Ares knew an explosive when he saw one. Dominus and Ignizz had vast, encyclopedic knowledge knowledge of monsters, resources, and historical sites of interest but, when it came to explosives, this was an area of expertise Ares would not be trumped in now or ever. Every single one of these Viking ships were rigged to put on a spectacular light show and the goal was apparent; blow the mutated mountain sky high and have it come crashing down on the region like a ton of bricks. This wasn't a region wide devastation type plot like Xasca but most of the Isaz population was centered around small towns near the base of the mutated mountain so it honestly didn't matter. If the mutated mountain came tumbling down and crushed all nearby civilisation only about ten to fifteen percent of the population would remain unaffected and survive on the outskirts. At that point, it could be considered effective eradication of the nation and its natives. Also, this was supposed to be in addition to all the Xascans who fled here after the sinkhole incident took place and the Federation had sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Destroy the Federation to cut off retreat by sea, force the Xascans to abandon their home country due to the quarry and weasel issue, and then bury them under the rubble of the mutated mountain after they fled to the well built and established areas of this region. A neat and comprehensive plan to decimate millions of lives in three fell swoops but Ares had wrecked two of the three plans and had his sights currently set on the third too. Stumbling across these were purely coincidental but it's not like Ares wouldn't deal with them while he was also in the firing line and had his hand forced. As for how to deal with the Nu Kings explosive boats... They could either be detonated one by one somewhere safe or Ares could just chuck them off the mountains and have them land in the middle of nowhere. The explosions would only be problematic if they occurred near the base of the mutated mountain so as long as that could be avoided the worst would never come to pass. Also, the leader and his personal over-sized ship were nowhere to be found so Ares didn't have to worry about that right now which was a bit of extra weight off his shoulders. The explosion that thing would create would be monstrous and needed to be tackled with utmost surgical precision.
Thirty? That was roughly how many floating boats were rowing their way over to Ares and starting to bear their fangs. Vikings riding the boats were wielding either plain bows and arrows, presumably this was the gear handed out if they weren't crack shots like their companions, or top of the line crossbows with inbuilt sights, explosive tipped arrows, and auto targeting reticles. Honestly they probably also auto corrected the direction and trajectory of the shot based on wind speed and gravity, Ares wouldn't be surprised if such a convenient feature existed but he couldn't see it at a glance anyway. Point being, there were a lot of ranged projectiles that were gong to be coming his way and that was still only the tip of the iceberg. The weaponry of the Vikings was one thing but the weapons attached to the boats, the heavy weapons, were easily the bigger threat... Well not to Garmr, not really, but the firepower they could unload was greater than that of the handheld tools used by the Vikings at least and so they warranted a degree of attention comparatively.
Maybe if that polar bear from earlier picked a fight with this mini army it would be felled not by blade or bow but, rather, by the ballistae mounted onto the ship's hull, capable of firing metre long projectiles tailor designed to fly straight and true while piercing everything in their way. The ballistae were ergonomic, sleek, and only required a few taps on a nifty screen to align and fire. They also came with an automatic reload function doing most of the heavy lifting so rapid fire would be a concern and something to watch out for but, more importantly, the arrows were tinged a worrying purple at the tip. Garmr could take the arrow head on, it might even just bounce off him actually, but poison would potentially be an avenue to best him if he was stubborn about flaunting his resilience. Of course the revenant regeneration would kick in to nullify the poison, as well as the Extinction Converter that would burn away any invasive substances, so it was unlikely Garmr would be taken down by such a strategy but it wasn't impossible to die to a rare / exotic poison he'd never heard of. If Ares just walked in a straight line, waltzing headfirst into the arrows with complete disregard, and allowed himself to be hit by multiple tens of these poisonous arrows, thinking he couldn't be put down by something so insignificant, he might wind up hurling up his guts by the end of the fight and feeling rather miserable. He was still assured he wouldn't die, the chances of such a powerful poison existing in a lower domain were low, but it was better to just not even entertain the poison in the first place. Besides, rather than permitting the ballista to fire upon him endlessly without any sort of counter attack, Ares had a better idea in mind.
