“We know The Order.”

The words hung in the air, heavy as stone.

Ares didn’t have the luxury of reflection. He turned to Nythren and Raezel, his lips curling into a cruel, mocking sneer.

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice thick with sarcasm. “Seems like you two aren’t the most powerful beings after all. What a shock.”

The insult hit harder than even he expected.

Nythren and Raezel faltered, their usual confidence flickering. For a heartbeat, they stood in stillness—shoulders tense, gazes lowered. Shame crept in like a slow poison. They exchanged a single glance, and in it, pride cracked.

Ares saw the weakness. And he pounced.

“Oh, I get it now,” he continued, savoring the moment. “You thought Nyx and Medusa were the peak, huh? That they were untouchable?” He chuckled, then turned toward the kneeling goddesses. “Look at this. Medusa and Nyx, two of the most feared forces in existence... on their knees. So tell me—what does that make you two?”

The cruelty in his voice wasn’t just for them—it was for all the times he’d been beneath them. For once, he stood taller.

Ares let out a short laugh, low and victorious. “I suppose you’re just like the rest of us now,” he sneered. “You kneel. You break. You bow.”

It was meant to sting—and it did. But beneath the venom was something else: a truth even Ares was only beginning to understand.

No one, not even them, stood above The Order.

Medusa and Nyx remained unmoved. Their silence wasn’t submission—it was acknowledgment. A quiet, graceful bow to reality itself.

Because in the presence of The Order—Reality, Time, and Fate—there were no exceptions. No gods. No monsters. Only balance.

Ares slowly turned his gaze to the three primordial entities. His bravado waned, replaced by something almost reverent.

"So… what now?” he asked. The sarcasm was gone. What remained was awe—and defiance.

Time spoke. Slow. Measured. Inescapable.

“What happens now… is alignment. The balance must be maintained.”

The words fell like gravity. Ares said nothing, but a shift passed through him. He understood.

This wasn’t about hierarchy. It was about order—inescapable and ancient.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. Trying to shake off the weight of the moment. But the smirk he usually wore didn’t return.

Something had changed.

His eyes turned back to Nythren and Raezel. They stood a little straighter now, but not prouder—wiser.

“So what’s the lesson, huh?” Ares scoffed, voice bitter. “That we’re all just pawns in someone else’s game?” He shook his head, snorting. “Well, I guess I’m the kind of pawn who still knows how to have a little fun.”

His lips curled in a mock smile. But beneath it—fear.

He gestured toward them with a dramatic flair. “Not every day you see legends like you two…” he paused.

Tilted his head.

“...reduced to dust, eh?”

Silence.

The air thickened—unseen hands pressing on every rib, spine, and lung.

The Order did not speak aloud, but their message rippled—wordless and absolute.

Only Medusa and Nyx understood.

And when they nodded, the air changed.

Ares felt it first.

A chill at the base of his spine. A warning. Instinct screamed.

Medusa and Nyx rose.

Not in rage.

In inevitability.

Their movements were slow. Measured. Royal. But their eyes—god's help him—their eyes were ancient.

Nyx spoke first. Her voice, softer than breath, colder than the void.

“Ares… you forget your place.”

Medusa’s gaze sharpened, her smirk returning—this time, serrated.

They stepped forward.

Each movement narrowed the distance. Not between bodies—but between consequences.

The air grew dense. Not around the skin—around the soul.

Ares felt himself shift. Just slightly. Backward.

Retreat.

His body responded before his pride could stop it.

Still, he forced a chuckle. “What’s this? You two are upset because the joke’s on you and your children?”

He shrugged. But his swagger wavered.

No one responded.

Then—

Laughter.

Soft. Low. Confident.

But not from Ares.

Raezel straightened. Golden eyes calm. Measured.

Beside him, Nythren cracked his neck. The smirk returned—but it wasn’t playful.

“You should’ve known better, Ares,” Nythren said, voice laced with pity. “We all have our tricks.”

Raezel stepped forward, gaze level. Unshaken.

“Power is fleeting,” he said. “Wisdom endures.”

A pause.

Ares scoffed and looked away. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve all got your little wisdom quotes and power shifts. But don’t think I’ll forget this.”

His gaze swept over them all—Medusa, Nyx, Raezel, Nythren. The mockery in his voice clung on—but so did something else.

Respect.

“I’ll be watching.”

The tension didn’t vanish. But it shifted.

The battlefield had never been about war.

It was about control.

And Ares?

He had lost.

But Velmor had won.

Raezel exhaled.

“There’s no need for games,” he said softly. “I’ll stay. Here. In Velmor.”

A moment passed.

Then, from the shadows, a familiar presence emerged.

Nihaga.

He stepped forward, silent and serpentine.

He bowed to Medusa, reverent.

“I shall guard and care for Raezel,” he said. “It is my duty. Always.”

The hall stood still.

No more words were needed.

The future of Velmor had been sealed.