Arius's blade clashed with Kael's staff, light and void colliding with every strike. The gods above watched in silence, uncertain of who should win.
Kael fought with fury—each blow screaming of betrayal. "We are the same!" he shouted.
"No," Arius said, driving his sword forward, "I chose my path."
With a final burst of divine light, Arius unleashed the essence of both his parents. Flame and starlight engulfed the battlefield. Kael fell, whispering a single word: "Free…"
The war ended. The gods descended in silence.
"You have earned your place among us," the All-Mother said. "Kneel, and become a god."
Arius looked around—the broken arena, the fallen, the watching mortals. The cracked heavens.
"No," he said. "I will not sit on a throne. I will walk among them. I'll be a god that remembers where he came from."
And so he left the arena—not as a champion, but as a legend. Not to rule—but to guide.
He walked barefoot through the gates of the Arena, his sword sheathed in light, his heart burning not with ambition—but with purpose.
A god with no crown.
A hero who chose to be more than divine.