Heimdall, standing watch, nodded solemnly. "That was a wise choice, Ares. The Almighty will appreciate that Gabriel has been returned where he belongs."
Ares stood back up, his gaze fixed on the empty spot where Gabriel had been moments before. "He fought well. Now, he can rest."
Heimdall's eyes moved to the sword left behind, still glowing faintly with divine energy. "Gabriel's sword... It should remain here, as a symbol for those who will follow." He reached out and touched the hilt, feeling the power still lingering within it. "It will be a reminder of what has been sacrificed."
The sound of approaching footsteps broke the solemn moment. The soldiers were getting closer, their voices carrying down the hall.
"We need to keep moving," Ares said, his voice firm. "The soldiers are not far behind, and we can't let them interfere. Lucifer's presence still lingers here. There's more we need to uncover."
Heimdall nodded in agreement, casting one last glance at the spot where Gabriel had fallen.
"Let's go. Whatever Lucifer left behind, we need to find it before the soldiers get too close."
With that, they moved swiftly down the hallway, leaving behind the remnants of the battle that had claimed Gabriel's life. As they pressed on deeper into the school, they couldn't shake the feeling that something was still watching them, waiting for the right moment to strike.
The soldiers cautiously moved down the hallway, their flashlights cutting through the dim light. The beams flickered across the floor, walls, and ceiling as they carefully approached the cafeteria.
The sound of their boots echoed in the eerie silence of the school. As they reached the spot where Gabriel had fallen, their lights settled on something unusual.
"What the hell is that?" one of the soldiers asked, his light illuminating the gleaming sword lying untouched in the center of the hallway.
The soldiers gathered around, staring at the divine weapon. Its blade still faintly glowed, casting soft reflections of light across the tiles. None of them had seen anything like it before.
"Looks like some kind of old sword or something," another soldier said, stepping closer. "Maybe it's ceremonial? I mean, who just leaves something like this lying around?"
"It doesn't look like any ceremonial sword I've ever seen," another soldier responded. "Look at the craftsmanship. It's... too perfect."
One of the soldiers, a larger man with a confident stride, stepped forward. "Let me take a closer look." He crouched down, eyeing the hilt of the sword. "Whoever left this behind isn't coming back for it. Might as well see what it's worth."
He reached out and gripped the hilt with both hands, intending to lift it. As he strained, his face contorted with effort, but the sword remained firmly in place, as if fused to the ground.
"What the—?" he muttered, trying again, this time with more force. His muscles tensed, but still, the sword did not budge. "It's... it's stuck or something!"
Another soldier, clearly skeptical, stepped forward. "Let me try." He took hold of the hilt, bracing himself. After several moments of grunting and straining, he, too, was unable to move it.
The group exchanged confused glances. "That's impossible. It's not even embedded in the ground,"
One of the soldiers, clearly growing impatient, stepped forward and gave the soldier struggling with the sword a firm slap on the back of his helmet.
"Will you stop messing around?" he barked, his voice sharp with irritation. "We're here looking for Fuji, not playing knights with some stuck sword. We don't know what's in here, and we need to stay focused."
The soldier, still recovering from the embarrassing moment of failing to lift the sword, muttered a quick apology and backed off. The others exchanged tense glances, realizing the seriousness of the situation.
"Once we find Fuji, we can come back for it, maybe with some tools. But until then, stay sharp and keep your eyes open," the leader continued, his tone more commanding now.
The group straightened up, weapons at the ready, and continued cautiously down the hallway. The sword, left behind once again, gleamed softly in the dim light, almost as if watching them leave.
Ares and Heimdall, having made their way into the gym, were confronted with a horrifying sight. Several humanoid demons, likely twisted remnants of the students, were tormenting a group of teachers and soldiers who had sought refuge in the school. The demons beat the helpless captives with their own weapons, stripping them of their armor and dignity, as if savoring every moment of suffering they caused.
Ares clenched his fists, his expression darkening as he watched the scene unfold. "This is beyond despicable," he muttered under his breath.
Heimdall, always observant, scanned the gymnasium with a critical eye. "We can't let any of them escape. If these demons make it out of here, they'll spread chaos beyond this school."
Ares nodded in agreement, but his mind was racing. "We need a plan. There's too many of them to just charge in recklessly, not without putting those civilians in more danger."
They both crouched behind some scattered gym equipment, keeping their voices low.