As the first ballista signalled the start of all out war, by hurtling a giant arrow at Garmr, Ares shot his paw hand out a caught the projectile between two fingers. This seemed to cause the Vikings to pause for a split second, their weapons' assault had never been so casually dismantled before their eyes before, but what would get them moving again was Ares twirling the arrow in his hand before throwing it right back to sender. The arrow vanished, becoming a streak of light that shot straight through the ship that fired it initially. The blow was so severe it even dragged the ship backwards through the air until it was crashing over the side of the mountain and freefalling through the sky. Some of the Vikings were capable of flying as they were in transition realm but about half the crew were doomed to go down with the ship. For better or for worse they wouldn't have to worry about crashing through the sky because Ares had aimed directly for the core of the ship. Before they could even worry about slamming all the way down to the ground the ship blew up, leaving behind nothing but murky black smoke and pieces of shattered wood flying through the air. The explosion was of a considerable size but not big enough to destroy a mountain on its own so, chances are, someone in Neo Gear had a detonator to simultaneously blow up all the ships. If they were capable of tracking their location remotely they would also inevitably be capable of tracking the state of each individual ship too. This was problematic as the second they noticed the ships going out of commission one by there would be a rush to have them all blow up regardless of whether they were in position or not. A rushed detonation would still be better than no detonation and knowing Ares would be in the vicinity, probably even be the one responsible for attacking the ships, meant now would be the ideal time to let loose. One destroyed ship might jsut be seen as an accident, maybe something to do with the Frozen Throne's interference, but by the time Ares broke three of their toys there would be no looking back. The Torchbearer had probably only not detonated them prior to now because he A, wanted to catch Ares in the blast and B, was making moves in other countries to drag more victims here. He would give up on the latter plan in a heartbeat to make the first a reality so Ares was going to have to be quick. Throwing the ballista bolts back to sender was a viable strategy but it was far too slow.
...
All the ships needed to be detonated off the mutated mountain and at roughly the same time. This was no small feat but Ares felt like he had the power of a million men at his disposal in Garmr form so he wracked his brain for ideas. Usually he would have to apply various restrictions to his crazy ideas, there were some things he just couldn't accomplish as a human, but now? No matter how whacky any idea sounded in his head Garmr could probably facilitate it! As such, it didn't take Ares long to come up with a solution at all, actually. He was, in fact, already on the move and dashing through the snowy terrain, right towards the centre of the floating armada. He positioned himself so that every single floating ship had an angle on him and could fire openly without worrying about hitting their comrades. This might have seemed generous but he was just taking advantage of their determination and stupidity for now to make his life easier later. Sure enough, he'd barely slid to a halt when one of the nearby ships opened fire. The couldn't resist the bait no matter how obvious it was. They might not have known his goal but if he was willing to put himself in the hot seat like this they should have at least been aware that they were doing exactly what he wanted by firing upon him. It was especially strange when Ares merely stepped to the side and let the bolt rocket into the ground and anchor itself without interfering. It was doubly strange when the next bolt fired at him missed but, because it was aimed poorly and not at the floor, he grabbed it out of mid air and slammed it into the floor beside him. The keen eyed amongst the Vikings were aware he was hoarding their own bolts but couldn't seem to care less and kept up the ballista spam hoping to hit, at this point, even a single bolt. Garmr was surprisingly nimble for such a large creature as his feet swivelled and carried his massive frame along with them. his tree trunk arms swiped in large arcs, bundling up incoming bolts between his hairs and muscles. The bolts rolled along the inside of his arm until they fell into his hand and were firmly gripped before being shove into the floor at regular intervals. Ares used telekinesis to slow another onslaught of bolts down to a crawl as he dashed around on all fours like a bloodhound following a scent and gathered up the projectiles with his bare teeth. Once more he slammed down the caught bolts and, slowly but surely, he was forming a a row / fence of embedded bolts that curved into a circle around his starting position.
