Athena: Rise of the Eternal Episode Three: Blood and Ashes

Episode Three: Blood and Ashes

The rain turned black as it fell.

Ash, soot, and something fouler than smoke drifted through the air, coating the broken stones beneath Athena’s feet. Across the ruined square, Ares stood like a shadow carved from rage itself, his crimson armor steaming in the twisted rain.

The mortals had fled — all but one.

A small child, no older than seven, sat crumpled against the shattered remains of a fountain, her wide eyes locked on the nightmare unfolding. Athena’s gaze flicked to her for only a second, but it was enough. In that moment, she saw the truth: mortals had no champions left. No gods, no heroes.

Only her.

Ares charged with a roar that shook the bones of the earth. His sword, long as a man and jagged like a wolf’s teeth, swept toward her. Athena met him in a clash of silver against red, the impact throwing shockwaves through the street.

Sparks and blood rained down.

"You still believe you can protect them," Ares spat, forcing her back with a brutal swing. "You, who were forgotten! Cast aside! Worshipped no longer!"

Athena gritted her teeth. The spear in her hand trembled, not with fear — but with fury.

"I do not need their prayers," she said, dodging a blow that shattered the concrete where she had stood. "Their lives are enough."

Ares laughed — a sound like iron scraping against bone.

Around them, the shadows deepened. Shapes moved at the edges of the broken city: creatures twisted by war, by hatred — the offspring of humanity’s darkest dreams. Gaunt beasts with hollow eyes, clawed hands, and mouths stitched shut with barbed wire. They prowled closer, drawn to their master’s rage.

Athena drove her spear into the ground. A shockwave of light burst forth, pushing the monsters back. For now.

"You can't save them all, sister," Ares whispered, circling her like a wolf stalking a wounded deer. "You never could."

He feinted left, then struck from the right — a blow meant to kill, not to wound. Athena blocked it, but the force of it drove her to one knee.

Pain blossomed in her side — real pain, not the distant, dulled sensation of gods.

She tasted blood.

Still, she rose.

"I don't need to save them all," she said, voice cold as a blade drawn at midnight. "Only enough to light the fire again."

Their weapons clashed once more, and the world seemed to split in two — light against darkness, hope against despair.

In the chaos, Athena caught a glimpse of the child, still huddled by the fountain, watching with tearless, broken eyes.

Ares saw it too. His smile widened.

"Watch, little one," he called to the girl, his voice dripping venom. "Watch your protector fall."

He swung his sword — a killing stroke.

But Athena moved faster.

She intercepted the blow with a scream of pure defiance, the force of it sending her crashing into the broken stones. Her spear shattered in her hand.

The world spun. Darkness crept at the edges of her vision.

Ares loomed over her, victorious.

"Welcome to the age of ruin," he whispered.

And the storm swallowed them both.

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