Even long after Ares vanished, the air felt bruised.
Sirens still pulsed through New Babel, fading now into tired whines as power grids struggled to reset. Guard drones returned to position like nervous birds settling back on a branch they knew might snap again. Dust clouds drifted like smoke from an invisible fire.
Ren walked through the cracked training yard in silence. His shoes kicked stone chips, each tap a reminder he was back in a world that hadn't ended — but came close enough to taste it.
Beside him, Mei walked with her clipboard clutched tight, more shield than tool. Akira trailed behind, sword still at his hip, jaw clenched like he wanted to bite fate's throat out.
Others whispered as they passed:
"He stood."
"Against that thing?"
"Is he insane or blessed?"
"Doesn't matter. He didn't kneel."
Ren heard every word.
It made his stomach flip — half pride, half nausea.
He didn't feel like someone who stood.
He felt like someone who survived by accident.
He rubbed his wrist — still trembling faintly — and exhaled through his teeth.
Ares said he'd fall or Ares would fall…
No pressure.
Mei nudged him gently. "Breathe. Don't pass out before politics start."
"Politics?" Ren blinked. "Can't we… fight instead?"
Akira sighed. "Council wants answers. If you pass out in front of them, they'll panic."
Ren frowned. "Why do I feel like I'm about to get grounded by the government?"
Akira's smirk was thin, tired. "Because you are."
Council Hall — The Weight of Eyes
The chamber was a carved-out amphitheater inside a repurposed government complex, holo-screens flickering against ancient stone columns reinforced with steel beams. The mix of old world and desperate reforging — New Babel in a nutshell.
Representatives sat in tiers like watchful hawks.
Leaders of survivor districts.
Scholars of MSE theory.
Veteran fighters with scars instead of medals.
All eyes turned as Ren, Mei, Akira, and Commander Yuna entered.
Whispers rippled like underwater currents.
Ren stiffened. His stomach attempted a somersault without permission.
Yuna walked forward, posture carved from iron. Ren followed like a nervous duckling. Mei adjusted her glasses, all seriousness now. Akira rested casually against a pillar — which did not hide how alert he was.
Council Elder Hoshinori, beard like silver vines and eyes sharp as scripture, spoke first.
"Commander Yuna. Report."
Yuna bowed slightly. "Ares, the Warlord of Wrath, breached New Babel perimeter. No casualties. Structural damage — containable."
A murmur — relief mixed with fear.
"And the… resonance event?" Hoshinori's gaze flickered to Ren.
A councilman leaned forward, sliding digital notes. "We detected a spike of Mythic Spirit Energy during the confrontation. Not Ares' alone."
Every pair of eyes in the room pinned Ren like spears.
Ren waved awkwardly.
"Uh. Hi."
Mei exhaled audibly. Akira looked like he wanted to bury Ren under the floor for his own protection.
Councilwoman Amara — stern, elegant, voice sharp like calligraphy strokes — leaned in.
"That energy signature matched mythic class readings. Level: Ascending. This boy… is he the prophesied Rebellion Spark?"
Ren's eyes widened. "There's a prophecy?!"
Mei elbowed him. "Not the time."
Another councilor — a cold-eyed general named Rourke — spoke bluntly.
"Ares came for him."
Ren swallowed. "He also came to… uh… break us?"
Rourke scowled. "And nearly did."
A scholar adjusted her tablet nervously. "Ares didn't simply attack. He gauged us. Tested defenses. Asserted psychological dominance. As gods do before war."
Yuna nodded once. "This was not invasion — it was warning."
A hush.
A weight.
Even breathing felt like disrespect to the moment.
Hoshinori's voice dropped low.
"We stand at a precipice. If we wait for them to act again — New Babel will be dust."
Councilwoman Amara turned to Yuna. "Ares must be confronted. Far from these walls."
Rourke slammed a fist onto the table. "We strike first. Assemble an elite unit. Neutralize him."
Ren raised a shaky hand. "Neutralize Ares? Like… Ares Ares? Giant wrath god with volcano fists?!"
No one laughed.
The silence told him they were serious.
Deeply, horrifyingly serious.
Mei stepped forward. "With respect, that's suicide. We need preparation, intel, rituals, supply lines—"
"We need survival," Rourke cut her off. "And if the gods choose that boy—" He jabbed a finger at Ren, "—they will never leave us in peace."
"He must go."
Ren froze.
Go?
Hoshinori nodded solemnly. "A chosen spark does not stay sheltered. He walks the fire path."
Mei's voice cracked. "He's seventeen."
Akira's jaw flexed. "He almost died standing. He isn't ready."
Yuna's silence was its own argument — cold, merciless truth.
Then she spoke.
"He will go. But not alone."
Hoshinori nodded. "We send a Vanguard Squad. Top exorcists, scouts, artificers, and MSE warriors. They will engage Ares at a controlled theater."
Rourke leaned forward. "And if the boy falters?"
Ren gulped.
Amara tilted her head. "Then humanity falls with him. But better there… than here."
The room felt colder than any winter Ren remembered.
Yuna turned to Ren.
"State your resolve."
His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth.
His heart punched his ribs.
His knees wanted to vanish.
But every memory of shaking fists and standing anyway rose inside him like stubborn fire.
He bowed.
Slow. Shaking. But choosing to bow — not collapse.
"I'll go."
Mei's breath trembled.
Akira's teeth clenched.
Yuna nodded once, proud but grim.
Rourke smiled for the first time — a predator's approval.
Hoshinori raised his staff. "So it begins."
Alarms resumed across the city as deployment orders streamed. Emergency banners flickered. Wards lit like stars in panic.
Ren felt the world tilt under him.
He wasn't ready.
He might never be.
But the world didn't wait for readiness.
Outside the Hall — Shadows & Choices
The council doors shut behind them like judgment.
Ren exhaled shakily. "I hate politics."
Mei was already scribbling. "We need maps. Rations. Seal flares. Healing charms. Monk support. An air carrier if—"
Akira put a hand over her clipboard. "Breathe."
She blinked. "Right. That."
Ren stared at his fists.
"I stood once. Can I do it again?"
Akira tapped Ren's chest with two fingers. "You don't stand alone."
Mei nodded fiercely. "And if you die, I'll kill you."
Ren blinked. "…That's not how— okay. Thanks."
Yuna approached, cloak trailing dusk.
"You leave at dawn. Rest. Prepare."
Ren scratched his neck. "Can… I eat first?"
Mei groaned. "He thinks with his stomach even facing divine annihilation."
Akira shrugged. "Classic shōnen protagonist behavior."
Ren puffed up. "Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment," they both said.
Still, Ren grinned — small, tired, but real.
Ren sat alone on the training field at dusk.
The stone he practiced on still sat cracked before him.
He placed his hand on it gently.
Warm breeze carried city lights and distant laughter — strained, defiant, human.
He whispered to the stone, to himself, to whatever listened:
"I don't know if I'm chosen.
I don't know if I can win.
But I won't kneel."
A heartbeat answered inside him — not echoing fear this time.
Steady.
Rooted.
Waiting.
The sky above New Babel faded into stars — fragile light against enormous dark.
Ren made a fist.
Tomorrow, he would walk toward wrath itself.
And maybe break on the way.
But tonight… he just sat.
Small. Human. Afraid. Determined.
A figure watched from a rooftop — thin, serpent-like silhouette, eyes shimmering gold.
Lucifer, smiling in shadow.
"The spark moves."
A whisper like silk curling around bone.
"Let the world burn to witness him rise."
Dark wings curled around him.
A quiet laugh slipped like poison into wind.
The gods weren't just watching.
They were waiting.