No matter how many times the Vikings fired upon Garmr his overwhelming might enabled him to crush any and all attacks, halting them, breaking them, or swiping them out of the sky to add to his own collection. At one point it seemed like Ares getting his was an inevitability. The Vikings, in a moment of unintended co-operation, managed to fire upon him from all directions simultaneously. No matter how he manoeuvred here Ares was too big to avoid upwards of fifty arrows coming at him from a three hundred and sixty degree barrage. It wasn't what the Vikings were trying to do, they were purely selfish and operating under a 'constant fire' principle, but the stars had aligned and things seemed bleak for Ares... Not. He was Garmr right now and such a scenario could barely even be considered a problem by his standards. Ares lifted his hand high and brought it thundering down on the mountain, slamming his fist like a divine hammer as he growled in exertion. This was his first time really putting his back into a Garmr swing and the result spoke for itself as the ground surrounding him jumped in fright. The shockwave pummeled the earth, creating a tsunami of snow and mud that flicked up from the floor and smacked all the incoming projectiles harmless into the air. The ground collapsed back on top of itself while the spinning bolts all fell directly above Garmr who looked upwards at them and inhaled sharply. The breath funneled the bolts, bunching them together and pulling them down to earth where Garmr could catch every single one of them with a single grasp of his massive black hand. Once more there was a pause from the Vikings ass they reassessed the likelihood of success here. It was hard not be discouraged and demoralised after realising the monster had been toying with them the whole time and barely lifting a finger in the process. If Garmr's breath could manipulate their bolts then all he had to do was blow his nose and he would be immune to their entire fleet's firepower. He really only was catching the bolts for some other plan and not because deflecting hem was inconvenient, he could do that whenever he damn well pleased. One Viking fired another bolt and made a last ditch attempt, out of pure disbelief, thinking it had been a fluke and couldn't be repeated. Ares was in the mood to both test out his strength and show off so he aimed his arm towards the incoming bolt and flexed his muscle. The force of his contracting flesh created an air pulse that was aimed perfectly right above the bolt, smashing it directly down into the ground where it was promptly buried in the blink of an eye.
Unsurprisingly the ships turned around and tried to leave. The Vikings, who prided themselves on suiciding headfirst into stronger enemies had completely given up and acknowledged the pointlessness of this endeavour. Their suicidal charges were an attempt to leave a mark for the next Viking in line to exploit. Wave tactics and loyalty were the driving factors behind this deeply ingrained decision and way of life... But what was the point if they couldn't even leave a dent by expending their entire life in a desperate bid? If dying here wouldn't provide anyone left afterwards with any sort of benefit then charging towards the towering monster was fruitless and wouldn't reward them with any kind of glory in death. They were just not strong enough to make any impact and, while it was embarrassing, and many of them believed Valhalla was no longer accessible as a result, they simply couldn't bring themselves to throw their lives away for literally no reason. It was like trying to break a block of marble with a hose, they were merely polishing it and making it look even shinier than it did before! Ares was getting a chance to show off precisely because they kept attacking him; a highlight real for their opponent was about the scope of their contribution to this 'fight'.
If nothing else, the ships the Vikings were riding were more valuable than their own lives so piloting and escaping with them still mostly intact was at least some form of usefulness. It was the only thing they could manage in this situation and so they hadn't utterly abandoned their duties, dying while retreating so long as the retreat served a grander purpose other than saving their own hides was acceptable too. If all the ships fled in different directions some of them ought to at least live to tell the tale and report to the clan leaders about what happened here today and why a majority of the clan had been devastated and murdered in a single confrontation. Some of the smaller, faster, scouting-oriented ships even had recording technology so plans could be made to reattempt killing the colossal wolf monster with hindsight knowledge... Well they could try anyway, none of them really believed this thing was killable with any means the Nu Kings had at their disposal. It wasn't for them to decide though so they just had to report this anomaly to their warlords. Most of the Vikings didn't even understand where this foul creature had come from, and some had fainted upon seeing it speculating it had risen from the depths of hell, but a couple cultivators had realised it was either responsible for the giant furred fist the other day or the reason it appeared at the very least. If that were true then this monster was impossible to beat, and this was an unfair expectation so shame be damned, meaning it was high time to skedaddle... But would they be allowed to? Even if they showed an ounce of teamwork and all scattered in different directions like rodents, could they really flee from Garmr before he caught them all? The ships were amazing but they weren't the fastest modes of transportation ever. They sacrificed some mobility for the ability to even be used at this altitude so it would take about five minutes to flee to a place that could be considered distant from this battlefield.
