By the time their training ended, the first rays of sunlight were already piercing through the mountain peaks, like golden spears. Icarius had been training for hours, struck down, bruised, and thrown to the ground more times than he could count. At least half of his ribs were broken, every breath felt like needles piercing his lungs.
Ahead, Arthur and Bellona were already ascending the narrow path carved into the mountainside, their figures shrinking into small silhouettes against the rising sunlight.
"How is she still fine?" Icarius cursed under his breath, staggering forward. Each step sent a new surge of pain through his chest, but he refused to stop. He clutched his side and forced his body to move.
On the other side, Bellona had barely broken a sweat. For hours she had beaten him down with that same calm, unshakable rhythm, while he could hardly remain standing. The only thing keeping him upright was the faint fire in his hear. The Flames of Ares were sending weak ripples of energy through his body, capable of slowly washing away his exhaustion and mending his injures. Still, he couldn't fathom how a woman with such a frail body could fight for so long without even panting.
"Enyalios," Bellona called, glancing over her shoulder at the struggling youth far below, "are you sure you want to send the boy this time?"
Arthur halted mid-step and turned. For a while, he simply watched Icarius climbing the steep stairway, his movements slow and unsteady, one hand gripping the next step to keep his balance. At that pace, they would not reach the village until the sun stood high above their heads. Yet Arthur made no move to help him. Instead, he only exhaled a long, weary sigh.
"His arrival was… unusual," Arthur said at last, his tone calm but distant. The mountain wind ruffled his golden hair, and in the rising light it seemed almost to shimmer, like strands spun from sunlight itself. "It was as if Ares reached into the mortal realm and dragged him here. If the god wills him to fight, then he will fight."
His gaze drifted toward the valley below, where the great pyramid rose from the mist. The bonfire atop it still burned together with the bronze helmet, and as the first rays of dawn touched the flame, it flared violently, as if repulsed by the sunlight itself.
"We have already lost too much," he murmured. "Athena and Poseidon press harder every day. Ares's presence fades with each defeat. If this continues, this mountain will be all that remains of his dominion, and when they step into these lands…"
He paused, letting the wind swallow his final words. Then he resumed his climb, just enough for Icarius to keep his figure in sight. Bellona lingered for a moment, casting one last glance down at the boy before following after him.