Fate: I Just Want to Die and Sit on the Throne of Heroes-Chapter 84: Athena, Watch Closely, This Is How Blessings Are Used

Chapter 84: Athena, Watch Closely, This Is How Blessings Are Used
Although he did not rate his opponent highly, Ares was, without question, serious now.
He was the god who presided over war, who delighted in slaughter and death. His symbols were the vulture and the hyena, and wherever he appeared, calamity followed.
At the same time, Ares was fond of the strong. He liked the courageous.
Those who were brave and unafraid of death were the ones most likely to earn a god’s acknowledgment.
And the God of War’s method of acknowledgment was simple.
He let them die on the battlefield.
“Hahahahaha. Mortal, are you prepared to face the judgment of the gods?”
Ares raised the massive spear in his hand and hammered it against his shield. Each impact rang out like a war drum, or perhaps distant thunder.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Lightning spilled from the collisions, condensing into blood-red streaks of light.
Ares, God of War, also wielded the mystery of lightning.
He was one of the Twelve Olympian Gods, a direct son of Zeus, just like Athena. The blood of the God-King ran in his veins.
Rowe simply lifted his gaze toward the towering figure in the sky.
Ares had abandoned his earlier leisure.
Even so, he still maintained a purely divine-human form, not the mechanical, constructed form Zeus had taken in the Imaginary Number Space.
Was he still underestimating him?
Rowe could not guess the exact reason.
Even so, even knowing he was walking toward his own death, just as he had previously thrown himself alone against hundreds, even thousands of Spartan warriors, he now intended to shake divine authority itself on this battlefield.
He clenched his fist and quietly stirred the power within his body.
A crimson storm swelled from him as the center, expanding outward in a spiraling torrent, like a boiling inferno. Then it contracted, folding in on itself, taking shape.
It became a sword.
A golden hilt.
A crimson, cylindrical, spiraling blade.
The Sword of Rupture rested in his hand.
“Hm?”
Ares’ gaze sharpened.
From that roiling crimson storm, he sensed a mystery that even he found hard to face directly, something older and further away than his own divinity, brushing against a realm beyond the reach of Olympian authority.
“So. Those who dare challenge the gods still have something to lean on.”
“But it is useless.”
Ares, God of War, roared. His towering body bent like a drawn bowstring, and he hurled his spear.
Boom.
The air detonated.
The crimson spear streaked down like lightning from the highest heaven, a blow that seemed ready to shatter the world, driving straight toward Rowe.
His linen robe snapped and distorted under the pressure, but Rowe’s expression remained calm.
He raised the Sword of Rupture.
The sword rotated slowly, blade turning, spiraling, biting into the world.
It lifted upward, then forward.
Sword and spear met.
The instant they collided, the earth collapsed. Layers of ground split apart. Crimson storms erupted from the point of impact, devouring everything in their radius.
“Protect the Athenians, Sister!”
“All right. Euryale, Medusa, move!”
“Mm.”
The Gorgon Sisters moved as one. As earth goddesses and Athena’s subordinate deities, symbols of the serpent, they all transformed in unison into colossal pythons. Their bodies coiled and layered together, forming a living tower of scales and muscle, encircling and shielding the terrified, frozen people of Athens.
“Ares!”
The Spartans who had fallen rose again under the support of their patron god’s power.
They roared his name.
“Ares!”
“Ares!”
Each shout was a new stream of faith pouring into the God of War.
“Hahahahaha!”
Ares roared with laughter. After casting the spear, he yanked on the reins. The four divine horses drawing his bronze chariot reared as one, hooves pounding. The chariot surged forward, racing through the storm of divine power straight at Rowe.
At that moment, Rowe released his grip on the Sword of Rupture.
He bent his knees and leaped.
The two figures met in the air, fist against fist.
Rowe crashed into Ares upon the chariot.
“AHAHAHAH. Ares, God of War, your strength is acceptable.”
Are you the only one allowed to laugh?
“Hahahahaha. So you have this much strength as well, Sage of Uruk?”
