk far.
Later that night, Murphy sat by the fire, eyes hollow. Ares approached in silence.
"Never thought I'd owe anyone my life," Murphy muttered. "But here we are."
"You don't owe me," Ares said. "You owe the truth. You didn't kill Wells. You were just the first one they hated enough to hang."
Murphy snorted. "Story of my life."
"You want that to change?" Ares asked. "Then earn it. Fight for something bigger than survival. Fight for me."
Murphy's eyes flicked up. "You serious?"
Ares extended his hand. "I don't make offers twice."
Murphy hesitated — then gripped it.
SYSTEM NOTICE: "Blood of the Gods" Activated
Subject: John Murphy
Status: Loyal (Devoted)
Stat Transfer: 8% Host Stats Applied
Passive Ability: Survivor's Instinct – Enhanced resilience and reaction under lethal pressure.
Trait: Unkillable – Host alerted if Murphy vitals fall below 10%.
Murphy's eyes glowed faintly for a second. When he looked up, he wasn't afraid anymore.
"What now?" he asked.
Ares nodded toward the training grounds. "Tomorrow, you teach them how to fight dirty."
Murphy smirked. "Finally, something I'm good at."
As Ares turned to leave, Clarke's voice came from the shadows. "You think fear will keep them together forever?"
"No," he said, not looking back. "But it'll keep them alive long enough for loyalty to take its place."
Thunder rumbled in the distance, rolling over the camp like a warning.
SYSTEM UPDATE:
Domain Morale: 94%
New Bond Formed – John Murphy (Devoted)
Trait Evolved: "King of the Ground II" – +5% Charm and Influence when quelling internal revolt.
Narrative Flag: The Kingdom Within Arc Initiated.
By dawn, the camp was quiet again—but not the same. The ground still carried the stain of Wells' blood. The air still remembered Charlotte's scream.
And when people whispered around the fires, they didn't talk about fear anymore.
They talked about Drakon.
The man who made judgment look easy.
The man no one dared to cross.