Chapter 869 - 868: Plea To The War God

’Arrogant, cold, insufferable bastards.’

Simon had met enough gods in his previous life to recognise the attitude. Mara had answered the question she was given. The God of War had asked why she was there, and she had explained.

How was she supposed to hear, "Why did you think you could interrupt me?" inside those words?

Apparently, understanding a god included guessing what he had neglected to say.

Simon glanced at Mara with a faint trace of pity. She was accustomed to commanding armies, not dealing with beings who could change a question and blame others for answering the original.

The God of War was particularly unpleasant in that regard.

Suddenly, another pulse of pain scattered his thoughts.

Unholy Regeneration continued repairing his body, but the foreign Aether kept undoing too much of its work. He was not recovering quickly enough. The god could finish this conversation and find him dead without lifting another finger.

’Time... isn’t enough.’

He needed something more than another minute on the ground.

His mind searched for an answer among the things within reach. His gaze shifted across the road and stopped on the burning forearm. Black flames curled above what remained of the borrowed flesh.

A calculating glint passed through his eyes.

Across from him, the five leaders remained kneeling. Sweat gathered at Mara’s temple. Tomas kept his hands against his thighs, while Pavel’s lenses hovered without moving.

None knew how to answer without risking another offence.

"Forgive us, Your Eminence," Mara eventually said, lowering her head. "We failed to consider that our arrival might disturb you. It will not happen again."

"An assurance would mean more coming from people capable of thinking before they act."

Mara’s fingers slowly curled against her knee. Dorian lowered his chin, hiding the movement in his jaw. Even Ilona’s hands tightened within the folds of her clothing.

"Yes, my lord."

The god began turning away.

"Your Eminence."

Tomas’s voice stopped him.

The God of War looked back from the corner of his eye. The black cross within it seemed to sharpen.

"May I ask one question?" Tomas continued carefully.

A pause followed.

"Speak."

Tomas bent his head lower.

"I am Darius’s teacher. I trained him in the Martial Path, and I have cared for him as though he were my own child."

The god’s expression remained unchanged.

"I know this may seem foolish, but... is he alive? My disciple. Is Darius still alive within the body you have restored, or has he truly been lost?"

Simon watched Tomas’s fingers press against the stone.

The silence stretched.

A distant explosion shook dust from a broken barricade. Tomas did not raise his head, but his breathing had become shallow.

"This is the teacher they gave my chosen?"

The god sounded disgusted.

"Would I still deserve to be called a god, the God of War, if I descended into my chosen and left him dead?"

Tomas’s shoulders shifted.

"Do you think I bothered restoring a body I could not return to him? Or have you mistaken me for something that needs to borrow a corpse merely to stand here?"

"My lord-"

"He lives, fool."

Tomas immediately bowed until his forehead nearly touched the road.

"Thank you."

The words emerged before the god could continue.

"Thank you for saving my disciple. Forgive me for doubting what should have been obvious. I am grateful beyond anything I can offer."

He meant it.

The insults had not disappeared, but they no longer mattered to him. Darius would return. That was the answer he had needed.

"Then practise gratitude quietly," the god replied disdainfully.

Tomas bowed again.

As the god turned toward Simon, Mara drew a careful breath.

"Your Eminence, may I make one request?"

He stopped.

The wind around his borrowed body became still.

"You are all testing my patience."

Mara felt the others tense beside her. She could have lowered her head and said nothing more. Instead, she looked toward the ruined defensive line for an instant before bowing again.

"Forgive me. This concerns the entire front. It is of the utmost importance."

"Of utmost importance you say?"

"Yes, my lord."

His iron-grey eyes narrowed.

"Speak."

"Thank you, Your Eminence. We beg your assistance against the invasion."

Disgust slowly replaced the irritation on the god’s face.

Mara did not see it. Her gaze remained lowered as she continued.

"Not against the demons already here. We will fight them ourselves. We ask only that you permanently close the rift."

The god’s remaining hand became motionless at his side.

"More demons cross with every moment. Our soldiers can hold positions, but each force we destroy is replaced by another. Closing that passage would deny them reinforcements and allow us to reclaim the basin."

Her voice grew steadier as she spoke about the battlefield.

"There are settlements beyond these mountains. Families who cannot defend themselves if our lines fail. Your intervention would spare countless lives. Those people would remember your mercy and offer you their gratitude for generations."

She stopped, and no answer came for several seconds.

Ilona’s eyes closed briefly. Pavel kept his lenses lowered, and Dorian stared at the ground with his lips pressed together.

"How pathetic."

Mara went still.

"An entire command gathered at my feet, and this is what you bring me?"

The god looked across all five.

"Do you remember whom you are addressing?"

"Lord of Battles, I-"

"War."

The word cut through hers.

"That is my title. My path. And you have come to ask me to end yours because the enemy continues arriving."

Mara swallowed.

"We would still fight those-"

"Those conveniently left within reach after I remove the danger you cannot manage?"

Her mouth closed.

"You command a front. He trains my chosen. The rest of you occupy positions others bleed to preserve. Yet your first request upon seeing a god is to have your greatest obstacle removed."

His gaze passed over Tomas’s spear and Pavel’s motionless lenses.

"How do any of you expect to approach the peak of power while begging someone above you to flatten the road?"

Mara’s nails pressed into her palms. She had asked for lives, not an easier path for herself. Explaining that now would change nothing.

"No," the god said. "I will not close your rift. Win your war, or prove you were never worthy of commanding it."

The five remained bowed.

Tomas’s relief had faded into a strained expression. Ilona looked pale, and Dorian’s shoulders rose with a breath he forced himself to release quietly.

The God of War turned away.

"And do not mistake my presence for an invitation to-"

Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind erupted from the ground and around them.

Dust swept toward him, swallowing the burning forearm, the discarded sword, and the kneeling leaders. Loose grit rattled against armour. Mara raised an arm across her eyes, while Tomas turned his face into his sleeve.

None was thrown backward.

And the god did not move at all. He glanced in the direction of Simon.

"Really?"

His voice carried a cold amusement through the dust.

"Don’t tell me this is your plan. To blind me or throw me away with this light breeze?"

He swept his remaining hand aside.

The cloud parted, stripped from the road in a single motion.

Simon was crawling away.

His fingers dragged against the stone, and an elbow pulled his bleeding body forward by another few inches. A dark trail marked the distance he had managed.

The God of War stared, then laughed.

"Where do you imagine you are going?"

Simon tried to pull himself farther.

The god chuckled with open disdain, then he stretched out his hand.

"Allow me."

An invisible force seized Simon and lifted him from the road.

There was no time to brace himself. A flick of the god’s fingers sent him hurtling across the abandoned position toward a broken stone buttress.

BANG!

His back struck it hard enough to split the stone.

Blood burst from his mouth. The fragile repairs inside his chest tore, and pain swallowed the breath he tried to draw.

He fell among the fragments, coughing another mouthful of blood onto the scorched ground.