The entire hall stood frozen after hearing Raezel’s wish.

The mighty God of War—Ares, son of Zeus, relentless warrior, unshakable force of Olympus—was kneeling.

Not in reverence.
Not in surrender.
But in raw, unnatural terror.

His body trembled. His fingers clenched against the cold stone floor.

This isn't fear.
No—this is premonition.

He had just seen his own death.
And all it took… was a smirk from Medusa.

At this moment, Ares knew—deep in his divine marrow—that if she stepped onto a battlefield, there would be no war.
Only annihilation.

Raezel watched his mother with admiration, golden eyes not lit by fear—but pride.

Nythren, however, grinned. A full, wolfish, predatory grin.
Arms crossed, his abyssal gaze flicked to Ares, watching the god crumble into the weight of his own despair.

“You really are pathetic, aren’t you?”

Ares didn’t answer.

He was too busy reliving the nightmares of every war he had ever fought—realizing how insignificant they were compared to the wrath Medusa could unleash.

Medusa tilted her head slightly, her gaze shifting between Raezel and Nythren.

She wasn’t offended.
She was… intrigued.

And Ares saw it.
And it broke him.

His head snapped up, wild eyes locking onto the two young gods.

“YOU TWO MANIACS! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’RE ASKING FOR?!”

He staggered upright, nearly tripping. He jabbed a finger toward Medusa, hand shaking violently.

“DO YOU THINK SHE NEEDS A WAR TO DESTROY A KINGDOM? A COUNTRY? A CONTINENT?! DO YOU EVEN KNOW—”

He froze.

Because Medusa… was staring at him.

That sharp, ancient gaze sliced through his soul like a blade dipped in poison.

Ares’ throat closed.

His breath shallowed.

And then—she smiled.

A simple, soft, almost mocking smile.

Something inside him snapped.

His heart pounded. His mind spiraled into blind panic.

“F-Fine,” he stammered, backing away. “You win. I-I won’t say another word.”

Nythren raised a brow. “That was quick.”

Ares didn’t care.
He just wanted to survive.

Medusa stepped forward, her hand gently brushing along the stone pillar beside her.

Ares swallowed hard.

No god, no mortal, no fool in history had ever dared push Medusa into battle.

If Medusa entered open combat…
There would be no survivors.
No diplomacy.
No record.
Only ruins and silence.

Desperate, Ares spun to the King of Velmor.

“Say something, you idiot!” he hissed. “This is your kingdom! Do you have a death wish?!”

The king—poor, unfortunate soul—had mentally checked out.

His spirit had long since left the building.

He looked at Ares with wide, hopeless eyes and gave the slightest shake of his head.

He had no words. No thoughts. No strength.

Ares felt despair pierce deeper.

This was it.
This was how he died.

Not in a glorious battle.
Not at the hands of a rival.

He drew a shaky breath. There was only one thing left.

Ares turned to Medusa.

Dropped to both knees.

Pressed his forehead to the cold stone floor.

And in a voice stripped of all pride, all power, all godhood, he whispered:

“Please… don’t.”

The room froze.

Even the shadows dared not move.

Nythren blinked. “Wow.”

Medusa chuckled.

And the air itself grew heavier.

Everyone turned to her as she stepped forward, her gaze flicking between her son and the broken god at her feet.

Then, she sighed.

“Very well,” she said softly. “I will not fight.”

Ares collapsed.

His body gave out completely. He slumped to the floor, trembling from sheer panic.

Nythren groaned. “No fun.”

Medusa hummed. “You should know better than to tempt me, my son.”

Raezel chuckled lightly. “I was curious how you would respond.”

She gave him a knowing look. “And yet… you already have your answer.”

Raezel’s smile faltered.

Ares was still recovering.

Nythren was pouting.

And the King of Velmor?

He had seen enough.

He took a breath. Stepped forward on shaking legs…

And slowly knelt before Medusa.

“…My Queen.”

Ares nearly choked.

Nythren snorted. “He broke faster than Ares.”

Raezel smiled.

And Medusa?

She raised an eyebrow.

Then she turned to her son.

And in a voice that cracked the heavens, she declared:

“From this day forth, Velmor is mine.
And any who threaten it… shall answer to me.”