Ares noticed this shift in attitude towards him but wasn't too worried about chasing them all down because he didn't have to. These people weren't going anywhere, not on is watch. He angled his head upwards and let out a sharp, debilitating howl that stunned all the Vikings on the spot while interfering with the electronics aboard their ships. Blackout. Garmr's howl didn't just stun humans, the pitch and force of the soundwaves could jam electronics, providing a miniature emp effect for a split second. Every single ship veered downwards as their engines shut off and steering was disabled. The captains all tried their hardest to regain control but the wheels were stiff and unresponsive. The omnipresent howl locked down all controls for long enough to make the ships tumble into the snow with a rough landing but there were no casualties. All the seats aboard the ship were well protected with bubble runes and belts used for emergencies so the strapped in Vikings were unharmed... Though they were also trapped now too as the howl disabled the belts automatic unlocking feature so they were basically glued to their seats aboard the ships. This was perfect because Ares didn't want to have to hunt hem down individually after what he was about to do. Only the upper brass of the Nu Kings, the warlords, would remain after this.
Ares dragged the nearest ship over, leaving skid marks in the mountain as he hauled the ship nearer to the bundle of buried bolts. He quickly glanced around at the other ships, analysed the distance between him and them, and nodded in satisfaction. With a heave and a ho, Garmr lobbed the ship straight up, launching it into the air upside down so that it couldn't take flight properly and run away. If the captain was foolish enough to flick on the engine he would fly straight into the mountain, crash, and explode.. Not that what Arse was planning was any better. For now, though, Ares ignored the ship he just threw and repeated the process with another ship... And then another, and another, and another. Several ships were now in the air but Arse wasn't done yet, he still wanted to chuck more up there. The only reason he stopped was because the first ship he threw was coming crashing back down towards him and he had to pause his ship launching to catch it. With bent knees, Garmr aimed his hands upwards as though he were catching a baseball, allowing him to cradle the ship as it crashed into his palms. Actually, 'crashed' was a bit of an exaggeration. To those riding the ship, it felt like they'd be embraced by fluffy clouds as there was no real sense of impact. They glided into his hands, were spun around, and chucked back into the air in one smooth motion. The same was true of the ships that came after them and, though it took a moment, everyone eventually realised these ships were being juggled! Garmr was a street performer juggling... Well they weren't balls... The ships were far larger, and far heavier, but it didn't stop Garmr from repeatedly catching and launching them over and over again. To add insult to injury, he was progressively adding every other crashed ship into this performance of his without breaking a single sweat as though this was a routine exercise. A transition realm cultivator, even at the peak of the realm, would be crushed by the weight of a falling ship if they dared try to catch it but, to Garmr, they weighted as much as a feathery pillow and were easy to handle as he pleased.
Once Ares had all the ships in perpetual motion, trapped in a cycle of inescapable humiliation, he began throwing the ships off the mountain one by one. This was a gradual process but, about a minute later, he'd successfully lobbed them all into the skies around the mutated mountain and the final part of his plan could be put in motion. Ares gathered all the bolts nearby and aimed each of them to snipe the ships he himself had juggled and thrown. He'd turned the ships into moving targets and was now using them as practice to improve his throwing skills as Garmr. Killing two birds with one stone. He could train and he could destroy all the ships away from the mountains, all at once, without alerting the Torchbearer and giving him time to detonate the ships en masse. His accuracy was pretty incredible too. Of the thirty ships Ares only missed a total of three shots so there was a fireworks show in the skies of Isaz that was quite fierce and aggressive. Every second a bonfire, a burnt effigy, lit up the skies above and a sweeping black cloud painted a visceral picture of carnage. The Nu Kings were rapidly becoming old news, being relegated to the history books in real time as their men were harpooned and blown to smithereens. It was somewhat ironic that they had target practice stalls installed on their boats and yet their boats had just become the ultimate targets but, alas, this fate was inescapable and soon enough they were all wiped out. Zero, that was the number of survivors. No Vikings, no boats, nothing. Clear skies and an empty mountaintop. The Nu Kings were reduced to their leadership in the span of a few minutes. Ares was partially satisfied but he wasn't done yet, the Frozen Throne's beating was still queued up and ready to be delivered post haste. They didn't have a bunch of boats to hide behind, though, so their destruction was going to be a lot more... Physically involved...