Dreams were beautiful, but reality was cruel. Even though old comrade Ares fully intended to make a "strategic retreat," the younger crowd had absolutely no intention of letting him go.
Diana, who had barely spent any strength in the battle so far, caught up to him almost instantly. The Lasso of Truth flared to life, looped around his ankle, and yanked him straight back.
Ares' divine power was nearly at rock bottom now. His attributes were completely suppressed by Diana, and he no longer had enough strength to break free of the Lasso. All he could do was use her pulling force to swing back with a counterattack, hoping to push her away and regain some distance.
"BANG!"
Even though Ares had mentally prepared himself, the moment Diana caught his full-power punch with perfect stability, a deep, instinctual fear flooded his heart.
Diana caught his strike with her right hand. The blow pushed her back half a step, but her stance didn't break. Her eyes gleamed sharply, and faint sparks crackled across her Guardian Bracers.
"AH—!"
Diana felt her strength rising every second. This sudden surge of power demanded an outlet—and what better punching bag than Ares right in front of her?
"For hurting people! For starting wars! You damn evil god—!"
With one hand gripping the Lasso so Ares couldn't escape, she used the other hand to hammer down punch after punch.
"You know nothing! That crap wasn't even my doing!"
Ares normally wouldn't have bothered explaining, but as the Guardian Bracers awakened, the divine artifact that had accompanied Diana for five thousand years began to unleash its true might. Her punches grew heavier and heavier, her power nearly inexhaustible. Ares barely managed to block the first two swings—after that, every counterattack he attempted shattered on impact.
Being forced to shoulder crimes he never committed made him furious. He knew he was losing, but he refused to lose verbally.
When he was in control, perhaps he could arrogantly claim, "All evil in this world is my doing. What can you do about it?"
But now? When he was being beaten like a dead dog? He had no mood left for posturing—only deep, bitter resentment.
Damn it! What do human wars have to do with me!?
Under Diana's relentless barrage, each punch heavier than the last, Ares felt as if he were being swallowed by flames—rage toward his own weakness, and fury at being falsely accused by mortals. He was a god above gods; he would not admit any of it.
"I refuse! I haven't lost yet—don't you dare insult me!"
Ares' divine power, nearly drained dry, suddenly flared with a small resurgence born from pure, violent rage. But all things came with a price. Gaining that bit of strength cost him dearly—he gave up a portion of his sanity.
Diana's next punch was already flying toward him. Instead of blocking, he only shifted slightly to avoid a direct fatal hit and threw his own full-force strike straight at her.
It was too late for Diana to retract. The blow was already unleashed, and her shield and bracers were both out of position. All she could do was throw up a surge of divine energy to protect her body and take Ares' berserk strike head-on.
Their blows landed simultaneously.
Half of Ares' left torso exploded under Diana's ever-growing force, his body flung a hundred meters back before drilling into the dirt.
Diana fared far better. Her divine power was richer, and though her armor wasn't as protective as her shield, it was still a divine artifact. Ares' punch only left her lightly injured; she slid back a dozen meters before coming to a halt.
But her expression darkened instantly.
To think that even after Thea had already torn him apart repeatedly, this crippled Ares had managed to injure her—unforgivable.
Meanwhile, two miles away, Thea was observing everything through the Eye of Horus. Seeing Ares suddenly explode with power again made her jump.
She had fired the Vengeance Arrow, and when she saw Diana's Guardian Bracers awaken, she assumed Ares' defeat was guaranteed. She never expected the God of War to dredge up some buried memory and miraculously regain a portion of his strength.
Thea shrank her neck in fear. The three-foot column of red light blazing over Ares' head said everything—he was furious beyond words. She had no defensive artifacts, no defensive abilities. Charging into that was suicide.
"What? You want me to go stab him? Are you kidding—"
Thea wasn't just hiding; she was conversing with the "fake sword," which, to her surprise, could communicate simple thoughts.
The sword was urgently urging her to stab Ares… but whenever she tried throwing it back to Diana, it refused—reacting as if Diana were some kind of terrifying monster.
"This is troublesome…"
Thea scratched her head. After a brief exchange, she finally understood the sword's intention.
Calling it a "fake sword" was a bit unfair. It had originally been forged by Hephaestus. He had created two swords: one would become Diana's famed God-Slayer; the other was the so-called "fake sword" in Thea's hands.
For reasons unknown, Hephaestus set a rule into this second sword from the moment of forging:
It was destined to fall into Diana's hands and shatter during the war of the gods.
This command was an intrinsic law carved into its creation. Even after thousands of years of worship by the Amazons gave it a faint will of its own, it could not defy its creator's original decree.
With the gods watching, it couldn't reveal the truth to Diana. All it could do was quietly await destruction.
But Thea's unexpected intervention changed its fate drastically—Ares' furious assault forced a panicking Diana to toss the sword to Thea.
"So you're saying your original mission still stands. If you return to Diana, you'll break? But normally you're fine?" Thea asked skeptically.
The sword didn't answer—only kept urging her to go stab Ares.
So urgent? Did Ares slaughter your whole family or something?
Thea rubbed her chin, lost in thought.
She estimated a sixty percent chance that the sword would undergo some enormous transformation if used to kill a god. But was it worth the risk?
Ares kept repairing his body with divine power, but each time, his spirit grew more exhausted. Facing Diana's increasingly powerful onslaught, his counterattacks became fewer and fewer. As the saying went: rage could fuel strength, but only for a moment.
Charging through pure anger was a privilege reserved for protagonists.
Unfortunately for Ares—he was not a protagonist.
There might be a chance…
Thea layered multiple protective spells over herself, instructed her duplicate to bombard Ares from afar, and began carefully approaching the battlefield without drawing too much aggro.
Ares glanced at the duplicate once and dismissed it immediately. Dealing with Diana was already taxing—wasting energy on a clone operating at thirty percent magic capacity wasn't worth his attention.