Mortal(God of War)

Without a trace of fear, enemy forces impaled themselves on our spears, collapsing almost silently. Driven by a mad thirst to kill us, they tried to break through only to perish in agonizing death throes. The metal Spartans withstood the initial assault. Their only vulnerability was their souls, protected by my will. The physical form is not just a vessel for the soul, but also its shield in this mortal realm.

The first wave, meant to crash against our defenses, faltered. Now the main enemy forces advanced. Their attack was backed by relentless catapult fire. Even when the projectiles struck their own, the enemy did not care.

I couldn't unleash my full strength while the mountain passes still needed defending. We had to destroy the Cyclopes and their siege weapons.

"Creon, prepare a detachment of a thousand warriors. I will lead them in a rear assault. Your task is to strike here and draw their attention," I ordered.

"Yes, my lord," Creon replied.

We needed a diversion something to force the enemy to focus on this section of the battlefield. The moment battle was joined, I would lead our forces to destroy their war machines and the Cyclopes.

After another hour of battle, I could feel the weight of the enemy pressing harder against my shield. There was no time left to wait.

"Are the troops ready, Creon?" I asked.

"They await only your command," he replied.

It's impossible not to feel the burden of the moment when leading men into battle. You know one order could cost hundreds of lives… or save the entire army. And inaction could bury everyone. Such is the commander's burden: to choose the price of victory.

"Spartans, we march! Spear formation! Break through the center!" I roared, my voice cutting through the clamor of war.

The dense defensive lines parted for a heartbeat, letting the rear ranks surge forward. Wave after wave of Spartans advanced in an unstoppable tide, reclaiming ground with every step. The steel Spartans could not have held the line alone the living forces followed behind.

"Squad on me!" I bellowed, carving a path between worlds.

My spear pierced an enemy soldier instantly, and like a lightning bolt, I crashed into the heart of their formation. The Spartans flooded in behind me. We shattered the enemy lines, pressing toward the siege engines.

A Cyclops, mid-motion as he loaded a boulder, froze. His single eye darted toward us, and he hurled the stone. My spear, glowing red-hot, exploded the rock into dust, then hurtled straight into the beast's eye. It pierced deep straight through to the center of his skull. Roaring, flailing blindly, the Cyclops stumbled and collapsed.

"Destroy the siege weapons! I'll handle the Cyclopes!" I shouted.

There were few only six but each was a mountain. And now, all turned their attention to us. They marched forward with slow, implacable steps, crushing their own underfoot.

Suddenly, a sharp sound behind me. I turned just in time to block a blow with my shield. The Cyclops I had slain had risen. The void in its eye was now filled with darkness, and veins of black magic coursed through its corpse. Necromantic energy reanimated the beast.

Nearby stood several cloaked figures. I felt it they were the source of the spell. I compressed the air around them with my will; their bodies were crushed in an instant. The Cyclops dropped for the second and final time.

I hurled my spear again, skewering the skulls of the remaining Cyclopes. The weapons impaled their heads, and now truly dead, they fell.

Focusing on the remaining siege engines, we tore them apart and set their wooden frames ablaze. Suddenly, I sensed a darkness approaching.

Peering into the Persian ranks still trying to interfere, I felt a gaze upon me but the enemy did not attack.

With the siege weapons destroyed, we began to retreat. I covered the rear. We had won this skirmish, but the War would not end so easily.

Back at our defenses, I returned to the phalanx our forces had already withdrawn to the narrow pass, forming a solid wall of shields once again. Wave after wave of relentless Persian soldiers crashed against our lines, but now without the support of their catapults.

Our strike on their rear revealed the truth: Persia's army was vast, near unstoppable. We lost four hundred Spartans. Despite our strength and training, the Persians were almost our equals in battle. Only our discipline, our mastery, and the terrain itself gave us the edge over their superior numbers.

"Hold the line," I ordered, scanning the horizon, wondering what is the Persians' true plan?

They must know they can't break through this pass no matter how many troops they throw at it. And without their catapults and Cyclopes, it would take them time to rebuild and resume the siege. It all seemed… too simple. And that worried me.

***********************

"Why have we not yet crushed these pitiful Spartans?" the Persian king growled inside his command tent, where the entire war council had gathered.

"The pass gives them a strategic advantage, Your Majesty," the general replied without lifting his gaze. "It leaves us no room for tactical maneuvering. All we can do are frontal assaults… until their strength runs dry."

He was nervous, knowing the king's fury. If he failed to bring results, he would lose not only his position but his head.

"And let us not forget," the advisor interjected, "they've destroyed all our siege engines. It will take at least a week to rebuild them."

"How did you allow this?!" the king roared, slamming his fist onto the table.

"Great King, there was nothing we could do. Their warrior… the dark god warned us he is a hero, one capable of standing against even divine forces," the advisor said, tense but composed.

"Do not worry, my king," a voice came from the shadows. A sorcerer stepped forward, cloaked in darkness. "Soon, that hero will have more pressing problems. The assault continues, and soon you shall enter the pass in victory."

"I cannot waste any more time here," the King of Persia hissed through clenched teeth.

"Time," the sorcerer replied calmly, "is the one thing we have in abundance."

"I want results. If that hero does not fall, you will pay for it with your head," the king growled, voice laced with menace.

"As you command, my king," the mage bowed low.

Meanwhile, the Persian army continued its relentless assaults on the Spartan fortifications with no success. Their ranks shattered against the Spartan phalanx like waves crashing against a cliff, unable to break its form.

************************

Farther south, under the command of Kratos, the first naval clash between the Greek and Persian fleets erupted. Though known first and foremost as a warrior, Kratos possessed a fierce and cunning strategic mind. He lured the Persian fleet onto treacherous reefs and into narrow sea passages, where their ships became easy prey.

Athenian fire consumed countless enemy vessels, leaving behind only scorched wreckage and smoke. Sailors burned alive in the boiling inferno.

But even the brilliance of Kratos's tactics could not obliterate an entire fleet with limited forces. Though he annihilated a great many ships, the remaining vessels maneuvered around his trap and made landfall on the shores of Athens.

The war was escalating. Each side prepared to fight to the bitter end until only one remained standing.

Meanwhile, Olympus moved to act. The gods had discovered the hiding place of the Dark Ones. Zeus himself, accompanied by several other gods, launched an assault against the shadowy beings who had cloaked themselves in darkness.

The sky split open with lightning. Winds tore trees from the earth, toppled towers, and swept clouds away like scattered dust.

Zeus faced off against the Demon of Fear an embodiment of pure terror. Its face was a shifting void that inspired dread at a glance. Towering wings stretched behind it, and where its lower half should have been, there was only writhing shadow.

[IMAGE]

The dark god resisted, but his efforts were futile. Zeus pressed forward with divine might, overpowering the demon and driving it back.