Ares had recognized him the instant he saw that spiraling sword. There were not many in the world who could hold that blade.
Their fists collided once, then Ares threw his shield high into the sky, his other hand clenching again for a second blow.
This time, Rowe did not meet it head-on.
He twisted his torso just slightly, letting the fist skim past his side. At the same time, he opened his own fist into a palm and seized Ares’ wrist. He pulled, intending to drag the god off his chariot.
A sharp rushing sound cut through the air.
With a metallic clang, the shield Ares had thrown moments earlier dropped directly onto Rowe’s hand, smashing against his fingers and splitting the skin.
Ares withdrew immediately, reclaiming the shield, then swung it again, this time as a blunt weapon.
In response, Rowe stretched out his hand. Behind him and to either side, golden light rippled.
The Gate of Babylon unfurled over Greek soil for the first time.
A rain of chains burst forth from the shimmering portals, extending like countless gleaming spears. They drove forward in unison, crashing against Ares’ shield.
Even here, far from Mesopotamia, Rowe still held the Key to the Gate of Babylon. His two friends could support him across any distance.
In that swirling, accelerating exchange, Sage Rowe of Uruk did not fall behind Ares at all.
“Promising,” Athena murmured.
A relaxed smile finally touched the Goddess of Wisdom’s lips.
The Gorgon Sisters, intertwined in their serpentine forms, let out a collective breath they had not realized they were holding.
“Sister, that man is really something, isn’t he?”
“Euryale, he is very impressive.”
Medusa stayed quiet, but her shining eyes were full of joy.
In the sky, golden ripples shook again and again.
Ares shouted and flung Rowe away from the chariot.
The impact shook the ground. Dust surged into the air.
“Hahahahaha. Exhilarating!”
Ares stood above, laughing loudly, retrieving the spear he had thrown before.
Rowe landed on his feet and straightened.
In the course of that furious exchange, both their clothes and armor had been marked, creased, and scuffed.
But neither of them was injured.
On both Ares and Rowe, there was no sign of blood, only exertion.
“So that is how it is.”
Rowe flexed his fingers and tightened his grip around the Sword of Rupture once more.
“Victory will henceforth recede.”
It did not mean defeat.
In practice, it meant a perpetual draw. Neither victory nor loss.
Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, had played a game with words.
A hidden clause, but not a malicious one.
She wanted Rowe to hold Ares in place.
She did not want him to die to the God of War.
Rowe had already predicted that the blessing would function this way.
“With that level of power, what need have you for such a useless blessing?” Ares called down. “Come, let us continue, Sage from another land. In the name of Ares, your end will be decided here.”
He moved to attack again.
Rowe shook his head.
“No need. You win.”
Then he smiled.
“Now. Come down.”
Ares froze.
A heartbeat later, he felt it. His body began to fall, slipping from the sky along with the chariot, as if the heavens themselves had rejected his footing.
What is this…
This is…
“A war without victory or defeat,” Rowe said quietly, “strips away everything except the pure concept of war itself.”
War for the sake of war.
That is the very essence of Ares.
He was caught inside it.
An older mystery could suppress a younger one.
A higher-order concept could erode and overwrite a subordinate one. When their natures were nearly identical, that effect became even more pronounced.
Here and now, Ares had been bound by Rowe.
Athena shot to her feet.
This ending was far beyond what she had anticipated.
And this, precisely, was why Rowe had accepted her blessing despite recognizing the trick in its wording.
A roar like thunder shook the earth as Ares and his chariot plunged down, smashing into the ground.
Rowe began to loosen the knot of Athena’s blessing.
Then he would fully seize hold of Ares, God of War.
And force him to fight.
To cross fists with himself in a decisive battle, and at the price of inflicting “near-death” upon a god with his own mortal body, to drive himself to a fatal end.
To bring the God of War to the brink of death with human hands.
Such an accomplishment would be enough to rattle the heavens.
Enough to call down a seat for him among the thrones.
That was what Rowe sought.
That was the perfect plan.
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