"We need to strike fast and hard," Heimdall said, his tone calm but urgent. "I'll use my speed and perception to take out the demons furthest from the group. If I can create a diversion, that'll give you enough time to handle the stronger ones."
Ares grinned, his bloodlust barely concealed. "I like that. Once you've drawn their attention, I'll come in and break their ranks. If we're quick enough, we can keep the humans safe."
But they both knew it wasn't going to be easy. They couldn't afford to slip up, not with demons like these lurking in the school. Ares glanced back at the bloodied and beaten teachers and soldiers. "We need to make sure none of them get out of here."
Heimdall nodded in agreement. "It's now or never. The soldiers outside will be closing in soon, and we can't let them stumble into this unprepared."
With their plan in place, Heimdall prepared to move, his body tensing like a coiled spring, while Ares readied himself for the inevitable fight. "When you're ready, I'll cover your move."
The demons taunted their captives, their twisted voices morphing into the familiar tones of deceased family members and friends, whispering the victims' darkest secrets and regrets.
"You never forgave your sister, did you? Even after she begged..." one demon said, its voice eerily echoing the victim's sibling.
"How does it feel to know you couldn't save them?" another chimed in, the voice that of a lost friend.
The teachers and soldiers, already beaten and bloodied, cringed in despair as the demons' words cut deeper than any physical wound. They were being tortured mentally as much as physically, each word breaking their spirits further.
But just as the demons reveled in their cruelty, Ares and Heimdall sprung into action.
Heimdall, moving faster than the eye could see, darted across the gym, his sword flashing in the dim light. The furthest demon, hunched over a terrified teacher, didn't even realize it had been struck until its head slid from its neck. Before the other demons could react, Heimdall was gone again, already on to the next.
Ares roared as he charged forward, smashing through the gym equipment and tackling a group of demons. His fists, fueled by the power of war itself, obliterated the nearest demon, sending it crashing into the wall. As he grabbed another demon by its twisted neck, he grinned viciously before slamming it into the ground with a deafening thud.
The gym erupted in chaos. The demons, caught off guard, began to panic as Heimdall zipped through their ranks like a blur, cutting them down with ruthless precision. Ares was a force of destruction, each of his blows shattering bones and armor, leaving a trail of broken bodies in his wake.
One demon, speaking in the voice of a soldier's deceased child, tried to run, but Heimdall was there in an instant, his blade slicing clean through the demon's chest. "Your mind games won't save you," he muttered coldly.
Another demon, realizing the threat, lunged at Ares with a feral scream, but Ares was ready. He caught the demon mid-leap, slamming it to the ground with such force that the floor cracked beneath it. "You demons think you understand fear," Ares growled, "but you have no idea what real war looks like."
The remaining demons, now fully aware of the gods' presence, tried to regroup, but it was too late. Ares and Heimdall, executing their plan flawlessly, had already thinned their numbers. The terrified captives watched in awe as the gods dismantled their captors with brutal efficiency.
As the last demon fell, Heimdall looked around, scanning for any that might have escaped. "No survivors," he confirmed. "The humans are safe."
Ares wiped the blood from his fists and looked toward the injured. "We can't stay here much longer. We need to regroup and finish this."
Heimdall nodded, his expression grim. "We'll finish this fight, but Lucifer is still out there. And he's planning something bigger."
They both knew the battle wasn't over—not by a long shot. But for now, the school had been cleared, and the demons wouldn't be escaping this time.
As Ares and Heimdall took in the scene, their eyes fell on a soldier huddled over the disintegrating remains of a demon. The man was trembling, tears streaming down his face, clinging desperately to the dissolving corpse as if it were something precious. His dog tag swayed in the dim light, catching Ares' eye—Fuji Takama.
Fuji was muttering under his breath, broken words spilling out in a choked sob. "It was her... it was my daughter... I heard her... she spoke to me." His voice wavered, consumed by grief. "Her voice... it was her voice... my little girl was inside there."
Ares took a step forward, his expression softening. "That wasn't your daughter, soldier. It was a trick, a manipulation by Lucifer and his demons. They prey on your mind, using your worst fears—"
But before Ares could finish, Fuji's eyes snapped toward him, wild with pain and fury. He scrambled back, shaking his head violently. "I know what you are!" he shouted, his voice raw with emotion. "I know this is your doing! You gods... you left us! You abandoned us to this!"
He reached for something, his hands shaking as he pulled a pistol from his boot. Without a second thought, he raised it toward Heimdall and fired.
