The village slept under a moon of silver and silence. The fires had burned low, casting faint halos of light over the quiet streets. For once, peace had settled — fragile but real.
Selina and Dion sat near the well where they had shared a quiet meal. She traced circles in the dust with a stick, her face half-hidden beneath the flicker of torchlight.
"You know," she said softly, "when I was little, my village was destroyed too."
Dion glanced at her. She rarely spoke of her past.
"They came at night," she continued, her voice trembling just enough for him to notice. "Not gods. Just men with torches and greed. My father tried to fight, my mother tried to hide us… and I ran."
She looked up at him — eyes glistening, not from tears but from something deeper. "Ever since then, I've always wondered… if I had the strength to fight back, would they still be alive?"
Dion's chest tightened. "Selina—"
She shook her head. "That's why I followed you. Not because you're Hercules. But because when you fight, it feels like you're fighting for something. For people like me."
He smiled faintly, leaning back against the well. "If it means anything, I don't think the real Hercules ever cared that much about people. He cared about glory."
Selina gave a small laugh. "Then maybe you're better than him."
Before Dion could answer, the air changed.
The night wind grew colder — too cold. Then came the smell of iron and smoke.
A scream split the quiet. Then another.
"Dion!" Lykos's voice rang from the far side of the square. "They're here!"
Selina shot to her feet, bow already in hand.
The horizon flickered — shadows moving fast. Dozens of armored figures marched from the forest, torches blazing red. Their armor was black as obsidian, their eyes burning with crimson fire.
The goons of the gods.
They didn't shout or chant; they came like a storm — silent, efficient, deadly.
Dion grabbed a fallen spear, spinning it once before throwing it clean through the first attacker. The sound of metal hitting flesh echoed through the night. "Get everyone inside!" he barked.
Selina fired a glowing arrow, splitting through two of the dark soldiers in one shot. Sparks of light burst where they fell.
Lykos and a few villagers armed with pitchforks and crude blades rushed forward, fear painted across their faces.
The village turned into chaos — fire, screams, and the clash of steel.
Dion waded into the fight like a wave breaking against rock. But unlike the legends told of Hercules — the roaring, godlike brute who crushed foes without thought — this was different. Dion moved with purpose. Every strike wasn't about killing but protecting.
He caught a burning beam before it fell on a child. He lifted a collapsing wall to free a trapped mother. He fought not to prove his strength — but to save lives.
Selina's voice rang out over the battle: "Behind you!"
He turned, too slow — a spear grazed his arm, blood spilling down his side. Pain flared white, but he didn't falter. He grabbed the attacker by the wrist, twisting and slamming him into the dirt.
Lykos threw Dion a sword. "They're too many!"
Dion took the blade. "Then we'll make them regret coming!"
He surged forward, cutting through three enemies in a single breath. But even as he fought, he saw flashes — villagers falling, fire spreading, despair creeping in.
"Selina!" he shouted.
"I'm fine!" she called back, loosing another arrow that burst in a flash of moonlight. Her arrows seemed to sing — bright streaks of silver through the darkness.
Dion ducked as another goon swung an axe toward him. He countered with a knee to the ribs, then slammed the pommel of his sword into the man's face.
The sound of battle echoed like thunder.
Then he saw her — an old woman trapped beneath burning rubble, coughing weakly. Without hesitation, Dion dropped his weapon and ran to her.
"Stay with me!" he said, lifting the beam off her shoulders. Fire seared his arm, but he didn't stop. He carried her through the flames, skin blistering, breath ragged — as if it were his mother.
When he reached the square again, Lykos was wide-eyed. "You're bleeding, Dion!"
He wiped the blood from his arm. "I'm breathing, aren't I?"
Then he turned, eyes blazing gold for the first time that night. His divine power flared — but it wasn't raw rage. It was compassion turned into strength.
He raised his hand, and the ground itself trembled. The flames bent backward, sucked into a spiral of golden light that burst from his body, extinguishing fire and driving back the goons.
The remaining soldiers froze, terrified. For the first time, even the dark seemed to hesitate.
"Leave them," Dion said quietly, voice filled with power. "Tell your masters… if they want war, they'll have it."
The goons scattered into the night like shadows retreating from dawn.
⸻
When the silence finally settled, the village was scarred — roofs burning, walls shattered — but still standing.
Selina stumbled toward him, exhausted. "You did it," she whispered. "You saved them."
Dion knelt beside her, gripping her shoulder gently. "No, we did."
Lykos limped over, grinning despite a bruise on his cheek. "If that's you 'not being a god,' I'd hate to see you on a good day."
Dion chuckled, though his eyes were distant, haunted by the destruction around them. "They'll be back. This was just the beginning."
Selina nodded, her voice steady now. "Then we'll be ready."
For the first time since the battle began, she looked at him — really looked — and smiled with something close to faith. "You're not Hercules," she said softly. "You're something better."
He looked down at her, warmth flickering in his chest. "Let's hope that's enough."
Then, as the fires dimmed, the wind shifted.
A low, rumbling voice echoed through the air — distant, ancient, and cruel.
"So… the mortal wearing a god's skin thinks he can defy us?"
Everyone froze. The air itself seemed to thicken.
"Enjoy your victory, Dion of Earth. For when dawn comes… you'll kneel before me."
Thunder rolled across the horizon. A faint red glow shimmered far beyond the mountains — the mark of the evil god, Nubis, god of decay and vengeance.
Selina shuddered. "Who was that?"
Dion's eyes narrowed, hand tightening around his blade.
"War," he said quietly. "It's already begun."