Three days had passed since Eros tore the Blades of Chaos from the depths of the Gilborne dungeon. Three days of relentless training. Each morning, he rose before dawn, grinding through push-ups, pull-ups, breakneck runs through the forest, and hours wielding the blades, learning to channel their raw power. Rage, Lightning Strike, Counterblow each ability had become an extension of his body, but their energy drain remained a constant threat. Eros knew he had no time to waste.
In the Mother of Spirits' hut, the air was thick with palpable tension. The queen, seated on her vegetal throne, her heavy breasts barely covered by her leaf dress, fixed Eros with a bittersweet smile. "It's today, isn't it?" she asked, her voice soft but tinged with regret. "I wish you'd stay a bit longer, but I know you won't."
Eros, standing near the entrance, the Blades of Chaos glinting at his belt, shrugged. "It's not that I don't want to stay," he replied, his voice deep and assured, "but I've got to move." He thought of that damn system, always pushing him, taunting him with quests and warnings. "I'll come back to see you and your dryads. Promise."
The Mother of Spirits raised an eyebrow, her smile softening. "And Sylva? You're not saying goodbye to her?"
Eros chuckled, adjusting his Spartan toga a tight black fabric that hugged his golden muscles, tailored for war. "No need," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "She'll know where to find me." He turned on his heel, leaving the hut without looking back, leaving the Mother of Spirits shaking her head with a mix of amusement and concern.
The dryad village was still asleep, dawn barely a pale glow on the horizon. The vegetal lanterns flickered faintly, and silence reigned, broken only by the crunch of his steps on the mossy ground. Eros strode to the village gate, where two dryad guards, armed with vegetal bows, stood watch. Their eyes lingered on him on the black blades at his belt, on his body sculpted by training. He tossed them a casual salute, a smirk tugging at his lips. "See you later, beauties," he said, passing without stopping. The dryads blushed, but he was already gone, vanishing into the forest.
Once outside the village, Eros paused, stretching to loosen his muscles. He raised his arms, feeling every fiber of his body respond with a power he'd never imagined. "My body's lighter than when I arrived in this world," he thought, a smug grin spreading across his face. "My strength's multiplied. I'm not far from Hercules in raw power, and with my divine abilities, I'd smoke him easily." The Blades of Chaos, hanging at his waist, seemed to hum in agreement with his confidence. He wore a Spartan outfit, a mix of black leather and tight fabric, designed for battle, accentuating his divine warrior vibe.
He launched into the forest, his steps swift and precise, devouring the miles effortlessly. Trees blurred past, branches grazing his toga, but he dodged with supernatural agility. The Blades of Chaos clinked softly at his belt, their energy pulsing in rhythm with his divine heart. He didn't stop, driven by cold determination. Ares was out there, somewhere, and Eros would make him regret underestimating him.
After hours of running, he arrived at a massive fortress nestled in a clearing surrounded by cliffs. Rough stone walls, etched with warrior symbols, towered toward the sky. At its center, an imposing statue of Ares, that bastard, loomed, its armor glinting under the sun. Eros stopped, his gaze fixed on the statue, a sinister smile stretching his lips. "Alright, time to start the god massacre," he murmured, his fingers brushing the handles of the Blades of Chaos.
He surged toward the entrance at blinding speed, his body a blur. A guard, a bronze-armored colossus with a spear, stood at the gate. He didn't have time to react. "W-who are you?" he stammered, eyes wide. Eros, already in range, replied in an icy tone: "Nobody."
In a flash, he drew a blade and activated Lightning Strike. The black metal sliced through the air, and the guard's head flew, blood spraying the ground in a crimson arc. "Intrud " a second guard began, but Eros gave him no chance. He triggered Rage, a surge of raw power flooding his muscles. He spun, his second blade decapitating the guard in a fluid motion. The bodies crumpled, and Eros chuckled, wiping a drop of blood from his cheek. "Too easy," he growled.
The interface flickered, displaying a new quest:
[New Quest: Infiltrate Ares' Camp and Weaken His Influence]
Objective: Breach the fortress, eliminate the guards, and sabotage Ares' plans.
Reward: +200 charisma points, new divine skill.
Penalty: Capture or death.
Eros advanced, the Blades of Chaos ready. The fortress teemed with guards, but he was a storm. He activated Lightning Strike again, weaving through enemies at inhuman speed. Each blade strike was precise, cutting through armor and flesh like paper. A group of five guards tried to surround him, but he used Counterblow, absorbing their flaming spears and unleashing a black explosion that reduced them to ash. Fatigue hit him lightly, but he ignored it, fueled by adrenaline.
He tore through the fortress corridors, leaving a trail of blood and bodies. The Blades of Chaos sang in his hands, their energy melding with his Seductive Aura, amplifying his deadly charisma. A burly captain tried to stop him, wielding a massive axe. Eros activated Rage, his muscles swelling, and sliced the axe in two before plunging a blade into the captain's chest. "Sleep, asshole," he murmured, watching him collapse.
After clearing the main entrance, Eros paused, his blades dripping with blood. The interface flickered again:
[Progress: 25% of the fortress infiltrated]
Note: Keep sowing chaos, but beware Ares' lieutenants.
Eros smirked, wiping his blades on his toga. "Lieutenants or not, you're all dead," he muttered. He plunged deeper into the fortress, ready to shake its foundations. The Blades of Chaos vibrated, as if thrilled by the carnage, and Eros felt a new power rising within him. He was no longer just a fallen god. He was the scourge Olympus would learn to fear.