The bullet struck Heimdall squarely in the forehead—but it didn't even scratch him. The metal crumpled against his divine skin and fell to the floor with a dull clink. Heimdall's eyes flared with anger as he took a step toward Fuji, his voice booming. "We are gods! You cannot kill us!" He pointed toward the disintegrating demon. "That was not your daughter! That was a lie! A sick, twisted game played by Lucifer and his spawn!"
Fuji, shaking uncontrollably, stared at the gods in disbelief. "But... I heard her... she was there... I felt her... How could you let this happen?"
Ares crouched down beside Fuji, trying to reach him through the fog of grief and anger. "You were tricked. They want you to believe your loved ones are suffering, that you're powerless. But you have to see the truth. The real war isn't between men and gods... it's between good and evil."
Fuji's breath hitched as he looked down at the ashes of the demon that had tormented him. The reality of the situation was crashing down around him, but the pain was still raw, still unbearable. "I... I don't know what to believe anymore."
Heimdall, still tense, glanced toward Ares. "We can't linger here. We need to keep moving."
Ares nodded, then looked back at Fuji. "I know this is hard. But there's a war coming. We need every strong soul we can get. Don't let Lucifer win by breaking you. Your daughter would want you to fight for her, not fall into despair."
Fuji, still trembling, slowly lowered his pistol. His eyes were hollow, but there was a flicker of understanding behind them, a tiny spark of something deeper than rage. He looked at the gods standing before him, and for the first time, there was no accusation in his gaze—only exhaustion. "I just want it to stop," he whispered.
Ares stood up, offering a hand. "Then help us end it."
Fuji hesitated for a moment, then shakily took Ares' hand, rising to his feet. The gods knew he wasn't fully healed, but it was a step in the right direction.
But Fuji muttered under his breath, his eyes glazed with despair. "I know what I must do..." The weight of loss, the agony of what he had seen and believed, crushed his spirit. His fingers trembled as he raised the gun, but his resolve seemed solid.
Ares sensed the shift in Fuji's demeanor instantly, his eyes widening with alarm. "Fuji, no!" he shouted, reaching out. But it was too late.
In one swift, heart-wrenching moment, Fuji turned the gun toward himself and pulled the trigger. The crack of the shot echoed through the gymnasium, cutting through the oppressive silence. Fuji's body crumpled to the floor as a pool of blood began to form beneath him.
Before Ares could even react, the other soldiers burst into the gym, rifles raised and flashlights blazing. The first thing they saw was Fuji's lifeless body on the ground and the two towering gods standing over him. Confusion, panic, and anger clouded their judgment.
"What the hell did you do?!" one of the soldiers shouted, his voice filled with horror.
Ares raised his hands, trying to de-escalate. "Wait, this isn't what it looks like—"
But the soldiers were already too far gone. They believed they had witnessed something horrific, something incomprehensible—gods who had driven one of their comrades to death. With trembling hands, the soldiers opened fire, their bullets blazing through the air.
Heimdall's patience snapped. "Screw this!" he growled, his voice reverberating with fury.
In a blur of motion, Heimdall moved like a storm. His sword flashed through the dim light of the gym, slashing through the soldiers with brutal efficiency. One by one, they fell, their rifles clattering to the ground, their bodies collapsing like ragdolls.
Ares, caught between stopping Heimdall and avoiding the crossfire, cursed under his breath. "Heimdall, stop! They didn't know!"
But it was too late. The massacre was swift, over in mere moments. The last soldier fell, their lifeless body hitting the floor with a dull thud. The gym was silent once more, save for the flicker of a dying overhead light.
Heimdall stood over the bodies, his chest heaving with anger, his eyes wild. "They were fools. They didn't stand a chance."
Ares clenched his fists, the weight of what had just transpired settling heavily on him. "This is not what we came here for, Heimdall. We're supposed to be finding Lucifer, not cutting down humans."
Heimdall sheathed his sword, his expression unreadable. "They attacked us. We defended ourselves. It's as simple as that."
Ares glanced at Fuji's body, his heart heavy with guilt. He had tried to save the man, but the war was devouring everything in its path. "This isn't a war we can win if we keep losing them."
The gods stood there, surrounded by the bodies of fallen soldiers, knowing that this moment would haunt them. The chaos of Lucifer's influence was spreading fast, and even the strongest could barely keep from being torn apart by its insidious reach.