The wind howled across the cliffs. Dust coiled through the night air, glowing faintly under the dying moon.
Theron stood there—his monstrous form pulsing with red veins of fire, claws dripping with dark energy.
Across from him, Dion gripped his blade, breathing hard, every muscle coiled tight.
I can feel it. Every step he takes shakes the earth. That hatred… it's not mindless. It's real. It's alive.
Theron's deep, distorted voice rolled through the air. "Do you know what it's like," he growled, "to have your name spat on? To be starved and beaten while others feast?"
He lunged forward, claws raking through stone. Dion blocked, sparks flying as metal met bone. The force sent him stumbling back several feet.
"Theron, stop!" Dion yelled between breaths. "You don't have to do this!"
Theron laughed — a sound halfway between a snarl and a sob. "Stop? You think I want this? This is all I have left! Power is all I have left!"
He swung again, wild, desperate, every strike sharper than the last. Dion parried one, ducked another — each movement tighter, angrier.
Every hit feels personal. Like he's not trying to kill me — he's trying to make the world feel what he felt.
The clash rang through the hills, echoing into the distance.
Lykos and Selina watched from the ridge — helpless — as gods fought under mortal stars.
Selina whispered, "He's going to die if this keeps up…"
Lykos shook his head. "No. He's holding back."
Selina looked at him, confused. "Holding back?"
"Yes," Lykos said, eyes narrowing. "Because he understands him."
⸻
The Mirror of Pain
Theron drove Dion against a wall of shattered rock.
"You talk like you've known pain," the beast spat. "But you haven't. You're worshipped. Fed. Loved!"
Loved?
If only he knew.
Dion blocked another clawed strike and countered with a punch to Theron's chest — the shockwave blasting dust into the air.
But his voice trembled as he shouted back, "You think I don't know suffering?! You think I don't know what it's like to lose everything?!"
Their fists met — the collision bursting with divine light and shadow.
For an instant, Dion saw flashes — his own childhood, cold and hungry on the streets; his mother's eyes, tired but kind; the endless nights, wondering if the world would ever see him as more than a thief.
He staggered back, heart aching.
Gods, I see it now. Every wound on him is a memory — every scar, a story no one ever cared to hear.
Theron grinned bitterly through the blood. "Then you should understand why I'll burn it all down."
"No," Dion said quietly. "That's why I can't let you."
He charged forward, sword slicing through the red haze. The blade struck true — not to kill, but to stop. A clean, powerful blow across Theron's chest sent the beast crashing to the ground.
The night fell silent.
Theron gasped, blood pooling beneath him, the red glow dimming.
He coughed, laughter mixed with pain. "Heh… you really fight like him… Hercules. But you're not him, are you?"
Dion froze. His eyes widened slightly — not from fear, but from recognition.
Theron's fading gaze softened. "No one who's lived through pain talks like that. You've seen it too… haven't you? The begging, the cold nights, the hunger that eats your soul?"
He sees me. He doesn't know how — but he sees me.
Lykos and Selina rushed to Dion's side.
"Dion!" Selina gasped. "Are you alright? You're bleeding!"
"I'm fine," he murmured, still staring at the dying beast.
Theron smiled faintly, his monstrous form flickering back to a more human shape beneath the glow. "Guess… I'm not the only one the gods forgot."
Dion stepped closer. "I'll remember you, Theron. I promise."
The beast's eyes met his one last time. "Don't make promises to the dead, stranger."
And with a quiet, broken laugh, his body faded into dust — leaving only the echo of his final words.
⸻
Silence hung over the battlefield.
Selina wiped her tears. "He… he wasn't all bad, was he?"
Dion shook his head slowly. "No. Just lost."
Lykos stood apart, watching Dion closely — eyes narrowed in thought.
'You're not him, are you?' The beast's dying words replayed in his mind like a haunting melody.
He didn't say anything — not yet. But a question had already begun to take root.
Who exactly are you, Dion?
As the dawn crept across the ruined valley, the three of them stood among the fading dust.
No words were spoken. The silence said enough.
But in Dion's heart, one truth pulsed louder than the rest —
If Zeus has truly fallen… if even the gods can be corrupted… then what chance do we have left?
He clenched his fists, staring toward the horizon where the first light touched the mountains.
I'll protect them. No matter who I was.