Ares sat back down on the main seat of the war hall.

  His twelve Keres were already gathered and seated.

  “So the rats finally entered Mars?” Ogun asked.

  “That’s right. They’ve split into three groups, and according to the reports, neither Athena nor Horus came. So this will be an easy fight,” Ares replied.

  “And in what order will we go? Who will face them? I don’t think this little kingdom can afford losing too many people,” Ishtar asked.

  “We’ll be drinking ambrosia by the gallons soon, woman. Who cares if some useless malakim and igigi die?” Ares said, laughing as he propped his feet up on the table.

  “Lord Ares, you shouldn’t speak like that about people who have faith in you and your cause,” Zalmoxis said, visibly irritated.

  “I can’t believe it—didn’t you go to Lord Ares’ latrine today to eat his shit, Zalmoxis?” Khonsu said with a mocking grin.

  “Here we go again,” Selardi muttered, annoyed.

  Zalmoxis simply ignored the Egyptian youth, which only enraged Khonsu further.

  “What? You’re ignoring me now, you filthy nephil?

  Is that what it feels like to be the bastard son of a god who fucked the asshole of a human woman?” Khonsu continued provoking.

  At that moment, a goddess stood up—Shaushka, the eighth Ker.

  “Khonsu, I don’t think you understand your position here,” she said coldly.

  “You are the weakest of all of us, and yet you dare insult your superiors.”

  Shaushka wore a crimson-red dress and a tall conical crown adorned with rows of fangs. Her skin was lightly tanned, her eyes outlined in black makeup with red mascara.

  “Lord Ares,” she continued,

  “I will not tolerate any more insubordination from that child. If he remains at this table, I will walk away from this group immediately.”

  “Oh, look—the Hittite goddess is mad at me. The one whose entire kingdom got destroyed by a bunch of shitty pirates thinks she can talk down to me.

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  I’m number eleven only because all of you discriminate against me; you know perfectly well I’m far superior to that Etruscan trash Menrva—

  —I’m the strongest one here!” Khonsu shouted.

  “I’m Hurrian, not Hittite, brat,” Shaushka corrected bitterly.

  “Enough, stop feeding that kid’s ego,” Selardi said again, exasperated.

  “And that foreign bastard is beneath me anyway. He shouldn’t even be sitting at the same table as us,” Khonsu continued.

  “It matters not to me,” said the man in seat number twelve.

  This man had an eastern appearance. He wore a white gi with red trim, and had thick, long black hair. He sat there, completely uninterested in the argument.

  “Very well, Khonsu—perhaps I’ve misjudged you all this time,” Ares said with an annoyed expression.

  “Go immediately and stop Orniskem. If you succeed, I’ll promote you to number one among the Keres. How about that?”

  Khonsu stood up with a triumphant grin.

  “I would’ve done it even without being asked,” he boasted.

  “I hope they kill that freak,” Selardi thought.

  “What was Lord Ares thinking, letting him into our group?” Zalmoxis wondered.

  “Alright, Khonsu, show Orniskem why I trusted you. Show your fellow Keres why you deserve your seat!” Ares shouted excitedly.

  Khonsu puffed up with pride.

  “It will be an honor to serve you, great Ares!” he shouted, placing a hand on his chest before teleporting away.

  “Would you… like someone to accompany him?” Zalmoxis asked.

  “Let the boy have his fun. If he dies, it’s not like we lose much,” Ares replied, still lounging comfortably.

  “I still don’t understand why you let him join the Keres, Lord Ares,” Ishtar said, irritated.

  “It’s simple. To win, you need monsters. He might not be very strong, but his methods are cruel and ruthless enough—and that’s all I need,” Ares answered bluntly.

  Meanwhile, Khonsu appeared atop Ares’ palace and looked behind him.

  The mountain rose even further, ending in a crater—the remains of an extinct volcano.

  At the crater’s edge stood a cross.

  Anpiel was crucified upon it.

  Khonsu flew to the angel.

  The malak hung naked except for a loincloth. His body was covered in wounds, blood dripping freely from them. His eyes were wrapped with a blood-soaked bandage. His ichor was nearly exhausted—his wounds could no longer heal.

  “How stupid Athena’s people are, coming to save such a useless malak,” Khonsu laughed, whipping the angel’s limp body.

  Blood splattered everywhere—some landing on Khonsu.

  “Who gave you permission to dirty me with your filthy blood, you disgusting malak?!” he snarled, raising his weapon to open Anpiel’s belly and spill his intestines.

  But two of Ares’ malakim suddenly intervened.

  “Lord Khonsu,” one of the malak said,

  “if you kill him here, you will be betraying Lord Ares. We cannot allow such insubordination.”

  Khonsu paused, annoyed, wiping the blood from his arm.

  “Consider yourselves lucky I’m in a hurry,” he spat.

  “Otherwise I’d make you eat his intestines, you disgusting insects.”

  Then he leapt off the mountain and flew away.