Icarius continued. Every step was agony, yet with each one, the pain and the exhaustion receded as Ares Flame's spread through his body. The sun was already on top of his head when a red marble house came into view, the same one he had awakened in, its crimson stones glistened under the sun, like polished blood.
It was the first house at the mountain's edge, standing like a sentinel to greet all who ascended. There, seated before the entrance with a mug in hand, was Arthur. Bellona was nowhere to be seen. Arthur lifted the mug to his lips and watched Icarius approach, a faint smile curving his face.
Icarius climbed the last few steps, his legs trembling, throat dry, and heart pounding hard enough to crack his ribs.
"Oh, you are already walking upright," Arthur said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "It seems Ares truly favors you."
Icarius tried to speak, but his throat refused to cooperate, his breath came in shallow gasps, and his heart felt ready to break another rib as if trying to burst out of his chest.
Arthur chuckled softly, taking another slow sip. "Let it beat. As Bellona explained, the War Flame strengthens and heals as it flows through you. The faster your heart beats, the brighter the flame burns, and the stronger you become with it," he added, lowering his mug and meeting Icarius's eyes, "though this is the slowest path to become stronger using Ares Flames. No one has really reached the cap."
Icarius listened, hands resting on his waist as he drew in deep breaths. He could feel it, the flame within him, faint after all the training with Bellona, restoring slowly with each heartbeat. It had strengthened him, healed him, dulled the edge of exhaustion. But in doing so, it had consumed itself faster than it could recover.
"There's a fountain up the village," Arthur said, rising to his feet. He still held the mug in his hand, its scent of strong alcohol carried by the wind, thick, sweet, and unfamiliar to Icarius, who had never once tasted such a thing in Silva Village. "Come. I will take you there and introduce you to the others. They should be eating now, it will be easier that way."
Icarius glanced at the mug, then at Arthur. His throat was parched, every swallow felt like grains of sands scrapping against it. For an instant, the thought of seizing the mug crossed his mind. His fingers twitched involuntarily.
"Don't even think about it," Arthur said, his tone changing. The easy warmth that usually touched his words was gone, replaced by a sudden heaviness. Then, seeing the boy's startled look, he lowered his gaze to the mug, and a weird smile tugged at his lips. "I will offer you a sip," he said quietly, "if you manage to return alive."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and began to walk. "Come."
Icarius followed, breath uneven, his body screaming for rest. Arthur's stride was faster now as if afraid of losing a single sip of his precious drink. Icarius trailed behind, still clutching his ribs. Yet, he could feel the pain lessening as the War Flame did its wonder, weaving its strength through muscles and bones.
For the first time, Icarius could see the village clearly, not just the vague outlines of its houses in the night. Much of the pine forest that once blanketed the mountain had been cleared away, replaced by cobblestone paths and packed huts that ran like veins across the mountainside, as if it was the mountain's blood itself.
As they continued upward, Arthur's voice sounded, his eyes scanning the empty huts and streets. "This village once housed sixty thousand of Ares's chosen. Now, only twelve thousand remain." His voice sounded like a tired sigh, swallowed by the wind. "This fight has been going for millenniums with no clear winner, but there are clear losers."
Icarius, a few paces behind, looked around. His hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. Though it was midday, the streets were eerily still, not a single soul treading it up or down. Though he could hear a chaotic mix of noises coming from the top of the mountain.
"Let's go," Arthur took another sip and continued upwards.
It didn't take long for them to reach to summit. Icarius finally found the origin of the noises. The peak had been cut flat to make room for a large wooden hall, enough to accommodate thousands inside. Arthur pushed the large doors open and a chaotic scene unfolded before Icariu's eyes.
Fire roared in the center of the hall as the smell of burnt food filled the surroundings. Long tables filled the space, some of them being used by warriors arm wresting, others filled with drinks and food. Laughters all over the place. It was a chaotic mess.
"It's the Enyalios!" someone shouted and at those words, time itself seemed to stop. No one moved. Not a single sound escaped their lips. Every eye turned towards the door.
Icarius leaned against the doorway, catching his breath, his gaze drifting over the silent crow. Only the faint crackle of fire could be heard. Men and women stood silent. They didn't dare to move. The Enyalios was the most powerful and respected person in the camp.
Suddenly, a voice broke the silence. "Arthur! What took you so long? I've been waiting for you to pick up your sword for days!"
The crowd parted, pushed aside by a familiar bald dwarf. Badar shoved his way through, grinning from ear to ear, like a drunkard. The people didn't look surprised, he was the one who dared to call Enyalios by his name and not his rank.
"I was accompanying the new kid," Arthur said simply, giving Icarius a light push forward. The boy winced but straightened his back, seeing the countless eyes upon him.
Badar squinted at him for a moment, rubbing his chin. Then his face lit up as he clapped his fist into his palm. "Ah! The boy from the beach!"
Icarius instinctively stepped back, only to feel Arthur's firm hand on his shoulder, maintaining him in place.
"Indeed," Arthur said, a smile on his lips. "I have been watching him train all day."
Badar's eyes twitched toward the mug in Arthur's hand, his nose catching the faint scent of alcohol carried by the mountain breeze. "And which team is he going to?" he asked, his tone casual but his gaze fixed on the drink.
Arthur's smile became weird. He drew the mug slightly closer to his side, trying to take it away from Badar's camp of vision. "He is joining Bellona's team," he replied.
At those words, dozens of eyes turned toward Icarius, some wide with disbelief, others filled with pity. It was the look one gave a man walking toward his own grave.
Arthur raised a brow and shrugged, adding "It was his decision."
Badar couldn't help but laugh out loud, holding his belly as his other hand scratched his bald head. Soon, it wasn't only him, but everyone in the room joined. Icarius didn't know the reason, but could see no malice or mockery in it. It was a proud energy.
"A courageous one!" Badar roared, grinning up at Icarius. "Ares has sent us a brave soul indeed!"
Before Icarius could react, the dwarf strode up and gave him a friendly punch in the stomach, one that shattered a few of his freshly healed ribs. The boy's body folded slightly, a muffled groan escaping his throat as he clenched his teeth.
"Come on then!" Badar barked, gripping Icarius's wrist and dragging him forward. "Let's drink! Today may be our last day, tomorrow, we fight!"
Icarius glanced back at Arthur, silently begging for help, but the man only smiled faintly, raising his mug in quiet amusement. However, the moment Badar looked greedily at it, he immediately left the hall.